#How can I fix my weak chin without surgery?

[thrixne]

"Say Goodbye to Insecurities: How to Transform a Weak Chin into a Bold and Confident Look"

The chin is a prominent facial feature that helps to define one’s facial structure and appearance. A well-defined, strong chin is often thought to be an attractive feature, particularly in men. Not everyone, however, is born with a naturally strong chin. Some people have a “weak chin,” which can have an impact on their self-esteem and confidence. If you are one of the many people who suffer from…

[allywritesforfun]

can i request? a scenario where wilbur's s/o admitted to him that they had plastic surgery and veneersOPTIONAL because of them getting bullied before? i just finished watching a drama about it and i really fell inlove with the story ^_^

u dont need to do this request if u dont want to btw! no pressure! ^_^

yes of course! I did some research and I think I understand it. if there's something that's not exactly true please let me know for that I can fix it! also, what drama I would love to check it out!

{The Truth} Wilbur Soot x Reader

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 1314

trigger warnings: swearing, little angst

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

gif from tenor.com

"You're still not ready!" Wilbur called.

Today was a big day for you and Wilbur. After a year of being together, you two finally decided to get professional pictures done. It was about time, you've been asking to get pictures done for the longest time now. You were tired of framing low quality camera photos to the wall.

It was a lot harder to find a date than you expected, but there was no way that you could've predicted that Lovejoy blew up the way that it did. That left Wil with a lot to juggle on his plate and you had to keep pushing the date back.

But Wil managed to clear his schedule for the day, even if it meant pulling an all nighter. But it was all worth it to see you smile.

"I'm almost ready!" You called back. "Just some highlighter and setting spray and then I'll be done!"

"You've been in there for an hour darling, you don't possibly need that much make up," Wilbur pushed open the door and leaned against the frame. "You look perfect without any, I don't understand why you spend so much time on it."

You sighed. Wilbur always had to bring up your make up addiction. No matter how many times you told him to leave it alone, he never could. He just wasn't the type of boyfriend to let things like that go. He saw how beautiful you look and he wanted nothing more for you to see what he saw.

"It's all just eyeliner, Wil," You assured him. "I wanna make sure that the wing is perfect for the camera. That would be so embarrassing if it wasn't even."

"No one is gonna notice if your eyeliner is off by a few trilla-meters,"

You turned around, "Yes they will. People notice every little detail and point it out."

Wilbur stared back you shocked, you were never one to lash out at him. He looked at the ground and took a deep breath to regather his thoughts. You turned back to the mirror, you couldn't believe it yourself. Wilbur was the last person you would lash out at.

"Y/n, are you okay? This isn't like you," Wilbur came beside you and rested his hands on the counter.

You shook your head and grabbed the spray, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just step out a second for that I can finish up."

Wilbur got closer to you and put his hand behind your back, "No. You seem so stressed out about this photoshoot and I will not have you leaving this bathroom all sad."

"I'm not sad," You told him. "I just felt a little rushed, but the longer that you're in here the longer that it will take."

Wilbur grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around to look at him. He smiled instantly and rubbed gentle circles into your shoulders, “I leave the second that I know that you’re okay. I mean gosh, y/n, look at you. You are so fucking cute. I mean just-” You turned you back around to look in the mirror. His hands shifted down to your waist and he rested his chin on your shoulder, “Do you see what I’m seeing? Like you have the most perfect face ever and smile for me-”

You shook your head. This was not the time to talk about your physical appearance right now. He loved how you look, but that wasn't really how you looked. That’s just how you wanted him to see you. He doesn't really know you, “I have to save my smiles...”

“That’s not the right attitude, darling,” Wilbur pressed his lips to your neck and tickled your sides. Damn. Your weakness. You broke instantly and hunched over trying to trap his hands in your hips. It worked, but only when you smiled.

“There!” Wilbur pointed at the mirror. “You see that perfect smile? You see that? That’s the-”

“Worst smile,” You interrupted him. You’ve had enough of this. Hearing him talk about how he loved your appearance when you knew it was all just a mask. He threw around the word ‘perfect’ like it was some toy. You were far from perfect and it killed you to think that you let Wil fall in love with something that wasn’t real. “I can't keep doing this anymore. It kills me inside, Wil, kills me.”

Wilbur crooked his head to the side and took a step back from you, “I-I’m sorry y/n. I didn't realize that this was such a touchy subject for you.”

“It’s not you. It’s 100% me, just sit down.”

“Like on the ground?” 

“Sit your ass down.”

Wilbur nodded and dropped to the floor. You turned and looked down at him. He looked up at you in the cutest way ever. You could tell that you hurt him and you felt terrible, you reached your hand out for him to take.

“Storytime. Back in high school I didn't look like this. I woke up every day and went to school in my pajamas, and people thought that was weird and kept making comments about how I looked like I was homeless, which they wouldn't  notice that they’re talking to a homeless person they are so stupid, but it hurt. So my senior year I decided that I would do my best, every single day to look good. I thought I looked amazing, but people just kept making comments about how make up doesn't work on me because my face unsymmetrical and how my smile looked like some hag because the were discolored and I just couldn't live like that anymore,” You looked down at Wilbur, he gave you an encouraging smile and squeezed your hand. “This, this isn't me. What you see is fake. I got plastic surgery, like a shit ton of it to look like I was in some Hollywood movie and got a veneer coating on my teeth that way I could feel comfortable smiling. I just feel so guilty that you think I’m so perfect when I’m not. I spent so much money to look like this and I can keep this lie up anymore. It’s okay if you’re mad or if you wanna-”

“Be with you the rest of my life?” Wilbur asked. He tightened his grip on your hand and pulled himself up. “Thank you for telling me but it makes no difference. You could've waited until we’re on our 100th kid I wouldn't care. I don't make you think that I’m only with you because of how stunning you are right?”

You shrugged, “You just mention it so much that I thought that it was a big deal to you. I was scared of letting you down.”

He pulled you in for a hug, “I could give two shits about what you look like. Fuck, if you want to change anything else to make you feel more confident take my money. You make me feel so good about myself every single day and you deserve everything that the world has to offer to make you feel confident and comfortable.”

“You really don't care?” You mumbled into him.

“Not one bit. And, I don't know what those people back in high school were on about. You looked like fucking royalty, I would’ve dumped every single person in that school to have you even look at me.”

“Stop the flattering, Wil, you didn’t know me in high school.” 

“Y/n, my whole job is being an internet personality. I know how to do some digging myself. Your prom pictures that your mom posted on Facebook? Model worthy.”

"That’s not fair!” You urged. “I wanted to show you embarrassing photos of me. Now my mom gets that privilege? Did you look at all of them?”

He nodded, “All the way back to the day you were born.” 

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Always and Forever

After what happened last night I think we all deserve some Colin fluff. So this is exactly what this is, and a correct ending. I fixed it, Colin gets shot but it doesn’t kill him and he survives! It’s a little angsty in the beginning but it’ll be worth it for the ending!!

Summary: it’s yours and Colin anniversary, but while making dinner you get a call that he was shot. You race to hospital but find out that he’s okay and he’s worried if you’ll still want him.

Word Count: 2494

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of blood/violence (the beginning is really angsty but the ending is super fluffy and sweet and it’s what we deserve)

Mare was calling his name, he could faintly hear her along with the roaring sirens and the commotion inside and outside the house. His eyes felt heavy, everything felt heavy, he couldn't even move if he wanted to. He forced his eyes open and saw a blurry figure of a person standing over him, he saw their mouth moving but he couldn't make anything they were saying. He knew that he was sitting in a pool of his own blood, his head was lulled to the side and it was staining his skin. He felt his body be lifted up and the motion made him black out. 

You were at home when they called you. It was your and Colin's one year anniversary, you were busy cooking dinner, your hair tied back in knots and stains decorating your apron. You weren't nearly as good of a cook as Colin but you were trying you best. He had called you earlier saying that they had a new lead and this might be the break they were looking for, he was so excited and it made you excited for him. You had started dinner to surprise him, figuring it would mean more if it came from the heart. 

You had just finished up when you felt your phone buzz. You saw his picture lighting up your screen and answered it with a smile. You put it on speaker and set it down, still having some other things to take care of. “Hey honey! I made your favorite, you're going to love it.” You pulled the bread out of the oven and set it down on the table.” And there is absolutely no zucchini in the pasta. The recipe called for it but I know how much you hate it. So I just substituted it and I think It’s going to taste great! So when are you coming home?” 

“(y/n) It’s Mare.”

“Oh hey Mare, where's Colin?” You took out two wine glasses, moving closer to the phone.

“(y/n) Something happened.” Mare heard the sound of glass breaking the other end of the line when she told you what happened. She could hear your ragged breathing and her heart broke for you. After she finished she waited for your reply but the line was silent. ‘(y/n), are you still there?”

You looked down to see the wine glasses shattered by your feet. “Yeah… I am.” You had your hand over your mouth, your whole body shaking. You covered the phone as you felt yourself slump against the counter. You slid to the floor sobs racking your body. You let yourself cry for  a moment before taking a deep breath. “Can I see him?” You asked in a shaky voice. 

“It’s going to be a while.” You numbly picked up the shards of the glass as Mare explained the situation. She told you it was going to be a while till you were going to be able to see him. You told her you were coming anyway. You tossed off your apron and sprinted to your car, your anniversary dinner was left on the table cold and forgotten. 

Everything hurt, Colin winced as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. He opened his eyes to look around, he knew what had happened but his mind was still reeling from it. He picked up the mirror they had left on his lap, he was told they had shot him in the face and that they weren’t sure what the damage would do to it. He lifted it up to see the side of his face swollen, covered with a thick bandage. The swelling from the surgery made him almost unrecognizable.

He looked over at you and how beautiful you were and sighed, his heart breaking in two. There was no way someone like you would want him now. You were curled into yourself on a hospital chair next to his bed. Your face was tearstained and you had dark bags under your eyes. His heart ached at seeing you like this. He reached out to set the mirror down on the table but he missed and it shattered into the floor.

Your eyes shot open at the noise, he gave you a weak smile, action making him wince. “Hey.” At hearing his raspy voice you started to cry again. You untangled your limps and moved to stand by this bed. “Hey don’t cry darling.” He lifted his hand up to cup your face, brushing away your tears. You held his hand, pressing it impossibly closer to your face. 

“I thought I lost you. Mare called me and told me you had been shot and there was so much blood. And they said you got shot and that you could die and I just-” You were rambling but he softly shushed you. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay. I’m just ugly and disfigured now.” He said with a dry laugh. You furrowed your brows and moved to gently touch the side of his face where he hadn’t been shot. He moved his face before you made contact with his skin.  

“Colin-“

“No don’t try and say I’m not cause I am.” He moved his head to the side avoiding your gaze. “I’m was never good enough for someone like you to begin with and now I’m more sure than ever that you deserve someone better than me.”

“Colin you’re not-”

“Look at me!” He yelled, surging out of his bed. He watched you with hard eyes challenging you to leave him like he knew you would. But you just gazed at him with love filled eyes. He started to cry his whole body shaking. “L-look at m-me.” He hiccupped out. You gently his face with both your hands, not putting weight on he bandaged side.  

“I am.” He wouldn't meet your eyes, he was looking down, his tears staining he blanket on his lap. “Colin look at me.” He resisted, you grabbed his chin and titled it up. “Colin I am looking at you. And you are so beautiful. I don't see this ugly disfigured thing you claim to be. All I see is the man I love. A man who put his life on the line and saved three girls. Easttown's hero detective.” At hearing you say that he broke, sobs racking his whole body. He grabbed onto your shirt tight, afraid as if at any moment you were going to leave him. 

“I’m here. I’m here.” You whispered to him as you held him. 

*******************************************************

For the next few days you stayed in the hospital as long as they would let you. Since you weren’t really family you couldn't spend the night but you there from the moment they opened till they closed. You would come and help Colin eat his meals and spend time with him throughout the day, watching tv with him and reading him stories while your played with his hair. Each day Colin anxiously waited for you to arrive, fearing that one day you might not show up. That you would decide that you wouldn't want him anymore and just leave. But you never did, you were by his side for it all, holding his hand when they changed his bandages and comforting him anytime he got insecure. You were never going to leave him. 

You came in one day a little later than usual, traffic was really bad that day. When you came in the room the lights were down low and the room was decorated with flowers and candles were lit all around the room. Colin was standing in the center of the room, he wasn't in his usual hospital gown. He was wearing a suit and his hair was all combed and slicked back. He had on new bandages over his face and the swelling had gone down over the week and his dimples were now visible when he smiled at you. You returned his smile as you stepped further into the room. “What is all this?” You asked as you set down your bag. “And why do you have candles on in here, isn’t that a fire hazard.”

“It is indeed a fire hazard but the nurses allowed it. Just be careful not to knock them down, or you might end up actually killing me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. ‘Don't even joke about that.” He laughed and moved closer to you. “And why are you out of bed? You're supposed to be resting.” He lifted his hand up to your face and cupped it, running his thumb lovingly across your cheek. 

“You care so much about me, I don't deserve you. And don't worry I’ll go back to bed in minute but first...” Colin held both your hand as he got on one knee. You felt your heart stop.  

“You are the most amazing person I have ever met. You have shown me time and time again what it means to love someone one. I was so scared I was going to lose you after the accident, that you would decide that it would be too much to stay with me. But you stuck with me and were there for everything, reminding me that love is more than skin deep. Each and everyday I wonder how a guy like me was able to find someone as beautiful and as caring as you. But I am thankful that I did, I couldn't imagine a life without you by my side. A life without movie nights, skin care routines, and corny jokes.” He squeezed your hand tighter, his eyes staring into your own. Filled with nothing but endless love. “You make everything and anything feel special. You make me feel like someone great, and you make me feel as if I can do anything. So I want to know if you will make me feel that way for the rest of our lives.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to revel a beautiful ring. “(y/n) (y/l/n) will you marry me?” 

You lunged forward, tackling him into a hug, he fell back and you two landed in a tangled pile on the floor. The action made his sore body ache but he couldn't care less, any amount of pain was worth it to see you this happy. You pulled back and smashed your lips against his. He smiled into the kiss and deepened it, loving the way your lips felt against his. You rested your foreheads together, enjoying one another's presence. “So I’ll take that as a yes?” Colin joked, kissing your nose lightly. 

You rolled your eyes and took his face in both of your hands. “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes.” You said in between peppering soft kisses all over his face. He laughed, each one making his skin tingle with joy. 

He slipped the ring onto your finger and you stared at it lovingly. You moved to kiss him again but were interrupted by his hospital door being slammed open. You both jumped and turned, the entire station was there, they had been watching him propose from the window outside. “So what did she say?” Mare asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

“I said yes!” You shouted and the whole room erupted in cheering. Everyone piled into the room, smothering you with hugs as they congratulated you and asked to see your ring. You looked at Mare. “Did you guys help him set this all up?”

“Of course, did you think your hero detective would be able to do it all alone.” You laughed and Colin scoffed at her remark. You all chatted with one another talking about wedding plans as everybody gave their own opinions and inputs. 

After a while they left you two alone and you just sat by his bed, brushing his hair back with your hand, his eyes closed at the feeling. He opened them to look at you. 

“Lay with me.” He patted the other side of his hospital bed, you looked at it noticing how incredibly small it was.

You rolled your eyes. “No. I’m going to hurt you and there’s not enough room.”

“Please.” He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes and you immediately caved. You sighed and moved to get up, you carefully wiggled your way into his bed. He sat with his arms open waiting for you to settle in between them. You laid down curling into his side and laying your head gently against his chest. He kissed your forehead, signing at the comfort you being right next to him brought him. You felt him shift and glanced over to see what he was doing. 

He reached over to the side of the bed and pulled out the remote to his tv and a jello cup. “How about an celebratory Jello and show.”

“That sounds lovely detective.” He turned on the tv and Brooklyn nine nine was playing. It was the episode where Jake proposes to Amy and you thought about just how fitting it was that your guy's favorite show was playing just that episode. You took the jello cup from him and opened it, gathering a spoonful and lifting it up to feed it to him. He watched you out of the corner of his eyes the way your face broke out in a smile at watching your favorite tv couple get engaged. He felt himself tear up, the realization that you were going to be together forever finally hitting him. He couldn't be happier, he grabbed your chin and turned you to face him. He lightly pressed his lips to yours the taste of cherry jello still on his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He gave you a playful smile and you raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thank you for being the Amy to my Jake.” He joked, going back to his usually corny self. 

You crinkled up your nose and let out a laugh. “That’s so cheesy Zabel.” 

“Oh so you don’t want to be my Amy?” He asked with mock hurt, turning away from you. You rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek.

“Of course I do, I can’t wait to be the Amy to your Jake for the rest of our lives.” 

“Mhmm. The rest of our lives.” He gave you a tight hug, lifting your hand up to kiss it, staring into your eyes. He straightened out the ring, holding it up for you to see. “Cause this means you’re never gonna be able to get rid of me darling.” 

“And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

You settled back into his arms, taking turns eating the jello. The sun started to set and you two slowly began to drift to sleep in one another's arms. Comforted by the fact that you were going to be together always and forever.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 13 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Change Of Heart

“You and Daniel were in a relationship that ended sometime before we met,” Keanu says, gathering his stuff as you do the same, both starting to take the baggage to the living room. “He is Mrs. Davis' son, and I guess she didn't like much when you two broke apart.”

“And where is this Daniel now? I'd like to meet him if he's part of my past.” You stop by the door, as Keanu checks on his phone for the car he just called.

But he puts his phone away, eyes on you. “Daniel passed away a week before your accident.”

“Oh...” You whisper, looking down. “So that's why Lucia got so sad when I said we weren't considering the name.”

“Yeah.”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his weird expression, you step forward and tiptoe, placing a kiss on his lips. “Let's go home, babe.”

•••

Going back home happened without any incidents. But the next days were filled with medical appointments. You assure him you're fine, but Keanu seems to be in an urge to make sure you're completely fine. You try not to complain about it, but things get weird when you notice a strange expression on his face. For too many times to count you caught him looking like he was just about to say something, but for some reason, he gives up. It makes you confront him a couple of times, but he assures you he's just worried as the pregnancy goes on.

Some weeks go by, and you're getting impatient to find out the baby's sex. On your many ultrasounds, they're always on a position that makes it impossible to see it. But you're hopeful for today, and, as you lie on the bed with Keanu, your back against his chest, you take in the soft morning light.

Keanu has an arm around her waist, a hand caressing her belly. Her bare back keeps his body warm, and despite the constant feeling that time is running short, he places kisses on her neck.

He was supposed to tell her the truth weeks ago, the moment they got back from Miami, but he just couldn't. This went too far, he went too far. In every possible aspect. Keanu didn't only fell for her, but he was intimate with (Y/N) too many times to count, and that makes him feel more guilt than anything else.

Her second trimester is just about to end, and now, he's caught in between. Again, for the millionth time, Keanu is caught in between two feelings. His love and his morals.

In his defense, Keanu did try to break the news several times. The words, the destructive, dangerous words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to desolate his life. But they got stuck, and he was too weak at the thought of losing her. Of losing the baby that he loves so much. It doesn't matter how many times he reminds himself the kid isn't his, he's failing to get this fact to grow roots in his heart. Keanu loves the child as if it's his own.

Guilt threatens to devour him entirely sometimes, but right now, in this moment, happiness suppresses everything else. This is his personal paradise, with her, the baby, healthily growing inside her.

Keanu always wanted a family. Settle down, take less and smaller roles. But nobody ever made him feel like he could. Of all the women he dated, nobody ever made him feel like he would give up everything. He thought he knew what love was, and he thought it wasn't as strong as people say... But now, life proved him wrong. This is love, a wrecking ball that came and destroyed his walls, his heart, his wrong perceptions. If only it happened some other way. If he wasn't caught up in this web of lies.

Dr. Harris wasn't happy to know he was sleeping with her. (Y/N) told her, of course, and even though it was in her usual shy and reserved way, the psychologist got the meaning behind the words. And she confronted him, very harshly, and Keanu could do nothing but listen and agree. Because this is wrong. This is the worst kind of betrayal.

(Y/N) moves a little, breathing deeply as she wakes up. A hand finds his, pulling it to her chest, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. “Morning.” She whispers, voice still clouded by sleep. She's used to it now, Keanu is always awake first.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He replies, fingers caressing her chin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, but I miss lying on my stomach.” She complains, turning around and snuggling into his chest. “What time is it? We have an ultrasound.”

