doctor with arms folded

Little Bitty My Ass - Star Wars

Can I get something cute and funny with a reader and Poe Dameron?

Poe stifled a cry as he buried his face deeper in your chest. You felt his nails dig into your back as you stifled a giggle. You put your hands on his shoulders, massaging them softly.

“You really can’t numb it at all?” You looked up at the doctor. He offered you a weak smile.

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◎ - finds the other injured (w/ doctor!jin)

Although Seokjin was in a profession that involved him needing to save lives, that doesn’t mean he isn’t prone to getting hurt. If anything, the amount of times you found himself getting injured would be shocking for someone in the medical line (especially if his juniors found out, the look on their faces would be priceless because of how much Seokjin chastises them for getting a ‘paper cut’).

Hey, but what happens at home, stays at home.

Seokjin was a great boyfriend. Not only was he great at what he does (and loves), there came with a plus point when he’s adventurous with food. In both processes of eating and cooking - which benefited you in terms of your love for eating.

Another bonus mark?

“Ah, shit,” A hiss can be heard from where you’re seated before you glance over your shoulder to see Seokjin sucking on the side of his middle finger. He has the knife set to a safe distance away and you chuckle, ditching your magazine to waltz your way into the kitchen where Seokjin stands. As he tends to rinsing his finger, you’re quick to situate yourself beside the counter where he’d need to come face to face with you as he wipes his hands.

He’s unfazed, merely blinking at you when you enter his line of sight and you hop on the white marble surface before beckoning him over with a hand you have on his shoulder. He moves without a word, allowing you to situate him between your legs as you remove the bandaid with much expertise. Seokjin can only conjure up a meek thank you when you tend to the small cut and plant a kiss after.

Tilting your chin up, your smiles link and Seokjin uses the same hand you handled to lure you in with a light cup by your temple to kiss you in gratitude. He leans back to see you sheepishly grinning at him, legs swaying as they thump gently against the cabinets that it replicates the sound of his heartbeat to being content with you.

Then it picks up the pace slightly, jumping in joy when he says: “Thank you, doctor,”

That cues you to fold your arms with a nod and the proud push of your lips forward, “You’re welcome, fellow citizen. A tough job, but nothing too big for me to handle,”

Seokjin plays along, more so when he knows he gets to see that smile on your face linger for a longer time.

“Oh, my dear saviour. What would I ever do without you?”

You send him a wink with a chuckle, and Seokjin returns it almost instantly, both hearts elated as they bask together in the peaceful Sunday afternoon.

Heart Rx

Hah, I didn’t even remember that Gajevy week was going on until now! But I guess this works for that too lol

commission for @lanaya-lavellan for sick!levy

rating: k+ for swearing 

paring: gajevy

characters: gajeel, levy, mention of lucy and unnamed nurse

prompt:  Person A is a doctor and Person B is their patient for one reason or another. Person B really really likes Person A, but Person A is oblivious to this. Person A does a physical examination, and they worriedly inform Person B that their heart rate/breathing rate is unusually high. Person B tries to think up of some lame excuse for that

tags: @spikerr, @fuckyeahgajevy


Levy pounded on her chest as she sat in the doctor’s office, letting out a cough that put her whole body in pain. She had been like this for a week, and hoped that it would let up soon. Levy was determined to tough it out because she hated going to the doctor, and she wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her best friend’s coaxing to go. Levy blew her nose and placed the used tissue in the pile next to her and began to flip through a magazine.

After what felt like an hour later, the nurse called. “Levy McGarden?”

Levy stood, wiping her runny nose and coughing into her elbow. “Hi,” she said, walking over to the nurse. The woman nodded with a smile and led her to the height and weight room. Levy was the same weight and height she was last time, and that meant another while of being teased for her height. With a sigh, she was once again led to another room where the nurse asked her what felt like a million questions.

“Are you sexually active?” the nurse questioned, and Levy had to wonder if this had anything to do with a cold.

“N-No!” she practically shouted, which sent her into another fit of coughing, followed by a sigh when she finished.

“Alright,” the nurse said, typing a few things into her chart. Then she rose. “Doctor Redfox will see you in a moment.”

As she left, Levy giggled at the last name. Redfox. It must be some old guy with a long beard or an Irish guy. Finally her giggles died down when she had to blow her nose again, and Levy sat for a few moments before popping open a magazine. She read about her zodiac for the month before hearing a door open.

“Levy?” a deep voice asked, and Levy lowered her magazine to just about drop it.

She had surely never seen a doctor with piercings before.

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AOS Drabble: As you were, honey.

Originally posted by celebritiesandmovies

Just a little drabble-y thing inspired by a conversation with @bkwrm523. Sara always gives me the best prompts. 

Reader is good friends with Jim. Slight AU, here; in this ‘verse, Jim and Len were never roommates in the academy.


“Where the hell have you been, Jim?” you ask, sliding his Andorian whatever-the-fuck across the table. “You’re already two drinks behind.”

It’s already three hours into shore leave, and you’ve been waiting for Jim for ages

Jim flops heavily into the chair. “Got caught up in sickbay again,” he says, shooting you a wink and reaching for his whatsitcalledagain.

You eyeball him closely, cocking your head just slightly to compensate for the subtle spin of the room. “Y’okay?”

“Never better,” Jim’s lips twitch, and he swirls the glass appreciatively between his fingers. “I wasn’t there as a patient. I needed Bones’ report on -”

“I needed Bones,” you interrupt, sniffling a giggle and pressing your hand dramatically to your chest. “God, listen to you.”

Jim leans back in his chair, wrapping his feet around the legs and folding his arms across his chest. “You implying something, Y/N?” he asks slowly, but his tone is easy, teasing.

“Implying,” you repeat incredulously, laying your drink soundly on the table in emphasis. “T, this is a hell of a lot more than implying. I’m about to elicit a confession from you, one way or another.”

“Funny,” Jim gives you an amused smirk, rocking back and forth in his tilted chair. “I thought this was a bar, not a monastery. I should have worn my rosary.”

“Denial is a river in Egypt,” you inform him cheekily.

Jim buries his face in his hands and shakes his head at this. 

You ignore him. “You can’t fool me, Tiberius. You think you’re sly, but I know you. Fuck, I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you making googly-eyes at him across the mess hall, and I’ve seen the way you straighten up when he walks into the room. For that matter, what the hell is he doing on the bridge every damn day, anyway? You guys aren’t even subtle. There is no reason for the Chief -”

“Shhh.” Jim flops his chair back into his proper position and leans forward fast enough to make the table shake. His eyes are sharp, a little darker than they should be. 

Got him.

You lift a smug eyebrow, resting on your elbows until you are face to face, eyeball to eyeball. “And I know all about the incident in the turbolift,” you whisper softly.

Jim is expressionless, motionless, his poker face flawless, but you notice the blood drain from his cheeks. “Oh?” he says, and damn him, his voice is only the tiniest bit strained. 

It’s confirmation enough.

“Yup.” You settle backward, popping the “p,” enjoying the moment. 

Captain James T. Kirk, Starfleet golden boy, sweating bullets. 

It’s a good look on him, and it’s a fucking great feeling for you.

