#it's like i'm in a hospital bed and humming with life through the heart rate monitor

[frostise]

⭐

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐎   ┇   accepting ♡

hello!! i'm happy to see you in my inbox again and let me just say i absolutely adore the way you get super creative about your OC lupin and the way he navigates in your verses tbh!! your world building is marvelous and i always look forward to viewing your replies IC or OOC (even his interactions with other characters!). your writing inspires me to write better ngl!! love to see more from your work in the future and write louise's relationship with her dearest lupin ♡♡♡

[a-leg-without-fear]

Heartbeats

started watching xmen '97 and seeing logan standing in the doorway of jean's hospital room, watching jean and scott be happy parents together, gave me parasites like you wouldn't BELIEVE. enjoy the tender, calm moment shared between you and logan after giving birth

Ship: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Wordcount: 522

Warnings: birth, pregnancy, hospital visit, and hoLY SHIT I'M CRYING THIS IS SO CUTE

The steady beat of a heart rate monitor was the only sound that filled the calm silence. Smooth, even, computerized beeps that tracked your pulse, consistently relaxed in their beat. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Logan breathed a content sigh into the crown of your head, stirring the hair he had brushed not two hours ago. The strands were tangled loosely in his beard and tickled along his chin. He smoothed his palm along your bare arm. Rough calluses passing over once sweat-soaked skin.

You stirred slightly against his flannel-clad chest. Shoulders, clothed in a hospital gown, burrowed against him. He could practically feel the groan of your sore muscles under your skin. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breath breezing across the stubble under Logan’s jaw.

He let his eyes fall open. Dimmed fluorescent lights bathed the hospital room in a dull, white glow. Shiny linoleum floors reflected the rising sun streaking through the wall-length windows. Vases of flowers, all your favorite kind and color, sat on the windowsill, petals practically glowing in the sunrise.

The TV nestled in the upper hand corner of the room was still on. Blessedly silent, as Logan had muted it once you’d fallen asleep, yet still playing a collection of your favorite movies on repeat. He chuckled quietly while remembering how insistent Jean had been about getting the nurses to play the discs she’d shoved into their hands.

Logan’s gaze shifted from scanning around the room to the bundle you held to your chest. A thick, heavenly soft hospital blanket was bunched in stripes of blue and green. The cloth rose and fell with your deep breathing.

Tucked away inside the blanket cocoon was the result of the fifteen hour labor you’d just endured. Eyes too big for her tiny head squeezed shut, small hands tucked against her chest under the swaddle, mop of dark curls brushed along her scalp. Quick heartbeats pumped life through her bite-sized body.

April Saige Howlett. Born at seven pounds, ten ounces. All the fingers and toes a baby could need just where they should be. Completely healthy, with bright, hazel eyes set under a deep brow bone. 

A warm hum rumbled in Logan’s chest. The two people most important to him were cradled in his arms. You, his exhausted wife, and April, his newborn daughter.

Daughter.

The word sounded foreign to him. 

Not once had he ever imagined this kind of happiness for himself. Never would have pictured himself propped up in your hospital bed, chin resting on your head, arms embracing the love, now loves, of his life. Steady beeps coming from the heart rate monitor, flashes of bright colors on the TV, the calming scent of dozens of flowers floating in the air.

He pressed a soft kiss into your hair. Warmth bloomed in his chest like a blossoming rose. Petals of light and peace drifting through his blood, leaving him utterly enraptured by the world held in his arms.

Logan closed his eyes, cheek resting on the top of your head, as he let himself drift off into the first tranquil sleep of his long life.

i'm crying now

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[paladin-heart5]

Save Her (Part One)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary; Leon's fiancee has been captured by an underground black market group. He needs to save her, but once he does, he needs to prepare for her recovery.

CW; hurt/comfort, captivity, swearing, blood/bruising, mild suicidal thoughts. (lmk if I missed anything)

Three weeks. For three weeks his best friend, no, fiancée, has been missing. And after all that time stressing, all those sleepless nights, he's got a solid lead. An underground gang that sells bio-weapon prototypes. They buy blueprints off the black market and build them to sell to high bidders. With the intel Hunnigan found, they gotta be the ones who have her. The question is, why would they take her? They better not be experimenting on her. He'll have to put a bullet through every head, just like the undead he spent most of his life killing. Maybe he'll do it anyway. When he came home from work one day, he found the door broken open, many signs of a struggle, but they still got her. No ransom notes, nor blood. The anger in his eyes was strong, they can't just take her away like that. She's going to come home safe and sound. She has to. 

“The location has been sent to you, but you'll need to be careful getting down. There's likely going to be some form of security, definitely cameras. Keep your head down.” Hunnigan explains as Leon, Chris, and Rebecca gear up. Leon knew he couldn't do this alone, he needed his friends. Jill is on another mission, and Claire is traveling for TerraSave. Chris wasn't going to let him do this in the state he's in. Barely a wink of sleep, very little food in his system. He had to force him to do both just so he wouldn't kill himself. He can't save her when he's passed out on the ground. “Head to the warehouse, clear the area, and find the hatch. The rest I won't be able to help much with.” She finished explaining, earning a nod from Leon.

“Got it, thank you, Ingrid.” He says softly. Ingrid gives a hint of a smile.

“I care about her too, bring her home safely.” She states, pointing at them. Leon chuckles and gives a two finger salute. The three of them are off in no time, settling into Chris’s jeep before taking off. Rebecca looks through her computer for possible access to the cameras at the warehouse.

“It doesn't seem like there are many camera's underground, just in the warehouse itself. So I'm guessing there might be some muscle down there. Judging by some old files, their number of sales on the black market have increased by 40% in the last three months.” She explains to the men. Leon's leg bounces anxiously as he listens, Chris frowning as he thinks. 

“I just don't understand, what do they want with Y/n?” The muscular brunette asks. Rebecca hums and types for a couple of minutes before answering.

“My guess, using her knowledge as a biologist to build their newest experiment. Though I can’t seem to get through this inscription, so I won’t know for sure until we get there and see it for ourselves.” The professor explains.

________________

The echoes of men cheering down the hall caused a spike in her heart rate. The cold floor of the cell she’s on makes her shiver as she sits in only a dirty hospital gown and undergarments. Her hair is greasy, and knotted. She'd kill for a shower if she wasn't so weak. Y/n hugged her knees to her chest, the chains connected to her ankle making a clanking sound. Bruises and cuts litter her skin, all that fighting ended in such pain. She just wanted to be home, resting in bed with her soon to be husband. But those words from the fuckers that took her. They haunt her, every day she starts to believe them.

“He's not coming for you, doll."

“And even if he did, he won't love you.”

“You belong to us now.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut as she holds her head. Tears starting to prick her eyes for the hundredth time since she's been stuck here. Leon would never leave her like that. He loves her, he promised that when he proposed. “He's just having trouble finding me.” She mutters, but still; as time goes on, hope continues to fade.

____________

The ringing of gunshots caused her to wake with a start. She can hear shouting and footsteps all around. Y/n curls up and covers her ears, too afraid to even try to see what's happening. Could be friend or foe, but it's hard to tell at this point. All those torturous nights of scaring her into talk, forcing her to do tests. She's simply too tired to move, to think. She's not even sure she wants to live anymore. 

“Leon! Check all the cells! We have to get her out quickly if we're gonna blow this place.” A familiar voice called out, followed by footsteps nearing her cell. Why can't she remember that voice, and did he say Leon? As in her soon to be husband? Perhaps her mind is starting to play tricks on her. That little bit of hope left could be tricking her. 

However, the footsteps get louder. A shadow of a man draws closer, and she isn't sure what to do besides try to hide herself. When the footsteps stop suddenly, she peaks her head up slightly. A tall man, fairly muscular and sandy blond hair stands in front of her cell. His eyes are a beautiful blue, but they seem dull. As he sees her, his heart stops, breath hitches. It's her, his future wife. Y/n stares at him in disbelief, this definitely has to be a trick, that man looks just like Leon.

“Y/n..” The sound of her name was breathy, but it immediately made her feel a sense of comfort. His voice, deep and smooth, it's very soothing. Though she still can't be sure that her mind isn't playing tricks. She hugs herself tighter, shaking as he approaches slowly. He kneels down in front of her, worry and sadness clear in his eyes. He frowns and slowly reaches his hand out towards her face. A whimper escapes as she tenses, which only makes him feel worse.

“It's me, baby. It's Leon.” He says softly, managing to graze his fingers along her cheek. Her eyes widen, they look almost lifeless to him. They become glossy as tears quickly begin to pour. 

“You're- you're really.. here?” She asks quietly, earning a nod from the blond. The tears fall heavily down her cheeks as a loud sob racks her body. Leon quickly grabs her hands, trying not to let himself fall apart because he just can't. He has to be strong for her, he needs to get her to safety. Chris runs by and hears her cries, stopping in his tracks. He looks over and his eyes widen. He begins to step into the cell, noticing the chains. He then pulls out a set of keys that he collected from one of the guards.