“I know. And we should probably start getting ready.”

“Alright.” (Y/N) mutters, but doesn't give any signs she'll move anytime soon.

But he knows what today is all about, and it will certainly make her excited. “Hopefully we'll finally find out if this little one is Sophie or Liam.”

“Yes!” Immediately, she pushes herself up, an arm sustaining her weight as she looks down at Keanu. And he tries not to stare at her nude figure, even though this is silly compared to everything they're done. Still, he thinks he should at least try. “The baby must be in a good position today. I can't wait anymore.” With that, she's up, smiling as she makes her way to the bathroom.

And Keanu is left behind on the bed, surrounded by his bad decisions. Maybe this is the right time. Maybe, being this happy, she won't hate him so much.

With a lump in his throat, he goes on with his routine, until they're almost ready to go. Keanu waits by the bedroom door frame as she fixes her hair, the bathroom door half open. This is way too sudden, but if he doesn't do that now, if he waits any longer, he'll never be ready. He'll never be brave or strong enough to do this. He took too long already. Now, he can only hope, pray, that this will somehow end up the way he wants.

That he won't lose her.

The moment he sees (Y/N) walking out of the bathroom, Keanu gives a step forward, arms crossed, heart beating so fast it threatens to jump off his chest. The words are at the top of his tongue when his eyes take in her posture. (Y/N) holds the skirt of her blue dress up, all the way to the top of her thigh with one hand, and on the other, there's blood. Bright and red, staining her fingers and the palm of her hand. His eyes turn to her face, blank, scared as she looks at him.

Without thinking too much, his mind on the verge of collapsing, he forces himself to move, quickly making his way over her.

You hate the smell of the soap they have here. You hate this hospital and what it means when you're brought here. It's only far worse now. You're still trying not to burst into tears, trying not to break down again. There's no pain, so that's good. And no more bleeding, which is even better. The feeling you got when you found blood on your underwear was the worst thing in the world. For a moment, a desperate moment, you thought you were going to lose the baby. You wanted to yell, but you didn't have it in you.

If it wasn't for Keanu, you don't know what you'd do.

Now, still walking terribly slow out of nervousness, you leave the hospital bathroom, finding Keanu seated on the edge of your bed, already looking at you.

“Hi, beautiful.” He says, and you remember this was one of the first things he said to you. “Come and lie down. Why did you put the dress on again?”

“Because it's clean and I don't want to stay here.” Instead of doing as he said, you stand before him, your forehead on his chest. “I thought I was going to lose our baby.” Your voice cracks as some tears roll down, arms around his midsection.

“I already spoke to the doctor.” Immediately, you pull away, just enough to look into his eyes. “He assured me you're both alright.”

“Are you sure, Ke?” You plead, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I almost lost my mind.”

“He wants you to rest and that's all. He–” He's cut short by the door being open, and you see Dr. Wright and your obstetrician.

“First of all, you must know the baby is alright.” Dr. Williams says as she comes closer, a tablet on her hands. “Sometimes, such discharges happen, mostly as you progress from the second to the third trimester.” She kindly smiles. “Everything you two need to do is keep up the good job. Make sure to rest, eat healthily, and exercise. But I'll recommend you to lie down for the rest of the day, ok?”

“Ok.” You quickly agree.

“It would be good to avoid surprises. The bad ones at least.” Dr. Wright adds, oddly staring at Keanu. But that's normal, he still needs to look after you, so some things are directed to him. “But we have good news today, right, Dr. Williams?”

“Yes.” From under the tablet, she takes a picture from the ultrasound and hands over to you. “The baby was in a good position and we already know the sex.”

“Oh my God.” You exclaim, smiling for the first time since the incident. “What is it?”

Dr. Williams smiles, exchanging a glance with Dr. Wright. “Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, you'll be having a baby boy.”

“It's Liam!” You yell, throwing your arms around Keanu again. “I was right!”

“You were right.” He agrees, a second before you kiss him, not minding the audience.

“Well, you're free to go home. And call me if you need anything.” Dr. Wright says and the obstetrician agrees before they both leave.

At least something good happened today. You'll finally be able to paint the blank white walls of the baby's bedroom, and buy what you still need.

“I was right.” You repeat, smirking at Keanu. “But we can try again and maybe it'll be a girl. I mean, if we ever spoke about having more than one kid.” Blushing a little, you bite your lip. There are still a lot of things you need to be updated on, and you still get a little sad when it happens.

“I'd love to have more kids if that's what you want, sweetheart,” Keanu says and you smile, kissing him again. “But now let's go home. You need to lie down for the day.”

“Can we stop and buy the paint for Liam's room? We already know the color so it'll only take a minute.” You know you have to rest, but you can't help but feel excited for finally being able to finish off the baby's bedroom. “Please? I'll stay in the car.”

Keanu gives you a look because sometimes you don't always do as you said you would. “Fine, but you won't be painting anything. I can do it myself.”

Nodding, you watch as he takes your bag and guides you out of the hospital room you hate so much. Hopefully, there will be a day you won't have to keep coming here, not because of some incident and not for any appointments.

You did wait in the car this time, and as much as you wanted to hit the mall and buy everything blue and green, Keanu forces you to give up the idea and head straight home. And when you get there, you have his undivided attention. He doesn't only make an incredible lunch, and an incredible dinner, he gives your legs a massage, and it takes a lot of effort to just lie down instead of jumping on him. But this is peaceful, slow, and sweet.

In the weeks that follow, nothing bad happens. You feel great, but you also heavier. Liam is growing fast, and you can't wait any longer to meet him. And neither can Keanu. He gets even more protective with time if that's even possible. And after you almost slipped in the shower, you're not even allowed to shower by yourself. Of course you pretend you're annoyed, but the truth is that you love it.

Despite feeling uncomfortable during this period, Keanu makes everything perfect. There are still no signs you'll get the memories back, and that's a fact now, but you'll follow your psychologist's advice. And Laura's advice, since they're pretty much the same. Living in the past will only get in the way of what's happening now. You have an amazing husband, who loves you deeply, and a child on the way. The present is wonderful, and you won't let anything ruin it.

You're around week 37 now, marking it on the calendar on the fridge door, a hand on your back as you make your way to the kitchen table. Keanu is still upstairs, and you take this chance to pour some honey on your plate. You're still eating the awkward combination when he comes to the kitchen, and you try not to let him see. But Keanu sees everything, and when he takes his place across from you, you feel his eyes burning.

“What?” You innocently ask, shrugging your shoulders.

“Are you eating bacon with honey?”

Biting your lip, you raise an eyebrow at him. “I happen to love honey. And bacon. So it makes sense.” He giggles and you kick his leg under the table. “Don't mess with the pregnant lady.” Warning him, you push the plate away. “I'm done anyway. I'll move to the couch if you don't mind, my back really hurts.”

“Sure. I'll join you in a bit.”

“Ok.” Dragging yourself to the living room, you lie down, hands on your swollen belly. You're almost drifting off to sleep when you feel Keanu sitting down, lifting your legs so he can move closer, caressing your thighs. “Ke, I'm huge.” You complain, eyes on the bump.

“You're beautiful.” Bending down, he places a kiss on your exposed belly, since you have the shirt pulled up. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” Pouting a little, you try to hold back the giggle when you see his eyebrow raised.

“I would love to show how beautiful I think you are, but Dr. Williams told us to give it a little break.”

“Don't even remind me.” You never complained about anything with your obstetrician, but when she told you and Keanu should probably avoid sleeping together, you had to speak up. Even though your cheeks were burning. But in the end, you did comply. And you wouldn't have much of a choice anyway, since Keanu does everything the doctors say. “I heard your phone beeping. Everything alright in Arch?”

“Yes. That was just Lucia.” He says, obviously a little annoyed. “She just moved here. She's renting an apartment not so far away.”

“What the hell.” Sighing, you roll your eyes. This woman won't leave you alone, it doesn't matter what you say. “Why is she doing that? Isn't it obvious we don't want her around?” A couple of weeks ago she showed up again, and another argument happened. Keanu had to kick her out because the recommendations were that you shouldn't be put under any kind of stress.

“She loves you and the baby. That's why she wants to be around.” You don't get it. Keanu doesn't like her either, so why does he still speak like this?

“I know you can't stand her, you don't have to fake it with me.”

“But this isn't about me, sweetheart, it's about you and the people who were in your life before.”

The kindness in his voice makes you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You're amazing, did you know that?” Placing kisses on his face, you smile. “I love you. I'm worried to death and I'm trying not to get anxious with the labor, but you're making everything perfect. You're the best husband I could ever have.”

“I'm just trying to be the husband you deserve.” With a hand caressing your cheek, Keanu kisses you full on the lips, and you take no time before kissing him back. You don't know what you'd do without him, but luckily, you won't ever have to find out.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

[arianalilyblack]

Come home to me - Chapter 3

Title: Come home to me

Chapter no: Chapter 3

Author: @arianalilyblack

Pairing: Harry Wells x Reader x Eobard Thawne/Harrison Wells

Word count: 1430

Summary: The wedding of Barry Allen and Iris West is finally here. You and Harry are caught up with the wedding spirit and start to slowly realize that maybe you developed deeper feelings for each other. Everything is perfect until Nazis bust into the church ruining everything. And alongside Earth X villains guess who shows up? Your ex flame, Eobard Thawne aka the Reverse Flash, complicating everything in your lives.

You were left alone in the Time Vault, his words echoing inside your head. You were upset. Different emotions were swirling inside you, emotions that confused you. All the feelings you had bottled up until now started to slowly surface. You thought they were long gone from your system, but it seems that you were just lying to yourself. You had to pull yourself together after he left you, so you locked down the love that you felt for him and moved forward. Now that he was here, it all started to come back, but you knew that you didn’t have that kind of luxury to act on those. That ship had long sailed away.

You turned your head to the screen to see what’s going on. There were Nazi soldiers all over the med bay and Cortex, they were preparing for some surgery of sort. You noticed Kara, and for a moment you hoped that this entire nightmare will end, because Supergirl will save the day. The moment passed quickly, when you saw her wearing a hospital robe. Overgirl was already on a bed ready for the intervention. Eobard was supposed to be the surgeon; you saw that he was holding a scalpel in his hand, ready to cut into Kara at any moment.

You felt sick and tried to turn off the screen, but Eobard did something to the control panel so you couldn’t do anything. The sight of him made your heart ache. It was clear to you that he was the enemy, he will always be the team’s main enemy, but you knew him like no one else. You have seen parts of him, the gentle loving parts of him that were only shown to you. You couldn’t understand then and you sure couldn’t now, how can a man like him love someone that much and be a monster with others at the same time. With every moment passed watching him being Dr. Mengele 2.0 you felt more and more determined to end whatever was between the two of you.

You were just thinking about a strategy to get out of there when the door magically opened in front of you. The sight of Iris and Felicity rushing towards you calmed your racing heart.

„Y/N, are you okay? What happened?” Iris asked concerned when she saw in what shape you were.

„Long story short, Eobard is back to torture my heart yet again” you let out a small chuckle.

„That son of a…” mumbled Felicity, but she didn’t finish the sentence, because she began to hack the Time Vault’s system. „He’s good, but still no match for Felicity Smoak.”

„Where’s Harry? And the others?” you added quickly, not to make it too obvious for who were you worried most of all.

„They are still locked in the Pipeline. We tried to free them, but we couldn’t, so we sent out an S.O.S. message to the legends. We will win this, don’t worry.” Iris gave you a shoulder squeeze and helped you to your feet.

„I feel so useless right now” you shook you head in disappointment. „I’m weak and pathetic.”

„You are a strong woman, Y/N. You know better than to let a man take that from you.” Iris encouraged you. „We will kick some butts and we will save the day. No one is messing with team Flash.”

„Okay, I think I’m done. I encrypted the whole system and caused a power shortage” said Felicity turning around.

„Then we need to get out of here. Eobard can be here in any minute. He was the one who locked me in here” you said, heart aching every time you said his name.

 ~

 The power went off just when he approached to cut open the girl laying on the bed. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that she had something to do with it. He ignored the Fuhrer’s offensive questions and hurried to the one place where someone could do such damage. The room was empty.

„You little minx…” he mumbled to himself.

By the time he returned to the Cortex all the soldiers were knocked out, Dark Arrow was nowhere to be seen. In the place of Kara now was Y/N sitting on the bed, the General still unconscious. He was pleased to see her there.

„So you changed your mind, sweetheart? Are you finally gonna accept that you belong to me?” he walked closer to her, one hand reaching out for her.

„How could I ever resist you?” she took his hands while standing up from the bed. Her words were like a melody for him.

„Good” he muttered before pulling her in for a kiss, but before their lips could touch, she punched him in the stomach releasing a yellow energy blast from her fist.

„Like my new power, honey? I figured why not try to combust my hydrogen and oxygen with my sparks, and voila. I think it was a brilliant idea.”

„That was quite… impressive” he said with a grin while rubbing his chin. „Shall we dance then?”

„We shall” she smirked back, eyes sparling in excitement.

God, he liked this side of her. The way she looked at him made him want to ravage her in an instant. He didn’t overuse his speed, it wouldn’t be fair, and besides he didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to take his time, playing a game of cat and mouse. She tried to punch him multiple times, with and without the use of her metapowers. Some punches hit the target, others didn’t. For him this whole situation was very amusing. He could see frustration and anger building up inside her. Her efforts were all in vain, she couldn’t match his speed. Or so Eobard thought.

 ~

 You were feeling exhausted. You knew that you were minutes, or maybe just seconds away from passing out. You hoped that this little diversion brought enough time for the girls to get out. Kara needed sunlight to regain her strength, something that wouldn’t hurt you either. You knew that the melanin inside your body needed light to recharge, like a battery. But right now you had to buy time; you had to make a sacrifice. You were their best chance by keeping Eobard busy.

You were so focused on the Reverse-Flash that you didn’t notice that the soldiers you and the girls knocked out were starting to wake up. And you sure missed to notice the enemy Oliver nocking an arrow on the bow targeting you. He loose the arrow and right before it could drill into your chest the speedster dragged you away.

„What did I tell you?” Eobard growled at Nazi Arrow. „What did I tell you?” he shouted.

You never saw him this angry before. He dashed and in a second Dark Arrow was pinned to a wall threatened by a vibrating hand. The rage you felt towards him eased a little. You could tell that he still cared about you in his own twisted way. The dispute was interrupted by soldiers who were bringing back Kara, Iris and Felicity. You let out a desperate sigh. You were about to launch your last, desperate attack, despite the fact that you were barely standing on your feet, but before you could do anything Eobard pushed you into a soldier’s firm grip.

„Don’t push yourself over your limits, love” he said and gave you a little kiss on your cheek. „Miss Smoak and Miss West, pleasure to meet you again.”

„Thawne, don’t waste our time” said firmly Dark Oliver. „Fix this!”

„Give us the code, Miss Smoak” said the speedster in a calm manner.

„No” was the short answer. Red lightning filled the room. In the next second Felicity was immobilized by Eobard.

„Turn the power back on.” You could sense the pure wrath in his voice. When he saw that his threatening voice didn’t do the trick, he started vibrating his hand.

„Eobard, please stop” you begged him. His hand stopped for a split second. „You are back home now, with me. You don’t have to help them anymore. Please!”

„Y/N…” he looked at you with hope in his eyes. For an odd minute you thought you had him, but then he turned away. „Don’t distract me.”

His voice was cold as ice and broke your already broken heart. Eventually Felicity gave them the new passcode and the power came back. You were escorted by the soldiers towards the Pipeline. He never even looked at you as you were taken away.

Part 4

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 4

<- Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 ->

Summary: Chilton’s recovery is slow and painful, and he is a cranky traumatized bastard who might be determined to push you away.    

1,878 words

Twelve days. Six surgeries. Fifteen blood transfusions.

“Did you bring me something to eat?” he whined. Considering he could barely lift his voice above a whisper, it was an impressive feat that he could whine. “Tell me you smuggled something edible that does not go into a tube through my nose.”

“I’m sorry, honey-bear,” you pouted. “But you know I can’t until the doctors OK it.”

“I am a doctor.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re still at a high risk of going septic—no outside foods covered with outside bacteria. Besides, they won’t let you eat solids yet, anyway.”

“Sanguinaccio dolce. Mango smoothie. Crème brûlée. Yamakake Soba...” he listed off non-solid things you ought to have snuck in for his enjoyment.

“And how would I get them in there?” You rapped your knuckles on the clear acrylic of the hyperbaric oxygen therapy chamber.

He scowled. “This is not a zoo. No tapping the glass.”

You grinned and pulled a chair alongside the chamber so you were sitting next to him.

“Did you bring the laptop?”

Slinging the messenger bag you were carrying off your shoulder, you pulled out a smooth rectangular object and held it up proudly. “That I did. I’m ready to write if you’re up for it,” you said, but added with some hesitation, “Are you sure you want to do this now? You should be resting, and… I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to relive what happened.”

“I am sure,” he snapped. “I may drop dead at any moment, so we will finish this now. While I still draw breath.”

You stiffened imperceptibly in your chair. The reminder that, despite making it this long, he was far from out of the woods was an unwelcome dagger in your chest, which you quickly plucked out and stuffed away in the box of things you weren’t going to think about.

“As for the wisdom of my reliving it—I feel his teeth every time I close my eyes. I may as well profit from the experience.”

Dr. Chilton was growing anxious that it had been nearly two weeks since his encounter with Francis “The Red Dragon” Dolarhyde, and he had not yet had the chance to publish on the subject. He had wasted far too much time being unconscious and dying—he needed to send a letter in to the American Journal of Psychiatry before some know-nothing crackpot took a swing.

He was the foremost authority on the Dragon—the only person to have communicated with him and lived who was not, himself, a fugitive for murder (or a blind girlfriend, but he doubted Reba was going to publish anything). This was his achievement. His way of staying relevant. The definitive analysis of the Red Dragon for the Journal, and then a spectacular ending for his book once he had his own hands to type with again. No one would take this opportunity from him.

After living with Frederick Chilton for over three years in relative domestic harmony, there were times you forgot what you ever used to dislike about him. Why you hated him so intensely when you first met.

This was not one of those times.

As you took dictation from your glass-encased fiance, you felt a crushing wave of empathy for the man’s poor secretary. He was demanding and fussy, making you read back every sentence to him line by line and mercilessly correcting any mistakes or omissions. He spoke slowly because of his weakened lungs and raw throat, and the thick glass and lack of lips made him difficult to understand, especially with nurses walking through and machinery beeping and whirring in the background—but when you tried explaining that to justify a transcription error, he took it as a personal affront.

You had to support him no matter what, you reminded yourself. This was much harder on him than you. You can always leave if you want you; he can’t. So when he was frustrated and cranky, you were patient and kind.

It took five hours and ten rewrites to get through two thousand words he was satisfied with submitting for publication, and you were nearly crying by the time you left.

***

Thirteen days.

High protein intake is critical to a speedy recovery in burn patients, but Frederick’s mangled digestive system could not tolerate protein very well. Keeping his kidney off the precipice of failure was a tightrope walk involving dietitians planning his every calorie intake, and daily blood work monitoring.

As a medical doctor, Frederick Chilton was aware of, and understood, these things. However he still rejected them as excuses when you once again did not bring him any outside food.

“Then what is the point of you coming?” he snapped, and immediately wished he had not. You stood frozen in the doorway of his recovery room unsure what you did wrong. You were right, of course—his throat felt like he had fellated broken glass. As much as he longed to chew something flavorful, with texture, he could not have swallowed solid food anyway. He closed his eyes. Softer, he asked, “Did you bring the March issue of the Journal of Psychiatry?”

You let out a held breath, unfreezing, and pulled the magazine out of your bag, presenting it with an upbeat flourish. “Delivered to your doorstep.”

“Would you read it to me?” He sighed, humiliated. It was not only that he could not hold the publication—even if you were to flip the pages for him, with only one working eye and no reading glasses, it was hopeless. He was completely dependent on you.

A cough shook his body as if to punctuate how completely he was broken. Useless. Weak.

The metal feet of the visitor’s chair scraped on the white floor like nails on a chalkboard as you dragged it close to his bedside, making him wince until you settled down and helped him browse for an article of interest.

