swollen wrists

feels like home

y’all can blame Sophii for this one

[listen]


Annabeth is pacing.

It’s never a good thing when Annabeth paces, not for Percy at least. It usually means he’s a in a great amount of trouble. It usually means he’s about to get an earful. He can see it brewing, below the surface of her tanned skin, below her furrowed eyebrows and her pursed lips, below the steely glances she keeps throwing at him like knives.

“Hold still,” the poor, innocent Apollo camper mumbles as he moves to stand in front of Percy, gingerly inspecting his wrist and blocking his angry girlfriend from view.

Annabeth makes herself heard then, if she cannot be seen.

“I just can’t believe it. How many monsters have we fought and you’ve walked away fine? We literally walked through hell and there wasn’t a single broken bone in your body. And a stupid skateboard gets you? How many times to I have to tell you to wear safety pads? And don’t tell me they’re not cool because that doesn’t stop you from wearing that stupid hat, Percy Jackson.”

“Hey, I like this hat.” Percy touches the rim of the blue snapback he’s wearing self-consciously. Annabeth peers around the Apollo kid to roll her eyes at him. “And I never said they were uncool- OW, motherfu-”

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Let’s Talk About Tourette Syndrome

I have Tourette Syndrome. 

When I was 10 years old, I developed a vocal tic out of nowhere. One week I was fine, and the next, I was making a small vocalization every 3-4 minutes. A couple of months later, I started involuntarily shrugging my right shoulder as well. My tics have changed and evolved throughout my lifetime, but for the last 14 years I have not experienced a single tic-free month, and in all likelihood, I never will again.

Tourette Syndrome is one of those things that pretty much everyone has heard of, but very few people know anything about. When most people think of Tourette Syndrome, they picture an adolescent boy uncontrollably swearing in public, or a little boy consumed by bizarre physical tics. But that’s not the reality for me, or thousands of other people with Tourette Syndrome. So here are the facts:

- We don’t actually know how many people have Tourette Syndrome. Around 0.3% of the population is currently diagnosed, but researchers estimate that about half of all cases of Tourette Syndrome go undetected. Either way, it’s one of the rarest of the neurodevelopmental disorders.

- Boys are three to five times more likely to have TS than girls. I’ve actually never met another woman with Tourettes, only men. It appears in all ethnic groups, but Caucasians are twice as likely to have it as any other ethnicity. 

- Tics can be “simple” or “complex”. A simple tic is one that includes only a few body parts - things like sniffing, eye blinks, or shoulder shrugs. They usually take place only on one side of the body. Complex tics involve multiple body parts and may be a set sequence of events, like clapping, snapping one’s fingers and then shrugging.

- The majority of cases are mild. Most people, including myself, experience only simple tics. There are people who’ve known me for years who still don’t know I have TS. Tics also tend to get milder as you get older.

- Most of us don’t swear uncontrollably. Coprolalia, or random outbursts of swearing, occur in less than 10% of cases. If I swear, it’s because I fucking well chose to. 

- Tics can be suppressed, but it sucks. Suppressing tics is physically and psychologically uncomfortable. It’s like trying not to scratch an itch; you can do it, but over time, the urge to do it grows until it’s all you can think about. 

- Tourette’s almost always comes with a second diagnosis. 80% of people with Tourette’s have a second diagnosis, usually ADHD or OCD. Those three disorders seem to run in families together, and appear to be strongly genetically linked. I was unlucky enough to get all three. Tourette’s also appears alongside anxiety and sensory processing disorders.

- Tics wax and wane. Tics tend to be subtler when a person is calm, and at their worst when a person is stressed out or excited. My tics are usually mild to unnoticeable, but my mother says that when I was filling out grad school applications I was twitching so badly I looked like I was on drugs all the time. Tics will also change naturally over time; an eye-blinking tic will fade away, only to be replaced by a wrist-rolling tic that “fades in” to take its place. 

- There is no cure for TS, and it’s largely considered untreatable. People cannot learn to stop their tics through therapy, and there are no drugs specifically designed for Tourettes. There are some drugs that can stop tics, but the side effects are so horrific that they are only considered as a last resort for extremely severe tics.

- Tourettes does not impact intelligence. On average, people with Tourette’s syndrome actually have slightly higher IQs than the average population. 

- Tourettes can cause physical damage to your body. Doing repetitive motions over and over and over again for years is hard on you. I’ve been rolling my right wrist as a tic for about two years now, and I sometimes wake up with a tender or swollen wrist. There’s nothing I can really do about it. 

Tourette’s Syndrome isn’t necessarily something that needs to be cured; it’s just the way we are. My Tourette’s, along with my OCD and ADHD, are impossible to separate from my personality at this point. It’s just who I am. So if you have Tourette’s, or if your child has recently been diagnosed, don’t worry! With a little bit of understanding and patience, people with Tourette’s grow up to lead full lives. We’re just a little twitchy, is all.

3

Today I had the pleasure to get the visit that makes me the happiest man. They are my everything, the reason I fight for in order to overcome always every obstacle and this has been the worst of my life, an experience I’d never wish to anyone in this world. The pain, the fear, the uncertainty of not knowing what was going on, of not knowing how long it would last… it have been the most painful and during 15 minites of my life. In addition to all this I’d like to say you that the shock of thes days is disappearing day by day and at the same time the desire to live, to fight, to work, to laugh, to cry, to feel, to love, to believe, to play, to train, to continue enjoying my people, my dears, my friends, my passion, to defend, to smell the grass as I do before the beginning of the match and motivate myself. To see the bleachers crpwded with people who love our work, good people that only wants us to make them feel emotions to forget about the world abd most of all about this world we live in, always crazier.

The ONLY thing I ask is that we all live in peace by leaving wars behind us.
Do you know what I feel these days when I look at my swollen and wounded wrist? Pride. I look at it proud because I think that all the damage they wanted to cause us only limited to this.

Thanks to the doctors, nurses, physiotherapists and people who are helping me to recover and working for my wrist to be perfect. To the hundreds of people, medias, every kind of organization, BVB and my teammates, to all the people who gave me their support and affection. Even the smallest one gave me the strength to go on ALWAYS.
I felt the need to write it to let this off and to solve everything in order to think only about coming back at 100% as soon as possible! A big greeting to everyone!

Marc 💛

The One With An Unintended Rescue

Pairing: Jace Wayland x Reader

Summary: When Simon brings Jace along to check up on you, his sister, Jace ends up kicking your abusive boyfriends ass and getting you away from him.

Warnings:

implied domestic abuse 


MASTERLIST (mobile and desktop)
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Jace and Simon were not buddies, but they shared a mutual interest; Clary. Or rather, her wellbeing.

And because of it, Jace had somehow got stuck driving Simon around for the night while he tried to find Camille’s whereabouts.

In his head, he was going over all the things he’d rather be doing, but he knew this was a priority; he just hated that it involved Simon.

“Can we make a stop somewhere?” Simon asks.

“Is it on our schedule?” Jace asks pointedly.

Simon shakes his head, “It’ll only take a second. It’s just here…” he points out the window, “On our way, you see.”

Jace reluctantly pulls into the driveway Simon directs him too and climbs out, following him to the front door.

“A mundane house? Really?” Jace scoffs.

“My sister’s house,” Simon explains with a frown, “Well, her shared house.”

“Who does she share it with?”

“Her boyfriend and two other idiots,” he says, his frown deepening.

“What, you don’t like her boyfriend?”

Simon exhales loudly and shakes his head, knocking on the door before Jace can ask why. They could hear shouting on the other side of he door and it momentarily subsides as it swings open.

“Y/N,” Simon sighs in reliefat the sight of you, his smile contorting into a frown as he studies your face. You’d been crying. A lot. Your hair was messy and you had your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Simon,” you wrap your arms around him, “I didn’t know you’d be stopping by.”

You look over your shoulder every few seconds.

“Did he hit you?” Simon asks, moving hair away from your face. You shake your head vigorously, but he notices you wincing each time you move.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, turning to Jace, “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Jace,” Simon introduces him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, holding a hand out. Jace shakes it slowly, his eyes pinned on your swollen wrist.

“Who the fucks at the door?!” a boy yells, joining you in the doorway.

“It’s just my brother, Luke,” you say.

“Huh, four eyes,” Luke scoffs, his speech a drunken slur, “What happened to your glasses? D’you lose em’?”

“Actually, I don’t need them anymore,” he says.

“Too bad, I’ll have to think of another nickname for you,” Luke says, laughing loudly and clapping a hand to Simon’s shoulder. His eyes shift to Jace.

“Who is he?”

“Just Simon’s friend,” you tell him. Luke steps closer to him.

“Really? Because he looks like that guy who was hitting on you at dinner the other night…”

“What?” you frown, “No – that’s- it’s not him. You’re drunk. Why don’t you go rest?” you suggest, resting your hand on his arm. He yanks it away, poking a finger into Jace’s chest.

“You’re that bastard, aren’t you?”

Jace scoff’s, pushing Luke’s hand away, “No,” he deadpans.

Simon steps between the two of them, “I think y/n’s right. Maybe you should go back inside.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Luke spits, shoving Simon’s backwards.

You pull Luke back, pleading him to stop and he shoves you against the wall, pinning you there, “Come on babe,” he growls, “I’m just having a little chat with your brother.”

You swallow hard, trying to squirm out of his grasp by which time Jace grabs him and throws him across the driveway as though he was light as a feather.

“Are you okay?” Jace asks you. You nod slowly, your eyes widening as Luke rushes towards him with his fist pulled back.

“WATCH OUT!” you yell, but Jace is already a step ahead of you. He catches Luke’s fist in his hand and twists his wrist back until Luke drops to his knees, whimpering in pain.

Jace kicks him in the gut before slamming his head against the wall.

“He’s not dead,” Simon reassures you when he notices your hands are clapped over your mouth, “He’ll wake up.”

“And you won’t be here when he does,” Jace says pointedly. He pulls Simon aside.

“How could you let her stay here?” he growls.

“I didn’t know he was hurting her,” Simon says, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve barely seen my family since I transitioned!”

“Well, you didn’t like him to begin with! You said so before!”

“They started dating in High School and I hated him back than because he was a jerk. I never thought he was capable of… this,” Simon trails off, his eyes pained, “But you’re right. We have to get her out of here.”

“I’ll sort something out,” Jace reassures Simon, “She’ll be safe with me, I promise you. In the meantime, you have to keep looking for Camille. Raphael isn’t kidding about using your mom as leverage to get you to do what he wants.”

Simon nods, walking back over to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he sighs.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you choke, finally crying as he hugs you, “C-can I go home with you?” you ask.

“Of course,” he nods, “Jace will take you. I just have something to do but I’ll join you as soon as I can,” he says, resting his hands on either side of your face, “You can trust Jace.”

You nod climbing into the car. You don’t look at Jace as he reverses back onto the street but instead at Simon was waving at you with a sad look in his eyes. Jace had it too and it made you feel so small – that everyone knew how broken you’d become.

“I’ve seen photos of you,” Jace says, breaking the silence, “At Simon’s house. You look different in person.”

You knew what he meant. You mother had big, smiling photos of you all over the house from before you’d left.

“Those photos are from when I still lived at home,” you say.

“Why’d you leave?” he asks quietly.

You think for a minute, “When I started dating Luke in high school, my mum wouldn’t let me see him and I really resented her for it. We fought all the time and the minute I graduated, I moved in with him. Of course, she was completely right about him,” you mumble.

“Why didn’t you leave him?” he asks.

“Because I had nowhere to go,” you say, “And… he wasn’t always like this. He never used to…” you trail off, “He took care of me. He still does. It’s just sometimes, he get’s so angry. And I didn’t want to abandon him.”

Jace shakes his head, “Sometimes you have to let people go. Trust me, this is for the best.”

You did trust him. Something about him made you feel like you could.

“So, Simon’s never told me about you,” you say.

“Well, we’re only acquaintances,” Jace says.

“Simon wouldn’t leave me with an acquaintance, he’s very overprotective despite me being a year older than him,” you say pointedly.