“Leon, here.” He calls softly, giving him the keys. Leon looks back and smiles thankfully. “Where's Rebecca?” He asks, quickly unlocking the chains around Y/n’s ankles. 

“Grabbing the files so we can figure this out. Let's go, quickly.” Chris states before rushing out. Leon looks at his fiancee and cups her cheek. 

“Baby, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? Just hold on to me.” He watches her head nod in acknowledgement before carefully lifting her up. She grabs his vest as he carries her bridal style, following where Chris went.  Her glossy eyes wander around tiredly as they move. Everything feels fuzzy, the sounds of gunfire become muffled. Even Leon's voice fades in and out, but when she realizes he's talking, she looks up at him slowly. He holds her close, realizing how pale she is. When they finally find Rebecca, she goes to Y/n to check on her. 

“We have to get her to a hospital. Now.” She states with a firm tone. The two nod and get what they need. Chris sets up some C4 in the computer room before they all rush out. Another group of guards enter the hallway, guns blazing. Leon takes cover, shielding her from harm, while Chris and Rebecca clear them out. Once they're all down, they run out to the warehouse and jump into the jeep. Leon looks down at his lover to see she's unconscious.

"Shit, Y/n!" He calls, trying to shake her awake, but she's out cold. He feels her neck for a pulse, luckily it's there, but faint. He shouts at Chris to hurry, and Chris detonates the bomb before speeding to the hospital.