He could barely make himself care about the content of the study. As you read, you rested one arm on the mattress right next to his, where it lay helplessly prone alongside his body, and he could feel the warm weight of you sinking into the cushion. The pressure was uncomfortable on his inflamed tissue, but soothing to something deeper. God, he wanted to be soothed. He wanted so badly to feel any kind of comfort. Anything to latch onto. He closed his eyes and got lost in your voice. For a moment, he could almost forget about the searing pain in each of his limbs and pretend he was at home, in his bed, with you.

The soothing, steady lull stopped, and he opened his eyes, horrified to find you looking intently at his ruined face. His nostrils flared painfully. “Do not stare,” he warned.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to,” you said. “I finished the article. I thought you fell asleep.” You searched for somewhere else to settle your eyes—the metal bar at the edge of the bed. Your lap. A flower arrangement.

You made such a show of not staring at him that he was even more certain that you had been. He was hideous. Perhaps that entertained you. You were probably already planning for Halloween. Red-hot thoughts swirled around his head like cinders.

Before you could get through a second article, a nurse came in with a tray of mushy hospital food. Humiliation stung deep for you to even see the damned tray, and it annoyed him that you did not immediately excuse yourself. There was no way in Hell he would allow you to watch such a disgusting, embarrassing process—being spoon fed like a toddler, the nurse wiping off his toothy chin of the spillage meant to be kept in check by lips.

“Go home,” he grumbled, leaving no room for argument.

You had barely been there for half an hour.

***

Fourteen days.

“Do you want to look at venues?” you offered, tucking him in with the extra blanket you had a nurse bring because he was cold.

“Venues?” he repeated with clear exasperation. He let out a weak cough.

“It’ll be fun! It’ll take your mind off things.” You grabbed your laptop off the plastic visitor chair where you’d left it, and excitedly held it up so he could see the screen from his prone position. There was already a search typed into google with preview images of scenic gardens glowing with string lights and towering ancient library ballrooms.

“I thought it went without saying our wedding date is… postponed.”

Your shoulders deflated. “I know, but… you’ll be out of the hospital by next year,” barring complications, “so we can use the time to plan. We were going to have to postpone anyway if you couldn’t pick anywhere that was good enough for your standards,” you teased.

“It is pointless.” He laughed bitterly, humorlessly, and your brief smile dropped.

“It isn’t… pointless.”

“I will not be able to visit any of the locations.”

“But we could make a list of places you want to visit when—”

“Stop!” he hissed.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “OK.” You sounded small. Too small.

“I… uh...” Frederick tried to say something. Something to make you sound less small and wounded. Fragments of thoughts and half-formed apologies stuck in his sore throat. Fuck, his skin hurt. Parts of it were starting to heal, but in the short-term that only made it worse, because now it itched, too. Pain. Itch. Guilt. Cold. You deserved so much more than him. “You should go,” he said at last, finally settling on the only way to make it better.

“Wh-what?”

“Just… go,” he croaked.

“I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. What do you want to talk about? Or, I can shut up and we can listen to music, or...”

You were apologizing. Again. Because he was being an asshole. It disgusted him how weak he made you. You used to be so fierce. Stubborn and unstoppable. But being with him was slowly killing your fire.

“Get out of this place. I want to be alone.”

It was better this way, he thought. It was better for you to get away from him.

You stared at him silently across what now felt like a vast distance of white laminate flooring. His beautiful, pale, mismatched eyes were fixed on the ceiling, hard and uncompromising. He blinked rapidly.

You wished you knew what was going on in his head. You wished you could fix it for him. But right now, as much as it pained you, he wanted you to leave, and maybe that was the best you could do.

“OK,” you relented. “I’ll be back tomorrow, all right? I love you.”

The only sound as you packed your laptop away and slipped your coat over your shoulders was his ragged breathing, the beeps and tones of hospital machines, and the occasional cough. He waited until you were almost out the door before replying, “I love you, too.”

[kaimelia]

Alive

“What do we have?” Teddy asked, running out into the trauma bay to meet Jo.

“Car accident.” The ambulance pulled up, stopping and opening the back doors.

“38-year-old male, hit on the driver’s side. Passed out at the scene and regained consciousness a minute ago with the loss of verbal skills. Pulse has been steady.” The paramedic lowered the stretcher down.

“Oh my god. Teddy, it’s Link.” Jo stepped away. “I shouldn’t work on him. He-he’s family to me.” The blonde nodded, grabbing the side of the stretcher and pushing it inside.

“Okay, let’s page Koracick and Bailey.” Teddy looked down into Link’s eyes, his breathing heavy. She grabbed his hand. “We’ve got you, Link. It’s going to be okay.” He nodded quickly at her, watching as the familiar surroundings of the E.R. passed by him. “I’m going to put in an IV, okay?” Tom walked through the doors to the trauma room, clearly shocked by the man on the bed in front of him.

“Has anyone told Amelia?” Teddy shook her head.

“No, we’ll tell her when we know what’s going on.” Tom nodded, moving closer to Link.

“Okay. Follow my finger, good. Can you move your hands? Feet?” He sighed in relief as the ortho surgeon wiggled his fingers and toes, nodding slowly. “Good. I need a head CT. Get it once Bailey checks him and page me.” Teddy moved towards Link again, grabbing his hand to stop it from shaking.

“Bailey will be here in a second. I know it’s scary, not being able to talk, but you’ve got the best here. You’re going to be just fine.”

——————————

“There’s no way,” Amelia sighed, crossing her arms against her chest. “There’s literally no way.” Meredith rolled her eyes at her sister.

“Then take the test!” The door to the lounge opened as Maggie entered the room.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Amelia’s pregnant. She doesn’t want to admit it though.” Maggie sat down at the table in the middle of the room.

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Amelia, your boobs are big. You were sick yesterday, and I’m sure you and Link are having plenty of sex, enough sex to get you pregnant again.” Meredith held out the box. “Just take the damn test.” The brunette groaned, taking it and walking into the bathroom attached to the lounge. Maggie turned to face Meredith.

“Why are we forcing Amelia to take a pregnancy test?”

“Oh, well she has symptoms. And Link was talking to me during surgery about how he wants another kid, and I guess that was on my mind.” Meredith shrugged. The bathroom door opened, Amelia walking out with the stick in her hand.

“Okay, let’s wait.” The brunette sat down at the table, eyeing her sisters. “Why are you so stuck on this, Mer?”

“Well my life has gotten pretty boring, so I’m living vicariously through you. Plus Scout’s like the cutest baby ever, and I think you should have another.” Meredith drank some of her coffee before setting it back onto the table. “When was the last time you had your period, Amelia.”

“I don’t know. It’s been irregular since Scout was born, I haven’t been paying attention to that.”

“I think the fact that you don’t know means you haven’t gotten it in a while, enough time for you to be pregnant again.”

“We haven’t even talked about it, I don’t know if Link wants another kid.” Amelia kicked her feet up onto the table and relaxed back into the chair.

“He does. We were talking about it yesterday in surgery.” The neurosurgeon’s eyes widened at her sister.

“Well, what did he say?” Meredith shrugged.

“I was asking if you were having another kid because the surgery was getting boring, and he said he wanted another sometime. Then we started talking about Ellis because she wants a younger sibling, but there’s no way that’s happening.” Meredith said, nonchalantly. Maggie laughed. “What about you, Maggie? Are you and Winston ever going to have kids?”

“Woah, we’re just dating. Besides, I don’t think I could handle children of my own. I wouldn’t be able to work as much.” Maggie took a sip of her coffee.

“So you’ll just continue to steal our children,” Amelia interjected, checking her phone.

“Exactly.” The timer on Amelia’s phone went off. She picked up the test on the table in front of her and stared at it.

“Holy shit.” She looked between her sisters. “I’m pregnant.”

———————————

“He’s got an epidural bleed. I need to get in there now.” Bailey nodded at her fellow surgeon, grabbing the tablet from the desk in the scan room.

“I’ll fix the splenic bleed at the same time.” She opened the tablet, inputting information into his chart. “Someone needs to tell Shepherd.”

“I’ll do it,” Teddy said, moving to walk through the door. “Do you need me in the OR after?”

“We should be fine, I’ll page you if we need you.” Teddy left, running down the hallway and searching in rooms for Amelia. She opened the door to the attendings’ lounge, spotting Amelia sitting at the table with her sisters.

“Amelia! Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“What is it?” Her voice was full of joy, something that Teddy knew would fade the second she told Amelia what was happening. She tilted her head to the side and offered a sympathetic smile.

“It’s Link. He was in an accident.” Amelia sat up, her mouth wide open.

“What? What happened?!”

“He got hit on the driver’s side. He’s got an epidural bleed and his spleen is bleeding, but Koracick and Bailey are taking him to surgery right now.”

“I need to go, I need to go see him.” Meredith placed a hand on Amelia’s arm.

“Amelia, there’s nothing you can do except wait. You won’t do any good in the gallery.” Amelia bit her lip, her chin quivering.

“Meredith, he could die. And that can’t happen, I can’t lose him. I can’t.” She took a deep breath, running her hands through her short hair. “If Link dies, I won’t be able to handle it.”

“I’m going to head up to the OR to see if they need me. I’ll keep you updated, Amelia.” The brunette nodded as Teddy left, Amelia’s hand covering her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut. Maggie stood up and walked behind her sister, wrapping her arms around Amelia and hugging her from behind.

“It’s going to be okay, Amelia. We’ll stay here with you,” she whispered into Amelia’s ear. Meredith nodded in agreeance, holding Amelia’s hand as she began to cry.

“Can you-can you go get Scout? I need to hold him and hug him.” Meredith stood up to leave the room, whispering that she’d return soon after. “Maggie, I can’t lose him.”

“I know Amelia, I know.”

————————————

After hours of sitting in silence, Amelia cradling her son and thinking about the worst possible things that could be occurring, Teddy came into the lounge. “He’s okay. He started crashing, but we got him back. You can see him soon.” Amelia smiled widely, covering her mouth with her hand and pulling her son closer to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at Teddy. “Thank you.” Teddy smiled at her, rubbing her shoulder before leaving. Amelia looked at her sisters. “He’s okay, he’s really okay.” They grinned at her, wrapping her and Scout in hugs.

————————————

Amelia was sat by Link’s bedside, holding his hand as if her life depended on it. Her eyes drifted between his face and the heart monitor he was attached to, as if at any moment it could just cut out and she would lose him. “Link,” she whispered, “you have to wake up. I need you. Scout needs his Dad and we’re gonna have another baby, and that baby needs their Dad. Link, I can’t live without you. You need to wake up.” She wiped a tear away from her face and placed her hand back on top of his. “Please wake up. I love you, you need to wake up. This is not how we end, we have so much more to do, together. I don’t think I can do this without you.” She felt motion under her hand, her eyes brightening as she looked up, seeing his eyes flutter and open slowly. “Oh, Link.” She stood up next to the bed, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice weak.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” He smiled slowly, wincing at the pain he was in.

“Tired. My head hurts.” Amelia sniffled, rubbing her finger up and down his cheek. “What happened?”

“You were in a car accident. Drunk driver. You had a brain bleed and a splenic bleed, but Bailey and Tom operated, and you’re okay now.” She smiled down at him.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You’re alive, and that’s what matters.” She sat down on the side of the bed, hanging her legs off the side and locking her hand in his.

“Where’s Scout?”

“He’s with Maggie, he’s okay.” Link nodded. “When I found out you were in an accident, I was about to find you to tell you something.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I found out I’m pregnant.” His eyes widened slightly, a smile slowly appearing on his face.

“Really?” She laughed at his tired excitement.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have another baby.” Link grinned toothily, holding his arms out to her.

“Come here.” She laid down slowly, carefully adjusting the wires attached to him before snuggling into his arms.

“Thank you for not dying.” He kissed the top of her head and pulled her against his body.

“I love you, Amelia.”

“I love you.” She laid there for a few minutes, listening to his breathing settle as he fell back asleep, the exhaustion in his body taking over. Amelia finally allowed herself to relax and fall asleep in his arms, content knowing that the love of her life was perfectly alive and okay.

——————————————————————————

Hi everyone! I hoped you enjoyed this :) Make sure to comment and like, and let me know if you have any requests!

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Thank you all who keeps following this story, who hits Kudos on AO3, likes and reblogs and gives a kind word in the comments. It means a lot <3 I am still genuinely surprised somebody finds it interesting but I DO appreciate each and one of you for that.

This chapter has been much saved by my trusty beta Anne. Thank you! She's been my source of any possible and impossible medical info I need, patiently answering all of my questions, giving me advice and just generally making this story so much better!

Read on AO3.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

                                     CHAPTER VI: Flecks of sun

Saying goodbye was something Jamie and I were very bad at. The moment we would part with a kiss (so soft that it leaves a lingering tenderness float over the lips) we text or call in a space of an hour again. We were inseparable and I could not even remember anymore how it was to live without Jamie’s constant presence in my life.

Without him making the best coffee I’ve ever had.

Without the heavyweight of his arm over my waist that kept me imprisoned in the mornings in our bed.

Without our hours-long calls when we both were in our beds on different sides of Edinburgh.

Without his solid body and warmth on my couch with a bowl of crisps and Netflix on.

Without his lips on my skin and his hands knowing every inch of my body better than anyone.

Without Jamie cuddling Adso but next moment cursing in Gaelic when my cat decides to scratch him.

Without Jamie’s quiet reassurance and gentleness when my days are particularly hard at work and he’d come with me in the shower, working out the tight muscles in my back.

Without him just being there.

Our absolute inability at saying goodbyes was one of the reasons I was invited to Broch Mordha. After I was away for a week in Boston for a medical conference, Jamie simply asked me to meet his family. So now I found myself in the kitchen next to Jenny who was making dinner. Jamie had gone to the stables to check on the new horse Brian bought before he left for Glasgow. Ian was away at work and all the children were visiting his parents. I was left alone with Jenny and somehow I felt more nervous than I anticipated. She was Jamie’s older sister and nothing escaped her eye. I’ve felt like under the microscope.

* * *

Claire’s cheeks were positively glowing when she realised it was a selfie of her and Jamie snapped on his phone during their hiking two weeks ago. It was a silly one. Jamie was smiling from ear to ear. He looked as if he received the best news ever while Claire gave him a smooch on the cheek. Her hair loose, framing her face. She had the look of a woodland faerie wild and free.

Jenny snorted noticing Claire's face had become a lovely shade of scarlet.

“Jamie put it there right after yer wee hike adventure,” Jenny adjusted a magnet (that she and Ian brought from Greece) that held a small square photo. “This is our fridge of ridiculous family photos.”

A lopsided smile touched Jenny’s lips as she turned back to the salad she was preparing. No longer under the curious gaze of Jamie's older sister, Claire looked at the numerous pictures of the Frasers gracing the refrigerator.

There were childhood photos of all siblings, including William. One captured all three of them playing in a small swimming pool outside on a particularly sunny day. A little girl about six-years-old, with two dark ponytails, was laughing while she was held high up by her father. Her brother Willie, accompanied by his red-headed brother Jamie, seemed fascinated by a yellow ball he held in his hands. Jamie clearly made an effort to relieve his brother of the toy.

Claire’s eyes moved up finding a picture of Christmas day.

In that picture, Ellen Fraser sat with a little swaddled baby in her arms, (it was Jamie, Claire assumed), on a carpet by the huge Christmas tree surrounded by her other two bairns, who proudly held their new presents, with ripped wrapping paper scattered around them.

A black and white photo captured their wedding day showing the happy faces of Frasers standing outside the church in Inverness. Another one of Jamie all dressed up at his High school graduation. One of Jenny holding her university diploma, both parents proud at her side. Ian and Jenny on their honeymoon in Spain, ridiculously tanned. Pictures of all the family members outside the hospital commemorating the birth of Jenny and Ian's first born. Ian looked overwhelmed as he held his newborn son, Jenny drowning in bouquets of flowers with a blue balloon floating over her head that said: “It’s a boy!”.

And now there was a picture of Jamie and Claire. Somehow she felt thrilled by the fact that Jamie decided to put their photo there as she belonged to this family. Showing that Claire was part of their family seemed important to him. As she turned to ask if Jenny needed any help, Jamie’s sister picked up a phone that was ringing for the second time already. Claire never knew that colour from someone’s cheeks can drain away that quickly.

“Jenny?” She tentatively touched her shoulder watching her face become paler and paler. Something frighteningly awful happened to cause a cold feeling to rise from deep within Claire's belly.

“It’s Jamie. There’s been an accident.”

* * *

When people experience sleep paralysis they often describe a feeling of choking, as if some supernatural creature would sit on their chest purposely cutting an airflow in their lungs. I felt that and more. When Jenny slid down the barstool, her hand still holding a phone I stepped closer. Her face became paper white. I managed to compose myself adopting that professional mask I always used in the hospital in spite of my breathing becoming harsh and uneven.

“Jenny, what happened? Tell me.”

She raised her head, eyes fixed on my face but not actually seeing me.

Jenny tried to stand up but shifted and almost dissolved into my arms. “Jamie had fallen from a horse. He doesna move.”

He doesna move.

Each syllable ran through my head as a manifesto cutting deep into the tissue of my brain.

Jenny sobbed, chin quivering.

“Jamie is good with horses but…” She gulped and escaped from my hand that was tight on her shoulder. “Dear God, I canna lose another brother.”

She spoke in a trembling voice and her hands shook causing me to feel the weight of a ton of bricks pressing down on my chest. With each shallow breaths, I thought I could actually feel my sternum crush. Like Jenny, my legs became weak, numb lacking the strength to carry me. My mouth became dry, my eyes burned but no tears came and I gasped for breath like a fish removed from its watery home.

“Christ, what if he’s dead” Jenny whispered flying out the door into the misty evening.

“He’s not.” I tried to sound confident but inside I just wanted to shake her and scream “Of course he’s fucking not!”.

I never knew I could run this fast. I never thought I would feel that terrifying paralyzing fear of losing someone again, not so soon after learning about Uncle Lamb's heart condition. With each meter closer to the stables my stomach clenched and the coffee I had an hour ago threatened to escape, rising up in my mouth. I tried not to imagine all the possible images of Jamie’s injured body. Jenny’s gasps and cries were crawling inside me waking my own fears, making me sick. When my eyes caught the side of Ian’s figure crouched down next to still Jamie the tears snaked down my cheeks. Sniffing, I dried the salty paths away with the back of my hand.

Suddenly I remembered when a young nurse had asked me if I could perform surgery on someone I love, on someone significant. I said I wasn’t sure. In fact, I could not. She asked me if I felt the pain when I lost a patient’s life. My answer was that of course, I did. But not without reason some people call doctors cold-hearted. If we were allowed to show our true emotions it would become a mess. There were times I had to tell that terrible news to relatives and then afterwards in the company of my cat I could allow myself to feel that pain and sadness.

But now it was Jamie. This very moment I knew true fear. The reality suspended around me and the only thing I tried to think of was the severity of the fall from the horse.

Jamie’s skin was pale and there was sweat glistening along his forehead as far as I could see. My heart was beating erratically as my trembling fingers searched and found the carotid artery on his neck. I exhaled feeling the steady pulse at his clammy skin.

“Have you called the ambulance?”

“Aye, I did the second I’d found him like this.” Ian ran his hand through hair, biting his lip nervously.

“Is he alright? He’ll wake up, right? Claire?” Jenny was squeezing Ian’s hand with such force that I was afraid she would break it.

Her voice was a mixture of hope and fear, projecting her worried state of mind and confusion on me. My eyes closed as I willed myself to concentrate pushing my emotions aside.

“First of all, we need to get him to Emergency. He fell from a height and I am not sure whether he hit his head, for that he must have CAT scan.”

Jenny nodded as she clung to her husband.

“He’ll likely regain his consciousness within the minute but if not please, don’t panic. He’ll be alright.” My voice shook at those last words. Slow but steady rising and falling of Jamie’s chest was a reassuring sign of him breathing. And I smoothed his red curls back with my palm. “You’ll be just fine. I'll make sure of it”

And that same moment Jamie’s hand stirred slightly, a little twitch but enough for my eyes start to water again. This time with relief.

His eyes fluttered open. Jamie looked disoriented and the way his lips curled into a tight line I could tell he was in pain.

“Hi there,” I whispered my palm cupping his cheek gently. “You fell off a horse, honey. But you’re going to be okay.”

He made an effort to nod, his eyes closed again.

“Jamie, are you hurt?”

“My shoulder-”

I saw his Adam’s apple bob under his skin as he swallowed.