“So, you’re the same age as me then,” he nods, “I guess Simon and I are friends, in some weird way.”

“How’d you meet?”

“Through Clary,” he admits honestly.

“Ah, Clary,” you say with a small smile, “Has Simon-“

“Yup, they’re dating now,” he says.

“You don’t look too happy about it,” you raise a brow.

“She’s… my sister,” he says, slightly bitterly, “I feel about Simon the way Simon feels about Luke.”

“Simon’s nothing like Luke. You have nothing to worry about,” you reassure him.

“I know, your brother’s a good guy,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes, “I just don’t like to admit it.”

You laugh softly, cuddling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them, “So, where are we going?”

“Someplace safe,” he says, “Where I’m currently staying. At least until Simon gets back. Is that okay?”

You nod quietly.

He pull up outside a large building and you both take the elevator up to the top floor.

“Magnus?” Jace calls out. A man steps out from behind a bookshelf.

“I thought I told you no girls over after midnight!” Magnus sighs in frustration, “Alec and I-“

“She isn’t a date,” Jace says, clearing his throat, “This is Simon’s sister.”

It’s only them that Magnus takes a proper look at you. At your smudged mascara and bruised skin.

“Is it okay if we wait here until Simon comes by?” Jace asks.

Magnus nods, “Make yourself at home,” he tells you, “My boyfriend and I are going out for dinner so you can relax. Take a bath,” he says, his eyes soft.

You thank him and wait for him to leave to exhale loudly. As of tonight, no one would ever have to look at you with sad eyes again because you promise yourself, you’ll never go back to Luke.

Maybe someone knocking him out and dragging you away was exactly what you needed to start afresh.

Jace disappears into a room and then comes back out, “I left some clothes for you on my bed. Why don’t you take a shower while I get some dinner ready?” he suggests. His voice was so soft and reassuring.

You nod, slinking into his room.

When you walk back out in his clothes, he laughs a little, “They seem to fit you,” he says sarcastically. They were all too big, but it made you feel protected. Maybe it was how big they were or just the smell of Jace lingering on his clothes.

He hands you a bowl of spaghetti, “I can’t make much else,” he admits.

“Thankyou,” you say appreciatively. You finish within seconds – you weren’t sure when you’d last had a proper meal.

Jace’s eyes are pinned on you almost the entire night. He was worried he’d do something wrong or say something to upset you – he didn’t have much of a filter after all. But you just laughed and made jokes and asked him about his life like you weren’t suffering the tiniest bit – like you’d never suffered a day in your life.

“So that’s how you know how to fight,” you nod after Jace tells you an elaborate story about how he’s a trainer at a boxing studio downtown.

He nods, “I can teach you sometime, if you want?”

“I’d like that,” you smile.

There’s a knock at the door and then Simon walks in, pulling you into a tight hug before ruffling your hair, “I talked to mum. She started crying when I told her you were coming home,” Simon says with a soft smile, “She’s missed you.”

Simon looks at Jace, “Thanks for looking after her tonight.”

“Anytime,” he says, “Really. Anytime.”

Simon frowns slightly, looking between the two of you, “I’ll get a cab,” he says, “Meet me downstairs?”

You nod, waiting for him to leave.

“Thanks for everything. For dinner and for… for getting me out of there,” you mumble, “If not for you and Simon, I probably never would’ve left at all.”

“Sometimes we just need a push in the right direction,” he shrugs, “I’m here. If you need anything. Ever,” he says sincerely, “And I meant what I said. If you ever want to learn how to fight, just ask me. You seem like a fighter to me,” he grins.

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” you say, waving to him before heading downstairs.

Simon waits, leaning against the cab and looking up at the terrace as Jace watches the two of you from it.

Simon looks from Jace to you as he pulls the cab door open, “I think Jace likes you,” Simon says.

You’d barely considered the possibility, but it made you feel a little bit more hopeful… a little excited, even.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to date him. I know you two aren’t best friends.”

Simon smiles at you, “No, we’re not. But he’d be good for you.”

Submit To Me (Khan x Reader)

A/N: So, reader is a bit shy, a bit, and in a relationship, but encounters the very sexy Khan. That’s it. And drama consumes. ALSO contains an OC boyfriend for reader.

Warnings: SMUT LEMON 

You were in a hurry. As a nurse you had countless of assignments and places to be in. When you had graduated you thought your job would be peaceful, boring at times even, but you were proven wrong.

On U.S.S. Enterprise you had so much to do. So many tasks to fulfill and so many crew members to tend to. You were organize and kept your workshop tidy even when you were needed elsewhere. And people counted on it. When you went out even to just for a minute something went missing. Your coworkers on your station were constantly borrowing your supplies. They were not as organized as you and when they were in need of something they knew exactly where you kept the needed instrument and they would take it. The excuses were always the same. Everyone were always in a hurry and needed the said tool in hand at that exact second. You had scolded them, told them to take care of their own supplies but being way too nice never got you anywhere. They knew you wouldn’t get mad. And you didn’t want to snap at your friends. You got along with almost everyone on the ship and didn’t want to change it, even if there was need for it.

You dashed through the hall, you had your supplies in a bag with you, jogging past crew members that made room for you. You didn’t know would you be needing all your tools or even any of them, but this was your solution to your coworkers borrowing your stuff. Knowing you would hear from this, but deciding to do it anyway you pressed the kit closer to your chest in a way it looked like to be your most important and cherished item.

You had been assigned to take care of the prisoner aboard. It wasn’t something unheard of, but you were nervous. You had never been assisting on taking care of a prisoner’s wellbeing especially when it came to murderers. This was way over your league, but you had been assigned for it so you would complete the task. You were usually assisting Bones, but even that happened rarely. He was busy and he was able to complete his assignments on his own.

The lights were flashing over your head as you passed each one on your way to your new work stead, your eyes becoming irritated by the brightness and a headache starting to build up. It was one of the ship’s inside’s structures that you disliked. The lights were too bright for your liking, they were never dim and always shone upon you in a mocking way. You tended to get headaches easily from flashing lights so you kept painkillers with you all the time. Even now your fingers itched to seek one of the pills from your dress’ pocket and shoving it down your throat even if you had to do it without water to flush it down.

Next to the door, the entry of the interrogation room stood Bones. He was looking more grumpy than ever, holding his hand over his chest and massaging it. He wasn’t paying attention to the people passing by and only noted your presence when you came right beside him. His head turned, his eyes fixing on you. His expression was the same as before he noticed you, irritated and as if he was in pain. Mentally and physically, but probably more mentally.

”I thought you were supposed to tend the prisoner.” You said with a soft voice, eyeing his arm and then your eyes reaching up to meet his. ”What happened?” You added as you let your hands meet Bones’ that he stretched towards you, giving you the chance of examine for possible injuries.

”I broke my writs.” Bones said. ”That is why I was resigned from ’tending’ the new quest.” His voice dripped of venom. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his demeanor. He always hated it when the ship would be loaded with prisoners. It made his job less interesting and waste his time. He always said, not bothering with captain with his usual speech since he never listened, but to you and the other people on your station, how he was here only for the crew. An enemy was an enemy and Bones couldn’t care less for their wellbeing, they could just go and die all he cared, but you, having a more lay back personality, shrugged his cold ideology away.

But if Bones was resigned, did it mean you would be alone in charge of the patient? You had always been an assistant, even if you were capable of working on your own, but didn’t think it to happen so soon, or without any initialization.

”Yes, it’s definitely broken.” You stated and gave pressure on the swollen wrist, not enough to hurt Bones but enough to feel how much the skin had thickened. Bones scoffed, muttering he told you so, but didn’t mock you directly.

”The captain asked you to replace me?” Bones switched the subject, studying your reaction. It didn’t sound like a question, more of wondering, like he was asking you to confirm his suspicion. You looked up at Bones, your soft eyes shining under the hallway’s lights.

”Yes, I think so, I mean it wasn’t the captain who called me here, but I take it you weren’t in charge of this change of plan?” You doubted.

”No, it wasn’t me.” Bones told you. His eyes turned away, but he let you tend his arm.

”So, how is he?” You asked carefully, wrapping Bones’ wrist with a bandage. After you secured his wrist and had tied the bandage Bones pulled his hand back. He eyed your work and then moved aside from the door way and with a cold tone he said, ”Go see yourself.” And then he left.

You did as you were told and went in, your supply bag pressed against your right side and your left hand fixing your dress’ hem from running. You were met by Kirk and Spock, they turned towards you when the door closed behind you. Spock’s gaze was intense, but that was how he always looked like, expressionless and distant. You didn’t much know about him or know him, he usually kept to himself or around the captain, only talking to you if needed to.

Kirk was tense, his muscles cramping. You didn’t usually see this side of your captain as he normally was really care free person, but he was always doing his best on work and duty. He passionate about leading his crew and completing the missions he had been given.

You gazed at the man behind the glass wall, the brightly light room. If you weren’t used to the futuristic style of the ship it would look deluxe to be a cell. It reminded of an aquarium really, no iron bars like in the past there would be, just a huge glass separating the prisoner from you. The cell a bit higher from the floor, making you all look up while investigating tall prisoners. There was a bed that reminded more of a hard bench. You always wondered did any of the prisoners even really sleep on it? Even the floor looked more appealing.

He was tall, pale and he had captivating eyes. For a prisoner you were surprised how god he looked even if you didn’t admit it. His black, beautiful hair was pulled back, giving a nice view for his face. His cheek bones were something to envy. So deep and perfect. His body was lean, the black tight shirt he had on conformed his muscles and the collar of the shirt climbed up his neck by couple of inches, not too high to cover that thick and powerful neck of his. His adam’s apple shadowed by his strong chin.

”(Y/n), I’m glad you could make it.” Your captain said by trying to sound happy and relieved, but it didn’t reflect on his expression. He seemed nervous. Even pissed if you could say. Had he been provoked? Had something happened? And why had Bones broke his wrist? ”Your assignment-” Kirk started but you cut him off.

”I was informed.” You told him softly, gazing at Spock who had called for you.

Kirk’s jaw clenched, and you were getting ready to be scolded for interrupting, but he surprised you by just nodding and saying, ”Good, I’ll leave you to it.” And as wanting to make Kirk second guess his choice for giving you this assignment you stupidly asked him, ”What am I supposed to do?”

Kirk looked at his side, his eyebrows furrowing for a second but then raising back up. He gave you a forced smile. ”Start by taking a blood sample of him.” Kirk  then glared at the man in the cell, his index finger pointing at the tall man warningly. ”And if you hurt her, I will make sure you will go through the consequences.” This of course didn’t affect the criminal in any way, he even smirked at Kirk’s threats.

You were left alone with the man in the cell, Kirk had stormed off, Spock following him but not without looking at you as if trying to figure you out. He was probably doubting would you be able to pull this one out and you had to admit you were also suspecting your own possibilities. Had this man hurt Bones? Had he been the one to break Bones’ wrist? And now he was your responsibility.

You cleared your throat and took a step forward. Before you could say anything, the man in the cell had straightened his hand towards you and the glass. You eyed him, not understanding what he was doing and asking him, ”What are you-” but he cut you off. ”You were supposed to take a blood sample.” His voice was deep, as if a stereo with a heavy bass it shook you from the inside. You could feel some of your body hair stand up when the sound of him washed through you.

You dragged a device on the glass, creating a hole on it for him to put his hand through for you to take some of his blood. You placed the needle on his vein, but kept your hands as far from him as you could. You didn’t want your wrists to be broken. You were wondering why he had offered his hand to you so willingly, if he had attacked Bones, well that of course was what you suspected. It wasn’t confirmed yet so you weren’t sure.

”Did you hurt Bones?” You asked, daring to make eye contact with the man. His eyes were intensively staring at you. He looked like an owl, or maybe something more wicked minded animal. Something big and vice, but he had a predatory aura around him which made you weary of him. He was observing every move you made, every breath you take. He didn’t seem human at all, but then there was something that made you think he was more human than anyone you’ve ever met, even the people on the ship seemed less human than him. You couldn’t put your finger on it, how a thought like that had found it’s way to your head, but you didn’t bother to seek the answer to it. You always tended to overthink and you often let these kinds of theories pass in your head, letting them go as you knew there was nothing to it.