“All the maintenance inquiries land on my desk, Tiberius,” you drawl, swirling your drink, twitching your lips, having the time of your life. “54 minute standstill, all reports negative. You two caused me a fuckton of paperwork.”

“It was malfunctioning, I swear it!” Jim’s eyes are wide now, his expression pleading. “I swear it, Y/N. I was trying to get out out of there.” He lifts his drink to his lips, as if to emphasize his innocence. 

“You were boning Bones’ boner,” you counter smoothly, swallowing a quick sip of screwdriver to cover your giggle.

You are so fucking funny.

Jim chokes on his drink. 

He drops his glass on the table, lifting his hands to his throat and making an awful little retching sound. 

You stand quickly, alarmed.

Then Jim’s coughing, hacking, hissing, spitting, blowing air harshly out his nose. His face is red, and there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

You sit down again, feeling a little pang of sympathy. You’ve inhaled vodka before, and god, that was a singularly excruciating experience. The Andorian whatever-the-fuck that Jim had been drinking is at least twice as strong as anything you’ve encountered on Earth, and your heart goes out to Jim.

You can’t imagine how that must burn.

“Breathe, T,” you say sadly. There’s nothing else that will help him, now, poor soul.

You take another drink, wondering how long it’s gonna take Jim’s sinuses to recover from such a brutal assault. 

The locals look on in silent sympathy. 

“Jim!” A sharp voice cuts through the static of your thoughts.

Deep, heavy, with just an edge of panic and an unmistakeable southern drawl.

You cannot believe your good fortune. 

“Well, speak of the devil,” you murmur softly. 

Where the fuck had Dr. McCoy come from, anyway?

Dr. McCoy is cutting efficiently through the crowd, darting past the milling locals and dodging scattered tables with focused ease. “Jim,” he says again, eyes darting over Jim’s hunched form, hands landing delicately on his shoulders. “What the hell -”

“Bones,” Jim wheezes, staring up at him in shock, then blinking back at you with wide, desperate eyes. “What are you doing?”

You bite your lip hard to stifle a giggle.

Dr. McCoy straightens, relaxing a little now that he’s seen Jim talking. “Enjoying my shore leave, you ass, until some idiot tried to asphyxiate on…”  He rolls his eyes, reaching for Jim’s discarded glass and twisting it incredulously between his fingers. “Jesus, I don’t even know what. What did you do, Jim, try to snort the whole shot?”

Normally, this is when you’d slip quietly out the door, leaving them to their lovers’ spat.

Now, though, with a couple of drinks and your system and such a prime opportunity to observe the captain and the doctor in their natural roles?

Not a chance in hell.

You fold your arms across your chest, leveling Jim with your very best shit eating grin.

He meets your gaze head-on, daring you to speak, but the steely effect is ruined somewhat by his wet, red-rimmed eyes and Len’s fussing.

“As you were, honey,” you crow, nodding pointedly toward Dr. McCoy, who’s  produced a tricorder  from somewhere and is waving it determinedly under Jim’s nose. “Don’t mind me.”

“Idiot,” Dr. McCoy mutters under his breath. He packs away the tricorder, seems to notice you for the first time. “Hello, Y/N.”

He’s not your type, not by a long shot, but his eyes are dark and his voice is warm, and you understand, suddenly, what Jim sees in him. “Doctor,” you find yourself grinning back. You tip back the last of your drink, laying your glass carefully on the table and rising smoothly. “I told Chris and Ny I’d meet them for billiards,” you apologize, shooting Jim a heavy look. 

Don’t screw this up

“I’ll see you boys later.”

You squeeze Jim’s shoulder as you pass by. “Tab’s under you, T.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jim responds, reaching up to tap your forearm.

Message received. 

“Because you owe me and you know it.” You can feel Dr. McCoy’s eyes on you, watching the exchange carefully, can damn near sense the wheels turning furiously in his head.

You shoot him a wink, and his brow furrows ever so subtly as you sashay out of the bar.

Really, Jim could do a lot worse.

Link to Anna’s masterlist here.

soulffles  asked:

"you’re a vet and i’m pleading with you to save my goldfish and you’re the first vet i’ve visited to not ask me if i’m sure i don’t want to go and buy another goldfish for three dollars" + soma

Hey uh fun fact, this ask is literally about 3 or 4 years old and I haven’t written for Soul Eater since 2015 but??? whatever here is some fresh 2017 SoMa for your SoMa needs

Of all the joys and wonders that come with being an uncle, Soul never thought that bringing a three dollar goldfish to the vet at two in the morning would be one of them. Really, he probably should’ve expected it- this was Wes’ kid he was dealing with here, and any true blooded Evans child will do whatever it takes to get their way no matter what time of the day or night. Of course, that meant driving all over town in search of a vet that was both open at this ungodly hour and willing enough to actually give them an answer as to what’s wrong with the fish and not suggest buying a new one. Gilbert Evans was not a child to take no for an answer and simply buying another fish was not an option- it was like trying to buy another uncle when he got sick and how would you like that? So, Soul had given given into the child currently wrapped around his calf with the best damn puppy eyes he’s ever seen.

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Sentimental - Star Trek

“May I request a kirk fic where you’re pregnant with his kid?”

“Why are you doing this without him?” Doctor McCoy asked as you laid back on the medical bed.

“You do remember how he handled the news when I first told him I was pregnant right?”

“The day the Chief Medical Officer realized he had to limit the amount of alcohol one person could replicate in a day…Yes I remember. But I do think the Captain might handle finding out the gender a little better than finding out he was going to be a daddy.” The Doctor began moving a scanner up and down over your abdomen.

“He might. But… We’ve only talked about genders and names a few times, never very seriously. I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know if he will be disappointed, happy…angry.”

“Hey. He warmed up to the idea of having a baby pretty quickly. Im sure he’ll warm up to the idea of a daughter.” The doctor set down the scanner and folded his arms.

“A girl?” You asked, sitting up. The doctor nodded. You placed a hand lightly on your growing bump. “Are you sure?”

“Are you kidding me?” He asked with a smirk. You raised your hands in defeat and stood up and began to walk out of the medbay, pausing at the door.

“Thanks Doc.” You called.

“Congratulations.” He said as you walked out.

You walked slowly back to your quarters. A soft smile tugging at your lips. You had forced yourself not to get your hopes up on a boy or a girl. But now that you knew for sure, your mind was going crazy with thoughts of the future. The thought of Jim with a daughter made your heart flutter a little.

You spent the next few hours mindlessly tidying up your quarters, trying to decide how to tell Jim. When he eventually got off duty and walked in, all your plans went up in smoke. Words fell from your mouth before you could stop them.

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hellostarlight20  asked:

For the prompt meme: 22 and...Rose and the Doctor of your choice!

““I don’t want to love somebody else.“

The Doctor rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. Rose frowned back at him.

“You say that now,” he told her, giving her a pointed look. “But what about in ten years time? Fifteen?”

Rose folded her own arms then. “I already said, I’m not leavin’. I love you, Doctor. Not, not Mickey, or Jack, or Adam, or anyone else. You.”

His shoulders sagged and he gave her a pained expression then. “You’re nineteen years old,” he told her, and not for the first time since being locked in this small cell with Rose he was wishing the guards hadn’t confiscated his leather jacket. He felt vulnerable without it. “How can you love me?”