“Hurts like hell. And I feel dizzy.” It took a great amount of exertion for those words to come out.

“Be still now.” I shushed him seeing the lights of the ambulance arriving, blue lights ablaze.

* * *

Jamie had been put onto the stretcher with me sitting beside him holding onto his hand. Finally, we arrived at the hospital where I was relegated to wait in the hospital waiting room.

The hospital of Inverness was about three times smaller than the one in Edinburgh where I worked every day. The manicured hand of the receptionist pointed me to the waiting room. That room reminded me of a train station with its plastic chairs, grey painted walls, and a sad lonely ficus. The ficus failed at an attempt to brighten and lend some coziness to the room. My imagination seemed to be running wild, as I thought that even the radiators shivered from the starkness of the place.

Picking up an old issue of Elle magazine from the colourful stack I flicked through it without actually paying attention to the content. In about twenty minutes after becoming quite sick of the TV programs playing along with their obnoxious commercials, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. A nurse, Laura as her name badge indicated, peered at me as she tapped her clipboard with a pen.

“Ma’am are ye a relative of James Fraser?”

“No-,” I shook my head, standing up. My knees painfully jerked on the table that stood in front of me sending pain down my legs.

The nurse quirked her eyebrow in a question and before she made a guess I blurted the first thing seemed logical.

“A girlfriend.”

Laura clicked her tongue as if she did not believe me and after scribbling something down with a blue and white pen she guided me to the hallway. Her hand felt heavy and cold on my back and her accent made me replay her words in my mind at least twice.

“Mr Fraser has a severe concussion. CAT scan hasn’t shown any bleeding but we advise the patient to stay overnight to monitor the symptoms.”

I just nodded walking over the sleek floors in the hallway space where my eyes started to hurt from all shiny steel and bright white walls.

“The dislocated shoulder was treated and we’ve given him ibuprofen for the pain but he’ll need rest and peace. Mr Fraser has asked about ye. Do ye wish to stay over the night, Ma’am?”

* * *

When I entered Jamie’s hospital room he was asleep. Worn out by the accident and all the procedures that followed. Jamie rested quietly in the realm of Morpheus now. Giving my eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness I reached the bed where he laid as quietly as I could. My lips softly brushed over his forehead before I slid down the chair next to him.

Just then I allowed myself to exhale deeply, all the feelings catching up with me.

I sat there in the darkness of a late November evening watching the lights of lonely passing cars draw lines over Jamie’s face.  My previous organised state of mind turned to dust in the revelation of the night creeping in. Tears stained my cheeks sliding down into the valley of my neck and finally creating a damp stain on my sweater.

I wasn’t sure where it came from but the slightest idea of losing Jamie, losing us created a hollow aching space inside my heart. It made me wrap my arms around myself for comfort as I shook my head reminding myself to breathe.

Just breathe.

You can never learn how to lose someone you love.

I’ve lost both of my parents. I was five at the time and maybe I didn't quite understand the idea of death but that evening I not only lost my parents, I also lost my childhood and old carefree self. I never got a chance to say how much I love them one more time. I’ve regretted it all my life. No matter how often I would repeat those words visiting their grave each year it would never fill that endless hole inside me.

I never got a chance to say those words to uncle Lamb. How many times did I let this sense of regret eat the flesh of my heart like a vulture devouring carrion? I knew about the poor state of his health during his last years. And I berated myself for not saying "I love you" enough.

The slightest idea of losing Jamie now slashed a deep, bleeding scar over my heart. The tears burst like a water dam, lashes heavy with dampness, my hand pressed over my lips afraid to wake Jamie with my cries.

The fear was ripping through my heart, my very being, coming out it wrenching sobs, turning my guts out. Everything became a blur as the sounds became muffled leaving me in complete silence with the only echo of my own quiet confession.

“I love you”

* * *

“I love you.” My lips repeated those three simple words again as if I was not sure I’d said them a minute ago. Sniffling into the sleeves of my sweater and smearing the remains of mascara I leaned to Jamie.

“You scared the hell out of me,” my whisper sounded hoarse and raspy. “I know you’d laugh at me. You’d say I’m a doctor and you’re in good hands. But Jamie…”

A nervous chuckle came out as I took his hand in mine, my thumb placing gentle caresses over his warm skin. Maybe I was a coward but it was easy to tell him all this while he slept.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t”  

I kept repeating those words until the rivers on my cheeks dried out and all the sounds around came back to me. Soothed by Jamie’s quiet breathing my fingers caressed his stubbled jaw.

“It’s as if my soul that’s been torn and reborn started breathing from the moment you found me.”

His hand slightly twitched in mine, fingers seeking that contact. But he was still asleep. Bringing his palm to mine I pressed my dry lips to it. The same as he did on our first night together.

“Good God, I know it’s dangerous. To let myself having someone I’m afraid to lose.  But it’s you that I need.”

I smiled.

“You know, when I went to that medical conference in Boston I swear I kept thinking about you each minute.”

After our ‘wee’ getaway to the Highlands life resumed its chaotic rhythm and swayed us away into the depths of it. Joe and I had to leave to the medical conference in Boston for a week. Jamie also had an urgent business he needed to deal with together with his uncles at the brewery.

We said our goodbyes with sloppy kisses at the airport and fifteen minutes rushed sex in the men toilet (where firstly I wiped the toilet seat before Jamie had settled himself down and then me on him). He laughed saying that I am ridiculously hygienic (calling me Dr.Beauchamp as he bit my earlobe gently). After moderately satisfying goodbye sex we parted promising to call each other each evening. In fact, we spoke only three times during that week and I ached for Jamie.

When day six arrived I was so ready to come back to beloved rainy and windy Scotland. Jamie and I chatted on Whatsapp for an hour creating so many plans for when I come back (it included a sex marathon to make up for the time apart, eating our favourite Chinese takeaway, going to see the new Marvel movie, Jamie promising to fix the dripping sink in my bathroom and me coming to Broch Mordha).

It was something I did not expect but something I was no longer wanting to reject. As I folded the last piece of clothing into my suitcase Jamie’s voice message popped on the app.

“Claire, there’s something I wanted to ask ye. But firstly I want ye to know there’s no pressure or anything like that. And ye can say no, I willna be offended. But it is important for me and I would be glad if ye agreed.”

His tone became a bit quieter then.

“I would love ye to come to Broch Mordha. To meet Jenny and Ian, to meet my Da. I could show ye around. Maybe ye could stay for a night?”

I recorded a message back.

“I would love to visit your hometown. Or rather home village should I say? I don’t mind that, Jamie. Especially, when I think of all the things you’d promised to do to me.”

I joked but in fact, I felt the butterflies in my stomach. Though I knew it must mean something more than we both anticipated at the beginning I was nearing that point. The point that I was ready to be in love with him. The point when my heart longed for him so much it hurt. The point where I thought I must already love him.

And when the last day opened its door my phone buzzed with a text that was trying to find its way to John Grey but ended in my jeans back pocket.

“Sorry, man, no pub this weekend. My girlfriend comes back from Boston and we have plans at home.”

My fingers typed back.

“I hope my boyfriend has good plans for me.”

The stupidest smile appeared on my face and I spent an additional five minutes at the airport security control because certain James Fraser called me his girlfriend and I knew he’d be the end of me.

“You should have seen the face of that officer, Jamie. He thought I was mad.” I whispered smiling. “But that’s the most unusual way I’ve become a girlfriend so far.”

I remembered arriving home in Scotland waiting for him to meet me there.

Something was rising in my chest when I saw him through the window walking up the front porch. God, I longed for him. I could almost cry with the want to be held by those hands again, to feel his body move against mine. But mostly I just wanted him near. To simply exist together in one space, to see his face when he wakes up and to listen to his untuned humming in the morning to the radio. To be with him. My breath hitched when the doorbell rang. Suddenly the blush crept in all the way on my neck to my cheeks. When my hands unlocked the door and Jamie entered our eyes settled on each other my heart pounded in my chest so hard I thought it’ll break free.

We haven’t seen each other for a week but it felt like years passed by and I couldn’t live without him any longer.

Jamie moved first, making two solid steps towards me before I myself wrapped my arms around him letting my head rest against his chest.

“A Leannan” He whispered softly pressing a kiss at my brow.

"I missed you”  I confessed quietly, Jamie’s jacket muffling my voice.

“So did I” He smiled when his thumb raised my chin and our lips collided.

I remembered when finally we went to see that Marvel movie but in fact, I had seen only the first twenty-five minutes of it. The rest will be forever be imprinted as a memory of Jamie’s hands roaming over my body and the fact that I could never tell this story to my children.

I remembered watching Jamie fixing my bathroom sink, cursing in Gaelic every now and then. It stirred something sweet and undeniable inside me and I walked over to him pressing at least a hundred kisses to his bare back.

I remembered a time when Jamie waited for me to finish my shift at the hospital and on our way out the new (and very nosy nurse) said with mischief in her eyes that we would have “verra bonnie bairns”.   It made the tips of Jamie’s ears become red and causing me to cough forcefully.

I remembered when it was time to finally come to Broch Mordha.

“Jamie, I know you cannot pick me up, I’ll take a train, it’s fine,” I started scrolling through the timetable of trains on the Edinburgh-Inverness route.

“Let Ian bring ye from the station at least, I’ll ask him,” Jamie wouldn’t drop the topic of my safety.

I smiled chewing on my lip.

“I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. I don’t want to be a bother. You know that I can fend for myself”.

Jamie snorted but the words came out serious.

“I ken that very well, Sassenach. Yer a fierce one. But I wouldna wish for ye even to try to do that. So just agree. Aye?”

“Aye,” I mimicked him but had to admit my life now was under a guard. In every sense.

I talked a lot to him until I lulled myself to sleep in that chair.

* * *

When Jamie woke his head was spinning and he had to blink several times for his vision to adjust to the darkness of the room. He felt as though his head was splitting in two. Then that nagging pain was running down his neck all the way to his shoulder.

He could feel a familiar warmth. Claire’s hand remained curled over his. She was a fragile figure covered in shadows, crouched on that hospital chair, her head dropped down her chest. The image of her, tired, asleep and so delicate made him want to cradle her and keep her safe inside himself, with his soul being her comfort. The words echoed in his fevered memory and crawled into his heart. Taken away from his dream that was put there by Claire’s voice before.

“Tha gaol agam ort”

Claire stirred and then rose in a swift motion woken up by Jamie’s voice.

“What did you say?”

She blinked still being half drowsy.

“I said I love ye”

[aki-draws-things]

I have been eyeing that prompt list and there's so much good on there... if you feel like it, 87 with Tycutio?

There we are, modern setting, inspired by the film, you can imagining that look for them too, I just avoided descriptions for either of them just for that...

And the ending is not just open... It's wide open. Good for thinking of any possibility, depends on the angst level you people wish.

Hope you'll like it, as always. 💖💖💖

***

“Is that a blood stain?”

The beach was desert, it was the only reason Tybalt was there. Or well, desert except for them. Him, and Mercutio. That was the second reason he went there, the Escalus boy. It was the safest place at that hour of the morning. And he knew he would find him there.

“Good morning to you too.” Mercutio scoffed, left the bench he was sitting on and approached him.

“Is that a fucking blood stain, Tybalt?” There was no room for lies in his question, too direct, too specific, Mercutio was too close. He could still try.

“It didn’t come clean last time, what can I say? Blood is a pain in the ass to clean, and you know it quite well too.” That went against every idea Tybalt had when he first left the Capulet palace that morning, way before dawn. He wanted, needed, to see Mercutio, be honest, find a little bit of safety too, perhaps. 

“Sure.” He didn’t believe him, not one bit. In another moment Tybalt would’ve hated him, or he would’ve got angry. Not that time, he didn’t care so much if he believed him or not, hell, he didn’t want him to believe him. “Because a not cleaned stain gets bigger as I speak. For the love of God, Tybalt!” He sounded exhasperated, annoyed, not really angry, just… Well, maybe just a tiny bit. And damn, Tybalt had no way to defend himself. - Not that he wanted to. Not that he needed to. There was a reason he went there where he knew would find Mercutio still alone. - 

“Didn’t take you for the religious type.” Mercutio wasn’t smiling, he realized, again, he wasn’t angry, he was worried. For some reason that made him uncomfortable. A worried Mercutio was demanding, always. He would demand answers, he would demand vengeance, he would demand -- He froze. Pain flashed up in him,seized his muscles, he fought, he tried to keep a mask of complete indifference on, tried not to bend over himself and bring both hands to the side. 

Instead it was Mercutio’s hands on him, holding him up from the shoulder, one hand on his face, stroking his cheek.

There. Third reason he went to look for Mercutio. He was soft, gentle, with him. When they were not fighting.

“Sit.” He took him to the bench and forced him sit, he lifted his chin making eye contact with him, as much as he could at least. “I’m going to see what mess you got yourself into and you’re not going to complain, understand?”

“You’re bossy.” Tybalt lifted a hand, slowly, Mercutio wasn’t sure it was completely deliberate, and poked his cheek with a finger a couple of times before letting it fall back on his legs.

“And you’re a mess who’s going to get himself killed.” He ignored as best as he could Tybalt’s remarks about how he should first ask permission before taking his shirt away, not the usual remarks, not funny in any way, more like -- 

“Stop squirming.”

“You’re trying to peel my skin off…” He whispered, or whimpered, he wasn’t fully sure of that either, he sounded in pain, he wanted to take it away. He probably should’ve called an ambulance the moment Tybalt showed up.

“I’m not, I’m helping. It’s not my fault your ridiculous shirt is glued there.” He stopped trying when Tybalt tried to stand and leave the bench, his hands were covered in blood, the stain was bigger.

“That’s it. I’m calling an ambulance.” he already had the phone in hand when tybalt all but threw himself at him. The ended up rolling in the sand like children until tybalt managed to snatch the phone out of his hand and fell on mercutio's chest. Blood was now all over his shirt too. 

"no ambulance?" Tybalt shook his heads. He felt tired, so tired, so weak, every time he tried to take a full breath he felt blood spilling out from his body. "fine. I'll take you there myself." 

"mercut--!" he stopped suppressing a yelp when the Escalus stood up and carried him toward the car. 

"no… No hospital. They ask questions… They--" 

He checked the belt and then climbed on the other side, once again ignoring his protests. 

"you're going to tell me what the fuck happened, and you're not gonna lie, understand?" his head lolled against the window. "hey! Tybalt!!" he shook him lightly with a hand, his eyes still fixed on the road. 

"had a misunderstanding." he sounded tired, Mercutio could see him closing his eyes despite trying to fight unconsciousness, he was sweating, and bleeding, in his car too.

"a misunderstanding, you say?" he nodded and mercutio speed off in the road again. "with who? What have they--" 

"I think I may have a bullet somewhere in my stomach or something…?" mercutio hit the brakes after the fastest parking he ever did. 

"and you called it a stain?!" when he turned tybalt had his head against the windows, and a hand softly placed on the wound. Quiet, unmoving, unconscious. 

"mercutio." he looked up from staring at his own hands for the past hour, still bloodied. "why?" that wasn't the question he expected, in all honesty. 

"why can't I have one single day of peace?!" oh, no, now it sounded just fine. "not even 3 hours into my shift and the hospital calls me, I get there and what do I find? My nephew. Covered in blood. Again. Is that too much to ask for one day of peace?" he took a breath trying to regain some composure, at least mercutio didn't appear to be hurt, that was something. 

"who's blood is it, anyway?" 

He hesitated a moment, looked back on his hands, red, bloodied, dirty. He thought of tybalt, carrying him inside begging for help, seeing them taking him away, one hour before, he heard talks of surgery, and of blood. 

"tybalt's…" the answer came almost automatic, he had learned young that when his uncle asked him something he had to answer hi, always, whether he liked it or not. 

The police captain sighed passing a hand through the hair. 

"of course why did I even ask?" he waited a moment. "is it really too much to ask of you boys to stop trying to harm each other before someone gets killed?" 

"I didn't-- I --!" he saw Lord Capulet behind his uncle, talking with a nurse or someone.someone probably called him. Him. Of all people. "I didn't." he said again, harder, more convinced, and convincing, angrier. 

All he needed now was for tybalt to be fine and then talk to his uncle, possibly without hiding anything again, not after he shot him, not after almost dying.

that was all he needed. 

A nurse came out and approached them. 

[themaskedwriter]

Knock Out

Boxer!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky used to be a world famous boxer and he’s been out of the ring for too long

Warnings: violence, injury, boxing, surgery mentions

Word counts: 4000+ (Sorry not sorry)

Clues:

- This isn’t my first time in the ring with a fic

- I’m known for being long-winded

- I really need to post more writing on tumblr instead of Ao3

Bucky’s left fist flashed between the two fighters, making contact with his opponent’s shoulder, right before the bell rang. At the sound, the two fighters distanced themselves and moved into their corners of the boxing ring. You could tell Bucky was beginning to tire; his past stamina hadn’t completely returned. His coach, Nick Fury, and cutman, Steve Rogers, were ready and waiting. Coach Fury was going over Bucky’s opponent’s, Brock Rummlow’s, weak spot where he wasn’t blocking. Steve was gently checking a small cut which had opened over Bucky’s left eye. He quickly butterflied it shut in hopes it would mostly halt the bleeding until the fight was over.

               “He’s got this Y/N,” Natasha said from the left of you in the stands. The both of you sat in the front row of the stands. Being Bucky’s girlfriend had its perks, one of which was front row seats to all of his matches.  Nat had been a great boxer in the past, but she had decided to take a break and try coaching for a while which meant she would sit with you during fights.

               “Of course he has this Natasha,” Tony stated cockily from the other side of you. “He knows I put a lot of money into bring his ass back from the dead.” At his statement, you glared at Tony. The man was the owner of the club and you loved him, most of the time, but you were not in the mood for jokes.

               “Tony, you know I’m more concerned about his health than your money,” You responded coldly as you returned your eyes to the ring. Bucky was still breathing hard from his last round of fighting, something he had never done before his injury. Normally he could make it twelve rounds at the regional level without breaking much of a sweat, but instead he was huffing air by the 8th. You worried for not only his physical health but his mental state as well if he couldn’t win this match. It was his first fight since his injury and all you could hope for was a win.

               The bell rang once again, and the announcer called for the 9th round to start. Bucky and Brock squared off against each other, looking for an opening. Bucky initiated the fighting with a 1-1-2 combo to Brock’s chest. This consisted of two jabs and a cross. To throw Brock off, Bucky had performed the cross with his left hand rather than his right. Seeing Bucky use his left arm so well made your mind race back to a different fight.

               16 Months Ago

               You cheered exuberantly from the front row of the stands as always. Bucky had won the US National championships for the super middleweight class and was now trying to qualify for the Olympics. He was competing in a regional fight to increase his seasonal score, so he would qualify for the World Series of Boxing. Getting into that fight would almost guarantee him an Olympic slot. He was fighting Helmut Zemo, an up and comer in the boxing world. The two fighters were in the 5th round and Bucky was ahead by a drastic amount of points. He smiled as he fought, knowing this fight could be his ticket to the Olympics. He had been dreaming of being on that international stage since he was a child when him and Steve started boxing lessons.

               Zemo was tiring out. He was slower to dodge punches and wasn’t ducking completely under the hits. Bucky began picking up in rhythm and intensity of his hits, hoping for a knockout to cut the match short. With a smirk, he landed his signature left hook to Zemo’s temple, effectively putting the man on the floor. Zemo tried to stand but couldn’t as the official counted to ten. When he hit the final number, the official called the fight and held up Bucky’s arm to signal his victory. The crowd erupted into a roaring cheer. The biggest grin you had ever seen was present on Bucky’s face and you could tell he was trying to hold back tears. As you raced towards the ring to congratulate him, the world seemed to move in slow motion. Zemo slowly rose from the ground, an astonishing ferocity driving him forward. You tried to yell for Bucky, but the sound of the crowd overpowered your voice. Zemo raged forward and punched Bucky in the left shoulder. Bucky’s eyes went wide when he felt the hit and he dropped to his knees from the pain. The official rushed to detain Zemo but Bucky was kneeling on the floor, eyes-wide and filled with horror. You knew something was wrong by the haunted look in his eyes.

               “Bucky!” you screamed as you pushed through the last of the crowd and climbed through the ropes. Bruce, the team doctor, reached Bucky at the same time as you did.