Please be okay.

~~~~~~

A/N; Welcome to the first part of my first little series! Hope you enjoyed it, more to come soon!

[steviewashere]

The Sound of Silence

Rating: General CW: Internalized Ableism, Quick Mention of the 'R' Word (It's Not Written, Quite Literally as 'R' Word)Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute Steve Harrington, Negative Self Talk, Miscommunication, Mean Eddie Munson (For a Split Second It's Part of the Miscommunication and the Plot), Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Neurodivergent Steve Harrington (Implied), Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Sweetheart

I should say before this that a lot of Steve's thinking here, a lot of the metaphors and such used, are from personal experience. They are things I think about myself when I'm mute. So be civil and kind about this piece.

💛—————💛

Steve Harrington is a man of few words on most days. He does talk, he loves talking sometimes, has so many things to share. But on a lot of occasions, Steve can’t muster the strength to say hello. Can only make sounds, hums and gasps and subtle clicks. And often times, he hides away when he gets to that point. He’s been like this for as long as he can remember. Though, the first time it happened, he’s not sure what really caused it. Just that something was too much, or he was too little and then it all began. There had been therapists and specialists and urgent care doctors. A lot of conversations between him and his parents that often ended in him being yelled at. Something about him too far left of ‘normal’. And he knew, when the bad stuff came, that part of him may just be this way.

Now, years later, he can put some recognition to what silences him. Sometimes it’s the lack of comfortable sleep the night before. Or it’s the social energy completely drained out of him. Or it’s a particular jab that somebody makes. The raised voice that pushes him over the edge. A nightmare so harsh it rips him of not only the ability to mutter whole sentences, but also the ability to crawl out of bed.

He’s only clarified this with a select handful of people. The people in his life that were closest to him or that would understand. Robin was the second. Words written on a steno pad in the middle of the night, three days in a row where he hadn’t been sleeping properly, nightmares of a cold bunker and rough hands. Notes passed in quiet lulls, pencil scratches the only sound. She only looked at him with a sort of empathy he’s never been privy to. Her eyebrows scrunched in concentration as she focused solely on conversation in written text. He didn’t have to beg with her, which he thanked whatever god gave him her presence in the first place. Then, it was Nancy before their breakup. She could just tell. Her notes accommodated him. Space he took up was always welcoming. And her voice carried softly to his ears, gossip and pet names and gentle praise. Even if she broke his heart some time later, he would always remember her better than alcohol stained and too tipsy to make sense. Max was most recent. She, surprisingly, didn’t tease him for it. Didn’t make him feel bad. More sad than anything. Her voice was raspy in her hospital bed, “I’ll be your voice, Steve. You can be my eyes.” He could see the white, nearly iridescent glaze that permanently altered the blue color underneath. There were no words exchanged after that, but he placed his hand in hers and squeezed.

The others either didn’t notice or were too intimidating to tell. It’s not that they’re scary. But they can be harsh about certain things. And he just wasn’t ready. His voice, the absence of his words, have always been a soft, insecure, and vulnerable part to him. Laying out his cards face up on the table was too much.

But he probably should’ve considered Eddie to be one of those people that he can trust. Especially since Steve lets him move in, take up space in a spare bedroom, rummage through his cupboards. Maybe because they’re roommates. Maybe because they’re friends. Maybe because Steve wants more.

———— It was a bad night. An even worse day.

The images flashed under his eyelids every time he blinked. Blood and loose skin and wet muscles. Echoing screeches of those creatures that ruined his nearly blank torso. That sadness rippling from Dustin. His wobbling lip, wet eyes, the snotty nose, and strained yells for help. Steve’s stomach turns with every subtle movement of his body. Every single time he stretches, the scars moving with him. 

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have gone to work. Not when he woke up, throat scratchy and the seizing of his chest overwhelmingly intense with every sobbing gasp. Or when he realized, the energy somewhere else, that mustering words was the heaviest burden to bear. He shouldn’t have gone to work, where he gets yelled at for not communicating. For not counting out the change. For not selling the new movies. Where he’s called things he’s heard since he was a little boy, ‘Dumb’ and ‘Stupid’ and the infamous ‘R’ word.

He’s out of it by the time he’s able to sit down in the driver’s seat of the car. Part of him wants to bang the softest parts of his palms on the harsh, stiff leather of the steering wheel. Another piece of him wants to lean down into those same hands, pressed into the sockets of his eyes hard enough to speckle his sight with black spots, and cry until there’s nothing else to do but go home. There’s the encroaching need to scream, to hum behind his lips, wiggle his arms until they’re too tired to move, too heavy to lift, a worse burden than speaking. But he knows that it’s too open to break down in Family Video’s parking lot. So his drive home is ninety percent heaving breaths and squeezing the steering wheel to remind him he’s nearly back to his bed; his safety away from the world, somewhere where he can recharge, power through this, get back on track.

Though, he’s drained when he goes home. Exhausted. Beaten down to just a bag of meat and blood and bones. The Beemer is parked in the driveway. And he jiggles his keys in the door. And slips his shoes off, hangs up his jacket, places his wallet in the little dish in the foyer. Each step of shedding his work skin like tiptoeing on a bed of nails. Barely even makes it two steps before he’s bombarded by Eddie’s constant, erratic, and chaotic nature.

“Hey, Stevie!” he crows. “I made dinner while you were on your way back. It’s on the stovetop, covered it in foil so that it retains the heat. Oh, and I did the laundry, cleaned up our bathrooms a little bit. Made progress with the physical therapist on my bad leg and I—“

Steve sighs heavily through his nose, blinks sluggishly, and places his palm out to stop Eddie. He tries to say anything, something. But all he does is open his mouth, squeak in the back of his throat, promptly close back up, and sag. Shakes his head, sidesteps, and clambers to his bedroom.

Undressing himself like wrestling with bears. Climbing under his covers as if his comforter is a taut iron sheet. He can already sense it, the shift from charismatic Steve Harrington to odd Steve Harrington. Can’t even suppress the aching, sizzling pang that shoots through. Naked skin to his cold bedsheets. Blanket heavy. The darkness of his bedroom will coddle and consume him, he’s sure. 

Tomorrow is another day to try again. And maybe he’ll finally be able to explain himself.

But of course it’s not that simple. Of course his eyes are crusted over and burning like he spent the entire night crying. His whole body aches. And, unsurprisingly, there’s no way to conjure words from deep in his chest. Just whistled little breaths. Coming short and strained from his nose. He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Blearily, he wonders how Eddie’s doing. If the dinner from last night made it to the fridge. Wonders if the phone has rung at all, because he should be going to work.

He tries it. Tries speaking to the lonely, cold, inky blackness of his room. As if seeking for a light. The sounds strain and garble. Like his emotions are honey and he’s gargling. Choking on it. It hurts. He wonders if speaking should be like death, like a demobat tail wrapped around his tender skin, squeezing with razor blade spikes, tugging on him as stiff and thick ropes. Wonders if Eddie can hear him struggling.

Wonders if Eddie can sense him as a shadow in his own darkness, half of a man, barely a person. Thinks that there’s a million ways to explain himself, the words on paper as he did with Robin, or if Eddie will pick him up like dead star fragments and piece him back together as Nancy did, if he’ll just have to wait this out and whisper it in the fragile, sterile, fluorescent light of his childhood home—it’s a hospital in a way, maybe Eddie can perform the role of Max. Steve would offer his legs to take over for Eddie’s bad one, if he’ll be the boisterous noise that should be croaking from him any moment.

Futile, however much he wants it to work. Steve curls himself tighter in his blanket and goes back to sleep. 

Tomorrow will be another day. And he’ll be a full person again, tomorrow.

Some day, surely, he thinks on day three.

And the same on day four.

And when he can smell his skin like molded vegetables in the drawer of his fridge, only then does he stand on doe like legs, awkwardly ambling to the shower. He is twenty years old, mute as the day he was born—breathless and making noise if only to mark his presence; he thinks of himself as the stain on his bedspread, that is his presence, he’s sure. Twenty years old, moving like the toddler his mother was worried about. Crawling backwards. Unable to lift his head on his own for too long. He wonders a lot in the silence of his own existence. It doesn’t end now, in the shower with steam clearing his nasal passages. Ponders, Will I always be this way?

Surely.

The dirt swirls in invisible tornadoes down the drain. Those are his words. Still gone. Through the pipes and out to the sewer. He stands on the plush rug protecting the warm soles of his feet from the cold tile. An overly used towel, threadbare and rough, wrapped around his waist. He slips into pajamas easily enough. Hair sopping and wilted into his eyes.

Tentative creaks down the stairs. Shuffling if only to take up space. Frozen to his spot in the kitchen doorway. There, in the kitchen, shrouded in amber light with a warm mug of what appears to be hot chocolate, is Eddie. He looks up from the pale brown liquid in his cup. His eyes are richer than that of what he drinks. And Steve is startled by how sad, though ferociously angry they are.

“I know this is your house and you’re allowed to do whatever the fuck you want, but you can’t just be a piece of shit to me,” Eddie rasps. His voice is nearly hollow. Penetrated by shrapnel between his teeth. And Steve also wonders if that’s what he’ll sound like after this. This limbo he can’t control. “Seriously, Steve. I thought you were, like, changed or something. Thought you were supposed to be this good guy now. Not a douchebag, remember?”

‘Douchebag’ spits from him like acid. Steve is burning. He is sizzling. Can’t help the trembling in his hands. Or the subtle, missed by Eddie, flinch that forces him back a step.

He looks away from those molten eyes of Eddie’s. Towards the floor. At his bare feet. Going cold against the hardwood. Wants to throw it all up. The explanation. His thoughts. Every little other thing about him that’s always made him some sort of spectacle in his parent’s marriage. Am I the cold, he asks to nobody in particular, or am I the body drowning in it?

Eddie sniffles. Clears his throat. Sighs disappointingly.

Steve is five years old. His dad is sitting at the table. He is being scolded for not speaking up. Steve is eight years old, covered in mud and pink lines from being scuffed on the concrete. He is being scolded for not speaking up. Steve is eighteen years old, bloodied, beaten blue, sweaty, and soot on his new shoes. He is being scolded for not speaking up.

He is traumatized. And he is tired. And he can’t explain, no matter how much he wants.

“Maybe I should’ve expected this,” Eddie mutters, “being friends with Steve Harrington was always a sort of fantasy anyway, right? Who could like a freak?”