Rose shrugged and gave him a soft smile. “I don’t know,” she responded softly. “I just do.”

Rassilon, she looked young. What did she want with a ruined old soldier like him? He wasn’t even handsome looking, was he? He’d seen the types of men who turned Rose’s head, and they never looked like him. They were young, like Adam, funny like Mickey, handsome like Jack.

And there he was with his leather jacket and big ears and short hair. She could have anyone, his Rose. Why settle for him?

“Doctor.” Rose’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I do love you. If I didn’t love you, you really think I’d have let you do half the things we’ve done in the last few weeks?”

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anonymous asked:

would you mind doing one where josh and the reader are trying for a baby and eventually she gets pregnant, but then miscarries? also if you could make it super sad that'd be awesome because i am emo af. anyways have a wonderful day, friend.

JOSH DUN IMAGINE

It’s amazing how one small sign on a stick can make your entire heart break in two.  But sure enough, as the negative sign appears on the surface of the pregnancy test, you can’t help but let out a frustrated sob.  At one point, you find yourself gripping the plastic tightly in your fist before throwing it across the bathroom, it clatters against the wall before falling to the floor.  

You’d grown accustomed to negative pregnancy tests, it really shouldn’t be that catastrophic, but this time was different.  This time you broke.  

You and Josh had been trying so hard after all.  The prenatal vitamins, the fertility drugs, all for nothing.  You were empty.  Barren.  

Somewhere amidst your racing thoughts, Josh had heard your crying from the hall.  He knocks softly before entering, his eyes widen at the image of you curled up on the floor.  

“Baby-“ he whispers as he approaches you cautiously.  

You rest your elbow on your scrunched up knees and let your face fall to your hands.  You’re shaking your head, an indication that you couldn’t speak at the moment.  You couldn’t find the words to tell him.  Not again.  

But he sits on the floor behind you and all but drags your body so your back is against his chest.  His touch fills you with emotions and you cry harder.  Josh wraps his arms around you, winding around your body and holding you tightly.  Something tells you that he knows why you’re broken on the floor.  And it hurts.

“I want a baby,” you plead softly.  

“We’ll try again,” he whispers into your hair.  “It’s okay, we’ll try again.”

He’s the voice of reason.  The practical, yet optimistic mindset that you severely lack.  You want to protest, to argue and yell and fight him on it.  What was the point of trying again?  What was the point of trying at all?  But instead you nod.  You let your head fall back against his chest and you nod, squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on the warmth of his skin pressed against yours.  You held on, because what other choice did you have?  Baby or no baby, it was still you and Josh.  And it always would be.  

You spent the majority of the week sulking.  It was futile and you knew it, but you needed time to grieve.  You’d move on.  Just not yet.  

Josh gave you an appropriate amount of space.  He realized that you needed time to process.  He understood.  

It was Saturday morning when Josh comes barreling into the bedroom with a tray full of food.  You stir away and sit up in bed, wiping your sleepy eyes before taking it all in.  He’s balancing orange juice and pancakes with assorted fruits.  He’s staring down at the food with his tongue sticking out of his mouth, like he’s concentrating too hard to keep it on the tray.

“What is this?” you ask in disbelief.

“I made breakfast,” he says proudly, only stopping to look at you once the tray is sitting solidly on the bed.

“I can see that, but why?  What’s the occasion?”  You’re smiling widely gazing at the delicious meal he prepared for you.  

“Anything to show you how much I love you, and how much I care.”

Your smile gets marginally bigger and you look up at Josh fondly, your heart bursting with love and affection.  

“Are you gonna eat with me then?” you ask smugly, scooting your body up closer to the tray of food.  

Josh’s face breaks into a huge grin and he runs over to his side of the bed like a small child, climbing in and scooting up next to you.  

“Thank you for doing this,” you say once the tray is practically empty.  You and Josh always could put away some serious food.  

You close the short distance between the two of you and press your lips to his.  He tastes sweet, like maple syrup.  When you pull away, you’re surprised to see Josh’s smile fading.  

“What is it?”

“I just hate to see you hurting,” he says somberly, “I know you’re hurting.  I know you want a baby, and it kills me that I can’t give that to you.”

“Josh—“ you try to interject.

“No, just listen… It does, it kills me that I can’t give you want you want.  But I want you to know I love you.  With everything inside of me, I love you.  And if you want to try again, that’s okay.  But if you don’t, that’s fine too.  Either way, I’m always going to be here.”

You would have teared up.  In fact, you would have most certainly burst into tears if not for the fact that your stomach was all of a sudden extremely nauseous.  You flung yourself out of bed, barely cautious of the dishes at the end of the sheets and bolted towards the bathroom.  

You cringe as the contents of Josh’s delicious breakfast empty into the toilet.  Josh is right behind you, rubbing your back and holding your hair.  You try to wave him away, you don’t want him to see you like this.  

“Shh—“ Josh coos as you retch and heave into the bowl.  

When you’re finally done, you let yourself fall back against the tub and breathe for a moment.  

“Are you okay?” Josh is asking frantically.  He’s worried for you.

But you just breathe deeply before looking up to him, “You poisoned me,” you say laughing.

Josh looks relieved that you’re alright, but still concerned about your sweating forehead and sudden sickness.

You insist that it’s just a bug and refuse to let Josh fret over you.  Instead, you spend the rest of the day relaxing and watching movies.  

You throw up the next morning.  

And again the morning after that.  

You finally go into the doctors and you’re shaking the whole way there.

You don’t know what to expect, but you tell the doctor your symptoms.  He nods and draws blood before exiting and letting the lab examine the results.  

It feels like forever before he’s reentering the room, but when he does, he has a smug look on his face.  

“Well?” you urge.

“Congratulations,” the doctor says, folding his arms.  “You’re pregnant.”

You and Josh were on top of the world.  For the first time in so long, everything in your life felt good and you loved the little baby growing inside of you so much.  

After only two weeks of knowing, you and Josh start talking about names.  

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be a boy or girl,” you giggle as Josh starts rattling off baby names.  You were both laying on the floor of the living room, the blankets and pillows pulled down with you like some sort of fort.  

“We’ll prep for both then!” he says, leaning his head on your shoulder.

You squeeze your eyes shut, smiling so widely before nodding.  “Yeah, okay.  Let’s prep for both.”

Josh started coming home with baby stuff.  First it was clothes.  Unisex.  Then a crib.  Then some toys.  You pretended to be annoyed.  You’d roll your eyes and laugh at him for being so excited.  But inside, you were bursting with happiness.  As if you needed more evidence that Josh was going to be the best dad in the world.  

He started adding it to the room you’d dedicated to your future child.  The walls were painted a pleasant green color.  Josh set up the crib, arranged the stuffed animals in just the right way.  You even found him setting up a mobile above the baby’s crib one night before bed.  

He’s on a small step ladder.  You can see the skin of his hips and back as he reaches above his head.  You stand in the doorway and watch him maneuver the screw driver.  Once he’s finally content, he steps down.  You smile and walk up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him from behind.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?” you ask into his t-shirt.

He rotates so that he’s facing you and bends down to plant a soft kiss on your lips.  “No, but my ears are open,” he says.

“I love you,” you say between pecks.  “More than anything.”