               “Bucky, I need you to stay very still for me so I can look at your shoulder ok?” Bruce explained calmly. Bucky just nodded.

               “Bucky?” you asked firmly, but you received no response. “Bucky look at me.” You demanded of the man. His eyes finally slid to meet yours.

               “I’m done Y/N. I’m not going to fight in the Olympics.” He stated with a watery voice. He was still trying to hold back tears, but this time ones of heartbreak.

               “You don’t know that sweetheart,�� you comforted. “The World Series isn’t for another month, you could still fight.” Bucky had always been an absurdly quick healer and you had no doubt he’d be ok to fight by the end of the month.

               “He might,” Bruce muttered. “He has a dislocated shoulder. There may be other damage to the ligaments and muscles, but it looks like the bone made a clean sweep. There’s no bruising or discoloration. I will need to set the shoulder immediately though so there’s no further damage. Bucky this will hurt. Probably a lot.”

               As Bruce got into position to set the shoulder you grabbed Bucky’s hand with one of yours and his chin with the other.

               “I’ve got you Bucky,” You told him while firmly squeezing his hand. Bruce counted to three and on the final number, set the shoulder. A loud pop sounded out and Bucky’s face contorted in pain. He wrapped his right arm around you and pulled you close to him, burying his face into your neck. You felt stray tears on your skin as he tried to even out his breathing.

               Bruce continued inspecting his shoulder for further damage, but on the surface level saw none. He instructed Bucky that he would need to go to the ER for MRIs to see if there was deeper tissue damage. Bucky said something against your shoulder, but you couldn’t understand the mumbled words.

               “Bucky? What did you say?” you questioned. He released a shaky breath and sat up slightly.

               “I can’t feel my shoulder.”

It was nerve damage. His axillary nerve in his left shoulder had been damaged with the dislocation. Bucky had no sensation in his left shoulder or his upper arm. The doctors told him they could fix it with surgery but had to wait a minimum of three months before attempting it. The main point of this: Bucky wouldn’t be going to the Olympics.

               One thing Bucky had not lost his ability to do was duck a punch. All of Brock’s punches that should have landed on Bucky’s face were deftly dodged. Bucky was quick and tactile which made him a close to perfect defensive boxer. Brock attempted to land a right cross on Bucky but he quickly ducked the hit and delivered two more jabs to Brock.

               13 Months Ago

               The doctors had agreed to do the surgery. They were going to take part of a different nerve and attach it to the damaged one in his axilla. Bucky was due to the medical center at six the next morning. He had tried to go to bed early but he was unable to fall asleep from the anxiety. You crawled into bed next to him and curled up against his right side. Ever since the injury, Bucky had been hesitant to have anyone near his left shoulder. He was worried of further damage, but also didn’t like the idea that he couldn’t feel it if someone touched that area. His arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him.

               “It’s going to be ok Bucky,” you comforted as you reached up to caress his face. “They’re going to do this surgery and then you can go back to doing what you love.” He looked apprehensive at your statement, something else was obviously eating away at him.

               “Talk to me tough guy,” you urged.

               “What if something goes wrong? There’s always a risk with surgeries on nerves that they’ll fuck it up. What if they make it worse? What if I can’t box anymore?” You could see the worry showing on his face as he looked down at you. Terror showed in his eyes at the thought of never being able to box again.

               “Dr. Strange is one of the best surgeons in the country and Dr. Cho is incredible with her advancements in physical therapy. You’re going to get through this. I promise.” After more reassurances and soothing touches, Bucky finally fell asleep.

               The next morning you both were quiet as you got prepared to go to the medical center. Upon your arrival, Bucky was told to take a seat and wait for a few minutes. You could tell he was still anxious from how he sat with his head down and foot bouncing rapidly. As you sat, you grabbed his hand and held it tight. Your other hand turned his face to see yours.  Your eyes met, and you passed reassurances through you gaze. When his name was called he kissed you fiercely before following the nurse back. At the door he stopped and sent another longing glance to you. All you could do was send him what you hoped looked like a reassuring smile. He turned and walked away while the doors shut behind him. All you could do was wait.

Brock was a strong fighter for the regional level and it showed. Most local boxers would have been exhausted by now, but the man’s stamina persevered to match Bucky’s. He had been worn down by some of Bucky’s hits, but he was still standing and still punching harder than you would like.

12 months ago

               A couple of weeks after Bucky’s surgery, he began going to physical therapy. The surgery had been hugely successful and Dr. Strange had connected the new nerve tissue with no issue. He had a positive outlook on Bucky’s recovery. Since the surgery, Bucky had been in a sling to keep his shoulder immobile while the nerve tissues grafted together. So far, the healing process had gone well, and he had been good about keeping the arm in place. The price of regaining sensation was the return of pain. There were multiple nights when you would wake up to a cry of pain emanating from the man beside you because he rolled over onto his shoulder. Nerves were sensitive, especially after surgery, and Bucky was wary of taking too much pain medication. Because of this, he was in pain a lot. You were there for him as much as you could be, helping make meals, shower, and get dressed. Every menial task had become a significant hurdle to climb over, but you made it through. Steve had come by on his off days to keep Bucky company or make lunch while you were at work. Sometimes Natasha would come too, but she was only free to visit at odd hours because of the schedule at the gym. Bruce called every day to check Bucky’s progress, while Tony had just called once to see how the surgery went.

               You drove Bucky to his first physical therapy appointment with Dr. Cho. She took his history and then sat him down to explain the process. She confirmed that it would take a lot of work to retrain his arm to fully function again, but with his cooperation it could surely be done. She started with basic range of motion exercises. She would move his arm for him in different directions to get test his flexibility and allow the muscles to begin working again. She had you watch so you would be able to perform the exercises at home. She also had him try gripping towels and other soft objects to make sure his brain was still successfully sending signals to his hand. Bucky was sweating by the end of the session because, even though it doesn’t seem like much to most, the different activities had worn him out.

               On the drive home, he seemed aggravated but you knew from past experience to let him have some time to think. When you arrived at your shared apartment, he swiftly opened the door and then slammed it shut. The noise startled you and you watched as he stormed into the building without you. When you finally made it up to your apartment, the sounds of off rhythm punches could be heard. You slowly made your way into one of the spare rooms which had been turned into a gym. Upon entering, you saw Bucky slamming his right fist into the hanging punching bag. The pace was haphazard without his left hand, and you could see a couple tears running down his aggravated face.

               “Bucky,” you called calmly, but he didn’t answer. He just kept hitting the bag. You tried again, attempting to keep a calm tone, but had no luck. You finally screamed his name when you saw him attempt to cock back his injured arm. He froze.

               “Bucky don’t try it,” you urged as you made your way over to him. Placing yourself between him and the bag, you reached up to cup his face.

               “Look at me baby, please just look at me.” Bucky’s eyes slowly lowered to meet yours. His left arm was still slightly raised to punch, and you could see it shaking with the exertion it took to keep it there. You moved one hand from his face to the upper portion of his left arm. Gently, you applied pressure, trying to make him lower his arm. After a moment of resistance, he let you push the injured limb down to his side again. At this, he let out a large breath, and his face crumbled further.

               “I can’t do this Y/N,” he whispered forlornly. “I can’t even move my arm by myself most of the time. How am I ever going to box again?” His eyes dropped again as he tried to contain his growing despair. You tilted his chin up so that your gazes met again.

               “Bucky Barnes, you will box again. I refuse to lie and tell you it will be easy. It’s going to fucking suck for a while. But we’re going to get through this. You’re going to get through this. You just have to stay strong and do what the doctors tell you.” As you talked, your thumb stroked his injured shoulder where you had been holding it. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

               “I almost forgot what that felt like,” he murmured. “I thought for a while I’d never feel it again.”

               “You’re starting to heal Bucky. Look how far you’ve come in a month. You went from not being able to feel or use your arm to having sensation again. And I know grabbing on to towels repeatedly may not seem like much, but that’s a big jump from not being able to do anything.” You said all of this with a soft smile which Bucky returned.

               “Ok,” he stated. “I’m going to do this.” His voice held conviction rather than sadness and a light had returned to his eyes. He leaned down and place his lips gently against yours. The kiss conveyed so much gratitude and hope between you both. He pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead to yours.

               “Thank you.”

               Bucky was determined. It was evident on his face. He was going to win this match. His punches grew stronger and faster. The combinations he threw were for higher points and more precise. Brock was able to land a few more light jabs to Bucky’s chest but you could see him begin to worry.

               6 months ago

               Bucky had been thriving in physical therapy. Dr. Cho had finally cleared him to begin boxing again. Steve had come over to the apartment to oversee Bucky’s first official day of training and to make sure he didn’t push himself too hard. When Steve arrived, you pushed him into the hallway outside of your door to talk to him. You double checked Bucky was still in your room, changing into workout clothes, before shutting the door.

               “I’m going to make this quick Rogers. The doctor said there might be some pain when he begins training again because of how long it’s been, but if you see him grimacing more than usual you make him stop. Got it?” you commanded with a stern expression. You knew Bucky was going to push himself as hard as possible, but you weren’t willing to let his stubbornness get in the way of his recovery. Steve vehemently agreed before you opened the door behind you to let him inside. As you were shutting it, Bucky emerged from your bedroom. When he saw Steve, the two embraced and patted each other on the back. Bucky made his way to you and wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close. He had a large grin on his face.

               “Promise you’ll be careful?” you questioned worriedly. Bucky had made you promise not to come in during training, knowing you would fret over his every movement. He understood your fear of him reinjuring himself, but you also understood it would hinder his recovery at this stage.

               “I promise doll. I’ll go easy with it today,” he reassured you with a squeeze and a brief peck on the lips. After the two men retreated into the at home gym, you went to sit out on the balcony to try and relax, but also to avoid hearing Bucky train. An hour later, a hand nudged you awake. You had fallen asleep at some time during the hour. Steve now stood above you with a grin. You shot up from your chair looking around for Bucky. Steve interrupted before you were able to ask questions.

               “He did great,” Steve informed you. “He didn’t push it too hard and worked hard on keeping his form correct instead of hitting hard. We mainly worked on that left hook of his. He’s inside grabbing an ice pack like the doctor told him too.” A heavy sigh of relief left you at Steve’s explanation. You made your way back through the door and saw Bucky sitting on the couch icing his shoulder with an enormous grin on his face. He had done it.

               Brock was in serious trouble. He could no longer keep up with Bucky’s hits. He tried to duck out of the way or block the punches, but Bucky was too fast. More hits were landing on Brock’s face and the man was starting to look dazed.

               1 month ago

               Bucky sat next to you in a chair in Tony’s large office. The club owner had called you both down to the gym that morning with an excited tone. It wasn’t the first time you had been back to the gym with Bucky since the injury. In the last couple of months, Bucky had moved his training back to the boxing gym and out of the home gym. He had improved immensely in that time and was sparring every day. Today was supposed to be an off day focused on recovery from an intense week of training, but Tony had insisted you come to the gym.

               Tony cleared his throat before he began.

               “So, I booked you a fight,” He stated simply. Bucky’s eye lit up at Tony’s declaration and began rapidly asking for details.

               “Slow down tin man,” Tony said. “His name is Brock Rumlow. The fight will be at a regional level and in about a month. We’ll hold it here to give you a home field advantage.”

               At Tony’s explanation, Bucky began laughing. It was a hearty laugh you hadn’t heard much of in the last year and a half.

               “I’m going to fight again? I’m going to fight again!” he yelled as he bolted up from his chair. “Y/N! I’m going to box again!” As you stood up to join his celebration, he wrapped his arms around you and swept you off your feet. He spun you around as he laughed, happiness and excitement surrounding him. When he placed you back on your feet, your eyes met.

               “You’re going to box again!”

               Brock was getting desperate. His latest punch had been dangerously close to illegal and you could tell he had been trying to get in a kidney punch to slow Bucky down. Bucky grunted, but then delivered a perfect left hook to Brock’s temple. Brock dropped. He laid unmoving on the ground as the official counted to ten. When he reached the final number, he grabbed Bucky’s left arm and raised it high in the air. The crowd erupted into cheers. You rushed to the edge of the ring where Coach Fury met you to let you through the ropes. After you climbed through, you raced to a waiting Bucky and jumped into his open arms. Your legs wrapped around his torso as he held you tight to him, burying his face into your shoulder. You felt a few happy tears wet your shoulder as you felt his smile there as well. He placed you down and you felt multiple sets of arms embrace the two of you. Nat, Steve, and Bruce had joined you huddle of excitement as they cheered for Bucky’s win. Tony stood off to the side speaking with Coach Fury, a smirk on his face.

               As the other stepped back, Bucky kissed you passionately. His lips crashed against yours, and his arms moved to your hips, pressing you against him harder. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your hands made their way to entwine with his hair. After a few moments, you pulled away from a smiling Bucky, a look of pride in both of your expressions.

               “You did it Bucky.”

               “No doll. We did it.”

[michelleleahhh]

Hey!! First of all, Broken Crown is the BEST Loki fic I’ve ever read!! Thank you for blessing us with it 💚 For the drabble thing, could I please have Loki x Reader with 20 & 62?? I think it would fulfil my angsty needs! 😂

Oh boy, FIRST… I think that is heaping, high praise. Thank you so much for the support Anon. 

& Since you so kindly asked for angst, you’re getting angst. I’m so sorry in advanced. 

20. “Don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken.”

62. “Please shut up. Just shut up.”

Rating: T, angst, mentions of death

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Permanent Taglist: @fairlightswiftly​, @javelinamilk​, @wannabebr1t​, @joyofbebbanburg​,

Sleep on the Floor

“I don’t want that.”

His face falls when you say the words. Pure, unadulterated desperation. Then, Loki looks at Idunn’s golden apple held tightly in his clutches. The fruit of immortality.

His eyes narrow on it; knuckles turning white and mouth tightening into one, thin line as he internalizes your rejection.

“What do you mean you don’t want it?”

“I just…” Your voice dries with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I don’t.” Your eyebrows knit across your forehead, allowing you to take a moment to gather your thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain.”

“Do your best,” he demands sharply.

You sigh, “I’d live for thousands of years.”

Loki nods, with a quick jut of his head. “Correct.”

You take a deep inhale, and release the air in a stuttering breath, nerves frayed. You look at the kitchen table, mesmerizing the wood’s groove, trying to think. Hypothesize. Formulate words that have escaped you. “Everyone I know will die. I’d have to watch them. One by one.”

Understanding dawns on Loki’s features. “That is true.”

You pin him with an irritated glare, eyes beginning to water. “And I will be alone.”

“You will not be alone,” he says emphatically.

“Yes, I will.” You snap, turning around to think clearly. Your fingers begin counting, listing the things you’ll lose in a quest for near immortality. “My friends, my family. Everything I’ve known. It’ll all go away.”

Loki maneuvers around you and forces himself in your line of sight. “You’ll have me.”

“For how long?” You manage to ask in a whisper, looking up at him.

Loki tilts his chin, “What does that mean?”

“How long will you actually be with me before you’re bored and find the next thing? How long can I make you happy?”

“I love you,” he retorts quickly, cracking. Defending himself. Like his love is the most obvious thing in the world. “This will fix our differences. We’ll be able to be together.”

“Don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken,” you reply.

Loki shuts his mouth, demeanor, slowly mutitating into something harder. But he doesn’t say a word, he just stares at you cooly.

So, you continue on. “This, you and me… I love you. I do. I love you more than anyone and anything. But to… do this.” You point to the apple in his hands, frustrated. “To eat that apple. It changes everything. I’d be dependent on you forever. There is no way I’d be able to reclaim me.”

Loki’s eyes transform into a black, critical wall, guarding you from his thoughts. But, his body is what really sets you on edge: tense shoulders, lips curling back in a sneer. “I see, you think that you’re just a whim of mine. That this is temporary. That I’m not capable of loving so-”

“Please shut up,” you cut him off. “Just shut up, Loki.” Your voice is a whisper, but all the more commanding, enrapturing. “You know that’s not true.”

But, he continues on, lost in one of his irrational fits. “I’m just a monster, powerless to my imperious, mischievous nature.” He chuckled darkly, tossing the apple in the air and catching it easily. “You must be right. I couldn’t possibly, actually love you. A weak, sniveling mortal. To think I almost gave you a taste of immortality, to make you mine for thousands of years.” He leans forward, ever close to your face. It’s entirely haunting, degrading, and terrifying. “Never forget that you are replaceable.”

“I see,” you nod. “I didn’t realize that your love was conditional.”

He tilts his head, “Why would you say that?”

“Because you’ll only love me if I’m like you.”

“And what about me?” He volleys back. “What about when you grow old and die, and I am left here? Alone. Without anyone. Have you given that any thought?”

A tear slips down your cheek and you swat it away. “Of course I have.”

“And yet, you are still standing by this choice.”

“Yes.”

Loki stands straight, “You will change your mind.”

No, you won’t. You’ve thought about it too much, too often. It’s been on your mind since the moment he mentioned it years ago, when you joked about needing new knees.

To live forever is a romantic notion, lusted after by those too young to understand what it means.

What it means is seeing death, over and over again. And you, being stuck here, forever in one place, tethered to one man. You’ll be giving up your life, giving up Earth, giving up everything you’ve ever known… for him.

And you love Loki, you do. His smile, particularly the way his lips pull at the corners just slightly. His hair, and the wavy curls that krimp from the humidity of summer months. His intelligence. His humor. His ignorant understanding of humans.

But you also love you. And you love your life, and you love him in your life. And you refuse to change you, your body, your soul to be with him. What kind of person would you be if you do this?

Another tear falls, and you let it be. “No, I won’t.”

He taps his foot, anger wafting off of him in tidal waves. Then, oddly enough, it fades. Like a quick change of currents.  “Fine.”

Then, he takes one bite of the apple, reversing the effects of his Godhood. Just as Odin mentioned when he gave his son the apple.

Condemning himself to a life as a mortal.

And years later, when Loki’s hair is grey and you are in the hospital recovering from knee surgery. You ask him, finally, after years of being too terrified to do so.

No, he doesn’t regret it.

He could never regret a life that gave him fifty years with you.

He could never live a life without you.

No mischief, no century would be worth it.

Besides, he already knew that day you wouldn’t accept. Knew this was his path the day he met you.

He loves you, truly, maddenly.

Even in this sniveling, aging, mortal form.

[usukitomogara]

Especially on sultry days near the end of the rainy season like today, the flesh on both sides turns into an aroma diffuser of death. It is a an exceptionally hideous Oai odor, endlessly also emit and without Mokumoku, change and to hell with the interior space in a moment.

I am a serious, so-called wakiga. It is a wakiger.

If the maximum level of armpits is 10 and the power to bury a hamster in the armpit in seconds, I'm a fairly legendary category of about 8-9.

My half-life can be called a fight with my wakiga. When I was a teenager, I was worried about to die. After graduating from high school, I had apocrine gland removal surgery. It recurred in my late twenties. It became stronger and revived. I was worried again. Every effort was made, but in vain. With the years, the smell became stronger. Today, when I'm in my forties, this armpit has the strongest odor, but I'm not worried at all. I'm even thankful for being born in Wakiga. What is this change like?

It is generally said that there are different types of wakiga odors, but in my case, the rotten odors of milk, fish, meat and onions, urine, vinegared rice, mold, iron odors, all of which are left over. Is blended without. Approximately all the bad odors that a human can have are generously condensed into a certain gas. It is, so to speak, a Western music HIT compilation "NOW" in the world of wakiga.

The quality is high, but the quantity is great. The white T-shirt is yellow for both sides so that it doesn't last for a season. The gray T-shirt is sweaty before you leave the house. When I was delivering a newspaper, I sometimes delivered it by pinching the morning newspaper. Originally a highly absorbent newspaper, the thirty copies of the morning edition were all covered in sweat from the front page to the program table.

On a hot and humid day like today, I think it's a nightmare-like smelt.

As I continue to smell the same odor 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, I feel the stimulus is fresh, so it's easy to imagine how much hell someone else stepping into my wakidein range can see me to hell. .. Moreover, its power goes beyond mere "smell". The power of wakiga is supposed to be effective only against the nasal cavity, but at my level, the attack extends to the throat and lungs.