”Yes.” He said, his eyes narrowed as he studied you. You took the needle off him, letting him pull his hand back and closing the window you had created on the glass. You put the sample and your tool to your bag, then stood straight.

”Why didn’t you hurt me?” You asked, even if you didn’t think there would be a reason to his actions, but like you usually did, asked stupid questions that made you regret opening your mouth in the first place.

”I wouldn’t hurt a girl as pretty as you.” He said and you could almost swear you had seen him smile. ”My name is Khan.” He said to your surprise. You tried to get the blush from your cheeks to vanish, but were sure you only managed to turn more red. You smiled to Khan warmly and said, ”I’m (Y/n).” Even if he had heard your name before, you still wanted to introduce yourself on your own. There was something that made you want to trust him, as if you had found the same tune. Like you were the same, but that was stupid. He was nothing like you and you nothing like him. Couldn’t be.

”Why did you hurt Bones?” You tried to get the blush on your cheeks fade by changing the subject. You were successful but felt like your plan back fired as you saw a scowl appear on Khan’s face.

”I don’t like him.” He stated like a child. You chuckled, your hand quickly covering your mouth. You didn’t like to talk behind anyone’s back or laughing at others. You liked Bones. He was funny when he went through his negative feelings and ranted. He actually enjoyed it when he made you laugh at his rage quits. It relaxed him.

”He’s alright when you get to know him.” You told Khan even if it wasn’t relevant. Khan wouldn’t need to get to know anyone on the ship and you doubted he even wanted to. You shook your head, laughing slightly.

”What?” For a second you thought he had been laughing himself, amused by your relaxed composure, but you thought you had heard wrong. You lift your head back up, had been looking at you feet for a second.

”It probably isn’t your concern with who you get along and with who you don’t.” It was a statement. You were sure you were right. There was no way terrorist like him would care about others. He probably didn’t even have any friends. You felt a sting in your heart.

”I wouldn’t say it to be my number one priority, but if I need someone to become an ally of mine I will put all my efforts on it.” Khan stared deep into you. He was trying to figure you out and you were trying to do the same. Was he saying he would be using others if he found them valuable? ”And if I find someone intriguing I will make my move towards them.” You swallowed. You didn’t know what to say.

You stayed quiet for a minute. The silence around you was intense and crushing. You could almost hear the agonizing silence ticking in your ears, pressuring you to do something like your life depended on it. There was something in his words that you needed to get out of your head before your imagination would get loose.

You hesitated for a while before asking him shyly, your eyes wondering to your right in shame, ”Are you hungry?” To this Khan furrowed his eyebrows as if you had spoken in a language he didn’t understand.

”Hungry?” He repeated. The sudden change of subject puzzling him. He had waited you to try questioning what he had said before, but was unsuccessful as you went make a line between the present and the past conversations.

”Yes, I’m supposed to be in charge of your wellbeing which includes of making sure you are fed.” You felt bad how you built your sentence and went to apologize. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like you are a caged animal.” To you it had sounded like he was a dog and for some reason you didn’t want him to feel that way. You hated that you felt something towards this man, was it sympathy? You didn’t even know why he had done those terrible acts you had heard of, but seeing him standing in front of you changed your view of him. Comparing to something similar like being always warned about monsters and when finally being able to face one, realizing just how wrong everyone had been. It’s not what it looks like. Stories are just stories and you shouldn’t count on rumors. But these were no rumors. They were facts, and you still felt something pulling you towards Khan.

”I won’t mind.” Khan said, meaning the choice of your words. He took a step to his right, turned his left side to you, but his eyes were on you the whole time. ”And yes, I could eat something.” He admitted and turned his front to face the glass , and you, again.

You smiled at Khan, told him you would be back in an hour and left the room. You went to the kitchen, got some bread and water, then wondered would it be okay with Khan. You shook your head, Khan was a prisoner. He would have to eat what you gave him. That second you felt the same kind of sting in your heart as before when you were with Khan. You didn’t know why you felt bad for him, but you knew you weren’t rude and cold towards others and wouldn’t be doing so even now. A prisoner or not, you would treat him like a human being.

You retreated from the kitchen with the tray and entered the round room where Khan was still standing where you left him, in his cell, in the center of it and close to the glass.

You made a hole to the glass once again, a look of disappointment and sadness filled Khan’s face when you handed him the tray through the hole. You couldn’t pin point why he made such an expression. Was it because of the food? Or something else? You didn’t ask him, or get to ask him when the main door opened. You gazed towards the door, closing the hole on the glass and smiled. There came four men marching in. It was Kirk, Spock, Bones and Wax.

Wax took long steps to your way and scooped you to his arms, giving you a hug and kissed the top of your head, smiling down on you.

Wax was your boyfriend and a mechanic. He had been serving Kirk longer than you and persuaded you to graduate to company him on the missions on the same ship with him. You had been lucky that Kirk had found you useful as you had doubted against it. Your self-confidence was usually low, but Wax was always there to boost it up as much as it was possible.

When Wax had come to you, Khan glared at the man. If looks could kill Wax would be dead by now, but neither of you saw his expression as you were concentrated on each other.

”How’s your day been so far?” Wax asked. You pushed the brown hair on his forehead aside from hovering over his brown eyes. There was a tint of red in his short locks that were able to be seen in the bright lights on the ship. Wax was taller than you, his chin reached your forehead, he was pale also, but not as pale as Khan. He wasn’t as muscular as Khan, but he was in good shape for your liking. The two of you had been together for two years now, but were in no hurry to get engaged.

”It’s been nice, different from usual, but nice.” You smiled. ”Oh!” You gasp as you remembered there were other people present and hurried to take the blood sample from your bag. You had almost forgot it. ”Here is the blood sample.” You told Bones and handed it to him. He took it and left without saying a word. Kirk on the other hand gazed at Khan, suspicious and so was Spock, but he wasn’t showing it as clearly as Kirk.

”He didn’t hurt you?” Kirk finally asked. You shook your head, Wax still holding you on his side by one arm wrapped behind your back.

”No, we’re good.” You said calmly. Kirk nodded and informed you what else you needed to do. He told you how you were in charge of everything that involved the said prisoner and if anything would happen you were in charge of the consequences. This made you nervous, as you had never even babysit a child and now you were to be taking care of a grown man? A criminal non the less? Of course you agreed to everything Kirk said, nodding your head and repeating over and over again, ”Yes, captain.” to anything he said. After the long lecture, Spock and Kirk left with Wax, who kissed you on the cheek, telling you he’d stay awake and wait for you in the room you shared.

When you were alone with Khan again, you saw he had eaten and drank all the water you gave him while you were being informed of your new tasks. He handed you the empty tray which you set on a table in the center of the room. ”Tell me if you need anything.” You told Khan, who nodded. He felt distant. Like he was deep in thought. You didn’t want to bother him so you stayed silent. What were all those things you were supposed to be doing again?

Days passed and Khan grew friendly towards you. He would ask you questions and answer to yours. He became curious of your past, your hopes and decisions. You two shared hours with each other just talking. He didn’t tell you anything Kirk didn’t know of, yet that is, and you doubted he ever would. Why would he? Such an intelligent person with wicked mind like his would never open up to a nurse, a girl like you. A superior at everything he was and as he talked lowly of your crew you knew he thought you normal humans were inferior compared to him.

At times when you were talking about the crew Khan would give you suspicious looks and doubting what you said, correcting you when you said something wrong, such as how weak human were in his opinion and you telling him that that is just the way you were build. He would make statements that informed you he didn’t think like that about you, how you were different. He wouldn’t correct himself on why he said that, even if you questioned him. You just thought it was something even he didn’t know the reason to, but he did. He just wasn’t ready to say it yet.

You were now talking about the ship U.S.S. Enterprise and how you had ended in here. Khan had become very interested on your relations with Wax, but he was careful enough with his questions, not giving away just how interested he was.

”I met Wax when I was visiting the Starfleet Academy. He was graduating and he was leading the tour. He was so passionate about his graduation and his new career. I wasn’t sure back then what I wanted to study and he was so sure of his future. He gave me hope I would be finding my own calling and then we started seeing each other. As friends at first of course, then we ended up together and before I knew it he was leaving. He told me he was going to be leaving on captain Kirk’s side and would be away for months. He then encouraged me to start studying something, anything that would be done on the ship so we wouldn’t need to be separated for so many times and for long amount of time.” Your gaze was on the floor. You kept fiddling the laces of your shoes while you sat on the floor of Khan’s cell. You had stayed there after checking his heart beat after the ship and suddenly came to a stop, making almost everyone on abroad stumble. To your surprise the cut on the back Khan’s head had healed fast and there was nothing wrong with him as he insisted. He had asked you why you were here and you had taken a seat on the floor, starting to talk.

”I told Wax I had always been interested in medication and there it started. He advised me to start studying.” You met Khan’s gaze on you. He was sitting on the edge of the excuse of a bed he had in his cell, his hands clasped together in between his legs as he hunched over you, listening carefully.

”He lured you to specialize in medication.” It was more of a statement, not a question. You reacted to his assault on your boyfriend and went to correct him.

”No, I really wanted to do it, and I enjoyed studying the subjects.” You stared at Khan, your head was empty of all thoughts as you continued. ”This is our third mission on aboard together.” Your tone lowered, Khan could sense the sadness in your voice that had started to build and when you hung your head low he was sure you were feeling bad. ”Wax wants to settle. He said he misses the earth and wants to retire from his job on aboard. He’s thought about doing the mechanic’s work on land, fixing and building ships and weapons.”

”What do you want?” Khan asked with his deep but calm voice. He was leading you forward on your story, but you had no idea what he was up to. He was leaning over you, almost falling from the side as he got closer to his destination on the conversation.

”I don’t know.” You say and look at your hands. You sigh and look through the glass wall. ”I’m gonna miss the space. I never thought I’d fall in love with it, or the movement of the ship. And how every member of the crew is so… Close. It’s like a family.” You didn’t see it, but something in Khan changed. He looked at you, like seeing in the mirror for first time. He saw himself in you, in a way and the mention of family opened him up.

”Come here.” Khan said. He pat a spot next to him on the bed. You weren’t sure should you get so close to him, it wasn’t a problem when you needed to examine him but by your own choice, sit next to him, so close? You hesitated for a second, but stood up, walking next to him and sat down. You made sure there was enough room between the two of you. Your right shoulder brushed the glass wall, it’s cold surface making you shiver as your bare hand made contact. You made sure that you weren’t touching Khan. He would probably find it uncomfortable if you did, but you didn’t know the half of it.

Khan was disappointed how far you sat from him. He felt like you didn’t trust him even if he hadn’t made any moves towards you. He didn’t want to hurt you and he still tried to prove it to you. He found himself seeking for your touch, just a caress of your skin would be enough for him. Or so he thought for now.

”I don’t want to go back on earth. I want to see the world, I want to meet new people, see new planets. On earth I feel so… Grounded.” You chuckled at your own joke. You catch Khan placing his right hand on your left thigh, close to your knee. You look up to see him staring. You saw something you never had before. He looked so soft, not even a hint left of the man you had seen in him when you first met him. You couldn’t understand how this gentle man could be a murderer, how this soft side existed deep in him that no one else got to experience.

”You don’t have to give up on your hopes and dreams, (Y/n).” Khan said. His touch sent shivers down your spine, the skin tingling through your clothes from where his hand lay.

”But I don’t want to choose between Wax and my dreams.” You whispered.

”Maybe he isn’t the man for you.” Khan said softly, his voice nearly above a whisper. He moved forward, his lips pressed against yours and his hand on your thigh landed on top of your left hand. You let him kiss you, for you were frozen. He was gentle and slow as if he was testing how far you would let him go, but since you didn’t stop him, he nibbled your bottom lip, asking for entrance to your mouth and the spark his teeth sent through you was enough to snap you out of it.