It’s not loud, though it disrupts the quiet Steve thought could never be broken again. He sobs. Wretched and screeching. The tears like a flash flood. His chest caving in. All the sounds escaping him, garbled and messy and drowning. He is drowning. He is different. He’s a freak. And Eddie must know, but not like Nancy does. Or he must have found something, the steno pad. Must’ve talked to Max, something.

He collapses into one of the dining chairs. A heaping mess of blood and skin and bones and meat. Just this. He is this with nothing to explain for it. 

Out of the corner of his eye, though blurry, he sees Eddie stand from his chair. Making some sort of aborted movement. And, without much thinking, Steve scrambles his hands forward, wrapping them tight on Eddie’s forearms, tugging him in too close. Forcing him to stumble into his knobby knees. Fingers still squeezing, fingernails biting into Eddie’s soft skin.

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Eddie’s whispering, “Stevie, hey.” He crouches down, arms encased in Steve’s terrible hold. It’s almost hard to picture, the space and positions between them. Eddie’s wobbling on his own feet, probably sore and aching on his bad leg. Though, there’s a palm warm on Steve’s cheek. Wiping away at the tears. Trying to, at least; more keep streaming. Fingers carefully scooting into his hairline. Massaging on his scalp, pruning with the cold water in his hair. “Steve,” he murmurs, “hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry. That was—I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. That wasn’t okay.”

He doesn’t know what comes from him next to cause Eddie’s eyes to widen in both surprise and horror, but it must be something awful. A scream. Loud and piercing and high pitched. Shooting from him like a bullet, shattering everything between them. Shrapnel from between his teeth.

Eddie frees from Steve’s grasp, wrapping his arms around his shaking back, bringing him in gently. Rocking him from side to side until he’s only whimpering. Petting down Steve’s hiccuping back. “You’ll be okay,” he whispers against Steve’s ear. “I was being mean. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Eventually, he pulls back some. Putting a small amount of space between their bodies. Steve is shaking from it all. Unable to do much. Eddie soothes a hand down his left arm. “Tell me what’s going on? How come you’ve been pulling away?”

Steve shakes his head. Placing a tired and limp hand on his throat.

“You lose your voice? Are you sick?” Again, Steve shakes his head. And Eddie goes quiet for a few slow moments. Until, a lightbulb seems to shine bright and shatter over his hair, amber light still causing him to glow, despite it all. He scrambles up off the floor. Squeezes Steve’s shoulders. Lightly says, “Stay here, okay? I’m gonna go find a pen and some paper. Be right back.”

When he’s back at Steve’s chair, the both of them significantly calmer, a brand new steno pad is in his hands. He hands it off with a chewed up ballpoint pen. “Tell me by writing it down.”

And so Steve does. Gives it back. Lets Eddie read his chicken scratch scrawl.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’ is the first thing. Followed by, ‘I’ve been like this since I was a little kid. When things get bad or I just don’t have the energy, it’s like my body forgets how to talk.’

“Oh,” Eddie whispers. He blinks at the paper and looks up to Steve. A sad little smile flashes on his face. “Okay, Steve. I—I think I get it. Kind of like when my day gets really busy and then when I go home, I just shut myself in my room and listen to music until I fall asleep. Kinda like that?”

Steve shrugs and reaches for the paper again. Writing, ‘Sort of. But it’s for a long time. Like…You know now. Sometimes I don’t talk for weeks. Sometimes it’s a few hours. But I get like this a lot.’ When he’s finished and Eddie goes to speak again, Steve immediately writes some more. Eddie’s mouth shuts with the soft click of his teeth.

‘Am I really a freak?’ Is what Eddie reads next.

His head shoots up from the paper. Eyes impossibly wider than they’ve ever been. Startled and desperate and unbearably sad. “No,” he murmurs quickly. “No, Steve, you’re not a freak. What makes you think that?”

The pad trembles in Steve’s grasp. He doesn’t want to write it, wouldn’t even want to speak it. But still, he sketches, ’You asked me, “Who could like a freak?”’ He tilts his head at his own words. Ducks back in, his hands shaking too much and his eyes moist. ‘It’s okay if you think so. I’m kind of used to it.’

Eddie snatches the paper from Steve’s offered grip. He swallows heavily and locks eyes with him, they’re still so sad. He wonders if that’s what Eddie’s seeing, too. “Stevie, no,” he whispers. “No, I was talking about myself. I thought you were mad at me. Thought you didn’t like me. I don’t think of you that way.”

Steve nods, sagging with relief. And with it a few tears spring loose from his eyes. A hand softly cups his jaw, thumbing at his fat hot tears. He closes his eyes and sighs. “Not mad,” he forces, his voice like raw, out of the box grits. It hurts, but he swallows. “You are my friend,” he musters before falling silent again.

A soft, sad hum emanates from Eddie. His hand tenses on Steve’s skin, but it holds to him gently, like he never wants to let go. “You’re mine, too, you know that? I’m genuinely sorry for what I said,” Eddie says. The apology sweet and drenching. “That wasn’t okay of me. I’m sorry.”

There’s no words Steve can press from within him. He lays his hand over Eddie’s and squeezes. Eyes now open and darting between Eddie’s own. He pushes their joined hands further into his cheek, sighing with it. Boneless in his chair.

“Okay,” Eddie mutters, “I understand, sweetheart. I get you now.” His thumb soothes more. Petting—caressing Steve in a way that makes his stomach flutter. “We’ll get you through this,” he promises, “I won’t go anywhere.”

💛—————💛

[dimancheetoile]

uh, hi.

maybe you're seeing this on your dash and thinking "hum, this username is kinda familiar". maybe you do remember me, in which case, again, hi.

i've been gone for an entire year. it hasn't been a great one. for those who read my posts before, you might already know this, but for everyone else, I was born with a rare genetic condition. on top of that, i had a very serious accident at 13 that more or less destroyed my right leg. i haven't been able to walk right since then, and it hasn't been helped by the following years of botched surgeries, complications from the operation, misdiagnosis and medical malpractice. i'm left with a barely functional leg that has a permanently torn set of ligaments, collapsed nerves and debilitating, constant, torturous chronic pain.

then i had a weird relapse of sorts. a bucketful of symptoms. hives and flushing, limbs and joints swelling, rashes, trouble breathing, sudden drops in blood pressure, heart rate above 100 at rest, stomach cramps, nausea, headaches, migraines, chronic fatigue, confusion, memory loss, dizziness and loss of consciousness. it's called MCAS.

i can't describe to you what it's like to never be well. to never wake up in a body that feels right, even just ok. to always have something going wrong, something painful, something that doesn't work right.

i'm hooked up to an oxygen machine twice a day. i wear a compression garment that goes from my ankles up to the tips of my fingers. i have to do two self-injections every month. i live with additional compressive equipment for both my knees, both my ankles, both my wrists, an elbow. i have a machine with electrodes i can put on painful areas to electrocute them and sometimes, it helps with the pain. i have to use pain-relief plasters and poultices a couple times a day.

i have premature arthritis. the arthritis in my back ate all the cartilage of my last three vertebrae (the ones above your tailbones, your lower back) so i'm like a car with no suspensions. my vertebrae are rubbing against each other with nothing in between to protect them, my discs are crushed, i have severe sciatica. chronic light sensitive migraines.

my joints don't hold. since january, I dislocated my left knee leading to a synovium effusion (big pocket of the lube in your joint that gathers and forms a ball and it pushes on your nerves, ligaments, tendons and tissue); i sprained my left ankle and it tore my external ligament and heel ligament. i dislocated a bunch of my fingers multiple times.

oh, i also got diagnosed with endometriosis and PCOS.

i live bedridden now. i have an entire grocery bag of medication sitting by my bed so i can reach it easily. opioids, neuropathic pain medication, anti-inflammatory medication, a medication that completely stops my period.

and that's without mentioning the hours and hours of hospital visits, specialists, family doctors, physical therapists, etc.

i'm gonna be honest. same time last year, i was having a hard time. i had turned 25 in january and moved into my first apartment since uni. it's in the same village as my mom which is the only reason i could live independently. so i was just 25 and all the MCAS stuff was happening on top of everything else and i had this realisation that this was what the rest of my life would look like, but worse, because my disease is degenerative. it gets worse as you age.

so i was just 25 and i realised i had the next 50 to suffer through this and more, and suddenly i didn't want to be here anymore. there was no ideation, it was more a complete break down of my hopes for the future. what was my future going to look like in this cursed body?

anyway, i collapsed under the mental pressure, my health continued to worsen. what i used to be able to do was no so much harder, and sometimes impossible. i was a 25-year-old in a prison of their own flesh. i couldn't deal with the rest of the world, so i cut myself off from it.

i'm doing better now, mentally. physically, it's only gotten worse. as i write this, i'm reaching for my pain meds because everything below my right knee is screaming in agony and i have a splitting headache. this is a good day for me.

thank you, if you've read this far. thank you, if you thought about me even once in the past year. i'm not asking for anything, except maybe to talk with you if you have a similar story. i feel so alone in this hell, it'd be nice to talk to someone.

i love you all.

-mako

[in-for-a-pennyx]

Kinktober 2022: October 15th

Day 15: Facesitting // Sex Toys

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: D/s established relationship, Soft Dom! Ezra, sub!reader, use of pet names (reader is called Kitten), Ezra has one arm, mention of body hair, sex toys, pet play, use of anal plugs, face sitting, oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, masturbation; reader is described as having brown skin and black hair long enough to stroke.

A/n: So I'm an Indian woman (the country, not the indigenous people of the Americas) and wanted to give reader my own features. I have brown skin and black hair, and wanted to see that reflected in my fics. But you don't have to be Indian to connect with those features. I apologise if it causes any discomfort, I absolutely don't mean it to. I just want to see myself in some of what I write. All of my other fics are blank slate (as far as I can tell) and I plan to wrote a mix of blank slate and Indian/brown skin readers. Thanks for reading and feedback welcome as always!

|| Prompts by @absurdthirst ||

This is only for anyone 18+ years of age, minors - please do not interact. Only proceed if you're over 18 and have read and understood the warnings and rating.

Ezra has come across many cats in his life. Puss in Boots was special in his childhood, the Cheshire Cat opened his heart to the love of books and words, his mind to the limitless imagination the universe contains, and his lips to the power of a well-placed smile. He’s seen old, withered photographs of an elegant cat-like statue protecting the tombs of Kings, from a civilization that also considered cats as Gods. When he met Cee, she reminded him of a feisty alley cat. But his favourite is you – his little Kitten.