Since the apocrine glands beside me awoke and wakiga began to rage, people nearby were coughing violently. In a crowded train, in a classroom, at a convenience store, and as people pass by on the street, people cough with a few tears. A weak-legged grandfather with a cane blows his dentures, and coughs like crazy enough to pull his soul half out of his body. Of course, there is also the possibility of beliefs due to excessive self-consciousness. As a single hope, the logic is that the visual sensations rather than the odor, that is, the teratogenicity of my body, makes people dislike and consciously coughs as an expression. I had also assembled. But it was useless.

On the street, I once tried to overtake a young eagle worker who walked forward. The younger man began to cough violently when the distance gradually decreased and three meters left. With the same tone that I often hear on the train. The young man has not even perceived a pedestrian behind him. People were cruelly honest about the transparent gas of Wakiga.

Naturally, I was worried about to die when adolescents were concerned about the opposite sex.

When I was a junior high school student, every year the summer was approaching and I wanted to die from the end of GW. Finally, I decided to prepare for only Y-shirts. This is because the sweat stain becomes noticeable, as well as the smell becomes stronger. Like malnourished children in developing countries, or Pygmon, I always close my arms tightly, and when I pick up things, I move them only from the elbows. Such efforts were vain, and Amraco gals who were high in school caste sweared in the halls and so on, saying, "I'm really wacky, but w", and were given nicknames such as durian, kebab, and sushitaro.

It was winter, especially hell. Instead of worrying about sweat stains, Gakuran gives off a ferocious stench. It smells like a dry rag left in the shade for a week after wiping plenty of milk. Wakiga has no breaks. The thick cloth, Gakuran, has bad breathability, so I rather sweat. The sweat that has no place to escape evaporates, and the inner and Y-shirts function as a two-layer filter to filter, and high-purity wakiga extract is caught by the outer Gakuran fabric. In addition, winter drying causes bacteria to grow. The occurrence of violent stench is inevitable.

Besides, Gakuran doesn't wash so often. When I returned from school, I used water and detergent only on the side of the school run to wash my hands. It's something I'll wear the next day, so I can't just give it a fair sun. I have to dry it by morning. Therefore, after washing with water, I kept the dryer in the washroom for 2-3 hours. Finally, between the dryer and the cloth, it clicks! And when the blue lightning like Cherenkov light ran, I thought I had gone as far as possible. However, the effort was not rewarded, and the next day, the smell of detergent was added to the above-mentioned bad odor, which made people around him uncomfortable.

I decided to have an operation after having troubled myself to the point of mental collapse. Human relations are reset during the spring break after graduating from high school. I thought it would be the only time to do it. At the clinic in Ikebukuro, which is a comprehensive department store of plastic surgery, laser hair removal, chin excision, nasal prosthesis placement, silicone boobs, and almost anything related to beauty, shame the waiting room crowded by model-like sisters Shinobu jumped in. I made an appointment for the surgery day at the first visit without consulting my parents. My mother was an old man who never allowed me to put a scalpel on my parent's body. I have never confessed about wakiga's worries. However, I wonder if I secretly knew what I was doing, and when I showed him the invoice, he transferred nearly 200,000 yen without saying anything.

On the day of the operation, in the operating room of Norinori, where club music was played, the operation proceeded by a young teacher with a chara allback and a nurse in a pink nurse outfit sold at Don Quixote. Since I had a partial anesthesia, my teacher asked me about some wakiga while he was cutting the apocrine gland. It was my first time to confess to another person at this time, but it was easy to talk with a light teacher, so when I started talking, I could not stop. I felt comfortable as I was talking, and I had no surgery, so it seemed silly that I was worried about death. Sunny, I got the long-cherished odorless armpit that would not drop a single drop of side sweat even in midsummer. I suffered from complete numbness around the armpit and some numbness, leaving scars like swelling of the earthworm, but it does not hurt my life.

Having suffered for as long as you die can turn you over to what you love as you die. Shigeru Mizuki, the famous author of the manga "GeGeGe no Kitaro", lost one arm in Rabaul, the destination of the war in the previous war, and returned to life after nine deaths. Since the arrival of peace after the war, he has loved the land of the once-threatening Rabaul and has visited it more than 10 times. It's annoying to cite it, but about two years after I got an odorless wakiga, I fell in love with the wakiga that would have afflicted me once. To be precise, the smell of the armpits of women began to become extraordinarily excited.

When I was twenty, I miraculously had a girlfriend (probably kanako) and abandoned her virginity. Strictly not her, she is a woman who has sex. Not a sex friend. There is nothing to communicate with each other other than sex. It was like a human masturbation product where you would go back to TSUTAYA to return to the DVD and go home with a rusty mama-chari on the brakes when you went out to meet each other. To that proof, kanako appeared before me without much makeup. Even rice has never been eaten together. I don't mind this, I'll let you do it every time, and I thought I didn't have to worry about it.

More than a year after having sex for the first time, and when I don't know how many times I had sex, it's not uncommon to have a fellatio even when I have a fellatio. In such a case, I closed my eyes and said in my head, "The woman who is sucking now is Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li..." There are times when you look at it when you open it, fold up the newspaper, and raise your heavy waist, which can make you feel better, but it also becomes less useful.

One day, when sex was downgraded to act equivalent to dungeon and brushing teeth, one day when I went to kanako's room, I was wearing a sleeveless leopard dress like a primitive man's control and folding laundry. I was struck by the appearance of life and shabbyness. It is said that her husband got it in arcade. Thinking that I should go home and do wii's Zelda legend, I knew something instinctively when Kanako reached out to take Kabuki or take something from the shelf. Then, suddenly, I stopped looking at the mobile phone and turned my gaze to kanako. I stood up quickly. The armpit of Kanako who looked into suddenly had a little hair under her hair because of her daily laziness. I stay as it is! Yelled. Then, he approached and fixed the bottle-bottom glasses that were slipping down, and looked at it a little... seriously. In me, the sound of the earth started to sound. I took kanako's arm and opened her arm full. I desperately restrained my trembling arm to close it immediately. I had been overlooked until now. How beautiful...! Suddenly, the humidity was suddenly released. It was like a breath of spring under a cherry tree in full bloom. Kanako who shook Kabuki on the floor and trembled suddenly.... It's a revolution! Magma overflowed with a terrible explosion. For the first time in over a month, I slammed my One Piece and threw it on a futon with my princess hugging, holding my kana child hall violently. Hugged, sniffed, sniffed, hugged. While sticking from behind, I put my finger under my sweaty armpit and sniffed it. While covering from the top, the face armpits that made me live, buried my face under my armpit, licked Peron Peron, and screamed on my tongue were the drugs themselves. That night, as if I met him for the first time, he got crazy again and again. No, I didn't have time to wither. Even though I'm a woman who can eat Katsu-don while turning the TV channel, even if my boobs are blown out in front of me!

From that day on, waki became cheese-in-hamburger and kana became like parsley in me. On weekdays, if you can't smell under your armpit for a while, it becomes like a withdrawal symptom. Oh, I want to sniff and lick my armpit quickly. I want to see Wakiko. I'm almost suffocated! After opening the door of kanako's apartment for the first time in a week, it was as if a mid-distance runner had run 400m, and immediately, while being held by a coach, he was able to apply an oxygen respirator and breathe into his armpits with all his might. .. I was alive again, and my tears overflowed. Kanako was not a so-called wakiga, but when she sucked her nose against it, it smelled of a strange rotten smell. When I took a deep deep breath, the odor filled my lungs, and got into the bloodstream, my brain was stained pink.

At first, kanako showed a real dislike of being able to see and smell her armpit hair, and looked down at me with awake eyes while her face was buried. I couldn't respond even if I asked by mouth, so I had no choice but to take violent measures like rape. However, apparently it seems that this is a real pervert, or it is due to familiarity, I have obeyed obediently. In the middle of the foreplay, when I quickly sensed that I couldn't get up today with the intuition of a woman, I started to open myself. There may have been a case where he should get erected early in order to avoid the slight shock of not getting erected. My interest and demand for armpits increased day by day. By the way, kanako is a mixed race from Naha, it's a public image as if it's completely open, I'm one year older, sexual role is S, I'm M stakeout piston cowgirl (with me. It was a classic course to get fucked by the second joint of (Anal finger insertion). However, as for the armpits, I will be reversed to S, and kanako will be reversed to M (probably unwilling). Then I was instructed not to shave my armpit hair. The day before I met, I was instructed to never wash my armpits. I think kanako was horrible and obeyed because my eyes were so serious. I was surprised that I had the ability to train an older woman according to my taste. In the summer evening, kanako got into the doorstep of my house after she finished her tele-apo job, and I walked over and forced Kanako's frightened shirt off and banzai, walking from the station and still sweating. I caught the stuffy underarms that didn't pull, sticking like Tuchu Chupa Chupa, like an alien larva, and, as it was, poked into the back at the entrance. I'm already like a mother, I'm farting in front of people in public, there is a rubber mark on my pants on my stomach, I wake the kettle for the time being to get up, make a snorkel like an old man, It smells like a dungeon stewed overnight over low heat, soaks into the bar until late every night, and you're fishing for a man that you can choose, a woman like a rainy weekly playboy who can't stir up excitement. Against! Was it because I owned this woman that I had such a painful surgery for Wakiga?

It's funny, I think my thoughts were understood, kana grew up. When I was sniffed at my side and got licked, I got excited, my secret meat drooped like squid smoked, and the surrounding area was soaking wet with a soil-colored manko with perennial millet. In the end, I was messing with myself, and I licked it and even showed off my sides. But even beside that special presence, I wasn't excited for about three months, then I didn't see kanako, and I went into a long, long second virgin. I don't think human beings without human beings are endless. (In the news of the wind, kanako heard that five years ago, she was drunk and crossing the street, and was killed by a taxi. There was an idiot.)

Even now, even if I am just sleeveless, even an aunt in my 50's will come awkward, I will like girls who have a light smell on the side, and even if I see the word "woman's armpit" If not, the preheat mode will be turned on lightly. What was that talking about? Yeah, I was talking about my own armpit.

By the way, I had a surgery for wakiga, and I thought that I could live a life that was free from those worries. Apocrine gland (in my opinion, Moomin's Nyoronyoro) slowly revived over the course of about five years. I wondered if it would ever be removed again, so I grew up thicker, stronger and stronger than before. At the same time, the sensation of the paralyzed skin and the armpit hair that was partly shaved were restored with the same foot. The smell was stronger than before, staying in one place, and when I got lost in the forest, I went back by following the humbling silver fly. It was

Fortunately, however, science and technology have evolved over the last few years, and companies have found that antiperspirants are much more effective than they were in their teens. In the past, the only concept was to disguise it by applying a strong scent to the wakiga, but the mainstream was to remove the odor itself, such as the power of silver. Thanks to that, I was able to reduce the odor for about 8 hours during the daytime. If it smelled at the time limit during the drinking party, I should have done it like Cinderella. However, the effect seems to be effective only for the smell sensed by the nasal cavity, and it seems that the fine particles of the poison of Wakiga do not disappear. The crazy coughing around me was the same as before. But since it doesn't smell, the source couldn't be identified... In this way, I was able to live a group life in my late twenties and early thirties, without cheating or cheating, without being disliked by the open arms.

And last month, after I had been smoking cigarettes for the first time in my life, the smell became stronger. The deodorant stone, which is said to be the strongest in removing odors, doesn't work anymore. During the delivery of Uber Eats, I am waking up Wakiga to Max, while I am traveling around the crowded city, McDonald's, and each customer's house, so it is close to terrorism (only when delivering a kebab ).

But, as I said at the beginning, I don't really worry about my wakiga suffering from others. This is because the way of thinking has changed in the last few years. Let's go wakiga! I think positively. There was no need to worry and shame. If you think about it, I've done something awkward on my body. Putting a scalpel on the armpit and removing the apocrine gland is like a hedgehog squeezing all of the body's body. It's like giraffe getting surgery and shortening his neck.

The personal characteristics of the human body are always meaningful, no matter how negative they seem. Thanks to that feature, we have survived a severe competition for thousands and tens of thousands of years. In my case, I am today because I have inherited armpits for thousands of years and raised armpits. This odor is a height of art that has been honed and reached over tens of thousands of years of incredible time. If Wakiga was disliked in some generation and the apocryline was removed with a stone ax, my bloodline would have been cut off immediately. Besides, illusory is not ill, unlike illness. When a person is born, it is an Amazon-only initial purchase bonus ability that is provided as a given thing. I was convinced that the apocrine glands, which were still growing after inserting a female, had a tremendous necessity for my survival. To be honest, I'm sorry to do that.

There is absolutely no universal value. It just happens that a particular group of island nations in the Far East today are not accepting wakiga. It was swayed by a crowded train every morning, pushed into a small room all day long, absolutely obeyed the above command, and faced with the same human for a long time, which brought about the prosperity of the nation. Over a period of time, too much body odor was unpleasant. On the contrary, welcome conditions...Ikemen, high height, small face, slender, leg length etc. artificially created by Dentsu etc. as a value standard suitable for making people obedient and comfortable living in a group. People just take things and believe in them. What a person likes and dislikes is just one of the biased ideas of the myriad of options. The ability that is really necessary for an individual to survive is not something that others can arbitrarily decide. It shouldn't be easy to decide. You should listen to the voices of your ancestors who have survived the fierce competition for survival in your body.

As you can see, I always use the FANZA sample to make me squeeze in my female armpit licking video. In other words, I want to combine my own wakiga gene with the female wakiga gene to leave a species with a stronger wakiga for future generations. Instinct, not reason, encourages that. In other words, the will of the universe. Denying Wakiga is synonymous with going against God.

Indeed, Wakiga will ward off people with its unpleasant odor. But is it bad to keep people away or to be lonely?

no. Solitude is also a necessary condition for humans to survive.

What is the best preventive measure against today's raging coronavirus?

So far, you already know.

Humankind has been exposed to epidemics every few hundred years.

In today's information society, social distance is considered to be the best, and is transmitted to people. But what did humanity do before inventing letters and words?

There was no choice but to let the epidemic spread.

The distance between people was extremely high, and the mammoth BBQ way-way Leah was infected and died.

Meanwhile, there are some who have escaped the infection. It's the caveman who is always alone in a cave in the mountains, our progenitor, Wakiga.

Since ancient times, the Wakiga people have realized a social distance, whether they like it or not, by keeping people away with its unpleasant odor. And by being lonely, he has survived the epidemic of repeated plagues.

With the above, I tell Yukipoyo-like little girls.

What's important about after-corona is not good-looking, tall, small face, slender, or tall, nor do you have a hairstyle like a Korean-style idol and make a fool of way at Kawahara BBQ! Such is the illusion created by the ill-advised Adman, who forces Hakuhodo's two-block black-rimmed glasses, who extort the sense of being a Hinadan entertainer. They will eventually wipe out the green bubbles from their mouths and die crazy.

It's only wakiga, loneliness, that is, a man like me, that you should make your uterus squirm. If you were saying "I'm serious, but w" like you were at a convenience store, you're sure to be destined to regret it!

And one more important thing.

If any of your daughters had an underarm odor, please don't feel embarrassed. I don't want to apply deonature. I don't want a scalpel. It's worth more than Chanel's crap. Also, please do not shave your armpit hair. Because it is as beautiful as the wings of an angel.

Also, if you don't mind, please let my uncle lick the armpits. Ehe. I hope you squeeze it by pinching it on the side where the hair grows. Ehehe.

Thank you for your consideration.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Incapacitated (one-shot)

Synopsys: When the Reader gets gravely injured, Sebastian is there to help her. When she goes home to London to recover, he flies over to ease her through the recovery. But that is not what friends do. And she can’t help but wonder what’s gonna happen between them.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, lil bit of angst

Warnings: descriptions of injury (like graphic ones), swearing, implied stuff, but no smut (sorry if there are any grammar mistakes :) )

Word count: 4076

   Sebastian had never been as scared in his life as he was at that moment. He’d gone through leaving his home of Romania, he moved to a completely different continent, let alone state, had to adapt to a new culture, and when he became an actor, he had to deal with anxieties of getting a role and the thought of never having a stable job.        But seeing Y/N, his costar, friend and the woman he’d fallen in love with, plummet to the ground with only a thin mattress to soften her fall, eradicated every horrible memory that came before.        She landed with a sickening thud and crunch. A scream of her name rippled out of his throat. He didn’t even notice his feet carry him to where Y/N laid on her side, eyes closed and unconscious. There was blood slowly pooling around her, and when he finally made his way to her side, he saw why. Three ribs broken in half were sticking out of her body.        His whole body trembled as if an earthquake was happening. People rushed around them,- crew members, their friends, but most importantly medics. Some of them had faces of stone, while most people had a mirror of his own- pure and utter terror. Sebastian even thought he heard a yell of horror come from someone, maybe Evans, but he didn't know.        It was only when Y/N was lifted on a gurney and quickly wheeled to the ambulance they always had on set, Sebastian snapped out of it and ran after them. Luckily enough, he was allowed to jump in the car and go with them to the hospital.        The whole ride was like out of a nightmare. Y/N’s breaths were shallow and her pulse was rapidly dropping. She was hooked up to ten different machines, as tubes pumped all kinds of liquids in her, in hopes of saving her life.

       “Come on, dollface” Sebastian whispered, holding onto Y/N’s hand. Her knuckles were worryingly cold, but he hoped that his touch could give her some warmth back. “Come on dragă, stay with me.”        Suddenly his fingers were squeezed. The motion was so weak, he thought he’d imagined it, but when she did it again, Sebastian knew, she was there, she was fighting.

***

       The operation took more than eight hours, and that whole time he spent in the waiting area pacing around. When Y/N was finally wheeled to her room, he almost choked on his tears at the state of her.        “She’s stable, but given her extensive internal injuries, we’ve placed her in a medically induced coma,” explained the doctor wiping sweat from his face. “You can go in and stay with her, but please don’t overwhelm her. She needs rest to heal.”        Sebastian just blankly nodded and entered where Y/N laid motionless. The sterile smell of the clinic had settled in so far, he could no longer sense it, but when he fully looked at Y/N, his brain fully wrapping around how horrific this day had been, everything hit him all at once.        The lights were too bright now, the sheets draped over her body, too scratchy to his touch, the fluids being pumped in her veins in little drops- that noise was too loud as well. Everything was too much, and all Sebastian wanted was for Y/N to open her eyes and give him that amazing smile that took away all of his anxieties.        “Hey, dragă,” Sebastian said in a low voice. Somehow it seemed intrusive if his voice went anywhere above a murmur. “You scared us today… you scared me so bad. But you're safe now... You're good. So, take your time, just know, I’ll be here waiting for you to wake up, okay?” he kissed her knuckles, and wrapped them in his large hands, resting his chin on them. “I’m not going anywhere.”        Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait too long. After an agonizing week for everyone on set, crew included, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open at three twenty-two AM on her own accord.        “Hey there,” Sebastian breathed, a smile of relief morphing on his face. He stood up to lean over and brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N’s face. “How are you feelin?”        His heart thudded in his chest, mind still trying to process she was awake and conscious, and those Y/E/C eyes were looking up at him.        “Tired,” she rasped, her voice gravelly from not using it for seven days straight. “What happened?”        “Your wires broke midair.” Sebastian shuddered at the memory. “You took a, uhh, a horrible fall.” He had to bite on his bottom lip to not let the memories overwhelm him. “Broke three of your ribs completely in half. The doctors fixed everything but now you have metal holding them together. You also dislocated your hip and shoulder, and smashed in your cheekbone.”    Sebastian sucked in a shuddering breath, remembering the moment her wounds had been broken down to him, and how he had to actually sit down, or he would've fainted.        He thought she’d be horrified, upset and distraught, but Y/N, as if she hadn't gone through anything, snorted and shook her head. “Please tell me they were able to fix my face. I don’t care about anything else, but it's the money maker.”       Sebastian let out a teary laugh, putting their clasped hands against his heart. “I just said you had ribs sticking out of your stomach, and all you care is if your face is as pretty as it was?”        “You think I’m pretty?” Y/N smirked. She’d never say anything like that if she knew what was going on. The meds they had pumped in her body, gave her new confidence to flirt with the man she’d been crushing on for a good half a year now. The knowledge that she wouldn't remember anything the next day kind of helped, and also the fact he probably wasn't taking anything she spewed out of her mouth seriously, made Y/N throw all caution to the wind.        “I think you’re beautiful,” Sebastian murmured in the sincerest way possible. “Even when half of your face is blue and purple.”        Y/N gasped. “I’m putting Brolin out of his job. Oh, no, we can’t have that.”        Sebastian just rolled his eyes. “You almost died, and yet you’re still making joked.”        That made the smile dissipate. “Wait, what?”        He cleared his throat. “You uh… your heart stopped on the table… they had to give you emergency CPR,” a tear rolled down his cheek, and Y/N wiped it away. “Fuck, why am I crying?” he laughed. “I should be consoling you, not the other way around. It wasn't me in that... fuck!” he hung his head and pushed his forehead against their hands.        “ ‘S because without me your life would be dull and boring,” Y/N answered, trying to ease the pain in his heart.        A snort made its way into the air, and Sebastian shook his head. “Damn straight.”        “You know, even if things hadn’t turned out… good,” she bit her lip, “I would never leave you. You can bet your fucking ass on everything you hold dear, I’d haunt my best friend for the rest of his life.”        “Is that a warning?” he gave her a crooked smile and melted against her touch. She rubbed a soothing thumb over his unshaven jaw and smiled, tucking a brown piece of hair behind his ear.        “It’s a fucking promise.”        She spent four weeks in the hospital, going through routine checkups and another surgery, and all throughout that, Sebastian was by her side. The second he was done with filming, he’d rush to the hospital and keep Y/N company, no matter if she scolded him for not going home and resting or not.        Of course, the rest of their friends came to visit and hang out. They’d raced to the hospital as fast as they could the second Seb announced in the group chat she was awake, even though it was the middle of the night and some of them had filming to do that same morning. Y/N was showered in love and care and junk food, and she wouldn’t trade her new-formed family for anything in the world.        The Team, as they affectionately called themselves, stayed around for a bit, before Y/N scolded them and shooed them away to catch some sleep.        “Seb, you should go too. Get some proper rest. That chair couldn’t have been good for your back.”        “What, you calling me old?”        “No,” Y/N snorted, tightening her grip on his palm. They hadn’t let go since she woke up. “I’m saying you need to take care of yourself, as well.”        “ ‘M fine,” he replied, looking at the woman like she hung the stars in the sky. “You’re awake which means I’m good.”        “Cheeseball.”        “Yeah, but you love me,” he scrunched up his nose, and Y/N flicked it with her free hand.        In more than one way, she wanted to say but opted for an eye roll.