You pushed Khan away, making enough room for you to stand up and so did Khan, but his hand was still holding yours and as you were heading out he yanked you back to him. You stumbled against him, supporting yourself with your free hand on his chest and looked upwards.

”Don’t go.” Khan said huskily. His free arm sneaked on your back, pressing you against him and keeping you in place. Your heart beat faster and with your mind racing you couldn’t come up with a plan of escaping his embrace. Then again, would you really want to leave? Yes. You did. You had a boyfriend and a job. You weren’t even supposed to be on this side of the glass wall.

”I can’t…” Your words drowned in your throat. You didn’t know what to say.

”I can feel your heart beat.” Khan growled in your ear. ”I can see how you look at me. You want this as much as I do.” He kissed the spot under your ear repeatedly and as you shook in place he tightened his grip on you. You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from gasping, moaning or even breathing when Khan’s lips travelled down your neck. ”Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop.” His hot breath on your neck made you shiver. You took your time, trying to prepare yourself, make it sound as convincing as you could.

”I don’t” You took a breath. ”want you.” You knew from Khan’s body language he was paying close attention to what you said, but the chuckle that rumbled through his body proved you he knew you lied. You knew it was a lie, but you couldn’t live with yourself if you now cheated on Wax.

”I don’t believe you.” Khan said warningly, he had pulled his head back so he could see you. Your body tensed as you knew he wouldn’t let you go. He would take you here and now if you couldn’t come up with anything. And you knew if you’d let him go far enough you wouldn’t want him to stop. Khan lowered his head, his lips met yours again, you tilted your head back allowing him to kiss you, but weren’t going to submit to him. You bit his lip, tasting blood when he pulled away, but kept his hold on you. He glared at you and licked the blood from his lips. You knew you couldn’t fight him and there was only one thing you could do. A cowards act it was, but you had no choice.

You kneed him in the groin with all your might, then retreating from him when he loosened his grip on you, doubling over in pain. He didn’t hurt as much as any other normal man would, but it gave you enough time. You dashed to the door. You fought against turning and gazing him over your shoulder, knowing he would have already overpowered the pain you put him through and that he could’ve still stopped you.

When you were out of the cell you left the whole interrogation room, Khan yelling after you and hitting the glass wall with his fists, the sound echoing in your ears long after you had left.

You walked with a quick pace, not looking back, tears blurring your vision. You had no idea where you would go or should go. You thought of going to face the captain and demand him to release you from your duty, but you shook your head. You didn’t need to go near him. You only needed to hand him his food through the glass and that’s it. Or so you hoped.

The next three days you visited Khan you brought him food, avoided making unnecessary eye contact and gave him the silent treatment. He had tried only once to talk with you, but as you didn’t answer him he realized there was nothing he could he do to make you talk. Or so you thought.

The fourth day after your make out session with Khan you went to visit the prisoner you got a call. You were informed Khan had been in an incident and needed your treatment. You hurried to the interrogation room, all your supplies with you and what you saw almost stopped your heart. ”Oh my god.” You gasped taking in the view.

Khan’s hair hang over his face, he was sitting on the bed, his back pressed against the wall. His hair was dripping blood and there were several cuts on his forehead. You deduced he had hit his head against the back wall since there was a huge blood stain on the center of the white surface.

When Khan heard you entering the room he got to his feet and looked at you through his hair. He was tense and impatiently waiting for what you would do.

Without thinking much further you went and entered the cell, standing next  to Khan and taking a hold of the sides of his face. You pushed his hair back, gasping and wailing while you examined his injuries.

”Don’t worry, I’ll heal fast.” Khan said, his hands taking a gentle hold of your wrists. He never made a move to pull his head back from your hands, and he actually leaned closer.

”What happened?” You asked him. Khan’s hair kept falling over his face and you kept combing it back with your fingers. His eyes stared at you and he said with a little smile, ”I needed to see you.” Your eyes went wide. You pulled away, about to step back, but just like last time, Khan took a hold of you, he pulled you back to him, not to fall on him, keeping you on your feet. ”Don’t go.” He whispered. You did pity him. He looked weak and everything he wasn’t supposed to in your care. You were in charge of him and you had ruined him. You had to step up for your captain. You had to do your job.

You leaned closer, your eyes scanned the cuts on Khan’s face and when he finally trusted that you wouldn’t run he let you move your hands freely. He sat at the edge of his bed again, you taking a towel from your bag. The towel was about the size of your palm and you licked the fabric, moisturizing it and then wiped the blood from his face. ”If you needed to see me you should’ve just waited a minute. I was just about to come here to check on you like I’m supposed to.” You scolded the man.

”You took too long.” Khan muttered. ”Besides you wouldn’t have come this close. I needed to touch you.” You stopped what you were doing. You thought about leaving there and then but you knew you it wouldn’t solve anything. He had just attempted to smash his head open because you wouldn’t talk to him. Because he wanted you on this side of the glass.

You returned to wipe his face with the cloth, not saying anything or looking at him. You were distant and it pained Khan. He sighed and straightened his back. You couldn’t help but pull back as he moved, worried he tried to do something to you. He only rested his back against the wall, now sitting more properly and looked away.

”You know why I’m here?” Khan asked. What did he say? Was this it? Was this now your moment to shine? To finally get something out of this man? Get information of what he was up to? You didn’t answer, but your expression gave it away how surprised you were of the turn of the event. ”I’m here because of my crew.”

”You have a crew?” You asked and hearing your voice made Khan smile. He missed your voice, he missed it all the time. Every second he longed to hear you laugh, talk or even just sigh.

”Yes, and your captain has them in prisoned on this ship.” Khan spat in hatred.

You shook your head. Kirk wouldn’t keep such an information from his crew. He wouldn’t leave you in the dark with such a big thing. Khan had to be wrong. He had to be mistaken. ”There aren’t any other prisoners-”

”He doesn’t know they’re here.” Khan scoffed, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t pissed at you, you knew that. But he was raged by even talking about his crew being in the hands of your captain.

”What do you mean?” You asked, scooting closer towards him. Khan didn’t expect you to approach him, but he was happy to see you could relax in his present. ”How many of them are there?”

”Seventy-two.” Khan said. You gasped, realizing he meant the torpedoes.

”But that’s the exact-” Khan cut you off.

”They are inside of the torpedoes.” Khan kept explaining how his crew ended in the torpedoes and how Marcus had used his friends against him. You knew if Kirk would hear from this he would fight against Marcus. Kirk wouldn’t let something like this pass.

”You have to tell Kirk.” You said, taking his hands in yours. ”He wont hand you to Marcus if you just tell him.” But you couldn’t assure him. Khan shook his head at you, caressing your palms with his thumbs.

”Maybe he won’t hand me to Marcus, but I will still be in prisoned and my crew will forever be frozen and asleep.” You couldn’t argue with that. You knew he couldn’t avoid getting a sentence from what he’d done. He would rot in prison for the rest of his life if he would be left alive.

”Please promise me you will tell him. That way your crew will be safe and alive at least. There isn’t much you can lose.” You scooted even closer towards him. A spark light up in his eyes as you became so close. Khan leaned closer, his forehead resting on your body and he said, ”I will tell him, if you promise me something in return.”

”What is it?” You hurried him.

”Stay with me.” You sifted in your spot uncomfortably. ”Please, (Y/n). I need you.” Khan pulled you to his lap, his arms wrapping around you as he hugged you close. You didn’t dare to struggle. He was so broken and he feared he would lose you. Was he scared of dying? Or being locked away? Or just the thought of losing you made him act this way?

Your hands tangled in his hair, his head rested in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. The position you were in was intimate, not in a dirty way but in the other way. You had never felt this way with Wax. You had never felt being so loved and cared for as you did now and at the same time you were scared. What if you would fall for him?

”Let me have you.” Khan desperately whispered. Your body tensed at the words and your head pulled back an inch. ”I need you more than ever.” He pulled his head back, his eyes narrowed for… Was it lust? His lips were on yours, the kiss was just like the first one, but now more needy. He asked for access to your mouth by licking your lower lip, to which you answered with parting your lips. Khan growled for he was pleased by your cooperation. His tongue invaded your mouth, wrestling against yours and gaining the dominance. His hands pulled you closer to him while you still sat on his lap, his fingers gripping your dress from the back as if his life depended on this moment he shared with you.

Khan’s lips didn’t leave yours for the next three minutes, but when they did, you only parted for gasping for air, then he started kissing you again. His hand travelled down your dress, the other still keeping you in place, securing you from your back. When he found the hem of your dress he guiding it upwards, and you went to stop him. You pulled your head back from the kiss, but Khan didn’t stop. His lips travelled down your neck, making you gasp for air as you had become sweaty and turned on.

”Khan I can’t.” You gasped. Your head snapped back as Khan sucked on your skin, a weak spot on your neck, his hand still pushing your dress, your hand on his never stopping him from doing so.

”Fight me.” He said daringly. He knew you couldn’t. He knew you could deny him verbally but that was the best you could do. You couldn’t fight him off even if you tried. You just couldn’t. It was simply impossible to even gain your strength to push yourself away form him and you didn’t want that. You wanted to be there. You wanted to let him have you. You could stay in this moment for the rest of your life.

Khan had pushed your dress over your stomach, he was now unclasping your bras under your dress but never stopped kissing your neck. Your breathing was heavy, your eyes half closed. You pulled Khan’s shirt up his torso, Khan pulled back, letting you pull the shirt off of him entirely, then he did the same to you. You were now only in your boots and panties, when Khan still had his pants and shoes.

In the next minute the both of you stood up and had stripped from your clothes and Khan had lifted you back on his bed. The bed was hard on your back, but it would have to do. You tried to sit up so you could get on top of him, but he pushed you to lay on your back the second you attempted to straighten your back. He was aggressive and dominating. It turned you on like you had never felt anything like this. Like you had never had sex, never even felt aroused in your entire life.

He let you part your legs, eyeing the between of your legs hungrily. His hands ran up from your knees to your thighs, positioning himself between your legs. His fingers caressed you softly and in adoring way as if you were a goddess, he made you feel like never before.

Khan took his time to savor the moment, to worship your curves and skin. You felt like there was no place he hadn’t touched you from, your body tingling from everywhere. Khan took a hold of your waist and pulled you closer. His eyes begged for your approval, for his affection and to him to bed you. You permit him.

Khan situated his hardness against your entrance, waiting a second before starting to push in you. You gasped at the sensation, your fingers grasping his neck. He pulled out just so his tip was in you and then thrusted back in. You moaned out loud, louder than ever. You couldn’t keep it in. You couldn’t stay quiet but there was no need doing so in the first place.

”(Y/n).” Khan moaned. His cock went deep into you, his muscles tensing as he thrusted in and pulled out. You wrapped your legs around his back, clinging on him and you moaned his name. You moved in sync while getting close.

Both of you were already starting to get sweaty, your bodies radiating warmth that intoxicated you. The glass wall at the end of the bed started to get foggy behind your head.

Khan kissed your shoulder, his breath brushing over your skin and like the glass wall you felt like his breath was clinging on your body, getting foggy and moist from his steamy breath. You kept him there, your left hand around his neck and your right scratching his back. You sucked in a breath, your eyes flying open as you got closer to your release. You could sense Khan getting close as well, his breathing quickening and his pace growing. He was growling, pulling you closer towards his heated body, not leaving even an inch between the two of you.

”You’re mine, (Y/n).” Khan moaned wickedly, this made a spark shoot through you. A feeling of realization washing over you, but it went over your head the second it appeared and you gasped. You came right then, Khan’s cock pulsing in you, he too was coming and he was coming right inside you. He made no attempt on pulling out and he shot his cum deep into you.

Khan kept you pulled against him, trying to even your breathing you waited there until you were over your climax completely, and for Khan to trust to let go of you. Sweat drops went down your legs, some of it was Khan’s, but you didn’t mind. You had experienced something amazing, something you had never thought to be possible. The pleasure Khan had been able to make you feel was over your imagination. There was nothing you could be able to compare to this. It was something original and unique.