Ezra comes in to find you curled up with a book on the plush pink velvet loveseat in the corner of the front partition of your pod. The sun is streaming in and you’re enjoying the warmth on your skin, the sunshine making your brown skin look a rich bronze, soothing the chill that has made a home in your bones. After spending many a cycle trying to find a hospitable planet after Ezra’s time on the Green, you settled on one that had a safe atmosphere and many seasons.

He smiles and sits down on the other chair, and you notice he’s holding a small box held close with a tied black ribbon. Marking your place in the book, you eye the box with curiosity.

"Come here, Kitten, I have a present for you” he hums, patting his thigh. Oh, he’s got mischief planned.

You slide your legs out from under you, stretching a little, and go to Ezra, kneeling between his legs and resting your head on his warm thigh. He strokes your hair gently, tangling his fingers in your raven locks and admiring how the sunshine bounces off them, making them look like the feathers of the bird he so loves, and then places the box on his lap.

"Untie the ribbon, dear Kitten. Reveal your gift," he says with a clever smile.

You look up at Ezra to ask permission and when he nods, you untie the ribbon and open the box. Your eyes go wide with surprise and heat rises to your cheeks. Nestled among the pink tissue paper is a fluffy, black tail with wisps of grey, matching your hair, attached to a small metal butt plug.

Excitement skitters through your chest, and your body vibrates with the effort to suppress nervous giggles. Ezra chuckles, placing a finger under your chin and lifting your face to look at him. “I thought it was time my perfect Kitten was bestowed with a special keepsake. Is it to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you, Master. I adore it! You always know what I like” you rave truthfully. Ezra always knows. Sometimes he knows you better than yourself and that realisation makes your heart swell with love for him. He got you a tail that matches your hair and that little detail is all you need to know about Ezra.

“That’s music to my ears, Kitten. Now stand, dearheart. Go to the back partition, undress and kneel on the bed on your hands and knees. I should be with you shortly” he instructs and you know it's playtime, your body and mind buzzing with the thrill of what’s to come.

You do as he says and assume your position on the bed. Your body is rife with anticipation and after what feels like hours, you recognise Ezra’s footsteps thudding into the bedroom.

“Many a man has taken pilgrimage over sands and oceans, under starry nights and hot suns, gone a hundred years without movement to attain a holy image. But Kitten, none of them will ever cast a shadow on the exquisite temple of your body laid open in front of me”.

You feel a genuine happiness at that, his approval always manages to soothe you. In Ezra’s hands, you find absolution.

Ezra walks to the edge of the bed and stands behind you, the rough fabric of his trousers covering his thighs a sharp contrast to the soft, sensitive skin of the back of your thighs. He starts to rub your shoulders and back, his lone hand sliding around your waist to cup your breasts softly. It makes you whimper, his touch setting you on fire.

“My bonny Kitten, how I missed you these last few cycles. The only friend I had was misery. The thought of you on your knees was the sole thing that kept this old man from losing his sanity”

You hate the thought that Ezra was unhappy in any way and press back into him, trying your best to convey that you are here and that you are his. He breathes in your scent and kisses the side of your head, nuzzling into your hair. You shudder and push further back into him so that there is no distance between you.

He stands back up and runs a hand down your back to cup your ass. Ezra strokes your round ass and runs a finger down the middle, halting briefly to circle the tight bud of your rear hole but doesn’t stop there. You moan at the feeling and buck your hips when he slips two fingers inside your wet cunt. He strokes you there for a while before moving his now-soaked fingers to your rear hole. He rubs your slick onto your tightly closed hole and asks you to relax, breathe. His touch and the deep cadence of his voice relax you.

“Alright, dearheart, you need to help me here. Put your weight down on your shoulders and raise your delectable behind up for me. I wish I could do it myself but with my lone arm, I need my Kitten to help. Pull your sweet cheeks apart so I can see that shying rosebud”.

You do as he says and soon enough, you feel some cool lubricant being rubbed in and his middle finger gently eases into your ass. “You’re doing so well, Kitten. Always such a brave little Kitten for me” he coos.

He dips his finger inside and briefly strokes you before leaving you empty once again. You feel so exposed with your ass in the air but your trust in Ezra is boundless and you know he will take care of you.

Suddenly you feel something new, something cool and hard pressing against your rear entrance. As Ezra starts to press it in, you realise that it's bigger than his finger and you moan at the feeling. But Ezra is gentle and slowly eases the object into you. It starts to get wider and you start to feel so full. Your breaths are coming in short, urgent huffs and you’re trying to stay relaxed, just as Ezra trained you. Then the object tapers down again and your sphincter closes down on the smaller end, holding the object firmly inside you. You feel something furry brush the back of your thighs and you realise that this must be your new tail.

Ezra steps back and you wiggle your ass to give him a show as much as to get comfortable with the plug inside you. It’s a sensation you’ve felt before but every time it feels new, the fullness is always overwhelming.

“You’re my favourite delight, Kitten, and this tail is the perfect cherry on top. Come on, give us a twirl” Ezra indulges himself.

A lewd thrill of submission floods your veins, making the soft hairs on your body stand on edge. You get off the bed in your best feline impression, wiggling your hips and stretching your limbs. Ezra goes to lie down on the bed and you twirl around sensuously, showing off your new toy for him.

“A rapturous sight you make, dearheart. A balm to my jagged soul”. You can tell he’s satisfied by his lopsided grin.

He taps his chest and looks at you invitingly “alright Kitten, seems like an opportune moment for me to partake. Come take a seat on your Ezra’s face. I want to drink straight from the source.”

You act coy, walking slowly towards him and climbing on top of him to straddle his chest, but in reality, you could be screaming with excitement. This is such an exceptional treat. With just his one arm now, this position helps him be in control and he doesn’t have to worry about collapsing on top of you too heavily. It also gives you the perfect view of his face: his poetic, wandering brown eyes, the messy mop of hair with the shocking blond streak, the nose you have memorised on your fingertips, and the lone scar that makes Ezra uniquely him.

Once you’re close enough, with a knee on either side of Ezra’s ribs, he grabs the backs of your thigh and gently prompts you forward with a light press of his fingers into your skin. He shifts his hold to your hip, guiding your glistening, wet pussy to his luscious mouth. As you feel Ezra’s tongue part your swollen folds and his fingers palm your ass, you moan so loud that you’re sure people three pods down could hear, but neither you nor Ezra care. He loves the delicious sounds his Kitten makes and he wouldn’t smother your voice for anyone.

By now, he is well aware of how you like being teased, and he knows when to relent; it makes your chest flutter, knowing that he’s not only committed your preferences to memory but is always set on indulging them as well.

You feel Ezra’s tongue slither and slide along your swollen slit, and as his fingers peel your blooming lips back to expose your wetness, you shake with the surge of pleasure, throwing your head back with abandon.

Your tail lands on Ezra’s chest, the ‘fur’ so soft on his golden chest and he loves the ticklish sensation of it.

“There’s an inferno inside your delectable cunt, Kitten” you can hear his muffled voice from below you and you can’t help but grind against his mouth harder, chasing his tongue to where you need it most. But Ezra’s in control and doesn’t relent, dipping his tongue inside you and making you mewl pathetically. His nose bumps against your clit and it’s electric, but not enough.

“Please Master, please put your mouth on me” you beg shamelessly, emboldened by sheer need.

“You already have my mouth, Kitten. Don’t be greedy now. Impatience doesn’t a good Kitten make”. You whimper but don’t push your luck. Ezra’s been known to stop if you get too snotty and you couldn’t think of anything worse at the moment.

With each dive of his sinful tongue inside your cunt, you can feel the familiar coil of pleasure tighten in your abdomen. At the same time, Ezra is playing with your tail, pushing and pulling it lightly and the dual sensations and stretch are driving you crazy. You’re close, so close but you need his lips around your clit. You’re panting, practically crying with your unfinished pleasures when Ezra takes pity on you and finally brings his mouth to your throbbing clit, suckling it gently.

That’s all it takes to break you and you cum with a shout of Ezra’s name on your tongue. The waves of pleasure wash over you and clamp your thighs around Ezra’s head but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going and brings you to the brink again. You vaguely register a slick sliding behind you, taking a second to realise that Ezra had wrapped his fingers around his hard length and is stroking himself.

He times his strokes to you riding his mouth. A few more strokes and he cums hard, spilling on his tummy. He moans into your fluttering cunt and that’s enough to drive you over the edge again. He keeps licking you through it and soon you’re too sensitive.

“Ezra please…” you purr and he understands, permitting you to move. You carefully rise and swing your leg over him, and kneel next to him on the bed. His lips and chin are shining with your wetness and you duck your head, feeling debauched.

Ezra lets out a satisfied hum and looks at you dreamily “You always explode on my tongue like stardust, Kitten. I never tire of it.”

“Will you lick me clean, Kitten?”

You’re delighted to be given the chance to taste his spend and clean him. You hinge down at your waist towards his tummy, your ass and tail up in the air, and start gently lapping at his spend, the slight tang of him making your pussy throb again.

Ezra delights in you and that makes you peaceful in yourself. You’re always safe in his hands and he reveres the trust you place in him. Not everyone will understand your relationship but you both do and that’s what matters.

When you finish, Ezra grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. “Come up here, Kitten. Let us travel to the valley of dreams for a while.” You cosy up to his side, satisfied and satiated.

“You are mine, little Kitten, as I am yours. And no more shall we part”.

END

(Yes, the last line is a Nick Cave song 😬)

[searenbound]

Okay so you and Bakugou some how end up in bed together and when 2 months later your throwing up over the toilet your friend's convince you to go to the Dr and when you leave you leave with the news your pregnant now sleeping around wasn't like you so you knew that Bakugou was in fact the father of your child and the only hope you had was a number he gave that your hoping wasn't fake so you ring him and after a bit in convincing you get him to come 'hang out' when in reality you've got to tell him your pregnant.

You take a few of your friends just to be careful however when you tell him you didn't expect to hear the news that he has a girlfriend you panic thinking you were a homewrecker but he calms you down and tells you that they started dating after you slept together.