He smiles warmly back at you, “We’re gonna be a family,” he says, placing his hand on the base of your stomach.  You get butterflies, and you’re not sure if it’s from his touch or his words.  Either way, your heart feels like it might explode.  

When you wake up in the dead of the night, it’s no longer your heart that feels like it’s going to explode.  It’s your insides.  A sharp pain radiates throughout your body and you gasp harshly.  You sit up in bed, gripping at your baby bump and immediately, you know that something’s wrong.  

You stare into the darkness of your bedroom, pleading for this all to be in your head.  Everything was going to be fine.  You took some deep breathes and tried to push through the pain.  It almost felt like it was subsiding too until another wave hit.  You cry out and this time, you felt a rush of warmth between your legs.  

Josh stirs beside you and you grab onto him, whatever part you can reach.  

“Babe?” he says once he’s a little more cognizant of his surroundings.

“Josh—“ you plead, your voice breaking, “something’s wrong.”

Josh flings himself out of bed to turn the lamp on, but when he does, you wish he would just take it back.  The light illuminates a gorging spot of blood on the sheets, right between your legs.  

The sight of it makes your head go dizzy.  You blink hard, trying to regain focus, but the whole world seems to be closing in around you.  Josh is speaking, but his voice feels so distant.  

He’s running around the room frantically packing a hospital bag.  He wraps his coat around himself before tending to you on the bed.  You’re just starting at the pool of blood, fixated on it’s devilish color.

“Baby,” Josh says quietly, he’s trying to soothe you. “We’re gonna go to the hospital, it’s gonna be okay.”

You nod but still aren’t confident in your ability to lift yourself out of bed, so instead, Josh does it for you.  

He sits you on the edge of the bed where he helps you get out of your blood-stained pants.  

“Here,” he whispers, holding out a pair of his own baggy sweatpants for you to throw on.  

You take them and slide them on, wincing at the pain still radiating in your body.

“It hurts,” you whimper as Josh lifts you into his arms for the second time that night.

“I know baby,” he coos.  He carries you all the way out into the cool, brisk night, setting you down gently in the front seat of the car and speeding off towards the hospital.  The ride over is eerily quiet, because even though no one wants to say it, you both know what has happened.  

Sure enough, under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room you’re assigned to, the doctor is giving his most sincere apologizes after telling you that you have in fact, miscarried.

The word hits like a ton of bricks.  It physically hurts when he says it.  

But it’s nothing compared to the way Josh breaks when he hears it.  

You stare ahead, dressed in a hospital gown and sitting straight up in bed.  Josh all but collapses onto the bed, grabbing your hand and sobbing into the sheets.  

You continue to stare at the wall in front of you, but can’t help your face scrunching up in pain at the sound of his cries.  You hurt him.  Again.  

Josh squeezes your hand across the center console the entire ride home.  He’s here, physically grabbing onto you, but you feel so far away.  So distant from it all.  

You don’t even wait for him to help you out of the car once you’ve arrived home.  Instead, you gather up enough energy to just do it yourself.   You can’t bare to look at his sad gaze any longer.  

He’s right behind you though, catching up on the steps and planting his hand on the base of your back.  

“Easy,” he whispers, but you don’t respond.  You grip the railing and haul yourself into the house.  

“We can try again,” he says as Josh kneels beside you in bed later that night.  The covers are wrapped tightly around you.  You nod slightly, but it’s only to entertain Josh.  

Finally, he gets up and walks out of the room, and you’re left with nothing but your haunting thoughts.

When someone dies, people light candles and have memorial services.  There’s funerals and closure.  People hang pictures up on the wall or get a necklace with their initials on it.  But how do you mourn someone who was never actually born?  How do you process the death of someone you never actually knew, but loved so much?

You spend the day laying around the house.  You ignore phone calls and the news and the weather and even Josh.  You couldn’t look at him, not with the guilt you felt inside.  You spend the majority of the day staring at the empty wall, hating yourself and everything around you.  You hated your body and the stupid doctor who gave you the news, both good and bad.  You hated this house and the baby’s room down the hall.  You even hated Josh.  You wait for him to leave you, to admit he finally hated you.  You kept playing the scenario out in your head where he’d finally admit that you just weren’t the girl for him.  

The next day, Josh asked you if you wanted him to stay home from work.  You shook your head.

“Are you sure?” he asks.  “It’s just recording, we can reschedule.”

“No, I’m fine,” you assure him, the lie thick on your tongue.  

“Call me if you need anything,” he whispers, planting a soft kiss on your temple.  “I love you.”

You nod and give him a reassuring smile, it’s exhausting.  

JOSH’S POV

I shouldn’t have gone to work that day, that much was certain.  Y/N was all I could think about at the studio and all the recordings turned out to be shit because of it.  The thought of her sitting home by herself after the tragedy of yesterday was crippling.  

“You okay, man?” Tyler asks finally.  

“Yeah—“ I lie, “I’m fine.”

The last two days had been anything but fine.  But I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.  

Just then, my phone starts ringing in my pocket and I jump at the sound.  I take it out, and see Y/N’s smiling face light up the screen.  My heart sinks and I slide to answer.

“Y/N?”

“Josh—“ she croaks.

“What’s wrong?”

I hear her fighting off the tears.  

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“No— I need you… I need you to come home,” she gasps.  

“It’s okay,” I try to soothe her.  “Baby, it’s okay, I’m on my way.”

I stay on the phone with her until I’m in my car, speeding her way.  When I rush through the door, I call her name.  My heart pounds in my chest as I run upstairs.

She’s crouched on the bathroom floor, grabbing her stomach.  There’s a pool of blood beneath her.  

YOUR POV

Josh stands before you with pain plastered over his face.  You let out another cry as the pain radiating inside of you wouldn’t subside.

“It hurts,” you sob.

Josh rushes to your side, helping you stand up.  You didn’t even notice the blood until you glance down.  The sight of it just makes you panic even more.  You cry harder at the physical sight of your unborn baby.

Josh keeps his arm securely around you and helps you step out of your dirty clothes.  He’s going to run out of sweatpants at the rate that he lends them to you, but the baggy fit feels way more comfortable.  

“It hurts,” you repeat.  The pain in your abdomen is from the miscarriage.  You know this.  The doctor warned you of further pain.  

“I know baby,” he whispers.  You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and Josh is kneeling in front of you.  He cups the side of your face with his hand, gently wiping away some of the tears.

You’re right, the pain is bad.  But the tears welling up stem from a much deeper place than pain.  The tears come from guilt and the sorrow you feel.  The tears are you breaking in half.  

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to gasp out between sobs.

Josh tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

“I’m sorry Josh—“

But Josh is shaking his head, arguing against you.

“I’m sorry I did this, I’m sorry I can’t give you a baby—“

“Y/N, stop, shh—“ he whispers, “Stop, I love you.  Baby, it’s not your fault.”

By now you’ve erupted into a pool of sobs and tears.  Josh sits up on the bed beside you, pulling you into his lap entirely.

“Stop, this isn’t your fault.”

He rocks with you back and forth like a small child.  

“I love you so much,” he whispers, “It’s not your fault. I love you.”