It took you both some time to pull yourselves back together, Khan was still towering over you, a smirk on his lips as he panted. He had pulled out of you, his hands on either side of your face as he supported himself. You could feel your eyes drifting shut, begging for sleep and rest, and as Khan saw that he lay down beside you, pulling you to him. You snuggled closer, your head on his chest and let the sleep consume you.


To Be Continued?

Here Comes Your Man

Prompt: muggle au where hilarity ensues when James Potter is called to pick up Lily Evans from the Hospital because he accidentally labeled himself as her emergency contact.

Read On FanFic

“Alright Miss Evans.”

Doctor Frank Longbottom was the poor sap assigned to Lily Evans when she entered Levinstown Hospital cradling her swollen wrist in rumpled clothes that smelled like the chlorine pool she’d fallen into. Frank looked over his chart and Lily sent him the best smile she could. He seemed nice, if not amused by her since she refused to tell him exactly what happened. She was a university student and he could probably guesstimate she’d been intoxicated but none-the-less Lily was not ready to share with the fair-haired doctor about how senseless she’d been.

“You are not well enough to drive,” he was being persistent, “I’d feel best if a friend or family member came to get you.”

Keep reading

Barcelona

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4-1 Chapter 4-2

A/N: Steve mistakenly found out you were pregnant, you told him you would tell Bucky…you didn’t. It’s two weeks later and after the last mission you all went on where you were picked up and tossed against a wall was Steve’s last straw, he has had enough. There is tension between you and Steve that cannot be cut with Vibranium.

You know what they say about secrets…


The ride back to Shield’s Barcelona safe house was silent as it’s been in the last two weeks, since you’ve been briefed on the new mission. Bucky glances from you to Steve, he senses the tension, but keeps it to himself because he knows Steve, once the stress gets overwhelming, he will let it all out at some point and then all of this murky silence will be replaced with an explosive anger that Bucky hopes he will be ready for.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed some ice from freezer, I turned slightly to see Steve hovering over me like a protective guard dog.

“How much longer do you think this will go on?”

“I’m fine, you can stop hovering.” I say as I filled a pitcher up with water and tossed the ice cubes in.

“You’re putting yourself at risk with every mission we go on.”

“I’m not at risk, I’ve been very careful.”

He scoffed. “So you getting tossed like a rag doll against the wall is your idea of being careful because for a second there, it looked as if you were putting yourself in harms way.”

I leaned over the sink and dipped my hand into the pitcher, sighing with relief as the water numbed my semi-swollen wrist. I felt Steve’s presence hovering again, looking down at my hand. We gazed at each other and I recognized that look in his eyes, he’s reaching his breaking point and I know it won’t be too long before he tells Bucky if I don’t.

“Steve, please you can’t tell him.”

“You can’t keep this from him.”

“I-I’m not. I just need to figure things out.” I say closing my eyes.

“What kind of things?”

I open my eyes, I didn’t want to say the unspeakable. “If I want to keep it or not.”

Steve staggers backwards as if I slapped him. “That will kill him, this will be unforgivable. You know what we do for a living, you see it everyday and this, this is the good that we are fighting to protect.”

I turned to look at him as my hand dripped with water, pooling on the floor. “It’s my decision.”

“What’s going on here?” Bucky asked walking into the kitchen.

“Nothing.” We both say getting silence.

“Seems like something.” He observes grabbing a beer then leaning on the fridge eyeing us both.

“Isn’t there something you need to tell Bucky”

My eyes were black slits. “No.” I answered taking a step and slipping in the water, but catching my balance as Steve inhaled deeply.

Steve grits his teeth.“Tell him or I will.”

“This is none of your fucking business, Steve.”

“Whoa, okay, time out. What’s going on here because the two of you have been at each others throats like vicious dogs.” Bucky questioned, we both ignore him.

“You are being selfish. Every time you go out on a mission you put this team and yourself at risk and this is my team, so it is my business. Do you even know how far along you are?“

“Far along?” Bucky turns to me. “What is he talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” I lied.

Steve scoffs. “I wouldn’t call carrying a human being nothing because it’s something.”

“How dare you!” I screamed. “You have no right!“

The beer shattering to the floor silenced us. “You’re pregnant?” The shock weakens him to his knees.

My eyes filled with tears. “Yes.” I approached, kneeling in front of him, holding his hands. “I-I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Because she’s not sure she wants to keep it.” Steve spewed.

“Steve! How could you?“I cried out.

“He needs to know the truth.” He replies non-chalantly.

I turned to Bucky and the disgust on his face washed over me, bathing me in shame. “Baby, it’s not what you think, please.” I pleaded, reaching out to touch him, but he bats my hand away. He stands and walks out of the kitchen without a second glance.

hamelin-born  asked:

May I please request darkcreature!gramander fluff? With the two of them as dark creatures, but still so very much happy and in love with one another?

[a/n] @hamelin-born of course! I’d be happy to! Sorry this sat in my inbox so long. It was super fun to write though (I admit, fluff is not my strong suit. I’m not super practiced at it… but I hope this suffices!). Besides, it’s about time I give the boys some comfort and fluff. Maybe I should make it a thing. 1 fluff for every 5 fics of pain. XD Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by dannywitwers

There were many sides of Graves that Newt loved. He loved the director that could back him into a corner, all long lines and powerful edges, and simply devour him with hot breath and even hotter lips. He loved the man that woke up earlier despite going to bed late, just to help Newt with his chores around the enclosures of his case. He loved the friend that made sure to walk Queenie home after an unexpectedly late night at the office. He loved the sympathetic human being that decided to turn a blind eye to a certain kind no-maj and his bakery when he realized just where those creature-inspired pastries Newt loved so much were coming from. He loved the way he doted on the Niffler when he thought Newt wasn’t looking, or how he seemed particularly in awe of the powerful grace of the Nundu despite their dangerous (and very illegal) presence.

He loved him when he had Newt in his arms, his lips at his shoulder whispering kind words into his freckled skin. He loved him when he woke up trembling and he loved him when he lost himself beneath Newt’s touch and he loved him when he tried to hide the fact that he used reading glasses because he thought it made him old.

There were many sides of Graves that Newt loved. But this one… Graves curled up on the couch – hair mussed and sleepy eyed and clad in an old and battered Ilvermorny sweater – dozing sweetly with the faintest snore… This was one of his favorites.

Newt came to stand beside the couch and delicately set the bowl of oil he had been carrying down on the side table before leaning down to gently check Graves’ temperature by pressing his forehead up against the other man’s brow. Warm, still feverish from the change. Newt nodded, expecting no less, before gently taking the paperwork from Graves’ slack grip and gently setting it aside as well.

“M’not done with that,” Graves mumbled, one eye cracked open to watch Newt with a frown – but he made no move to stop him. Newt smiled.

“It’ll still be here for you later,” he said simply, before turning back to the director and gently brushing a sweaty lock of hair from his brow. Even narrow as they were, he could still see amber peeking out inside the dark depths of Graves’ brown eyes. “How are we feeling?”

“Told you m’fine,” Graves groused even as he sunk a little more into the baggy comfort of his sweater, his jaw tipping instinctively into the callused curve of Newt’s hand as he brought it down to cup his face. “I need to get used to this.”

Newt sighed, amused and a little impatient.

“You can’t just will this away, Percival,” he said as he took one of Graves’ trembling hands into his own and willed heat into his fingers – easing the tremor from the director’s bones. “What you really need to get used to is taking care of yourself.”

Graves scowled even as a deep, contented purr blossomed in his chest from Newt’s administrations.

“I don’t have time to take off after every full moon, Newt,” he said.

“One day a month wouldn’t kill you,” Newt pressed as he eased his thumbs into the aching flesh between the tendons of Graves’ hand and moved up to start rubbing away the ache in the man’s wrist – slightly swollen from the transformation earlier that morning. “If you don’t listen to your body, it’ll make you listen. The last thing you or your team needs is their director passing out in the middle of MACUSA because you pushed yourself too hard.”

Graves looked away at that, more awake now than he had been – a cute little wrinkle between his brows from frowning. Newt apologetically kissed his hand at the sight of his troubled look. Graves wasn’t used to having to take it easy. Before Grindelwald, his power had been uncontested. His body had been strong, his magic even stronger. According to Tina, the man never got sick. His work had been his life. Sometimes he even slept in his office. He had never needed to slow down before. To rest.

And like many things, Grindelwald robbed him of that too.

Newt hadn’t believed it at first. He had never heard of a man becoming a werewolf without having been bitten by one. But sure enough, when they found Graves he was half mad from starvation and captivity and the pain of his oncoming transformation. And there hadn’t even been so much as a scar to suggest the man had ever been bitten. Graves had tried to warn them, though. He howled at them to close the door – to leave. The aurors just thought him crazed and panicked. They didn’t listen. They advanced on him with soothing whispers and eager hands, and all the while Newt couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong as he watched Graves press himself as far into the corner as he could – small and terribly thin and trembling. Eyes on the window. Afraid.

Afraid of himself.

They thought he was afraid of Grindelwald returning. Newt didn’t notice that it was the rising moon the man was watching until it was too late. Thankfully, Graves couldn’t remember anything after the transformation. Newt was grateful for that every day.

“Newt?” Graves asked, breaking the magizoologist from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Newt blinked, pinned beneath the worried warmth of Graves’ gaze – still glowing ever so faintly from his night as a wolf. And when Newt didn’t answer right away, Graves gently pulled his hand away and for the first time, Newt saw the man nervously avert his eyes.

“You don’t have to keep doing this. I know you’re busy,” Graves said softly, and Newt flinched when he finally recognized the man’s body language for what it was – shame. “I can take care of myself.”

Newt wasn’t sure what the man was expecting. But it obviously wasn’t the scoffing snort Newt let out at the man’s statement. Graves whirled to look at him with wide eyes as Newt took advantage of his shock to grab at the waistline of the man’s pants and ease them down his long legs, past his swollen and aching knees, until finally they were off the man altogether.

“If that were true, these,” Newt said, hot hands on the director’s knee caps, “Wouldn’t be so swollen. And I wouldn’t have had to argue with you to get you to stay home for once in your life.”

Graves scowled and opened his mouth to argue, but Newt quickly lifted himself up to silence the man with a chaste kiss before leaning back – smiling.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he said, eyes crinkled at the edges as he made sure to remember every line that made up the soft, shocked expression on Graves’ normally controlled and stoic face. “That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

Without another word, Newt dipped his hands into the minty oil he had brought for Graves and shuffled down to kneel by the man’s legs. Gently, he eased them straight – lips soft and apologetic against the man’s shin when the cartilage in his knee popped angrily. Newt didn’t miss the way the director flinched or how he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning.

“Ssh,” he said, eyes looking up the long line of Graves’ body to meet his feverish gaze. “I’ve got you.”

He willed the skin of his hands hotter as pressed his thumbs around the swollen edges of Graves’ right knee. He knew what it must feel like. Minty coolness and warm flesh and delicious pressure as he rubbed away knots and untangled the muscles that had been aggravated from the change. He rubbed until Graves’ bitten off groans turned into soft little huffs of pleasure beneath his breath. He kneaded the flesh, working his palms from the back of the man’s knee down into the meat of his calve, until Graves’ body had sunken into the couch – head back. He moved to the other leg once the man’s eyes slipped closed, Graves’ hands trembling for a completely different reason.

And all the while, Newt smiled. He drank in the sight of this Graves; the normally fierce and powerful director turned puddle on the couch. The strong lines of his face soft with pleasure and his body slack beneath Newt’s touch. Messy hair and inelegant clothing and glistening skin. He cherished every second of easing the baggy, battered sweater up the hard planes of the man’s stomach. He kissed and worshiped every inch of pale skin the journey exposed and loved the way Graves grumbled sleepily as Newt guided the overgrown sweater over the man’s head. He memorized the feel of the man’s firm body beneath his hands as he rubbed away the weariness of the werewolf’s shoulders and the tautness in his back. He didn’t stop until Graves was well and truly lost to the world, half asleep and blissed out from the magizoologist’s attentions.