He stays with you through the pregnancy but around 5 months he comes to the appointment sluggish and a bit colder than usual. "she broke up with me" it took a bit if pestering but that sentence also broke your heart you didn't wanna be the reason. He strokes through your hair as your heart rate noticeably picked up "Hey calm it down I'm alright I'd rather be able to devote my time to you and the baby she made me feel like shit anyway"

You hum softly and it takes a month but at 6 months pregnant you finally actually start your romantic relationship and it had many ups and downs. It was close to break ups screaming and slamming doors for a while hormones up in the air but 3 months later in that hospital it was all worth it seeing the smile on his face holding your baby.

Your own smile breaks out and a one night stand lead to the rest of your life the rest of your happily ever after

It’s the way he’s trying his best to juggle everything to be supportive of you and the baby as well as attempt to maintain his relationship. He probably didn’t even notice he was pulling away from her until she broke up with him and it isn’t until he sees you panic for a moment that he realizes the empty feeling was there the whole relationship and not just now, but it feels a little less when he thinks about his baby growing safely inside your body and then you yourself who melts his heart every time he looks at you.

Bet he doesn’t know he does that until his friends point out he looks at you differently then his ex, he seems to be more relaxed and happy. They definitely rooted for you to get together and are ecstatic when you do. Your friend groups probably integrate and help with rough patches along the lines. At least two of his friends tell you they liked you better then his ex from the very beginning, yours interrogated him when they found out you decided to start dating because they needed to know he was doing this because he wanted to and not out of a since of obligation.

[pokeheadcannons97]

I'm not sure if requests are open or not but can you possibly write hc's for milo gordie leon and piers about having a s/o who suffers from epilepsy maybe include their reaction to the first seizure they see, and things like how they handle when s/o starts to seize/show warning signs,

I only do 3 characters at a post so I am going to do Leon, Piers, and Milo since I have Pokemon Shield

(and mama Melany)

Also, I’m speaking and writing this from my perspective of helping my aunt who has seizures regularly and will be answering in what I do and other things that I’ve looked up or found that help, please let me know if I can make it better, thank you! <3 Be safe

Leon

Even though he is super directionally challenged, he is so very perceptive. He will be the first to notice when you are about to have a seizure.

The distant look in your eyes and the nonverbal responses when he asks if you are okay are always signs you’re about to go into one.

He’s by your side in an instant, holding the back of your head up steady while rubbing your arm.

“Hey, it’s okay Y/N… you’re okay.” He repeats this all through out it, steady and comforting.

When you blink back after a few moments, eyes bleary but answer softly back to him, he knows you’re okay and out of it.

Will immediately stop what he’s doing, be it in the middle of an interview or sees you go down in the stands, he is next to you to help you through it

Wont hesitate to absolutely eradicate any disrespectfully words or jokes towards you about your seizures

When you first went into one, he had not expected it.

The two of you were out having lunch together after Leon had invited you out for a date to get to know each other more closely. He had been persistent, always engaging you in small talk when you were at work at one of the local shoppes in Wyndon. Would offer to help in carrying heavier things to help you out, and to make your work load lighter. 

You had been perfectly fine, sitting across from him eating lunch at a local restaurant that you favored, when you seemed to be staring off into the distance as he was talking.

When Leon saw your Gothita get destressed and practically climbed up on you, he knew something was wrong.

He was scared, and that was putting it lightly.

With Gothita surrounding you in her psychic powers she steadied your body and instructed Leon through her telepathy to hold your head straight to where you wouldn’t choke.

He frantically rubbed your arms, while looking for your distant eyes to come back to the cheery e/c he found so attractive.

When you started to move slowly on your own your eyes peered up at him, the distant look fading quickly.

“Mmm…? Leon?” You asked softly, trying to attempt to remember where you were and what happened.

“Y/N!” He replied a smile forming on his face, full of relief. “You’re okay, my God I was so worried, are you ok?”

“Mmmhmm… thanks to you and Gracey.” You replied with a soft smile, giving your pokemon a thankful expression, to which she cried in happiness as a reply.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, to at least get a look at you. Then I’ll make sure you get home okay.” Leon said as he helped you up with his strong arms, letting your body lean against him. “I never knew you had to deal with these. You’re so much stronger than I could ever be, Y/N.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, your stomach knotting up in that similar way it did when you would see him visit your work on his days off from the league. Most people would be so scared and standoffish, more afraid of you than anything. See you as someone that needed to be fixed, someone that was fragile, and needed to be looked after like a child.

But Leon? He shown genuine kindness, he didn’t make you out to be this weak person who had epileptic seizures. He treated you with respect. As an equal.

You were strong, something that you did not hear often in your life.

You gave a small laugh, and peered up at him, your e/c eyes shining against the streetlights. “Is it too late to ask you for a second date?”

Leon’s cheeks uncharacteristically burned a deeper red and low chuckle came from his throat. “Not at all.”

Piers

There’s not many times he’s serious, but when it comes to you, he is stone cold serious.

Will constantly ask you if you’re okay if you seem more nervous or shakier than usual.

Always holds your hand when you’re feeling more shaky, will go into any quieter space to get you to a safer environment just in case

Even though his shows can be flashy and loud, he really prefers that you stay home or listen to CD’s of the shows of his that are flashier and with more lights. He’s talked to his producers about incorporating more epilepsy friendly aspects into his shows and videos so that more people can enjoy it safely.

On the times that you do watch him, he makes sure that the place is better lit, and no strobing lights.

Will rub the top of your head softly when you go into one, and holds you to where you wont hurt yourself during it.

He knew you had them, but you said that it was less common these days. So he thought that it would most likely be a while before you had one.

The first time you had a seizure in front of him, he was terrified and confused on what to do.

You were sitting beside him, listening to him strum on his guitar as try to work out the sound to his new song.

Your Kirlia sat beside you, listening too.

When he looked up from the strings and papers he had scattered around him, rewriting certain parts he paled.

Your arms were shaking as you began to fall backwards rather quickly. Luckily your Kirlia predicted this and carefully grabbed your shoulders and placed you on your side.

Kirlia’s eyes rose to Piers and she instructed him to gently rub at your arms as she used her abilities to work on the overfiring electrical impulses your brain was having.

Piers scanned your body frantically, your twitching limbs and far off stare causing his heart to race in nervousness. He didn’t know what to do, but hoped that what he was doing helped in some way.

Your Kirlia called softly as your twitching began to stop and your eyes regained their soft e/c hue. You hummed a little as you blinked back the glaze over your eyes.

“Y/N, hey… are you with me?” Piers asked, eyebrows knitted together, refusing to leave your side.

You gave him a confused stare and nodded slowly. “Yes…what…?”

Your Kirlia touched your forehead and you understood.

“Thank you… for helping me, Piers.” You patted your Kirlia’s hand greatfully. “And you too Meena, you did amazing.”

From then on Piers was sure to be more observant and learn about how to be better prepared for the next attack. The zigzagoon brigade are always alert and ready to go into pillow mode to help you not hit your head or hurt yourself. 

Milo

The absolute best at making sure that you are taking you meds and taking care of yourself

Always tries to make sure that you have enough time to get enough sleep and goes to bed at the same time as you to help make it easier

He’s used to dealing and helping new gym challengers that have anxiety problems, so he knows how to relax you and help manage your stress

Being as strong as he is, it’s nothing for him to grab you when your legs give out when you go into one, making sure that you are laid down on your side safely

His big hands will make soothing touches and coax you through it, making sure everyone around you is quiet so you’re not overwhelmed with voices around you

If you ever feel bad about having them, he is so quick to reassure you that it is never a problem and he loves you so much

The first time you went into one

You were battling him as your first gym battle, with your Espeon battling against his Glossifleur.

You seemed so strong, easily ordering move after move from your companion, but that changed when you started to wobble on your feet, your Espeon immediately ran to your side to catch you from hitting your head and braced your body against her own and let you fall at a slower rate to the ground safely.

Milo gave a wave to the stadium, with a shout of “Everyone stop!” and made his way over to you. The stadium went into a quick and silent hush. The rotom camera, now focused on you.

Your body jerked involuntarily, your gaze far off and unfocused.

Your partner pokemon gave a cry and rubbed against your body while Milo held your head to where it would be easier for you to breath.

“Hey, Y/N… it’s okay lass. You’re okay.” He said softly, his hat blocking out the harsh sun above you. He gave your cheek a few soft pats, his green eyes searching your face.

It took about a few moments for your hands to stop seizing and jerking. When they did you let out a steady breath. You blinked slowly and gave a low hum as your eyes refocused and fell upon the grass type gym leader above you.

“There you are, are you hurt?” Milo asked you, his voice lower but understandable for your comfort.

You swallowed, and went to slowly sit up, the sun from above now shining painfully on you. You blinked your eyes shut but nodded and turned to him.

 “Yeah… just...” you began and suddenly noticed where you were and felt the anxiety well up inside of you.

“Would it be possible to…stop our battle for today? Please?” you finished and picked at a part of your nails, cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry but I think I need to lay down for a while, I’m just wiped after…” you tried to explain yourself, your Espeon chittered next to you, rubbing against you softly.

Milo held up a hand with a genuine and kind smile. “Say no more, Y/N. Let’s get you to the nurse on call to get a look at you. Make sure you’re okay.” He rose to hit feet and held a hand out to you. “Can you stand?”

You gave a nod and stood up slowly, but wobbled a little, your legs still unsteady.

Milo scooped you up into his arms effortlessly. “Just rest, I’ll get you there safe and sound.”

And he did, 

[imperial-martian]

Protective vs Possesive {Mycroft Holmes x Reader} [Part 2/?]

A/N: Sorry that it has taken me so long to get done, but I’ve finally gotten inspiration with the help of @kye06. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I was a bit iffy with it until the end, which I really love. Let me know what you think and if this should be the end or if more parts should be added!