***

       That moment had been right there, and he’d let it slip through his fucking fingers. Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair.        “I really don’t want you to go.  You’re supped to be recovering, not flying halfway across the world and putting yourself through more stress.”        “I’m flying halfway across the world to recover,” Y/N replied, still sitting in her wheelchair. She had almost growled at the nurse when she’d said the woman would need it, but Sebastian had coerced her to follow the rules. “I’m going home, I’m gonna go through all the physical therapy and shit, get my life sorted, and in what- four-five months, I’ll be back on set. You have Mackie and Evans to keep you company so, you won’t be that bored.”        “It’s not about if I’ll be bored, it’s me worrying that you’ll be all alone.”        “Seb,” Y/N exasperated and turned around in the wheelchair. There were not a lot of people at the airport since it was the middle of the night so, they could have a little moment of their own undisturbed by fans or paparazzi. “I won’t be alone. I live opposite of Holland. Do you really think I won’t use him for my own gain? Are you kidding me? Imma bombard him with messages and make him buy me Domino’s every night,” she chuckled and scratched Sebastian’s jaw as he had crouched down to be on the same eye level.        “I’ll be fine,” Y/N said in a softer tone, as she wrapped him in her arms letting his nose be buried in her untamed hair. “Stop worrying about me.”        “Can’t,” he pouted. “You’re too much of an idiot and will somehow find a way to hurt yourself.”        Y/N slapped his back before retracting. “I’ll message you when I land.”        “And when you board, when you've landed, when you’re home and when you’re in the bed.”        She rolled her eyes, as the assigned airport team member wheeled her to the security check. “Bye, Seba! Don’t have too much fun without me!”        “Wouldn’t dream of it, dragă!” he responded. As Y/N disappeared behind the corner, he let out a loud groan of frustration and mentally punched himself. Another lost opportunity, and now he wouldn't get one for months. Fucking fantastic.

***

       It was a month into her recovery, and she was fairing pretty well. Tom and Y/N had movie nights every Friday as he had finished his filming a while before anyone else, so when he’d heard about Y/N’s accident, he had greeted her at Heathrow with a huge teddy bear and a basket of her favourite snacks.        “I’m gonna take such good care of you, even Sebastian will be impressed.”        She furrowed her eyebrows. “What does Seb have to do with any of this?”        Tom snorted as if it was the stupidest question of all time. “You’re his girl, and I think he’d actually start hating me if I didn’t help you."     ”I’m- I- ‘m not his girl… we’re just friends,” Y/N stuttered out, feeling heat crawl all over her form at the thought.        The eye roll Tom did was on par with The Rock’s signature one. “Sure, and I didn’t absolutely freak out when I got the call that I was Spider-Man.” He wheeled both of them out into the early morning air of London. “You keep telling yourself that,” he patted Y/N’s shoulder with a sarcastic smile before taking them to the car and driving to their apartment building.        Though tonight, despite it being Friday and Tom’s insistence that he stay in, Y/N had thrown him out of her flat.        “You’ve been taking care of me for four weeks. Go out to a club or something, get drunk with Harrison and be wild. Or I’ll shove a crutch so far up your ass, you’ll be eating metal for days.’       He hadn’t argued with Y/N after that. The last scenes of Keeping up Appearances played on her screen when a knock at the door disturbed her pizza munching.        With a groan, Y/N slowly stood up from the couch and grabbed her crutches. She knew it wasn’t Tom, given how he now had the spare key to her apartment, so there really wasn’t anyone else apart from maybe Harrison or one of the other Hollands that would knock on her door so late. Though once she opened it, Y/N’s breath got stuck in her throat.        “Seba?” her smile turned into a huge grin, and if not for her still healing injuries, she’d throw herself at the man. “What are you doing here?”        “What do you mean, what am I doing here?” his lips were pulled in a brilliant smile, and he dropped the duffle bag of his stuff right beside her door before scooping Y/N up in a hug. “I’m here to take care of my best friend. Besides, I missed you too damn much.”        “Don’t you still have stuff left to film?” she mumbled in the crook of his neck, and Sebastian shivered feeling her breath tickle the sensitive skin. If only she knew what that small act did to him.        “No,” he shook his head. “Finished my parts a bit earlier. Maybe we’ll be called back for reshoots, but until then, I’m here, and you won’t get rid of me.”        Y/N snorted. “As if I’d ever want to.”        And suddenly his heart beat a little faster.

***

       By that point, Sebastian had been taking care of Y/N for three weeks straight, and she’d be lying if she didn’t notice the little signs. How he’d look at her when he thought she couldn’t see him, how he’d let out a deep sigh, when Y/N would snuggle closer to him on the couch, and how his grip on her would momentarily tighten before letting go. Oh, and that one time he’d just been blatantly staring at her lips for a good two minutes, was the biggest giveaway that something was up with the man.        It was a rainy night, very similar to the many London experienced when they were on a group video call with the rest of the cast.       “You taking good care of our girl, Frosty?” Robert pointed a finger at Sebastian, and both Y/N and the man rolled their eyes in unison.        “I’m fine, Bobert,” Y/N laughed, calling the actor by the nickname he oh so adored… but not really. “Both Seb and Tom have been amazing at helping me. They get me to my physio, make me food and lazy around with me. What more could I ask for?”        The whole conversation she was safely tucked underneath Sebastian’s arm, body resting between his thighs, and as people slowly exited the chat, some being called away to film, some going to run their errands, sleep started to overtake her for it was nighttime in England. They said their goodbyes, and Seb closed the laptop before pulling her closer to his chest.        “You ready to go to bed?”        Y/N dragged a hand down her face and pushed her nose in the crook of his neck. “I’m so tired, I could just pass out like this.”        “Wouldn’t be the first time,” his voice was soft and gentle much like the fingers that carded through Y/N’s hair.        She sighed, enjoying his touch and the settled silence if only for a moment, but when her arms wrapped around his waist she heard his heart stutter.        “You okay, Seb?”        “Yeah,” he murmured, a hint on nervousness slipping through. “Why wouldn’t I be?”        “I don’t know. You tell me why your heart is going absolutely wild.”        Two big Y/E/C eyes looked up to see the man’s flushed face, and he turned his gaze away.        “Seb,” Y/N whispered his name, sliding up a hand to touch his jaw. “Seb, look at me, please.”        He didn’t.        “Seb, this is not what friends do,” Y/N murmured holding onto his face, trying to meet his gaze that he was so actively avoiding. “Friends call, they chat through Skype, message one another… they don’t fly across the fucking ocean to help someone get dressed or make a meal.”        “Maybe,” he finally started, a violent shudder moving down his spine as he locked eyes with Y/N, “maybe  I don’t want to be friends… maybe, I've finally realised how short life is, and that I never want to be friends with you... maybe I've finally come to the conclusion I could never live with myself if I had let go of that chance to tell you how fucking in love I am with you…”        Her breath didn’t hitch, but neither did her touch drop. “Maybe I don’t wanna be friends with you either,” Y/N whispered, two love-filled eyes looking straight into his soul, and a shy smile melting all his fears. “Maybe one of the reasons I've pulled through all of this shit is because I didn’t get the chance to say how fucking in love I am with this certain Romanian man, who makes me melt even with the simplest of looks.”        “You mean that?”        Y/N smirked, wiping away a tear that rolled down his high cheekbone. “Kiss me and find out.”        Sebastian’s lips were on hers in a second. He could’ve disintegrated at the euphoric feeling. When she kissed back harder, sneaking her tongue in his mouth through his parted lips, an involuntary moan escaped the man, but Y/N just pulled him closer, desperate to hear more sounds like that.        But then he pushed back. Instantly her eyes were open, and fear flushed her body at the thought that he regretted what had happened, but seeing the blissed-out state Sebastian was in, she relaxed a bit.        “Fuck, you have no idea, what I wanna do to you,” he groaned.        He didn’t need to say anything more to have wetness pooling between her legs. Hell, he just had to look at her and she could cum then and there.        “Then why don’t you?”        A sad snort escaped him before he looked at the girl. His calloused palm cupped her cheek, and he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. “Because every time you walk, I can see the winces you’re trying to keep off your face. Because every time you sit down on the couch, I can still hear you whimpering in pain. And I don’t wanna add any more discomfort to that.”        She gave him a sly smirk. “Well you wouldn’t,” Y/N straightened out a bit. “In fact, I think you’d be doing the complete opposite.”        “Trust me, as much as I want to absolutely ruin you,” he breathed against her lips, and this time Y/N whimpered for different reasons, “I’d like to do it when I’m not afraid that a gust of wind might hurt you.”        “Okay, that’s over exaggerating everything.”        “I know,” he gave a small laugh, “but I just… I could never imagine causing you pain when all I want to do is make you happy.”        Y/N wove her hands in his hair and gave him a wide grin. “You do. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been.” She pulled him in for another passionate kiss, and Sebastian swore he was in heaven.

***

       The screams of people were deafening, as Y/N made her way down the carpet, posing for the flashing lights of the photographers. Her silver dress glimmered and so did her eyes. It was a long road to get there, but Sebastian was by her side every step of the way, and now, at the premiere of Infinity War, he was once again.        They’d made their relationship official while she was still in London, and barely able to walk, but it didn’t matter. Nothing in the world mattered apart from the two of them.    Together they had stepped out of the limo, and together they were celebrating this monumental moment. The only time Y/N and Seb were split apart was for interviews, though they weren’t far from one another even in those moments.        “First of all, congratulations of the movie. Talk about the event of the decade!” the blonde interviewer exclaimed, and Y/N laughed.        “I know, right? It’s insane. Just to think ten years ago, RDJ made this little film that no one really had any expectations for, and now it’s morphed into this behemoth.”        “It’s absolutely astounding!” she cheered, and Y/N nodded before returning attention to the questions. “How are you feeling? How is everything going since that nasty fall during shooting?”        “I’m- I’m good,” she let out a deep sigh. Sometimes it was still hard to think back on it. There had been a moment three months down the line when what had happened actually fully settled in, and Y/N had had a full-on breakdown. In fact, Sebastian had to coax her out of a panic attack, because she couldn’t breathe, and they spent the rest of the night clutching onto one another like they were the last pieces that tethered them to Earth.    She was still self-conscious about the scars that would now permanently adorn her ribcage, but every time Sebastian would drag his lips over the skin there, his stubble leaving an oh so delicious burn on the jagged skin, Y/N couldn't care less.    “Accidents happen, you know. It was nobody’s fault, and everything turned out fine. Besides, I had such an amazing support system during my recovery, like everyone was there to help me in any way possible, so when times I wanted to give up came, either Scarlet or Renner would give me a nice smack over the head, and get me back into the zone.”        The interviewer nodded along before her eyes flitted to Sebastian that a bit further down the line, responding to his own questions.        “We also heard, that a certain blue-eyed brunet was there to help you through it all,” she gave the camera a sly smirk before returning to look at Y/N, who had the most love-sick gaze a woman could ever have.        “Yeah, he was a- uhh- a huge part in me getting better… honestly,” she sighed, looking back at the other woman, “I don’t think I’d be standing here without Sebastian. He was my rock, as cliche as that sounds. He got me through the toughest of it, and now he's still with me, for whatever reason. He truly is an angel, and I have no idea what I did to have him in my life, but I'm so fucking grateful for it.”       The woman let out a huge ‘aww’ and smiled into the camera. “Honestly- we ship it." She turned back to Y/N. "Thank you, for stopping by, and once again, congratulations on the movie.”        Y/N gave her one last thanks and slowly walked off to where people were gathering to enter the theatre.        “You know,” Sebastian muttered sliding up to her side, and bringing Y/N closer by where he was holding on to the small of her back, “you might be playing a superhero in the movie, but you’re also one in real life.”        “Yes, well, I meant what I said,” she looked up at him and rested her head against his shoulder. “Without you, I wouldn’t be here. I love you, and I’m never letting you go.”        “As if I’d allow that,” he snorted and gave her a kiss full of love and adoration.        Little did she know about the ring that was sitting at the back of his sock drawer and would adorn her finger in two years’ time.

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A/N: hi, hi, I’m not dead :D

P.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S. my tags are always open/ requests closed for now

[another-sonic-blog]

Dark Prince

Prompt: "Amy all of a sudden started to feel like she is really ugly and wants to undergo surgery when Shadow heard about that he freaked out."- Spikeeeee

~

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I didn’t want this face, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the small freckles on my cheeks, my round nose, nor the way my double chin would show up every time I smiled.

Just everything about myself... disgusted me.

It has begun with my body, I wasn’t well proportioned. There was fat in the parts I didn’t want it to be, and flat skin where I wanted something else to be there. I thought that my face would make up for the mistake but as I stared into the mirror, I realized that the only good thing about it, was the green tint in my eyes.

It wasn’t enough, I wasn’t enough.

I tried to apply makeup once to see if that would help me, but the moment I stepped out into the street, people staring at me with a look of concern in their face, I decided to never do it again.

And no I wasn’t doing it to get a boy’s attention. I was doing it for myself, so one day I could finally look at the mirror and like what I see.

“Are you sure about this honey?”

Rouge, my closest friend looked at me confused. She was probably the most beautiful creature alive, I had to admit that sometimes I would get jealous of her. She was blessed with good looks and she knew it. She had confidence and that only made her more beautiful.

“Yes, I think this would make me feel better”

“I don’t see a problem with “fixing” something you don’t like about yourself in order to get more confidence. But I do believe that that confidence you are seeking for is not suddenly going to appear because you had a nose job”, Rouge rolled around my bed trying to get a better look at myself. I pretended to be doing work on my laptop, indeed to say she was so beautiful that sometimes it would intimidate me. I didn’t look away from my laptop but I could feel her staring at me.

“I’ll try to work on it Rouge, I know it sounds kinda sudden but I have honestly been thinking about it for a year now... I think this is definitely for me”, I added as I took enough courage to turn my chair to face her.

“Are you sure this is not to please a boy or anybody else, right?”, Rouge straightened up as she gently rested herself on the edge of my bed, facing me directly to get her point across.

“Definitely but... don’t you think it’s a bit weird? I am 20 and I never had a boyfriend before.”

“No, of course not! Everyone is different when it comes to dating, so don’t ever feel pressure because of that.”

But Amy did. Even her own parents found it strange that at 17 she had never brought home a boy before.

“Your mother and I wanted to ask you... if you like girls? Because if you do that’s completely fine, we still love you and-“

Amy stopped listening, she couldn’t tell her parents that it wasn’t that she didn’t like boys. It was that boys didn’t like her.

“You are right.”

Amy didn’t sound completely satisfied and Rouged noticed that she only agreed with her to avoid an argument.

If Amy could just understand how she is way more than just ‘pretty’.

Rouge pleaded for nothing but that.

.

.

.

“You were completely lost today’s meeting, what’s wrong with you?”

Rouge snapped out of her trance and noticed the ‘Dark Prince’ in front of her. Or so that’s what the ladies in G.U.N. call him. She looked at Shadow and really wonder what the females see him. He was sarcastic, had terrible fashion sense and had an addiction to black coffee. Maybe it was because they were different species, but she definitely found Knuckles way more attractive than him.

“I know, I was just thinking about a friend.”

“You are the leader of Team Dark, I believe you should really focus on meetings, especially in this one since the commander just explained our next mission.”, Shadow said as he poured another cup of coffee into his mug.

“What?! Oh, Chaos...You are right, I should really separate my work with my personal life-.”

Shadow then suddenly slide a notebook in front of Rouge. She looked at her side to find him taking a sip of his coffee delicately. “It’s my notes, everything you need is there. Feel free to keep it.” Shadow then sat down in front of her, sip by sip finishing his coffee.

Rouge smiled as she holds the notebook dearly. So this was why they called him the ‘Dark Prince’. It wasn’t only that, she remembered once that a co-worker of theirs had expressed how sad she was because they were closing the flower shop in front of G.U.N and she wouldn’t be able to see the flowers from her window anymore.

The next morning, Rouge found Shadow placing flowers all over their co-workers’ workplace.

At first, she thought that Shadow might like her, but it wasn’t until she noticed that Shadow was just nice like that.

Like when the commander assistant had forgotten to write her report and Shadow stayed with her all night to help her finish it.

Or like when he helped the mechanic's team test their new vehicle’s resistance with his Chaos Spear multiple times without telling them that it hurts him to do them constantly.

“Thank you.”

“No problem... but it might help you telling me about this friend of yours if you want.”

It wasn’t just that, it was the small things. Shadow was extremely caring, he might not show it often. But Shadow cares for everyone in G.U.N. He listened to the entrance guard for three hours straight about how he had problems with his wife and never complained about it.

“Well...”. Rouge adjusted herself, “It’s about Amy, you remember her-“

Next thing she knew. Shadow had spilled his coffee from his mouth.

“Are you alright?!”, Rouge had never seen Shadow spilled coffee like before and she had to admit that it was even comical.

“Yeah, the coffee was just too hot”, Shadow tried to keep his cool but was failing at it miserably.

“Coffee is never too hot for you tho”

“It was this time.”

“Well... like I was saying...”, Rouge give one last look at Shadow before continuing her story. “Amy, it’s going to have plastic surgery for her nose and I don’t know, something about it doesn’t fully convince me. I am not against plastic surgery but I feel like Amy definitely doesn’t need it.”

“Oh no, she absolutely does not need it. Has she seen herself in a mirror? She’s completely gorgeous-.” Shadow stopped himself, already cursing himself for not keeping his composure.

“I didn’t know you had a thing for pink hedgehogs.” Rouge teases him, who would have thought that the Dark Prince had a crush on Amy Rose.

Wait, it all made sense now. For some reason, every single Monday since a year ago, Shadow would get late to work. Instead of coming to work at 9:00, he would come at 9:30. Which is weird because Shadow being the Ultimate Life-form and being the perfectionist he is, it wouldn’t seem he was the type to do that. Amy was the owner of her own business called “Momo Cafe.”

Amy has told her once that every Monday, Shadow shows up to buy black coffee.

Rouge had never really thought on it before, she thought that it was just Shadow being the coffee lover that he was. But now that she thinks about...

Shadow had never liked coffee before Amy opened her cafe, which was around one year ago. Since then, Rouge had always seen Shadow with a cup of black coffee on his hand.

“Oh, Shadow you don’t have a crush on Amy... You love her don’t you?”