And when Newt was finally content with the quality of his work, he simply eased Graves’ upper body up so that he could slide his lap beneath the man and join him on the couch. Newt smiled as long, powerful arms threaded themselves around his waist so that Graves might press his nose into the redhead’s stomach – his ribs rumbling heavily against Newt’s thigh beneath the weight of his contented purrs. Yes. This was one of his favorite sides of Percival Graves; the side he never showed the world.

“What an odd pair we must make,” Graves mumbled sleepily into Newt’s belly. “A werewolf in the lap of a dragon.”

Newt smiled down at him and brushed the director’s dark hair back from his brow even as he willed his body hotter, eager to soothe Graves’ aches.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘perfect’.”

Nesta and Cassian reading each other’s tells gives me life and brings about a multitude of feels.

Something must have shown on her face, in her scent.

Because his annoyance vanished—no, it shifted. Into something else, something … Rage.

That’s what stilled Cassian’s face.

Pure, burning rage.

It robbed her of breath, of any sort of sense that she might indeed have the upper hand as he ground out, “Who.”

“I was busy,” Cassian said, not taking his focus off Nesta as she studied the swollen wrist. How she’d detected it through the armor… She must have read it in his eyes, his stance.

Never Again (Older! Damian Wayne x Reader)

@eblades: “Could you do a Damian x reader where the reader has self harm cuts on her wrists and she hides them from everyone and makes everyone think they are ok when they aren’t at all but Damian notices that something is wrong when he grabs her wrist and she flinches but she keeps acting like everything is fine”

Schninner: Hey squad, this got really dark somewhere along the lines, and I just wanted to tell you guys, if you are ever in this position, I just want to let you know that you have people out there that love you, and I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m always here if you ever need to talk to someone. (Also, this turned out really bad(?) so sorry in advance.)

(Reader is a girl)

Warning: Mentions of self-harm, some serious dark stuff

Word Count: 1146

Master List


“You’re okay, you’re okay, everything is just fine.”

Words were mumbled under your breathe, words meant to reassure, to comfort, only to aimlessly leave your lips. Your hands tugged at the base of your sleeves, pulling them well past the base of the palm of your hand. The rough fabric irritated the already red and swollen skin on your wrists, causing you to wince.

It hurt, it always did, but it was nothing compared to the internal turmoil that you felt on a daily basis.

“[L/N]!” A familiar voice called from behind you causing you to form the smile that was your disguise.

“They must never know.”

“Hey Dami!” Your voice dripping with cheerful and a smile stretched across your face.

He can closer to you eyeing your smile warily, matching concern in his eyes. “[L/N], is everything okay?”

You involuntarily tugged harder at your sleeves, your hands balled into fists clutching the fabric of your long sleeves. “What do you mean?” Your voice was forced into a false curiosity as you cocked your head to the side ever so slightly.

Damian’s eyebrows furrowed, you tried to hide it, but there was no way of hiding the slight quiver that trembled through your voice.

“Please, [F/N], talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

You pretended to check the time on your phone, “Look, I have to go, I’m going to be late,” You forced the urgency into your voice, and began to hastily walk away. You needed to go, now. Before you broke down in front of him, before you showed him how much of a mess you truly were.

“[L/N] Wait!” He grabbed your wrist, causing you to breathe in sharply from the pain and winced.

Of course, he noticed it, he was the Son of Batman after all, you would have been worried if he hadn’t. Realization flashed in his eyes as he loosened his grip on your wrist and placed a gently hand on your shoulder, guiding your trembling body toward your nearby apartment. You didn’t fight it, what would be the point of fighting it? He knew, after all this time of trying to hide it, he knew.

And you knew what was going to happen next, the unavoidable pity talk.

Where he’ll tell you that it was just a faze, that your jut some hormonal girl who was just doing this for attention, then proceed to tell you that you have no reason for doing this, for hurting yourself. It was the same conversation, same talk that you always had, but with different people. This was the reason for keeping it a secret for so long, you didn’t want to see the look of disappointment and disgust on his face, not Damian’s.

You were both silent as the elevator doors opened to your floor, and the silence remained as you walked closer to your apartment door. Damian opened the door for you, unlocking it with the key that you always kept underneath the door mat. You walked in, looking at the floor the entire time.

He shut the door, locking it behind him, then turned to you, his expression unreadable. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could speak, his arms were wrapped around your body, his head burrowed into the crook of your neck.

You stood there for a moment, not sure how to respond to his embrace, you eventually returned his embrace, managing to wrap your smaller arms around his torso.

“When?” He simply asked, his head remaining where it was.

“For about four years now.” Your voice coming out as small and helpless.

There was silence as you both continued embracing each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He inquired, nearly whispering into your [H/C] hair

Tears began streaming down your face, this was… different. There was no shouting, no judgment, just concern. Pure undefiled concern for your wellbeing.

“I-I didn’t want you to th-think less of me,” You stuttered through your tears, hugging him even closer to you.

“I- I thought that if I showed you how, just, messed up, I am,” You sobs interrupted your sentence, Damian remained silent, letting you cry into his shoulder. You attempted to catch your breath before continuing, “I-if I showed you how broken I really was, y-you would leave me.”

“Tt, [F/N] that’s ridiculous,” You gently pulled away from the embrace, gingerly placing his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to his, “I could never, and would never leave you.”

He looked deeply into you [E/C] eyes with you staring right back into his. His hands slightly shaking underneath your chin, “[F/N], I-“ he hesitated his mouth forming into a slight scowl as he turned his head away from yours.

“I love you.” He finally blurted out causing your eyes to go wide in shock.

“I love you too much to see you do this to yourself,” he continued, once again coming into eye contact with you, his hand moved to your cheek, and the other on your opposite cheek, his thumbs wiping away the tears from your puffy red eyes.

“Please,” he started, his voice cracking with emotion, “please stop this.” The tears that sprang from his own eyes caused you to stare at him in disbelief.

“Promise me that you’ll never do this, never again.” His voice filled with remorse and care caused your heart to leap out to him, all you wanted to do was to stop those beautiful eyes of his from crying anymore, you wanted, needed, to see him smile, to hear his laugh; but you also needed to be realistic.

“I’m sorry Damian, but I don’t know if I can,” you replied, you glanced downward at your feet, not able to look at him in the eye.

The silence was und=bearable. You were expecting him to leave, to slam the door in your face, and leave you to cry to yourself.

But he stayed right there.

With his hands placed on either side of your face, his green eyes staring intensely at you as tears continued to stream down.

“We’ll make a deal then,” He stated, clearing his throat from any potential sob, “Anytime you feel like your going to cut, or harm yourself, you call me.”

You directed your eyes back to his, seeing the earnest and genuine compassion in them.

“It doesn’t matter when or where, I will be here.” He let go of your face and stuck a hand out for you to shake. “Deal?”

You looked at his face, then to his outstretched hand. In one fluid and sudden motion, you had nearly leapt into his arms, hugging tightly as new joyful tears came tumbling down your cheeks. You held his close to you, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Deal.” You whispered into his broad chest as he hugged you back.

“Thank you.”

anonymous asked:

The first deafobi was fabulous! What if Obi has to converse with Dooku without the aids? How does he interact with the Council without the aids? Flashbacks even? (I'm horribble at prompting.)

Tucking his swollen wrist against his stomach beneath his robe, Obi-Wan absently wondered if the council would be done with Qui-Gon soon and if the two could go eat yet. He’d started dreaming about the commissary about two weeks into their planet stay, hunger gnawing at his bones despite having eaten protein blocks as needed.

Perhaps if he was lucky there be some sweet buns too?

He’d like that. If not he’d go out and buy some hopefully once he was well enough. Perhaps with jam inside…

There was a tap on his shoulder and Obi-Wan jerked to a bit, looking up at Qui-Gon quickly. His master gave him a small, assuring smile then nodded towards the councilors.

“They want your side of the rescue padawan.” He offered and Obi-Wan could almost imagine the softness of the mans voice. He could feel the faint rumble though and smiled up at the man, looking towards master Windu as Qui-Gon kept his hand on his shoulder.

“Yes Master Windu?”

Qui-Gon tapped two fingers on his shoulder.

‘Oh, lower my volume.’ Ques that warned Obi-Wan about how to function.

“Master Jinn says you two got separated for a good two hours, what happened in that time when you were with the dukes daughter?”

Obi-Wan blinked at that. “I brought her to safety and kept her from being found. She kept…clinging to me.” Obi-Wan shifted, flustering a bit even as Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder in comfort.

“Clinging to you padawan?”

Obi-Wan hesitated and looked up at his master before looking back at Mace Windu.

“She was…very insistent in her…um… amorous pursuits?” He tried.

He couldn’t hear it himself but his voice was dropping several degrees lower until they could barely hear him. Qui-Gon quickly tapped his padawan shoulder twice with three fingers, telling him to raise the volume again.

“Did she now?” Windu frowned and looked around before focusing back on Obi-Wan. “Padawan, she was aware that you are fourteen, yes? Not even closer to legal age.”

Obi-Wan drew his shoulders up and then let them drop. “Yes. I don’t think she cared. She was…very insistent.” And had Obi-Wan ever been glad that his master had found them when he did. Mace frowned and looked to Yoda, the two speaking together but with the angle it was hard for Obi-Wan to read their lips.

He looked up at Qui-Gon to find the man smiling ever so slightly at him.

Did I do alright Master?

You did very well padawan. I’m still sorry I didn’t arrive quicker, the dukes daughter was very…open about her interest in you.

You couldn’t have accounted for the separation. At least she only got grabby.

Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder again before removing his hand and bowing to the masters, Obi-Wan quickly following suit at the cue that the council was finished with them. He followed behind his master, shoulders relaxing as he gave a softly relived sigh, barely more then a breath.

I’m really looking forward to some proper food master.

If he had hearing, he would have heard his master soft laugh but as it was, he could feel the others amusement and see the smile on Qui-Gon’s face as his master reached out and wrapped his arm around the teens shoulder, pulling him close to the older mans side.

I bet you are. What first, food or rest?

Obi-Wan mused over that before grinning up at his master, a ‘what do you think’ expression on his face that made the older man snort. “Ah teens and their bottomless stomachs. I swear, one day teenagers are going to empty the temple of all food and we’ll have to eat the gardens.” He teased, delighting in Obi-Wan’s slightly to loud and slightly of tune laugh as he held the boy to him.

Injured

Originally posted by sheercompulsion

Requested? Yes  Can I request one with you hiding being sick/injured/ect and trying to hide it from toews since he has a lot of pressure as a captain but he finds out and takes care of you? (Sorry its so long!)

AN: The injury part is literally based on a true story my mom actually fell and got a black eye a couple days ago expect she was drunk lol. She’s okay though. So thank my mom for the inspiration. Haha

Warning: Some swearing/ mention of getting hurt.

Up Next: Jamie Benn

Keep reading

BTS Reaction: Their S/O Getting Hurt When Practicing With Them

Request by anon: Can you do a BTS reaction to you breaking an arm, foot, etc when practicing with them.

I sure can and did! I hope you (and everyone else) likes it!

Kim Seokjin:

You wanted to practice with Bangtang just to see what it was like, but regretted it immediately when you accidentally rolled your ankle, yelping as you fell. 

“Y/n,” Jin scrambled to you quickly, the rest of the members following suit. “Are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded, wincing in pain. “Here, let me carry you,” he hooked his arms under your knees and behind your back, carrying you to a chair in the corner telling Jimin to get an ice-pack. “I’m glad it’s nothing too serious.”

Min Yoongi:

“Y/n, what happened?!” Yoongi ran towards you when he saw you on the floor, holding your bare foot. 

“I stubbed my toe weirdly and now I think it’s…broken or sprained,” you whimpered at the pain. 