Josh rests his head on yours and speaks soothing words to you while you weep.  Soon, your sobs turn to whimpers and before you know it, Josh has you cradled on the bed, laying down.  You’re curled into his chest and he’s holding you tight.  

Suddenly, you realize you were wrong.  There was no distance between you and Josh.  He was right here.  You could hear his heartbeat.  And the world was unfair and cruel and unimaginably dark right now.  But laying here, with tears falling town your face and Josh’s arms wrapped around you, you knew you weren’t alone.  

You let your head fall back against Josh’s chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the warmth of his skin pressed against yours.  You held on, because what other choice did you have?  Baby or no baby, it was still you and Josh.  And it always would be.  

gameoffish  asked:

I love your writing so much! If you don't mind, could you do (romanced & non) companions reacting to Sole, grimy and bloody after a fight, finding a clean pond or stream & stripping right down to bathe themselves with absolutely no shame. Bonus points if they have some really painful looking scars or something.

Thank you dear! It’s so nice to hear that some people do appreciate my work, I’ll try and keep it up! 

Cait: She keeps out of sight. “Holy shite” she mumbles, keeping her eyes fixed on Sole’s blood-covered and grimy back as they began to wash themselves. Cait had no shame in watching their muscles, now drenched in water, flexing to remove the dirt from them. What a sight.

Romanced!Cait: “Hey, beautiful, taking a dip?” she asks, folding her arms with a smug grin. They quickly turn their head to look at Cait in shock. “Mind if I join ya?”

Curie: Sole was really going to clean themselves up? Here? The water may be clean but what if something was to sneak up on them and launch a surprise attack? “E-Excuse me.. Sole?” she stammers out, shuffling towards the edge of the pond. They look around in shock and tell her to get away.

Romanced!Curie: “What are you doing?” she asks, “You might get hurt!”
They turn around in surprise, covering themselves. After a while and when the awkwardness calms, Sole asks if Curie wants to join them with a wink.

Paladin Danse: He innocently stumbles on the scene and pauses dead in his tracks as he stares on at their body. He wants to look away but something isn’t letting him do so. He realizes that his actions are very unprofessional and he clears his throat before walking away.

Romanced!Paladin Danse: “Uhm, Soldier, you do realize that this isn’t the safest place to cleanse yourself? You should head back to the Prydwen.” Sole notices Danse at the edge of the pond and splashes some water towards him. “Come help me Paladin..” they mutter, looking into his eyes with everything exposed.

Deacon: “Okay, Boss, this probably wasn’t the best place to stop off but… I’m coming to join you” he says, wading into the pond, the water coming up to his waist. He grins and waves to Sole as they cover themselves. “Deacon! This is meant to be private! Go away.”

Romanced!Deacon: Deacon comes into the pond and surprises them by wrapping his arms around their bare waist. “Guess who?” he whispers into their ears. Sole grins and rests their hands on his. “Want some help babe?”

MacCready: He’s walking around, trying to find Sole and he stumbles across a clearing - Where Sole is washing themselves in some sort of pond. Immediately knowing he was treading on ground he shouldn’t, he turns to walk away but he looks over at his shoulder at them. Damn, when did they become so hot?

Romanced!MacCready: “No way, I ain’t going in there. It’s too cold.” MacCready complains with a small huff at the end of his sentence, folding his arms. Sole laughs and rolls their eyes before walking over to the side of the pond and pulling him in. “Hey!” he shouts as he drops his hat in the water. “Great…”

Hancock: Hancock finds Sole, drenched from head to foot and covered in blood and scars on their back. Some of that shit looked like it hurt a hell of a ton. He crouches down to avoid being seen and watches for a while as Sole cleans themselves, singing a small tune. He quickly, however, becomes uncomfortable and he has to leave. 

Romanced!Hancock: “Ouch trouble, you look like you’ve been hurt real bad…” Hancock says, suddenly appearing beside Sole in the pond. “Hancock,” they breathe out, “Where’d you come from? I didn’t see you come in”
He places a finger to his lips and shushes them, before proceeding to help them wash themselves. “Don’t worry about it…”

Preston Garvey: “General? General…” he shouts into the wilderness, looking for Sole. Where the hell were they. He calls again before stumbling upon a clearing in the woods, with a pond in the center. It looked pretty clean. In the middle of the pond stood Sole, drenched in grime and blood, cleaning themselves off. Preston mumbles an “Oh man..” and he turns and walks away. Yeah, it was best not to bother them.

Romanced!Preston Garvey: He couldn’t believe Sole dragged him into this pond, it was absolutely freezing. “Why couldn’t you have just waited until we were back home?”

Piper: When she sees Sole in the pond she quickly hides behind a tree, trying to remain hidden. Did they see her? Oh god. She really, really didn’t want to invade their space. Cautiously, she peers around the trunk and checks to see she wasn’t just imagining things before resuming her hidden position. Okay, she just had to wait until they left, easy peasy.

Romanced!Piper: “Hey Blue, uh, you sure they’re isn’t any prying eyes around?” she asks, stepping close to the edge of the water. Sole looks around, not expecting Piper to be anywhere near them and covers themselves. “Don’t look at me” they mutter, trying their best to hide their wounds. Piper immediately starts fretting and wades into the water much to her discomfort so that she can clean the cuts in case of infection.

Nick Valentine: As soon as the fight finished he knew that Sole needed to take a break, the only thing was that Nick had no clue where they disappeared to. He takes a quick look around before hearing them singing. He follows the sound of their voice before he comes to a pond (Which he had to point out was very clean despite the usual filth of The Commonwealth) where he sees them bathing. Their body seemed dirty and bloody and he was pretty sure he could see some open wounds. Nick leaves to give them privacy and hopes they aren’t too badly hurt.

Romanced!Nick Valentine: He follows Sole straight after the battle and asks if they are okay. He says that it’s best that he doesn’t get in the water, it could affect him. They go into the river and Nick lights a cigarette, watching on as they wash themselves, making sure that they took extra time to look good. After they come back out and they get dressed again, Nick gives them a kiss and they go to the nearest doctor to get Sole patched up.

Strong: Strong folds his arms and watches as Sole washes themselves. “Human is wasting time! Strong want to do more fighting!” 
Sole almost jumps out of their skin at the sound of Strong’s voice and shouts at him to go away. He trundles off into the woods in a bad mood.

Romanced!Strong: “Nuh uh, Strong no like water…” Strong says, closing his eyes as he folds his arms to prevent Sole from dragging him in. Sole convinces him to have a go and he only stands in the most shallow part of the pond. Strong notices the wounds on Sole and asks if they are okay. “Human is hurt, but Strong will find someone to help. Do not worry.”

X6-88: When Sole goes missing X6 goes on a hunt for them and surveys the surrounding area, looking for any signs of where they could have gone. He could’ve sworn they were here five seconds ago. X6 finds them in a pond, stark naked and covered in wounds from the previous battle. He clears his throat and grabs their attention. “When you are finished, we have some important business to attend to, so please do hurry up.” he says simply.

Romanced!X6-88: When he finds Sole at the pond, he offers to help clean the wounds, in case of increased infection. For a couple of moments it does get a bit hot despite the freezing temperature of the water they were standing in. But X6 finishes cleaning them before giving them a short kiss as extra medicine. 

anonymous asked:

How about a combo? 27 and 28 Gency

Okay! This was a dialogue I had planned for a much longer fic, This ficlet also references this ficlet which took place during Overwatch’s active years before Genji met Zenyatta.