Mycroft x Ex-Wife! Pregnant! Reader

Angst/Fluff

(Mentions of Divorce, Pregnancy, Fainting, Hospitals, Mentions of Llightly Unhealthy Weight Loss, Soft! Mycroft)

•—•

Sherlock was sat in Bart's hospital sitting room, his hands interlaced and his chin resting upon them as he waited and waited. Each second that past felt like hours, each minute felt like days. The ticking of the clock at the corner of the room was slowly driving the man crazy.

It had only been a month and a half since you've moved into Baker Street with Sherlock and John. Every day seemed to be weighing down on you more and more. There was no more waking up to morning kisses that, Mycroft so loved to greet you with, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee. No more late-night cuddles and silent reading as you laid in his arms, smiling.

With every memory came the ghost of his touch, and with that came the guilt. You should've cherished those moments you had with him, to thank Mycroft for always ensuring your safety. Now, you couldn't even do that. The simple thought of him made you want to cry.

Yet, you were unable to think about anybody at the moment. Not while you lied, unconscious in a hospital bed while doctors and nurses tried to determine what was wrong before finally, they did.

However, Sherlock was still waiting, and he was still slowly going insane with impatience. He let only a second pass him before he cams his older brother, his blue eyes shut as he listened to the ringing of the phone.

On the other side of London, in an office, sat Mycroft Holmes, a government official who was just scribbling down a note on a piece of paper. The moon was shining in through the window, having just crept past a cloud that obscured some of its light. The auburn-haired man let out a little grunt into the glass of scotch he had just raised to his lips. A phone call was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment.

Nonetheless, he grabbed the device, seeing if he recognized the number before feeling a sudden sense of shock and worry as he saw his brother's name. In a quick motion, Mycroft had placed down the scotch glass while throwing on his coat as he brought the phone up to his ear.

"Sherlock?" he said through the phone, moving around his desk to gather some things. If it wasn't an emergency then at least he'd be packed and have an excuse to head home.

Sherlock let out a small sigh as he heard his brother's voice, a sound he wasn't sure that relieved him or annoyed him. "Mycroft, come down to Bart's, Y/N's in the hospital," he stated, getting straight to the point and not wanting to waste time.

Mycroft was surprised for a moment, not because Y/N was in hospital but because he was being informed that she was. "Why am I being told this? And why am I being asked to visit her?" Mycroft asked, his tone airy and yet, somehow it sounded almost cold.

"Because this was your wife Mycroft! Because the person you once loved is now lying unconscious in a hospital room, and even I don't know what's wrong! That's why Mycroft, because if Y/N had even cracked a bit of that facade you've created, then you'd care enough to see her. God forbid she took her last breath in an hour and you weren't here to say goodbye or sorry, wouldn't you want to see her one last time?!"

Mycroft was shocked by his brother's outburst. He'd been yelled at plenty of times before by Sherlock, however, never for such a severe reason. A moment passed before he said, "I'll be there in ten minutes," and hung up the phone.

True to his word, Mycroft arrived at the hospital ten minutes later, walking towards the waiting room where Sherlock no longer sat. The government official walked up to the front desk, asking what room you were in.

"294," the nurse said before Mycroft said a quick thank you and made his way down the hall, his umbrella gripped tightly in his hand. He held it at the center, his leather shoes loud against the tiled floor.

He reached the room after a bit of walking, peaking through the window to spot his brother sitting at a chair beside the bed. Mycroft didn't bother looking around to see you, knocking on the door and waiting for someone to answer it. When the door was answered, Mycroft's blue eyes caught the ones of his brother who simply nodded and let him pass.

"Is she alright?" Mycroft asked, taking a step into the room and looking over at you. He placed the umbrella off to the side of the room and took a seat once he was finished.

He hadn't seen you properly since the ordeal that took place months ago. His heart ached at the sight of your s/c skin being much paler than what it usually is. Your body was a bit skinnier than he remembered and for a moment he feared the worst.

"Has she been eating properly?" Mycroft asked his brother who remained by the door.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "She seems to be skipping breakfast every morning," he starts. "However, thankfully she eats her other meals."

Mycroft nodded, taking you over once more. "Did the doctors tell you what was wrong?" he inquired, his eyes never leaving your body.

Sherlock made a small hum. He knew that this should be something told to his brother, as well as yourself, by a doctor, but he knew it'd eat his brother alive if he didn't tell him. "She's pregnant Mycroft," he paused for a moment, expecting to see a reaction from Mycroft. When he didn't he continued, "they said she had fainted due to stress. They suspect she doesn't know she's with child yet."

All Mycroft could give in response was a weak nod before he asked his brother to leave for a moment. Sherlock obeyed Mycroft's wishes, taking a step out and moving back towards the waiting room before leaving altogether. He knew it was best to leave them both for some time.

Mycroft had leaned back against his seat, his mind seeming to bark questions at him, some that he didn't know the answers to. He looked back at you for a moment, taking in your h/c hair and familiar features. His hand was trembling as he brought it up to brush the strands of hair that cling to your face behind your ear.

Mycroft felt guilty at that moment. Guilty for leaving you when he could have been taking care of you, holding you close and protecting you. He was angry at himself that this entire situation was caused simply because he wanted to keep you safe, and yet, of course, he was the one harming you. It was always like that.

He'd never felt such a strong urge to hold you in his life. To whisper to you softly, letting you know that he couldn't wait to be a father and that you'd make an amazing mother. Yet, you were no longer his. He'd asked for the divorce.

The sudden feeling of warm, soft skin brushing against his arm caused his blue eyes to snap up towards you, his hand moving to clutch at your instinctively. "Y/N," he breathed out softly.

You felt emotional seeing Mycroft beside you, but you did not cry. All you did was smile back before facing the heart rate monitor. "Mycroft, what's wrong? W-why are you here?" you asked, scared and confused.

Mycroft tried his best to give you a reassuring smile. It was clearly forced and strained. He was about to answer you when a doctor entered the room, both heads turning to look at them.

"Ah, Mrs. Holmes-" you'd both tensed at that, but you couldn't blame the doctor. The divorce had yet to be finalized. "I'm glad to see you're awake. We've run some tests and nothing looks to be too worrisome. As a matter of fact, the cause of your fainting, although partially due to stress, is caused by pregnancy symptoms. Congratulations," the doctor explained.

Your eyes widened as you looked at Mycroft, fear written all over your face. How would this work now that you weren't with Mycroft?

Mycroft caught onto the fear quickly and gently ran a thumb over your knuckles, trying to assure you it'd be alright. Once the doctor left the room, Mycroft turned to look into your e/c eyes.

"Mycroft, wh-what are we going to do?" you asked, your hands trembling just as much as his are.

He took in a sharp breath for a moment, looking at you. "Y/N, I-I'd happily call off the divorce if you're willing to do the same. I... I'm not sure if I've truly ever wanted it. Ever since I've said it all I've felt was misery," he stated, his voice shaky. Mycroft's never had to say something like this. He's rarely ever let his emotions be spoken so freely.

You'd brought your hand up to his cheek when a single tear slipped from his eye. It wasn't a tear full of sadness, it was one of anger and guilt... and of the loneliness he tried so hard to get rid of only to welcome it back with open arms. Now, all he wanted to do was take you into his arms.

"I'd want nothing more than that, My," you whispered, and hearing the nickname- the one that used to bring him so much warmth -nearly caused Mycroft to cry more. He didn't, instead, moving to sit on the edge of your bed before taking you into his arms and adjusting himself so that he wouldn't hurt you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of your body against his cool skin causing him to feel safe and at home. "I've missed you," he whispered, placing a kiss against your shoulder.

"I've missed you too My," you whispered back, carefully running your fingers through his hair. "You'll make a great father," and just the thought of it caused you to smile because you knew it'd be true.

Mycroft lifted his head a bit to look into your eyes, a soft smile on his face. "And you'll be the best mother anyone could ever have, my dear," he replied, leaning down to give you a sweet, but passionate kiss against your lips. He'd only broken apart to murmur a soft, 'I love you,' before kissing you again.

[leelee10898]

Fast cars & Freedom: Finally home (16/16)

Here it is... the final chapter had arrived. Thank you everyone for riding along with me on this. My first attempt at ROD, althought we may be closing out this, it doesnt mean we have seen the last of this gang. I have some one shots and possibly a mini planned in the future!

I want to give a few special shot outs @riseandshinelittleblossom for pushing me to do this. @brightpinkpeppercorn for putting up with my crazy venting self!! And also the babies first name! @choicesarehard for her amazing edits and @desiree-0816 for being the biggest cheerleader.

Pairing: Colt x Ellie, mpc crew and friends.

Rating: fluff

This song I picked because it sums up Colt in a nutshell.. also its from one of my favorite movies, and gave me slight inspiration.

Ellie sat slouched back on the couch indian style, amazed she could even get her feet to bend that way.   Any Day now she sighed, her hand rested on her swollen belly. She was huge this time around, much bigger than with Luca, her feet were swollen and she couldn't fall asleep without a back rub. "Well she's asleep, finally." She smiled at the shirtless man in front of her as he laid on the couch, his head resting in her lap. "How many books did it take?" She giggled as she ran her fingers through his dark locks. "Only two tonight.  guess the rehearsal dinner wore her out." A sudden jolt against her stomach collided against the side of his head.

He turned facing her stomach, one hand on the side "Hello in there. You can come out now, daddy can't wait to meet you." He spoke to her stomach, placing a soft kiss against her bare skin. Ellie smiled looking down at him, the sight completely melting her heart. The baby always reacted hearing Colts voice prompting a dance party usually.  They weren't sure what the sex was, both wanting to let it be a surprise. If someone had of told her almost a year ago that this would be her life, she would have laughed. Yet here she was married to Colt, raising their daughter together with another on the way, living next to the beach and ridiculously happy. Any time now  she whispered again. "We should probably get to bed, big day tomorrow." Colt stood, kissing her forehead. "Mmhmm." She practically hummed. She had been having Braxton hicks contractions the past few days, on top of the swelling and the last minute preparations for her dad's wedding, she was exhausted.