“How does that-nevermind, I just hope you’re okay,” he frowned, eyebrows furrowed at you hurt being. “Let’s get you to a hospital,” he said, helping you up, asking Jungkook to assist him to make your journey to the car as pain-free as possible.

Jung Hoseok:

“I think I broke my finger,” you explained to Hoseok after he stopped screaming long enough for you to say something. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked, carefully holding your hand, looking at the weirdly bent pinky. “Let’s be more careful from now on, guys.” he gave them a look as he accompanied you out the door.

Kim Namjoon:

“Babe, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-” Namjoon apologized after knocking you over, causing you to land weirdly on your arm. 

“I think it’s sprained,” you winced when you tried to lift your arm. “But I think I’ll be fine as long as there’s an ice-pack on it.”

“We should see a doctor too- I don’t want to be careless about the injury.”

Park Jimin:

“My leg, Jimin,” you cried, a tear running down your face. “I think something’s wrong.”

“You fell pretty hard, Y/n,” he kneeled beside you, hands lightly touching your leg to see if it was broken or just sprained. “This is pretty bad…” he sighed, wishing that he and the boys had been more careful with you around. 

“It’s okay, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you reassure him, and he gave you a small smile. 

“Taehyung, help me get her to to a hospital.”

Kim Taehyung:

“Y/n, how much does it hurt?” Taehyung sat next to you in the waiting room, helping you hold up your arm parallel to your thigh. 

“Not as much as before,” you reply, looking at your swollen wrist. 

“I hope it’s not too serious,” he frowned, leaning his head on your shoulder. “As long as you’re okay though.”

Jeon Jungkook:

“That wasn’t fun at all,” he kissed you on the forehead on your way back from the hospital, your thumb and pointer finger in a cast. 

“Yeah, I hadn’t planned on fracturing part of my hand,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Not funny, Y/n,” he held your other hand, gripping it gently. “I don’t know what I would have done if it was something more serious.”

anonymous asked:

Hi there! I'm wondering if you could possibly write me a little some from prompts 33 and 53? MSR?

Dear Anon, this somehow turned into a sequel to this prompt

33. “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?” + 53. “Do you think I’m scared of a woman?”

They’re lucky, for once; the ER is mostly deserted. No other disoriented, disorganized agent in here with an unexplained injury. The nurse told her that a doctor would be with them in just a moment, but Mulder can’t keep his eyes open. His head keeps lolling about only to snap back as soon as it hits anything solid. Whether it’s her shoulder or the window in the car earlier.

“Drunk, huh?” The doctor, a short blond female greets them with a sharp nod, snaps on her latex gloves and smiles at Scully. Who feels strangely protective of Mulder at that moment.

“Actually, no,” she answers not knowing if it’s the truth; for all she knows Mulder is drunk and has been ever since he showed up at her apartment earlier, “he hurt his wrist.” Mulder, like a lost puppy, offers his swollen wrist. The doctor grabs it and he winces.

“Yeah, we’ll x-ray it,” she says, “so what happened?”

“I had an accident,” Mulder’s words are slurred; Scully is certain that he did not sound like this earlier, “Just an accident.”

“Is it just your wrist? Did you hurt anyone else?” She turns to Scully, who shrugs. She doesn’t know anything and for the first time this night she thinks maybe she should have asked Mulder beforehand. This is not like her; she is unprepared in every sense of the word,

“No one else hurt,” he assures them, “no, wait!” Both women turn to him. Scully tries not to think about it. Maybe he got into a drunken fight. Or he hit someone with his car. There’s an endless string of possibilities running through her mind; this is Mulder after all.  

“My pride,” he grins, “I think I hurt my pride.” Scully feels her cheeks burn. She feels sorry for the poor doctor. But her pity is limited; at least doesn’t have to take Mulder home with her and nurse him back to health. That job lies with her and her alone.

“That's… it would really help, Mr.-” she checks the chart, “Mulder, if you could give us some information about what has happened. Is anyone else hurt? Another human being?” He shakes his head no, finally.

“I went running,” he quickly glances at Scully, before he looks at the ground, “and I took off my shoes in the bedroom. I always do. I took a – a shower. I forgot the shoes and well. My hand stopped the fall.”

“No alcohol was involved?”

“No,” Mulder sighs, “I took a couple of pills to make the pain go away.”

“What kind of pills?” Scully asks before the doctor can and earns a confused glare.

“She’s a medical doctor,” Mulder explains for her, grinning from ear to ear, “I thought it was Tylenol. I don’t think it really was Tylenol, though, Scully. I feel dizzy.”

“Come on, Mr. Mulder. We’ll just x-ray your wrist and then you can sleep it off.” He follows the doctor and a young nurse dutifully.

“I’m not drunk,” he tells them, “Scully, tell them I’m not drunk.”

“I hear you, Mr. Mulder. Given your current state, I think it would be a good idea if we kept you overnight.”

“I’ll take him home with me,” Scully interjects quickly and Mulder smirks, “and make sure he gets all the rest he needs. I am, like he said, a doctor myself.”

“All right,” the ER doctor is not convinced, but Scully couldn’t care less right now, “Now let’s get your wrist x-rayed.”

Scully watches them wander over and fights the need to follow. Mulder doesn’t need her to hold his hand. Their voices are fading as they slowly make their way down the hall; it’s quiet here this late and the white walls echo only Mulder’s voice, louder than usual. Or maybe she’s just so attuned to him that she can hear him amongst all the chaos in the world.

“Do you think I’m scared of a woman?” She hears him ask and she sees his face turn towards the tall nurse. “If you’re talking about my partner then you’re absolutely right. She shot me once, you know.” The words put a smile on her face and it’s the last thing she hears for a while; the nurse gently pushes Mulder into a room and closes the door.

When Mulder returns, finally, his wrist is in a bandage. Scully throws the magazine she’s been reading aside and quickly joins him.

“Just a torn ligament.” He answers her unasked question, grinning at her as if he won a prize.

“Mulder, it’s not funny.”

“I agree. It really hurts. I think the pills are starting to wear off again.”

“Here’s some ibuprofen you can take, Mr. Mulder.” The nurse hands him the pills and Scully takes them from him immediately. The nurse blushes.

“I’ll make sure he takes them.”

“Of course. I’ll finish the report.”

“Oh Mulder,” Scully sighs, gently examining his bandaged wrist, “come on, we’re going home.”

In her living room, Scully removes the melted Ben & Jerry’s container as Mulder, still wearing his jacket, examines the VHS box of Scully’s movie. He holds it up like a piece of toxic waste.

“Did you watch this?”

“We can’t all have your excellent taste in movies, Mulder.” She mocks him, making sure the molten ice cream doesn’t drip on her carpet. She throws the container away and stares at it longingly for a moment. This is definitely not how she imagined her quiet weekend at home.

“We can watch it,” Mulder almost yells, “I don’t mind, you know.”

“Mulder, you need to sleep. Whatever you took earlier, you should sleep it off.” Scully makes a mental note to check the pill bottle tomorrow when she takes Mulder to his own apartment. And then take it away from him.

“I’m not tired. I feel like I slept all day.” He doesn’t look like it, though, she thinks, biting her tongue.

“But Mulder,” Scully sighs; she doesn’t want to complain, she really doesn’t, but it’s late and he’s looking at her like that puppy again. Ready to be walked, ready to be entertained, “I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep. I can,” Mulder looks around, “I’ll find something to do.”

“Mulder, please.” Scully begs of him. For a moment he remains still, but she can almost feel the wheels turning in his head – and she has a distinctive feeling she’s not going to like whatever he’s going to say next.

“How about we make a deal.” His lips curl upwards.

“What kind of deal?” Scully asks carefully.

“I think I remember you wearing a certain garment earlier. Or was I hallucinating?”

“Mulder, no.” The grin disappears and his lower lip comes forward just the tiniest bit in a sneaky pout. Scully can’t help but think that he knows much how that affects her. He must know.

“Then I’m not going to sleep.” He tells her decisively, turning away from her. She rolls her eyes; all she wants right now is to sleep and she knows it’s not going to happen if Mulder is out here, unobserved.

“Mulder,” she begins, but he refuses to look at her; just like a little child, “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?” He nods, playing with the lapels of his jacket. It completely slipped her mind to help him out of it.

“Mulder, look at me,” he doesn’t, “I have a deal for you.” His head snaps into her direction.

“Let me help you out of your jacket first.” Mulder lets her take it off for him. They manage to avoid coming into contact with his wrist. That’s something at least. Until she remembers that she’ll have to help him out of the rest of his clothes, too, in the near future.  

“What’s the deal?”

“Ask me again about the tank top,” he opens his mouth, “when you’re no longer high on drugs. Now come on, g-man. We need to get you into bed.” He mumbles something, but follows her obediently.

“What, Mulder?”

“I’m not high on drugs, Scully.” He mimics her.

“Of course not,” she not so gently shoves him into her bedroom and he sits on her bed, waiting, “We have no idea what you took, Mulder. So I’d rather wait for it to wear off.” For once he decides to remain silent. He lets her help him out of his pants; he’ll have to sleep in his boxers and t-shirt, Scully decides. Mulder watches her as she reaches for her pajama pants she threw on her bed earlier.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells him gently, “get under the covers.” She almost winces; she sounds like his mother and that’s not at all what she wants. As she enters the bathroom, she hears rustling and she sighs in relief. In the bathroom, she quickly puts on her pajama pants. For a moment she debates whether to leave the t-shirt on or not; it stays on, she decides, turns off the bathroom light and joins Mulder in the already dark bedroom.

“Scully?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“About what, Mulder?”

“Everything. I crashed your evening and I realize I – I probably should have called. And I didn’t mean to, with the tank top. I know I – just ignore me, Scully. You’re probably right and I’m high on drugs. Good night, Scully. Thank you for letting me stay here.” With a sigh, she grabs the hem of her shirt and takes it off. It lands with a soft thud on the floor somewhere.

“Scully?” She’s aware he can’t see her in the darkness.

“Shut up, Mulder,” Scully says, lying down next to him, “And sleep.”

He manages to stay quiet for a couple of minutes; long enough for Scully to almost fall asleep. Almost.

“Scully? Are you – I must be hallucinating, but… are you wearing the tank top?”

“Mulder, if you shut up now you’ll wake up to me wearing it in the morning.” Scully expects him to say something – anything – but he remains beautifully quiet. She doesn’t tell him that if he’s his normal, drug-free self tomorrow, she might even let him take it off.

2

IG Marc Bartra:

“Today I received once again the visit from the ones who make me the most happy. They are my everything, the reason for which I always fight to overcome the obstacles and this one has been the worst in my life, an exprience I would not wish on anyone in this world.

The pain, the panic, the incertitude of not knowing what was happening, nor how long it was going to last… they were the longest and hardest 15 minutes in my life.
And to all that I want to tell you, that I think the shock from the past days is fading more and more each time and at the same time, the desire to live, fight, work, laugh, cry, feel, love, believe, play, train, to keep enjoying my people, my loved ones, my teammates, my passion, to defend and to smell the grass like I do before the matches start and to motivate myself. To see the stands filled with people who love our profession, people who only want us to feel emotions that make us forget the world, and especially the ones we live in, crazier and crazier each time.

The only thing I ask, THE ONLY THING, is that we ALL live in peace and leave behind the wars.

These days when I look at my damaged and swollen wrist, you know I feel? Proud. I look at it proudly thinking in all the harm that they wanted to inflict on us, but it only came to this.

Thank you to the doctors, nurses, physiotherapists and the people who are helping my recover and making sure that my wrist has perfectly recovered. To the thousands and thousands of milieu, organisations of every type, BVB and teammates, whose support and affection have reached me. No matter how small, it has incredibly filled me with strength to ALWAYS continue forward.

I needed to write and vent and clear everything up in order to only think about being 100% again as soon as possible! A huge greeting!

Marc 💛”
————————————-
Melissa’s comment: “The best in the world❤”

dramaqueenofhell  asked:

For the WIW (WinterIronWidow) AU, I can't stop thinking about the first time Tony gets in trouble, but not kidnapping, who-are-we-bruising-up-a-little but an stupid how-tf did this happen, like a bar fight or blowing shit up, and Bucky and Nat realizing that Tony himself is one of Tony's dangers.