Okay so setup for this fic is that Mercy’s recovering from having her ass handed to her by Reaper, and finding out who Reaper really is! Fic is below the cut!

27. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

28. Confession

Mercy opened her eyes at him, blinked several times and looked around the room, trying to understand where she was, before looking back at him.

“You’re in my spot,” she said with a smirk. Genji glanced down at the seat he was in and she chuckled a little. “I mean… usually it’s the other way around,” she said, looking at the IV’s taped to her arm.

“You need to rest—” Genji started as Mercy moved to sit up in the bed but she gave him a wave to indicate she was fine before sinking against propped-up pillows.

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Worth It - Star Trek

BOTE series request- jim kirk x reader pranks!

AN: Part of my “Bored on the Enterprise” series which you can read more of here. Also, I know this is farfetched but this shit makes me happy.

“Bones. In your medical opinion, how unhealthy is the tension on this ship.” Captain Kirk was sitting on the edge of a bed in the medbay, playing with a portable X-Ray, watching his bones wiggle as he moved his fingers under the screen. Doctor McCoy looked up from what he had been working on, or rather had been attempting to work on despite Jim’s pestering.

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Prompt: “So Modern Au with Bones (cause obviously thats probably all Ill ever ask you for) ends up in her small town as new country doc and she gets him acquainted to the town and fluff ensues. And if she could have a dachshund/golden retriever named benton that would be awesome but not necessary.”-Anon

Tags: @yourtropegirl, @outside-the-government

Word Count: 1,805

Author’s Note: I’m back from my Christmas “vacation!” I had a blast and I got a lot written in the last few days. Please enjoy this cute little AU; please keep in mind that all I know about small towns and small town doctors I know from Waitress.

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Infliction, chap. 1

Mafia!ASTRO

A gun pointed to your mother’s head as your father shovels over wads of cash; threats being spitted all over the place as you peek through the meager crack in your door - only a distant memory.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14


A frown was spread miles across Cha Eunwoo’s florid face as he sways back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth and..

“Does that sound good?” His father grumbles, his back turned to his son. His father’s study was extremely large in size; books covering the walls leading to passages Eunwoo didn’t know about, though, he’d lived in this house the entirety of his life. He often found his father here, silently contemplating which loanshark to go after next or which one to annihilate all together - usually it wasn’t that hard of a decision. His study smelt of old books which Eunwoo and his father both knew he hadn’t picked up in ages; completely defeating the purpose of the study element.

When Mr. Cha doesn’t hear an immediate response from his son, he swivels around in his office chair, his gold circular glasses pushed halfway down his nose, hands clasped in a prayer gesture to which Eunwoo could only think was ironic. “Eunwoo?”

Eunwoo snaps out of his cognitive, attention taken away from the loose string on the cuff of his blazer. “Did you say something?”

Mr. Cha rolls his eyes, standing up and making his way over to his son. “Get the rest of the rookies together, I want this job done by tonight.” And, with that cold threat, he leaves his son alone in the study only to his thoughts.

“What did I do in my previous life to deserve this?” Eunwoo mutters and exhales sharply, taking his pocket knife out of his coat pocket and cutting the loose strand.

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Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 1)

New fic, yeah! This fic actually was born (in my mind), while I was in Scotland, so I hope it is the real deal! There will be angst, so be prepared. See you on the other side. <3

Chapter 1 – In media res

Edinburgh, Present day

Claire was lulled by the subtle trepidation and constant movement of the train – she would terribly miss it when she started to drive her car around Edinburgh. The daily train journey allowed her precious moments to think, to contemplate – and sometimes to be lost in nothing but mere existence. She fancied to observe the ever-changing mass of people around her – mothers composing their toddler’s beanies, friends discussing the rugby game from last night – the referee wasn’t exactly a popular person that particular morning! -, high school girls talking about a dreaded chemistry test, lovers kissing goodbye. The fleeting touches of lips, the hands that searched each other, the promise to return living inside their smiles. She closed her eyes, blocking the image. Don’t think.

When she felt steady enough, she opened her eyes and looked through the window, visualizing the right-handed vicryl knot she’d learned so many years ago. She thought about Mister Stein, by then nervously waiting for her to come and close his colostomy, allowing him to run freely after his granddaughter again.

The Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh was now her home, after so many years in Boston. It had been a great opportunity – she was still young at thirty-five and the move back to Scotland had represented a huge climb in the hierarchy of a surgeon’s career. She directed her own team and people from all over Scotland came searching for the best general surgeon in the country – and that was synonym of Claire Beauchamp and her unit.

The train rushed near a park, the large treetops undulating on the morning’s wind. She had been there before – on her previous life. She remembered how she had lain in a blanket, the scent of crushed leaves and growing grass filling her nostrils, the sun’s warmth in her face. A light touch on her cheek and then his voice “I love ye, mo nighean donn”.

Don’t think.

She still had a couple of hours before her scheduled surgeries – unable to sleep past dawn, she made herself useful by lending a hand on the A&E department. Frequently, young interns were puzzled when they arrived to do rounds only to discover her already doing stitches on a hand or evaluating a tender belly.

As soon as she entered the sliding doors, Claire realized that all elective surgeries would be pushed on that day and all available hands called to work on the emergency department – gurneys pilled the corridor, nurses ran hectically around carrying trays and saline bags and her friend, Joe Abernathy, was doing triage like a general commanding troops to war.

“What happened?” She asked him, jumping to the side in order to avoid being bumped by a crash cart being wheeled to a curtain near them. “You should have paged me!”

“I knew you were coming either way, Lady Jane.” He shrugged, wincing as he tried to complete the central line he was placing. “Seemed like a waste of precious time. A residential fire near Murrayfield – some casualties already and plenty of wounded still coming. Here,” He pushed a chart in her direction. “Take this one. I believe he’s the Station Officer – hurt himself saving a couple of his men. The rest of the firefighters here are giving me hell to make sure he’s well taken care of.”

“Alright.” She gave an evaluating look to the elderly man whom Joe was treating. “His left leg is broken – save him a trip to the X-ray.”

Joe gave her an irritated – but still somewhat amused – look. “If only I was a pretty witch like you. Alright, alright!”

Claire quickly changed into her scrubs, neatly wrapping her curls into a functional bun, and marched to curtain four to tend the brave firefighter.

The first thing she saw was his hair. The striking mixture of auburn, amber, cinnabar, copper and cinnamon. She could still feel it, between her fingers – slightly moist after their lovemaking; curling when he laid his head on her lap, surrendering into her keeping. Her heart was galloping, so much so her chest hurt – fear and pain gripped her, until her soul was curled into an infinitesimal display of what she once had been. It couldn’t be.

His hand had been roughly ligated on the scene, but hints of blood were beginning to appear – like drops from a brush on an empty canvas. He had his eyes closed, but his forehead was wrinkled in pain – was that little scar on the edge of his cheek new? Or in her efforts to forget, she had effectively managed to erase something of him from her memory?

She halted by his bed, a sudden rush of bile coming up her throat, as if her insides were actually threatening to reverse themselves. Claire silently contemplated him, breathing deeply.