"You ok baby?" Colt looked at her concerned.  "Yeah, just these braxton hicks again. Help me up?" She held her hand out as Colt carefully helped her off the couch. They made their way up the stairs slowly, Ellie in some pain, but she hid it from Colt. Her dad was getting Married tomorrow and she was not missing it. She knew Colt would take it as a sign she was in labor, and rush her to the hospital.  The doctor and Ingrid both told her that the Braxton hicks contractions were going to be felt more intense the end time around, and she was positive that's what it was, besides she was almost 2 weeks late with Luca, her due date was a week away.

They laid in bed, colt started at her feet, then her stomach, shoulders and then her back. He had been amazing throughout the whole pregnancy,  never missed an appointment or ultrasound, always attentive, took every mood swing and craving in stride, and he massaged her swollen, achy body every night.  He was an amazing Husband and Father, Ellie thanked god and Logan every chance she got, that they talked her out of going through with the divorce. Sure he was a smart ass, and stubborn to boot, but he was always there for her, had her back and supported her no matter what and he genuinely cherished every moment he spent with them.

The past 8 months have been such an amazing time for them. Colt and Luca were like two peas in a pod. They witty banter between the two kept Ellie in stitches and on her toes. They had drove to Lake Tahoe to see Colts mother, who apologized profusely for stepping in and causing problems.  Ellie and Colt both accepted and they had an amazing relationship. She had pulled out all of Colts photos growing up to show Ellie and Luca. Ellie forming the conclusion that Luca indeed looked just like Colt as a baby. If she had of seen those pictures before the plate test, she was certain that she would have known instantly.

Darcy and Colt spoiled the hell out of her, Darcy ecstatic to have a granddaughter and equally happy to have another little one coming. She literally pissed her pants when she went to open the back door one day and was greeted by a small pony. Of course Colt bought her the damn pony, she knew he would. She had to double check that, neither He nor Toby stole said pony, old habits and all. So yes, everything and everyone was amazing and blissful.

Ellie shot out of bed with a sharp pain to the abdomen. She let out a low, dull sounding moan shit that one hurt. She waddled to the bathroom and got into a warm shower, relaxing her immediately. After her shower she waddled naked back to the bed. Colt rolled over, rubbing her stomach. "You ok?"

"Yeah, just uncomfortable. Lets try and get some more rest, big day ahead of us." She tried to assure him, hoping he bought it.

A few hours later they were up, and out of the house. Colt had bought a minivan for Ellie, although he drove it more then she did.  He had his and ellies hospital bags packed and in the van, along with the car seat installed and the diaper bag ready to go. Colt played no games when it came to being prepared for this baby, he could not even wait. They had a quick breakfast with Frank, sally, Logan and Stacie before the girls were separated and taken for hair and makeup. Ellie was Sallys maid of honor,  Stacie a bridesmaid. Ellie sat in the chair, taking deep breaths, stacie looked over at her "You ok?" Ellie gave her a quick yes, but she knew Stacie didn't buy it. Once Sally stepped into the changing room Ellie tried to walk over to the couch, but a strong pain hit her like a brick. She doubled over and Stacie was on her. "You're in labor aren't you?" Ellie gave her a pleading look. "I don't know. I don't want to ruin my dads wedding. Just let me get through the ceremony.  Please don't say anything especially to my husband." She paused looking down at Stacies slight bump "or I'll tell Logan its a boy."

"Fine! But you know he doesn't want to know yet.   Stacie snapped.

Sally walked out the girls dropped their conversation. "Sally, you look so beautiful.  Dad's going to cry." Ellie teared up. "Really Sally, you look so beautiful." Stacie confirmed. Just then they heard a knock on the door. "Knock knock. I came to collect a bride." Logan popped in, his eyes settling on his mother. It was an odd, yet great feeling to see his mom getting married. Logan grew up without any one, and in such a short time he gained an entire family and was starting his own. The photographer came in to take pictures, first of Sally alone.  Ellie hunched over again, this time Logan seeing it. "Ellie, you ok?" She looked up at him, trying her best to lie "oooh yeah. This one just kicked me, hard." He gave her an unbelieving look, before setting his gaze on stacie. "Colts kid." She offered up.

They finished taking pictures, Logan walked his mom down the aisle to a teary eyed Frank. Ellie was right, her father cried, and so did Sally, Ellie, Stacie and Riya. Colt and Logan served as Franks groomsmen. They made their way to the reception Colt and Luca sitting next to Ellie who was taking deep breaths. "Ellie, what's wrong?" He asked concerned. "Nothing. Im fine, just standing too long." She lied.  

"Maybe we should go to the -" Ellie cut him off.

"No Colt! We are not going to the hospital and ruin my dads wedding for nothing. So please lets just enjoy the day ok?"

She knew it may be a good idea to go, the contractions were stronger,  closer together then they had been. Still she wanted to be there for her dad.

The reception in full swing, Luca dancing up a storm, she was the life of the party. They followed through with the motions, wedding party dances,  dinner that Ellie barely touched. She sat at the table, shoes off and extremely uncomfortable. Colt crossed the room standing before her "Dance with me Mrs Kaneko?" He gave her a devilish smirk that made her heart soar. "Of course. But only because you look incredibly sexy right now." She took his hand and joined him on the dance floor. The swayed together as close as they could possibly get, before Ellie stopped abruptly. Colt slipped a little "Shit, be careful El. I think someone spilled something." He said looking down at the puddle by their feet. "My water. My water broke." She looked up at him, wide eyed. "Your. Oh shit." He looked around for help, he had no idea what to do in that moment.

Ellie doubled over, a wave of extremely strong contradictions hitting her hard. "Ok, just breathe El. Were gonna get to the hospital." Colt looked up, seeing Logan "Logan, I need your help." Logan, noticing the panicked look on his face rushed over. "The baby's coming. I need your car."  Colt told him, Logans car was much faster than the minivan. Ellie let out a painful moan, getting the attention of pretty much the entire room. Logan tossed him the keys, colt giving him the keys to their van. "Mom, can you keep Luca for us?" Colt looked towards his mother. "Of course. We will be up soon. Good luck you two." Darcy gave them each a quick kiss and hug.

"What's going on?" Frank came up, concerned.  "Babys coming. We gotta get to the hospital." Colt filled him in as he ushered Ellie towards the exit. "I'm coming with you guys." Frank insisted. "No daddy. Finish the wedding, please." She groaned out. "Ellie I-"

"No. You have fun. Come up after ok." She cut him off. "I love you Eliana."

"Wait for me. I'm coming with you guys." Riya insisted.  Colt nodded and off they went.

Colt speed to the hospital, they rushed inside and were whisked away to a room. Riya called the doctor ahead to inform him that Ellie's water had broken and she was on the way to the hospital. "Hi mrs Kaneko. Im kelly, I'll be your nurse. Dr Coulson will be here soon." The short blonde woman said, taking her blood pressure and hooking her up to monitors. Another contraction hit her hard "oooooh god." She screamed out as colt grabbed her hand "breathe El." He tried calming her as she firmly gripped his hand. "Ok. Your contractions are consistent,  lets see what progress you've made." She checked dilation and station. "Oh wow, your at 8 hun. And the baby is low. Let me try and get the doctor on the phone." Kelly stood, quickly exiting the room another contraction hit hard and she almost jumped off the table. "Whoa Ellie." He steadied her. "It hurts. Fuck!" She hollered. "I know baby. Your doing so good. What did you do with Luca to ease the pain?" He asked. "I had an epidural. This fucking hurts." Finally the dr walked in.

"Hello Ellie, colt. Ready to have a baby?" Dr Coulson smiled. "Beyond ready doc." Colt beamed. Ellie nodded,  sweaty and heavy breathing. "Yeah, pressure, lots of pressure. can I get something for the, ooooh pain?"

"Well. You were at 8 a little bit ago. Let's see where your at now." The dr checked her, shaking his head. "Well, this baby is ready to come out. Your at 10."

Everything happened fast, Colt stood there at Ellie's side gripping her hand as she put her feet in the stirrups. He could feel the adrenaline kicking in, like he was just about to race.  "Ok Ellie, with the next contraction i'm going to need you to push." Dr Coulson ordered.

Ellie beared down and pushed hard, Once, twice. Colt was amazed as he watched the woman he loved bring the life they created into the world. The baby's black full head of hair first, another big push and the baby was all the way out. "You did it El. Our baby is here." He sobbed as they heard their child's healthy set of lungs. "Its a boy." Dr Coulson announced.  "We have a son Colt." Ellie sniffled. They cleaned him up and placed him in Ellies chest. "He's beautiful." Colt showered her in kisses. The nurse snapped a few photos for them before he was taken to the warmer and weighed and measured. He was 8lbs 6oz 21 ½ inches, had a head full of jet black hair and looked exactly like a scrunched up version of Colt.

They nurse brought him back over, placing him in Ellies arms. Colt sat on the bed next to his wife and son, Ellie looked up at his blissful face she knew exactly what he needed. "Here you go daddy." Ellie said as she handed him off. Colt took the tiny person in his arms,he looked down at his son, a sense of pride washing over him. He had texted his mom after they were given the ok for visitors, a short while later Darcy walked in with a shy Luca. An odd sight if they ever saw one, the once outspoken, opinionated 6 year old was now  cowering behind her grandmother.

"Hey princess. You want to come meet your baby brother?" Colt beamed at his daughter. She nodded her head hurrying over as colt squatted down to her level. "He's so tiny." Her small voice almost a whisper. Darcy came over to hug Ellie before taking a glance at her new grandson. "He looks just like you did as a baby." Colt looked up and smiled. "So, we got a name for this little guy?" Darcy eyes the two. "We do." Ellie spoke, "but we're waiting to tell everyone when they get here."

They didn't have to wait long,  the room filled with all of their family and friends. Barley anyroom to stand,  they all crowded around the sweet little bundle of joy. Another momento of the love they shared,  and someone to share the over abundance of aunts and uncles they had. Colt sat next to Ellie as she held their son, Luca on the other side. Everyone snapping pictures of the happy family in front of them. "Ok everybody, Colt and I would like to formally introduce you all to our son." She smiled as she looked to Colt. "Everyone, meet Cade Teppei Kaneko."

They chose to name him after Colts dad, who they were sure was looking down on them. He wasn't there for Colt, but Colt was sure he would have been for his Children.  Ellie may have started out as someone the crew used for information, but in a short time she changed them all, for the better. Colt stood back, looking at the group of people in front of him. The motto of the crew was always look out for yourself, somehow along the way they became a family. Ellie came into his life like a hurricane and turned his world around. He once told her she was his queen, that they would run the city together but these days he was thinking bigger.  She was his queen, but not of the city, she was queen of the world, his world.

He closed his eyes, envisioning his father. "Life is good pop. And it's only going to get better."

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