Oh. Oh. Now that’s an interesting thought I hadn’t even considered! But yeah, I can all too easily imagine it…


Natasha used to keep her distance from Tony during classes. Used to, because it had seemed safer to just get her in as an additional student who was on amiable terms with him but never closely interacted. Few people here know who Tony really is, and having him accompanied by guards would only draw more attention. At the time it had seemed like a sound reasoning.

It still is. Until Tony blows the chemistry lab up.

Amidst the other students’ startled screams and yelps, Natasha dives towards the back of the class room where Tony’s table is–the one closest to the explosion, naturally.

The source of the explosion, she corrects herself a second later and isn’t quite sure why she is surprised.

“Did you see that?” crows Tony in honest to god delight while scrambling to his feet again. Natasha grabs him without a word, the heavy stench in the air causing her eyes to tear up and making breathing more and more difficult. She pulls her still excitedly babbling charge towards the door, never mind that Tony can barely get out two words without coughing.

It’s only when they’re already out in the hallway when the uninterrupted torrent of words begins to sink in and she pulls Tony around. “You did this on purpose?” she demands–as well as someone whose voice gives out on them can demand anything. 

Tony blinks, then suddenly deflates, just a little. She reads the guilt in his face long before he gets the words out and her grip on his shirt involuntary tightens.

“I mean- I didn’t mean for this to happen, obviously. I forgot to consider the way the-” he waves his arm around.

Natasha’s eyes widen as she catches it, stares at the singed labcoat which is missing a half a sleeve, the bright red skin underneath. “You’re hurt,” she states, already cataloguing the injury as non-lethal but very painful, once the first shock wears off.

Or maybe the excitement, she is forced to reconsider as Tony continues his explanation about the interaction of another chemical he’d decided to throw into the mix because “It was just a thought, really,”, eyes brightening again and an exhilarating smile growing on his lips. 

Tony doesn’t stop talking about the implications of his little way-ward experiment for two days, manages to forget applying the burning salve twice and doesn’t let any of that stop him from replicating the experiment, with the exact same results, in his workshop at their home.

Natasha considers shooting him to spare herself the headache, but she ends up bandaging him up–again–instead. 

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him. And then, because Tony sags, just a little, eyes shuttering and curls into himself when she says it, “Tomorrow we’ll buy a fire extinguisher. After that you can try again.”

“You’re not my babysitter,” Tony pouts, but there is a smile twitching at the corners of his lips–and a dangerous glint in his eyes, that mentally ups Natasha’s estimation up to twelve fire extinguishers. Just in case.

Privately she wonders why anyone would bother to pay money for an elaborate assassination plot when Tony Stark is much more likely to get himself killed. She wonders when that thought started bothering her.


Bucky stares. He doesn’t know what he expected to hear when he’d first seen the shiner on Tony’s face–an attack, a fight with another student, an accident–but an arm wrestling match with DUM-E had definitely not been part of it.

“It’s not his fault!” Tony hurries to defend his robot, because of course he does. “He is not very good at adapting his strength as necessary yet! Things just got out of control!”

“Then how in the world did you think this would be a good idea?” Bucky can’t help but ask incredulously as he very, very gently begins to probe at Tony’s swollen wrist. Tony flinches, instinctively tries to withdraw his throbbing arm but Bucky refuses to let him.

“I just… He seemed lonely,” he murmurs eventually. “I didn’t want him to feel sad, so I played with him. It was the first thing I could think of.”

This time it’s Bucky who has to hide a wince, though he does a much better job. But then Tony isn’t built to suppress. He deflects and distracts instead. And despite his best efforts to remain unmoved and objective, Bucky can’t help but feel bad for Tony. Tony who is so obviously lonely. Tony who identifies far more with DUM-E than he seems to realise. Tony who felt the need to build himself a friend because he didn’t want to be on his own anymore.

Bucky grits his teeth. There is a reason he spends a lot of time not thinking about any of this. Mainly because it leaves him wanting to murder everyone who has ever encountered Tony–if only that would make Tony smile.

“i think you sprained it,” he says instead, gently lets go of Tony’s wrist. “Come on, I’m sure Nat’s got an ice pack somewhere.”

That should be all he says on the matter. It really should. He’s Tony’s bodyguard for fuck’s sake, not his comfort blanket. Inwardly, Bucky laments the good old days when he used to shoot anything that made him feel shit like this. Fucking empathy.

Tony shuffles along beside him, looking a bit like a run-down kitten who’s giving up on crying for its mother and–fuck.

Bucky puts an arm around Tony’s shoulders. Sighs in exasperation at both, Tony and himself. “What am I gonna do with you, doll?” he murmurs, presses a light kiss against the side of Tony’s head without even thinking about it.

He will think a lot about it later.

[By the way, nothing will convince me that Nat and Bucky don’t love Tony’s trouble-attracting ways. They would get bored far too easily otherwise.]

Return - Part 5 - Jim Kirk

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Summary: series following the events of loot– takes place during events of star trek beyond. in this chapter, you run into a very frightening portion of your past and things are revealed.

Warnings: language, violence (but it’s canon)

A/N: i’m still tagging those i used to tag for loot, tell me if you want to be removed. SHIT’S CONTINUING TO GO DOWN. this chapter and the next 2 are probably my favorites


You continued to hear loud blasts that shook the bridge. Gasps rang through the halls and the deafening crashes silenced them all. The alarm siren had slowly turned into comfortable, predictable white noise amongst all the uncertainty and the blinding red lights now reminded you of where you were, that this was reality and not some sick nightmare.

You exchanged a look with Uhura, conveying your suspicions to her without even having to say a word aloud.

She nodded in understanding, glancing at the woman beside you.

That woman, Kalara, who claimed to have lost her ship in the uncharted depths of this volatile nebula, continued to shift nervously.

It wasn’t a nervousness that resembled the one keeping your knees from buckling and the one keeping Jim glued to his captain’s chair, but rather an anticipatory nervousness. You thought she might have been waiting for something— something much bigger.

“Sir, I have hull breaches in levels twelve to fifteen, six, nine, thirty-one and twenty-one, sir,” Chekov stated in a trembling voice, turning to face Jim as if the captain could impart some sort of confidence everyone else was depleted of.

Scotty’s voice rang in from the communication receiver, “Captain! There’s a chance I can reroute the energy reserves from the warp core to the impulse engines.”

“If we get back into the nebula, maybe we could lose them,” Jim said, his grip on the armrests of his chair visibly growing tighter as his knuckles turned a ghostly white. “Do whatever you have to, Scotty.”

Chekov and Sulu offered one another skeptical glances.

Jim rose from his chair, as if tearing his body from its clutches, and combed his fingers through his hair. He looked at you. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you sounded defeated— you felt defeated.

“Captain.”

Jim’s attention was caught and he leaned over the communication receiver. “Go, Spock.”

“I have identified the individual who appears to be leading the attack party,” you could hear the motion in his voice, the quick blasts of phasers ringing through the line. “He infiltrated the archive vault and removed the artifact from our mission on Teenax.”

Sulu, Chekov, and Jim turned to look at you simultaneously.

Your mouth fell open and you felt your stomach flip and jerk enough to inspire a heavy wave of nausea. You almost lost your balance.

Jim was the first to look forward again. “Hold your distance until—”

A loud phaser blast echoed through the line and it went dead instantly.

“Spock?” Jim called. “Spock!”

He sighed heavily, motioning to the officers behind you. His voice had a distinct rasp as he stated, “You two with me. Sulu, you have the conn.”

As Jim removed a phaser and passed it to Sulu, you let go of Kalara’s arm. “I’m coming with you.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

44 Msr please!

44. “You need to see a doctor.”

Scully absent-mindedly chews on her lower lip; her eyes are glued to the screen, not blinking once. She doesn’t do this often; indulge in a silly romantic comedy on a Saturday night with a glass of wine and, if she feels really frisky, some Ben & Jerry’s. It’s one of the very rare occasions that she even finds herself at home on a weekend. She and Mulder wrapped their latest case on Thursday and while she wrote the report, Mulder desperately searched for some unexplained phenomenon that would save his weekend. Monster and aliens, however, seemed to be in need of a quiet weekend as well, and so he came up empty-handed. Not that Scully is complaining.

Oh darling, do you have any idea, any idea at all how much I love you?” Scully leans forward, nearer to the screen, as if that would transport her right into the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. She’s seen this movie a thousand times, yet she fears the heroine is going to make a different choice. Maybe this won’t end in a kiss. Perhaps there is no happily ever after. Her elbows dig into her thighs as finally the characters close in, their mouths coming closer, meeting almost, and she can feel it tingling in her toes, her fingers and her belly and they’re almost there and-

“Scully, are you in there?” Mulders voice tears through the fantasies. He knocks, frantically, and the moment is destroyed. She throws one last glance at the screen, but she’s missed it. The credits are rolling already, her lovers gone. Scully grunts, turns off the TV and opens the door to a confused Mulder.

“I thought you might not be home.” Scully was prepared to be angry with him; it’s late and he is, albeit unknowingly, crashing her solitary movie night. But all her complaints fly out the door when she sees his pale complexion, his glassy eyes.

“Mulder, what is the matter? Are you sick?” She ushers him in, not in the least concerned that she’s only wearing pajama pants and a rather revealing tank top.

“Uhm, I had a little, well, accident.” Scully immediately checks his head. Somehow he always ends up hurting his head. Her hands run through his hair, leaving it messy, but there’s not a scratch on him. Stepping back a bit she finally sees the strange way he’s holding his arm. Carefully, she touches him there and he winces.

“Mulder, what did you do?” She sighs seeing his swollen wrist.

“Just a little accident and it would have been fine, really,” he nods at her, or to himself, “but then I got dizzy and well, here I am.”

“You need to see a doctor.” Scully tells him, her fingers gently prodding his wrist.

“That’s why I’m here.” His grin is no more than a grimace. She can only guess in how much pain he is.

“Mulder, I don’t have x-ray vision, you know.”

“You don’t? And here I thought you were Supergirl.”

“I think you’re delusional. How did you even get here?” Scully leads him over to the couch. She sees him glance at the half finished ice cream and her glass of wine. He hesitates, uncertain suddenly, but she gently pushes him and he sits down.

“You didn’t drive, did you? Please tell me you didn’t drive.”

“I took a cab.” He tells her. He leans against the back of the couch, his eyes drifting close.

“Mulder, I’m gonna get dressed and then I’ll take you to the hospital. You’re scaring me.” Scully puts her hand on his forehead; despite his pale complexion he feels warm. Too warm.

“I like what you’re wearing,” he smirks with half open eyes, “Don’t change.”

“This is not exactly appropriate attire for the ER. I’ll be right back.” Scully cups his cheek briefly, feels his light stubble and fights the sudden urge to kiss him there. She sprints into her bedroom, exchanges her pajama pants for jeans and quickly puts on a t-shirt. She looks somewhat presentable, she decides, and returns to the living room. Mulder, of course, is asleep, his head slightly tilted, his lips lightly opened as if he fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. She hates waking him, but he needs to see a doctor and have his wrist examined; she fears it might be broken. Only Mulder would manage to hurt himself on their weekend off. Gently, she touches his cheek again - definitely too warm - and he opens his eyes.

“Come on, Mulder. You can sleep as soon as we have your wrist checked out.” She still has no idea what even happened. He owes her an explanation. Right now though, she just wants him to move and get going.

Mulder gets up, looking sluggish, and leaning against her.

“Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Can I stay here with you tonight?” The words surprise her and she almost lets go of him.

“Of course you can. But first we have to go to a hospital.” She feels him nod against her. Scully settles him against the wall once they reach the hallway so she can lock her door. As soon as she’s done, she sneaks her arm around his waist, holding him, leading him.

“Scully?” His voice tickles her ear; he’s just so close to her.

“When get back… can you put on that tank top again?”