Jamie opened his eyes, sensing a nearby presence. He stared at her and smiled – so tenderly, that unwanted tears welled up in her eyes.

“It’s good to see ye again, Sassenach.”

****

Broch Mordha, 15 years ago

Claire pedalled furiously, pushing her bicycle forward across the slippery hill, green and purple from the heather and thistles blurring around her. She was terribly late – her alarm clock had been turned off after electricity failed the previous night, courtesy of another summer thunderstorm. She didn’t exactly have a rigorous schedule, but she hated to fail her commitments – and was sure that her first patient, a sour and somewhat irascible eighty year old man with a foot ulcer, wouldn’t fail to notice her lateness.

Coming to the countryside for the summer had been a sudden decision – she liked the opportunity of leaving the city’s crowd and the constant rush; and being able to combine that with some medical work had seemed perfect. Her volunteer work at Broch Mordha’s small, yet capable, general practice was a good addition to her curriculum and a chance to keep her skills sharp during the summer break from Medical School. So when the opportunity had presented itself on the notice board of her dorm, she applied without further thought.

She could already see the small building, slightly croaked in appearance after having been expanded and rebuilt after a series of unfortunate meteorological events, appearing after the next turn of the earthy path. Her second-hand ride - a rusty but functional bicycle purchased for the grand total of fifteen pounds and the promise of free consults for the duration of her staying - slid on the mud, almost projecting her to the ground like a temperamental stallion.

“Bloody thing!” She hissed, struggling to control the erratic movements of the ancient wheels.

After parking without further disgraceful events, she debrided and cleaned the wound already expecting her, patiently ignoring the grousing and cursing involved in the process. While she carefully washed her hands and packed some clean bandages for the old man to take with him, she silently congratulated herself on the substantial improvements obtained.

“Is there anything else I could do, Maisri?” She asked the young nurse in charge for the day, absorbed in doing inventory of their drugs cabinet.

“Oh, aye!” She said cheerfully, smiling to her. Maisri was only ten years older than Claire and they got along very well. “A laddie came in while ye were tending Old Grumpy. Got himself in some kind of brawl – I expect seeing yer bonny smile will do him some good, even if there’s no sae much ye can do for his cuts and bruises.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Claire blushed, gently slapping Maisri’s shoulder. “He probably needs a good smacking to learn how to behave like a man and I ain’t his Mama.”

“Wait until ye see him.” The nurse laughed and winked. “Young Jamie is quite…remarkable.”

Claire snorted in disbelief and, taking hold of a chart to complete his medical history, walked towards the small treatment area.

When she opened the door, Claire immediately understood Maisri’s words – the young man waiting for her was unbelievably tall, even slightly curved as he was on the gurney, clearly uncomfortable of finding himself in such shameful circumstances. His face had enough softness and angles about it to make him very handsome, as only a man can be – the curve of his jaw was beautifully made, as was his almost-too-long-nose and his high cheekbones.

“Hello, Mister…” Claire squinted, trying to decipher Maisri’s temperamental handwriting. “Fraser?”

“Yes.” He nodded, still looking down, as if completely immersed on the design of her sneakers. “But Jamie is just fine.”

“Alright, Jamie.” She tilted her head, noticing the bruise that was flourishing on his left cheekbone and the cut on his bottom lip. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He whispered something that sounded an awful lot like “Not really.” Claire raised a brow and folded her arms, summoning her best doctor in charge look.

“I can’t help you unless you tell me what happened.” She said with assertiveness. “Everything you tell me is confidential, you know.” Claire added softly. “Unless you killed someone.” She ended as an afterthought.

Jamie snorted with mirth and raised his eyes to her – he seemed surprised for a moment and then his face relaxed into stillness, like curtains closing to hide an ongoing theatre play, shielding the actors from the eyes of the audience.

“No one was murdered.” He assured her. “I wouldna have come – ‘tis naught but scrapes – but Laoghaire insisted that I should come and I didn’t want to worry the lass more than she already was.”

“Is Laoghaire your girlfriend?” Claire asked nonchalantly, preparing some iodine to clean the wounds.

“No.” He shook his head, his eyes for a moment capturing hers, as if it was vital to him that she knew that piece of information to be true. “We are acquainted – everyone is, I guess, in a wee place like this. His father has a wicked temper and a steady hand with the belt.”

“Oh.” Claire said, surprised. She slowly began to touch his face, softly, easing the burn of the medicine with light touches on his face. “You tried to protect her from him, then?”

“Aye.” Jamie offered her an embarrassed half smile. “He saw us talking when he stepped out of the pub – she was just asking about my horse that was injured – and he came screaming the worst insults ye can possibly imagine for a lass, thinking that she was offering herself to me. He slapped her right there and then, in front of everyone in the square.”

“Some people really make me question Darwin.” Claire rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure Laoghaire’s father has evolved anything at all from the Neanderthal. And then?” She went to the small fridge in the corner and retrieved a small ice pack, which she skilfully applied to his face.

“He grabbed her arm and tried to drag her home.” Jamie groaned. “I’m not in love with Laoghaire – much to our family’s displeasure – but I couldn’t let her be mistreated for something she didn’t do - and on my account. So I got him into a bear hug – might have punched his nose too – and she fled while he was busy handling me. He dinna like it one bit.”

“That was very chivalrous.” Claire smiled, impressed. “Luckily your zygomatic bone doesn’t seem to be broken. If you apply plenty of ice and disinfect the wounds, everything will heal nicely.”

“I thank ye, Doctor…I’m sorry, I didn’t get yer name.” Their glances met and she noticed his disarming blue eyes.

“I’m just a medical student.” She shrugged and offered her hand for him to shake. “Claire Beauchamp, at your service.”

“Claire.” He repeated, smiling, holding her hand longer than it was strictly necessary. Something in the way he said her name – his Highland lilt making it seem like he was savouring every letter that compounded the word – made her toes curl and small shivers shot through her spine, like evanescent bubbles on sweet champagne. “Are ye staying for the whole summer, then?”

“Yes.” Claire blew a stubborn curl that had managed to escape her bun. “Maybe I’ll see ye around, Jamie. Take care of yourself.”

“Perhaps we could go to the cinema.” Jamie said slowly, holding the ice pack against his cheek. “Ye probably have seen whatever is on – it takes about six months for a movie to debut here. But I’ll buy the popcorn – ye know, to thank ye for this.” He pointed in the general direction of his face.

“There’s no need to, really.” She hurriedly said, muddled. “I’m just doing my job.” Jamie walked closer to her and grabbed her arm, kissing the back of her hand. It was an old-fashioned gesture – but strangely erotic, with the feel of his small stubble and his hot breath against her sensitive skin.

“I’d like to see ye again, Claire.” Jamie said softly.

“I…that seems…if you’re sure…” She babbled. Noticing his tender smile, slightly mischievous - noticing her increasing embarrassment - she snuffled. “Yes. I think we can do that. I happen to quite like popcorn.”

“Tomorrow, then?” He grabbed his coat and waited for her answer, hope shining in his bright blue eyes.

“Tomorrow sounds lovely.” And she offered him a radiant smile.