Shadow hated how good Rouge was at these things.

“Me? You perfectly know I don’t have time for that.”, Shadow tried to play it off but both of them knew that it was game over for him.

“True, you don’t have time for that... but you know who does? Sonic.”, Rouge already knew his weakness and was ready to play her cards well. “You know another thing? Amy told me that one of the reasons she was doing surgery was so Sonic could notice her.”

“What? Why would she want the attention of that faker?”, Shadow’s voice raises and Rouge knew that he just needed a little push.

“Oh, well, Amy really wants a boyfriend and I don’t blame her. After all, everyone needs affection once in a while and who better to give it to her than the worldwide hero Sonic the Hedgehog? It’s not like there’s someone out there as strong and confident like him...” Rouge just need one more sentence to finish him. “... or maybe there is?”

“What do you mean?”

She had him now.

“You know what I mean... there’s a ton of boys who want to date Amy. She receives flowers every day from different guys at the cafe... maybe one of these days she would say yes to one of them.”

“...oh...”

Rouge looked at Shadow who seems to be in deep thought. He kept taking sips of his coffee until he finished it and he stared in into the cup in silence.

Was this it? Really? All of this lies for nothing? Was Shadow not gonna do anything about it? She literally told him that Amy was willing to go under surgery in order to please society and he just gonna sit there and-

“Rouge, can you cover up for me for a while?”

Oh, there we go again, Dark Prince.

.

.

.

It was already late and the sun had begun to set. Amy was about to close her cafe for today. She pulled out her keys but as she looked into the inside of the cafe one last time, she noticed a figure behind her being reflected on the door’s crystal. She turned around to find her number one customer, Shadow the Hedgehog.

“Hey, Amy”

“Hey, Shadow. How are you being? I haven’t seen you since...well, this morning”, Amy goggle a little bit and Shadow’s heartbeat stopped for a second.

“Yeah, um actually I um... wanted to talk to you for a bit if you don’t mind.”

Amy really wasn’t feeling like it but Shadow has become her number one client and he didn’t want to disappoint just yet.

“Sure, would you like to come inside?”, Amy made a gesture with her hand, showing the inside of the cafe. The lights were off but nothing that she couldn’t handle. Shadow was ashamed to make Amy do so much for him but thought to himself that this was utterly necessary.

Shadow nodded and Amy turned around to open the door once again.

.

.

.

The sight was lovely. It was quiet, but not too much. The lights were dim and the aroma of the coffee made the scene almost to perfect. Seeing Amy sitting in front of him as she peacefully drank her coffee made him think that this could potentially a date if he wanted to make it so but in his fantasies this was already made a million times.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of black coffee too, ”Shadow asked the pink hedgehog in front of him who look up to him with her emerald eyes.

“I love all types of coffee... I guess that’s why I opened up a cafe... which to be honest I didn’t think it was going to grow so fast.” Amy responded.

“Why is that?”

“Well, when I opened Momo Cafe I had no money left for advertisement. However, two weeks after I opened, someone called making a bunch of orders to be delivered at different companies throughout the city... I was baffled that guy almost spent 1,000 dollars on coffee. I was really blessed because after that; the companies that I sent coffee to buy coffee from me every day.”, Amy ended her story with a melancholic smile on her face. “If I had the opportunity, I wished I could thank him.”

“Seems like you had luck... you shouldn’t question your success too much. You work hard for it after all.”, Shadow took another sip of his coffee, missing the flavor of it.

“I think you are right.”

“You are a successful young woman, educated who also possess incredible qualities... you must have a lot of suitors.”

There, Shadow was going now straight to the point. He wasn’t one to lose his cool so easily but when it came down to Amy... well things don’t usually go his way.

“Well... not really...I don’t think I fit their beauty standards.”

Shadow notices that the question had made her feel uncomfortable but there was no way out now and he had to keep pushing to make her realize.

“I think you are mistaken... guys don’t talk to you because they are intimidated of you... “

“Really?”

“Yes, Amy you are beyond beautiful but you are more than a pretty face.", Shadow waited for Amy's reaction. Her eyes shone and her face was nothing but red.

"You...you really think that way Shadow?."

Amy couldn't believe what the Dark Prince was telling her. Yes, she knew the title that Shadow holds, how all the girls were over him and how none of them interested Shadow.

She was starting to believe what Shadow was saying may be true. Because Shadow could be many things, but he wasn't a liar.

"Amy, if only you could see how your freckles look like the stars, how your cute round nose wrinkles whenever you smell something you like or the way your double chin shows when you smile...Amy, you are like the entire universe in one person." The sight in front of him encouraged him to continued and without knowing, he kept babbling just letting his emotions take over him.

They shared a silence in which Shadow suffered the most. He still couldn't say his true feelings, but if it was for Amy, then maybe...just maybe he could.

"I don't why I suddenly feel this way. It wasn't much of a problem before but realizing how I never had anyone to be with...I just thought that I was the problem and I wanted to fix that problem even if that was just a bit. It is still a bit hard to believe your words...but Shadow... right now your words mean the world to me."

Shadow was ready to say it all. The adrenaline was taking over him, he felt his cheeks could burst at how hot they were. He straightens up, cleared his voice and was ready to say that three-word sentence. Instead, Shadow received the epiphany of his life, something that changed him.

Not even in his deepest fantasy, he imaged this could happen.

Amy's face brightens up and whispered that three-word sentence he was waiting for her to say for so long:

"Shadow, thank you."

.

.

.

.

.

A/n: dedicated to those who can't see the stars in their freckles.

[thethespacecoyote]

Yay I finished the fic about Nephrit’s birth!! It’s just something super basic that I wanted to get out but I hope you guys like it!

Kylo’s grown a little better about keeping himself calm in the years since he’s become a father, but it’s hard to find tranquility when he sits at Hux’s bedside, watching him struggle to birth their child.

At least the medic and his assisting droids know their duties to the emperor. Kylo hates putting his mate’s wellbeing into the hands of others, but he understands little about childbirth aside from what he’s experienced with their two sets of twins. For that, they’d set Hux up in his nest, allowing the emperor to give into his instincts and allow labor to progress naturally. Kylo had enjoyed it—when Hux hadn’t been cursing and crushing his hand—appreciating the intimacy of the moment as he helped his mate give life to their children. Of course there had been a medic on call, in case of an emergency, but apart from that no one had bothered the pair until they held their pups in their arms.

This time, however, it’s different. They’d tried the nest through the first, mild contractions, but once they grew in intensity and frequency Kylo knew something was amiss. He could sense the disquiet building in his mate, could feel the uptick in Hux’s heartbeat. He’d pressed his hand over Hux’s exposed chest, inquiring with a soft chuff against his mate’s ear, only for him to shake his head and let out a tight sob.

“S-Something’s wrong—“ Hux had said with eyes wide, his unsettled tone sending a bolt of fear into Kylo’s chest. The alpha had wasted no time summoning the medic, who promptly whisked the emperor off to receive proper assistance with Kylo storming on after them.

So now Hux lies in his private medical ward, forced from the comfort of his nest and into a thin, sterile robe. Its hem rucks up a little over his belly, allowing room for little electrodes to pepper his skin. The little sensors hook up to one the many machines surrounding Hux’s bed, the heartbeat of their child carefully monitored on a glowing blue display. Kylo tries to let the tinny beeps reassure him, but as time goes on it only prickles his anxiety.

Failure to progress, the medic had informed him after they’d first examined Hux. Unusually prolonged labor, to Kylo’s understanding. It’s not necessarily dangerous, but poses additional risks if it lasts too long. They’ve been giving Hux additional pain medication and plenty of water, encouraging Kylo to comfort him through the process, to rub his back or help change his position if the emperor needs it.  

Hux looks scared, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He tries to keep his chin up and expression focused through pain and pressure surged through his loins, but whenever the medic isn’t looking his lip trembles, eyes watering under the bright white lights.

Kylo holds Hux’s hand now, carefully stroking his knuckles as he tries to keep his mate comforted, even as he deals with his own worries. He refuses to show weakness now while his mate lies so vulnerable—Hux needs his strength and confidence, needs something to cling to so he can believe everything will be alright.

Kylo carefully pets Hux’s hair with his other hand, stroking the sweaty red locks off his forehead. The omega leans into his touch, grateful for a little affection through the pain and stress as he tries to keep his breathing even. It’s tempting to try to use the Force to ease Hux’s pain, but Kylo worries about interfering too much with the delicate process of birth. Instead he uses it to focus on the little pulse of life inside his mate, the presence he’s nourished over the months.

“Pfaask.” Hux grits his teeth, shifting as another contraction clenches through him. “Why won’t they come out already?”

“They will.” Kylo rests his palm against Hux’s forehead, thumb rubbing softly against his skin. “You just need to be patient.”

“Patient?” The omega hisses, glaring at Kylo. “Y-You—you talk about being patient, with a damned child trying to push its way through your pelvis—“

Hux starts as one of the machines suddenly begins to sound off rapidly, the labored tinge in his cheeks draining out in fear. Kylo inhales sharply, eyes focused on the display monitoring their pup’s heartbeat, watching the little blue line start to shift in erratic peaks.

His chest clenches in fear, his grasp on the little spark of life inside his mate wavering.

“What’s going on?” Hux’s voice strains, his own heart monitor starting to accelerate. He tries to push himself up off the bed, his arms trembling with the effort. Kylo places his hand on his omega’s shoulder, trying to gentle him back down despite his own racing thoughts.

The medic and the assisting droid bustle around him, checking all the monitors and feeling Hux’s belly, between his legs. The expression on her face grows serious as she lifts her head to address the pair.

“My emperor, the child needs to come now, if we’re to avoid further complications.”

Hux stares at her as if he doesn’t fully understand, his eyebrows arching in concern.

“But—“ he gasps, floundering “—it’s not—I’m not ready!”

“Waiting may pose further risk to the child,” the medic explains, “I would recommend surgery to best ensure their welfare.”

“Surgery?” Hux shakes his head, grip white-knuckled on the railing of his bed. “No. Absolutely not, I—“

“Hux,” Kylo interrupts, squeezing his hand. He can sense his mate’s distress, through the cloud of his own concern for their child. “Don’t be stubborn. Please.”

The emperor pulls his eyes from the medic, fear glistening in their depths. Hux swallows roughly, his thumb anxiously stroking against Kylo’s hand.

“Alright. I understand. I’m just…” Hux’s shoulders shudder with the pain of another contraction, his teeth digging into his lower lip. When it passes, he nods curtly towards the medic, who quickly instructs the droid to prep Hux for surgery.

A medical curtain is quickly drawn over his belly, blocking the process from his sight. Kylo keeps his eyes fixed on his mate for now, holding Hux’s hand with both of his. The omega’s eyes daze slightly with the additional anesthesia, though his expression still roils with worry.

“To think,” Hux swallows, jaw tensed, “I birthed two sets of your twins with no issue, but get unlucky with one—“

“Shh. It’s going to be alright.” Kylo leans in, brushing his lips over his omega’s brow. “They’re strong. Like me, like you.”

The smell of blood and disinfectant reaches his nose. Kylo tries not to imagine the medic sawing through Hux’s abdomen, trying to focus instead on how close they are to meeting their pup.

But his heart twists as a distressed sob rips from Hux’s lips, tears bubbling up in his eyes.

“They’ve gone so still—Kylo, please—“ He whimpers, begging his mate though Kylo can do little more than wait and hold his hand tightly, bringing Hux’s knuckles to his lips.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, losing himself to mantra. He’s unsure what else to do but cling to hope that everything will turn out for the best, until a tight breath draws his attention above the curtain shielding his mate’s belly. His grip on Hux’s hand falters as he lifts his head, letting it slip between his fingers and fall limply to his lap.

“Kylo,” Hux croaks, looking up at him frantically from beneath his unkempt hair, “what’s going on?”

The medic’s grim expression remains as she lifts something grey and bloodied out of Hux’s middle. There’s no movement, no cry coming from the little body cradled in her hands. Kylo’s heart stops, lips parted in disbelief.

No. No no no. It can’t be.

He and Hux have spent months waiting to meet their pup. Their children have grown so eager to welcome this most recent addition to their family, already suggesting names and choosing which of their old toys to give to the baby. There’s already a little bed reserved for them in the nursery, filled with blankets he’s caught Hux lovingly caressing when he thought no one was watching.

It can’t all end like this, not when they’re so close.

He watches numbly as the medic tries to clear the pup’s mouth, siphon oxygen into their lungs as she massages their chest. Kylo can hear her clinical intonations, swimming with the heartbreaking cries of his mate as Hux tries to reach him through the sudden muffling in his ears. Every second that passes without the reassuring cry of his child sinks the alpha deeper into anguish, and as the medic ceases her efforts, it threatens to swallow him completely.

But Kylo—even as rage and despair surges to the forefront of his mind—doesn’t lay hands on the medic, doesn’t crush her throat or toss her into the wall as a means to cope with his loss. He doesn’t even strike out against the unfeeling droid. Instead he rises from Hux’s side and stretches out a hand, eyes not wavering from the tiny, bloody body in the medic’s palms.

“Give them to me.”

The medic hesitates for only a split-second before she hands the newborn over to Kylo. He cups his hands gently around them, pulling away the soiled towel wrapped around the little form.

A girl. He and Hux have another little girl.  

She’s still warm from the omega’s body, blood and fluid stuck to her skin. She has Hux’s petite nose, and a dark swath of hair like Kylo’s sticks atop her head.

She’s not premature. She has all her fingers and toes and perfect, chubby cheeks. She’s healthy, meant to grow and thrive.

She just needs his help.

Kylo leans in to rest his forehead against hers, disregarding the blood, and closes his eyes.

At first there’s nothing, but the alpha probes deeper, reaching out with the Force. There he finds that little spark of light he’d sensed inside of his mate, the life he’d encouraged over the past nine months. It’s fading, but still there, still within his grasp.

Kylo coaxes the little sensation, gifting her his strength, his love, all the life that waits for her if she just breathes, just opens her eyes. He needs so badly to meet her. Hux needs to meet her.

Please, little one. Come back to us.

A small, weak little mewl pulls Kylo out of his mind, and he inhales so deeply his chest hurts. His eyes snap open and he leans away, watching as his daughter starts to twitch in his hand, her little fists clenching as she tries to start breathing.

“There…that’s it…there you are…” Kylo’s voice breaks, emotion tightening his throat.

Her fragile chest trembles as he softly rubs it with his thumb, encouraging her little wails until they grow stronger. By the time her breathing starts to even she manages to open her eyes, fixing Kylo with a vibrant, jade green.

Hux is crying openly beside him, tears trailing down his cheeks as he watches Kylo. The alpha turns, cradling the pup in his arms as he crouches down to Hux’s level. By the time he works up the strength to speak he too has started to cry, unable to hold back his relief as he holds the little, squirming bundle to his mate.

“Do you want to meet your daughter?”

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Hounds of Justice--Ch. 63

Chapter 63

           “Kevin, get out of the way!” I shouted, frustrated. I was doing my best to be more self-sufficient in the weeks since I’d been returned home to Iowa. Hannah was still there, but I tried to avoid asking for help as much as possible.

           The dog planted himself directly in the middle of the narrow hallway, head tilted to the side as he watched me struggle to roll myself back toward the bedroom. I wanted to take a nap, but I was sick of sleeping on that squeaking leather couch. And now Kevin wouldn’t get out of the way.

           Anger spiked in my veins. I hated how useless I felt, how my entire life had been narrowed down to a chair and the four walls of the house in Davenport. I hated being weak. I hated being broken. And as much as I loved him, I really hated that dog just then.

           I locked the brakes on my chair and covered my face with my hands. The sobs came out in a torrent. They snatched the breath from my chest. They sapped the last vestiges of my strength and will. I was quickly losing my grip on reality.

           Somewhere behind me, a door opened and closed. Hannah had taken to bundling up and walking up and down the street in the snow in the evenings. Living where we did in North Carolina, snow wasn’t common—and certainly not the kind that blanketed Davenport without discrimination. She liked being out in it.

           “Kevin, move.”

           My pulse shuddered in my throat. A heavy bag thudded against the floor. Snow-covered boots squeaked across the hardwood. I was stuck in the hallway with no way to turn around, blocked in by two walls, a dog, and Seth.

           I felt him looming somewhere behind me. He snapped his fingers. Kevin’s head darted up, then he slipped to his feet and bopped off into Seth’s office. I drew a shaky breath.

           “Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I didn’t want him to see me crying. “He doesn’t want to listen to me anymore.”

           His hands rested on the grips of my chair. “I don’t think he’s figured this thing out yet. Seems like you guys haven’t either.” He pointed at scuffs and dings in the baseboards and walls along the hallway.

           I released the brakes, pushing myself forward toward the bedroom and away from him. “That’s me, not Hannah. And I’ll get it fixed.”

           Seth sighed heavily, the sound carrying down the hallway as he followed after me. “That’s not what I meant, Llane.”

           “Fuck,” I swore under my breath as I banged into the bedroom doorframe.

           “Will you let me help you? Please?”

           Three times I tried to get myself turned the right way, to squeeze into the bedroom and away from his pity. Every time I failed. Instead, I succeeded only in getting myself wedged and frustrated.

           “Fine.” I let go of the wheels and cradled my forehead in my hands. I didn’t know what to do with this kind of sheer frustration and pent up aggression. Before, I would have left it all in the ring or the gym. Now, it simply festered.

           Seth carefully maneuvered me into the bedroom. Once I was over the threshold, he let go as if the chair burned him. I took over, moving toward the bed, following the widened path that Hannah had made.

           “Llane…” Seth’s voice came from the doorway. I glanced back, saw him hover just on the other side of the threshold. As if he were afraid to come into his own bedroom. “Are we ever going to talk about what’s happening?”

           “What do you want me to say? Isn’t it obvious what’s happening?” I sank into my chair, frustration and anger and shame bubbling over.

           He looked away, arms folded across his chest. “I mean with us. And you know that. You’ve been pushing me away—all of us—ever since the accident.”

           “All of you?” My voice came out higher than I expected. “You must be talking about Seth, Tyler, and Colby. Because they’re the only ones who don’t really give a shit.”

           “I don’t give a shit? That’s what you think?”

           “Yes! That’s what I think!” I swiped at angry tears. “Dean calls! Roman calls! Renee calls! Finn calls! Bayley calls! Sasha calls! Becky calls! But you can’t find your goddamn phone to send me a text message more than twice a week!”

           Seth stepped into the room, his eyes crackling with fire deep within them. “I’m trying, Llane.” He pointed toward the door, his voice getting louder with every word. “You tried to sneak out of the hospital. You clearly didn’t want to be here. You’ve shut me out since the second you woke up in the hospital!”

           He’d stalked across the room, stood alone on the other side of the bed. He leaned down, fists pressed into the mattress. “I’ve tried to give you space. To let you make your choices and come to me when you wanted me.”

           “I don’t want space!” I screamed, slamming my palms into the arms of my chair. Fire lashed along my spine, wrapped around the base of my skull. “I need… I just need a reason to keep breathing!”

           He opened his mouth, an angry remark on the tip of his tongue. But whatever it had been, it died away when my words finally hit him. Seth went quiet and slipped around the end of the bed, stumbling to his knees at my feet. He reached for me, hesitated.

           “I’m so scared. And I’m so alone,” I whispered.

           Seth gathered me into his arms, sweeping me gently from my chair. He held me against his chest as he sank onto the floor.

           “You’re not alone, Llane.” His lips brushed the side of my head. “I won’t let you feel alone anymore. I promise.”

           I let him cradle me. My eyes closed. It had been so long since he had touched me with anything other than fear. He brushed his fingertips gently up and down my arm as he murmured against my hair. I bit the inside of my lip, determined to never let him see the pain that just being in his arms caused me.

           Rough fingers scraped against my neck. Gathered my hair and swept it out of the way. Smooth thumbnail grazing the edges of my surgery scar.

           His forehead settled against my temple. I felt the heat of his tears and his breath on my cheek.

           “I didn’t know,” he murmured over and over.

           “I didn’t want you to,” I replied just as softly.

           “Why? Why won’t you let me be here for you?”

           “Because you love wrestling more than anything in the world. And I refuse to take that from you.” My breaths went shallow, trying to push down the pain that tore through my chest.

           Seth turned my head to face him, his fingers gentle on my chin. “Not more than you. I can lose everything, but not you.”

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