Royally Fucked (9/?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Swearing, sexual indication
(Wrap it before you tap it kiddos)

Summary: When you and Steve agree to end your relationship you didn’t expect to take it so hard, or seek comfort in his best friend. After one night of drinking and mistakes, now you feel like you’re struggling to keep your lies straight, but what happens when you’re seeing plus signs and Steve’s hovering, someone’s going to end up hurt if you can’t keep your lies straight.

A/N: Angsty, drama, secrets, and twists. Shit is going to hit the fan…

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)
(Italics are the ones I can’t link to the blog)

@rileyloves5 @sebbaevans @marvelousmarveltrash @callie-swagg1 @buckyappreciationsociety @teamcaptianbucky @shamvictoria11 @alphasoldier@chipilerendi @pietrosputa @voguettey @pandahipsterninja @goodnightwife   @agentsinstorybrooke  @seb-smut  @jonsnowisnotdeadthough @mrhowardstark  @chrisevansthedoritobastard @holahellohialoha  @almightyunnie @iwillbeinmynest  @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @irepeldirt @yourtropegirl @bellejeunefillesansmerci   @buckyb-avengers @imamotherfuckingstar-lord 
@girl-next-door-writes

The team gathers in the doorway of your hospital room, you grin at them, Clint pats you on the hand and stands up stepping out of the way for the rest of the team to get close to you. Wanda is at the side of your bed, gathering you up in a hug.

“You scared us.” Wanda saps, you smile holding her face in your hands.

“Oh, Wanda sweet girl you worry no matter what.” You laugh, she nods and Clint pulls her into his side.

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anonymous asked:

Morty R-732: Mort patched m-me up after i got abducted and sliced open.

“I would suggest telling Mort what hurts. He is your…doctor of sorts.” Rick folded his arms, a critical eye raking over Morty R-732.

Future Part 52

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Words: 1040

Summary: The reader is back on her feet, but Jensen is still worried.

Part 52 in The Future Series.  Read Part 26 herePart 27 here, Part 28 here, Part 29 here, Part 30 herePart 31 herePart 32 here,Part 33 here, Part 34 here, Part 35 here, Part 36 here, Part 37 here, Part 38 here,Part 39 here,Part 40 here, Part 41 here, Part 42 here, Part 43 here, Part 44 here, Part 45 here, Part 46 here, Part 47 here, Part 48 here, Part 49 here, Part 50 here, and Part 51 here.

Here we go! ;) 

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Imagine Sam Lying To A Doctor With You

Request: could you do a little imagine where the reader gets a chest x-ray at the hospital and the Winchesters frantically try to explain the warding symbols on her ribs? thanks! – Anonymous

Author’s Notes: I sure can! This is a real interesting request, I actually forgot that Sam and Dean had those warding symbols on them. I know the title isn’t the best, it’s been a long day so don’t judge me. I hope you like it though! Send in those request if you got some! - Haley xx 

Your name: submit What is this?


You woke up with a splitting headache and Sam’s hand on your shoulder. The bright lights above you didn’t help your head and every muscle you had ached. “Come on, we gotta split,” Sam whispered.

“Why?” you groaned. You couldn’t remember what had happened after walking into that couple’s house and now Sam wanted you to move. You closed your eyes again and felt hot breath against your ear.

“Come on, Y/N, we need to go now,” Sam urged you.

“Does she even know where we are at?” you heard Dean asked.

You opened your eyes again and everything was becoming more in focus. Dean was standing in a door way, acting as a look out. Bright lights, beeping noises coming for every directions, and voices out in the hall. You were in a hospital and you were the patient. “What happened?” you asked, sitting up and groaning.

“As soon as we walked into that house, the witch knocked you out the window,” Sam said, he was sitting next to you on the bed. “You were out even after we roasted her, we freaked and brought you here.”

“They did a chest x-ray,” Dean said.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

A few years ago, Cas had put Enochian warding symbols on all three of your ribs. It protected you against Angels, but the downfall was getting any x-rays and the doctor finding out.

“Shit, he’s coming back,” Dean said and rushed back inside. He sat in the chair opposite of your bed and folded his arms across his chest.

The doctor, an older man with greying hair and thick glasses, walked in holding an x-ray. He pushed it on x-ray view box and turned it on. He stepped back and looked at me.

“Well, Mrs. Winchester, it seems like you didn’t puncture a lung like your husband thought you did,” he said, nodding to Sam. You looked over at him and he shrugged, sometimes they’d fake your name, sometimes you were a sister or cousin, but today they went with being Sam’s wife. “Everything’s fine, you might have some bruising from impact. I’m just confused about these markings.”

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam blurted out, “tattoos.”

“Tattoos?”

“Yeah, we uh,” Sam said, grabbing your hand and interlocking fingers. “We honeymooned in Europe this past year and, remember, Y/N.”

“Yeah, when we traveled through Scandinavia, we saw signs for all kinds of bone tattoos and we thought –“

“-What the hell, you only live once-“ Sam cut in.

“So we got it done. Hurt like hell, don’t ever do it,” you said.

“What do they say?” the doctor asked us.

“I love you, on anniversary is on there, y’know, mushy stuff like that. Stuff we like to keep between ourselves,” Sam said.

“Well, it sounds like you two had an adventure. But Y/N is fine, just rest for a few days and you should be good as new.”

“So, can we go now?” Dean asked.

Sam shot him a look and the doctor nodded. A nurse tech came in a few minutes later and helped you into a wheelchair to wheel you outside. Dean went ahead to pull around the impala, while Sam stayed behind with you to continue the fake marriage story he made up. When Dean finally arrived to the door, the tech and Sam helped you slowly get in the backseat and in no time you all where speeding out of the parking lot and out of this town forever.

“Really? Mrs. Winchester?” you asked, punching Sam in the shoulder.

“It was the first thing that popped in my mind,” he said, turning around in the seat.

“Awh, now we know Sammy just wants in your pants,” Dean smirked.

“Shut up,” Sam huffed, turning back around.

You settled back into the seat and sighed, smiling slightly to yourself. Sam was definitely attractive, maybe being Mrs. Winchester in the future wouldn’t be too bad.

Fic: Kangaroo

Hello folks! I appreciate that I have been pretty quiet recently and I’ll be quiet for a little while – everything’s fine, just real life is quite busy at the moment.

I’ll be back properly next week, but in the meantime enjoy this little fluffy short.

Summary: When his wife walks out after their son’s premature birth, Rum Gold begins to doubt whether tiny Bae will thrive, until neonatal nurse Belle French suggests a new method of caring for him.

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Seven days. It had been seven days since Gold had received that fateful text message from Milah.

Baby’s at the hospital. Come and get it.

Milah had already walked out, ostensibly never to return, when she had turned up on his doorstep one afternoon and said, without any kind of pre-emptory hello - “I’m pregnant. It’s yours. If you want it, come and get it in nine months. If not, it can stay in the hospital. Either way, I’m not having anything to do with it once it’s no longer inhabiting me.”

Seven days. Seven days since he received that text and flew into a completely mad panic because it was too soon, it was weeks before Milah’s due date.

He’d dropped everything and rushed to the hospital to find his child. Milah was long gone but there, in an incubator, was the smallest, most perfect little baby boy, wearing a tiny blue hat. He was so small that Gold was certain he would fit in one of his hands.

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