#but I have a medical procedure tomorrow bright and early so this will not be happening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jerseyshoresy · 2 months

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Just a Little Off the Top!

Reader gets top surgery, Shoresy gets… points for trying to help reader recover

Shoresy x masculine enby/ftm reader (request from anon, I hope you like it! :) also, I’ve not had top surgery nor am I enby/transgender but I used my own experience with surgeries and did as much research as I could to do this story justice <3)

Warnings: cussing, mentions of medical drains and blood

You checked your phone for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, but you needed an answer, quick. Your top surgery was tomorrow and though you originally had a ride to and from the hospital lined up, your best friend had a family emergency of their own to deal with.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, y/n, but my mom is in the hospital down in the states by herself and I need to go see her as soon as I can. Is there any way I can line someone else up to get you there? I feel horrible!”

“No, no, it’s totally okay, I understand! She needs you right now, I can find another person, no problem!”

It was a problem. Everyone you knew was out of town or had important plans they couldn’t reschedule. You didn’t want to cancel surgery since you had this date lined up for months, but if you didn’t have a ride, you couldn’t get the procedure done. Sighing, you flung your phone across the room and onto the couch.

“Fuck,” you softly whispered, placing your hands on your head in frustration. All of a sudden, your phone began to ring. You looked at the caller ID and answered.

“Shoresy! How goes it?”

“Hey y/n! You wanna hit the barn tomorrow, play a little two on two with the guys?”

You paused. Yeah, you really wanted this surgery, but if you couldn’t get it done right now, you might as well take out your disappointment on the ice.

“It’s a definite maybe. I have surgery scheduled for tomorrow, but no one’s around to drive me to and from the hospital. I’ll cancel it and let you know if I’m up for a skate. How’s that sound?”

There was silence for one, two, three seconds—

“Y/n, what the fuck?”

You were taken aback while he continued. “Why didn’t you ask me? I’ll drive you.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, “thank you Shoresy! That actually would be really great. I just figured you were so busy and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me? We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other out. That’s, like, rule number one of friendship. What time should I be over?”

“6:30 am. Bright and early,” you answered with a big smile.

“Alright. See you then!” The call ended.

You couldn’t believe your luck. Of course Shoresy would pull through, he always did. He was your most dependable friend. He would be the best boyfriend too, but you doubted he saw you that way. You were just someone he liked to play hockey and get drinks with. Nothing more. You could live with that, even though it hurt, because Shoresy was just one of those guys that it was worth just knowing. He was such a bright light in everyone’s lives and you were grateful he liked to be around you too, even as just friends. As you prepped your bedroom for your recovery, putting in extra pillows and blankets to be as comfortable as possible, you noticed the extra pep in your step. You were ready for this surgery and you couldn’t wait to live as your most authentic self.

Beep, beep, beep.

You groaned. Your alarm flashed 6am, signaling it was time to get up and get ready for the big day. You took your shower, put on your sweats, and brushed your teeth. You were nervous and hungry, and neither of those things could be remedied so you sat on your couch until you heard a knock at your door. When you saw Shoresy, your heart fluttered and you weren’t sure if it was from your anxiety surrounding your procedure or the fact that he looks especially handsome in the early hours of the morning.

“You ready to go?” he asked, flashing you his signature missing tooth grin.

You nodded and made your way out to his car. The hospital was only 30 minutes down the road but the ride felt like it was taking forever. Shoresy, for once in his life, kept quiet so as not to bother you in the wee hours of the morning and because it looked like you were gonna puke. He could sense the tension in the car that the soft radio chatter wasn’t helping with so he decided to make light conversation.

“So, y/n, what surgery are you getting done?”

You gasped internally. You never told him! Of course all of your friends knew how you identified, and all, of course, were nothing but accepting, but you never mentioned getting top surgery. Why? You didn’t know. Maybe you were nervous? Of what? People get surgery all the time, this was nothing different.

“Well, actually, I’m getting top surgery,” you told him. Shoresy gave you a quick glance before his eyes went back to the road.

“Like, top surgery?” he asked, using one hand to gesture across his chest.

“Yeah.”

It was silent for a minute.

“Well, shit, y/n, you better heal up fast because me and the boys aren’t gonna take it easy on you on the ice! Just ‘cause you get surgery doesn’t mean we’re not gonna keep slamming into ya.”

You started smiling. “Oh fuck you, Shoresy!”

“Fer what?” he asked, laughing.

The rest of the car ride went well and you were able to relax a bit. Just being around Shoresy helped to calm you down, even when you were in your hospital gown, waiting to get wheeled into the operating room. When the nurse finally came in to wheel you away, your heart starting beating a bit faster and your breathing got a bit heavier. Shoresy must have noticed the changes in your demeanor because he immediately grabbed your hand.

“Y/n. You’ll be alright. I promise. I’ll be right here, waiting for ya.”

You nodded as Shoresy gazed into your eyes. He seemed like he wanted to say more but there was no time.

“Okay, away we go!” said the nurse, and the last thing that was on your mind before the anesthesia knocked you out was Shoresy’s reluctance to let go of your hand.

The lights were bright as you opened your eyes. At first, you were slightly confused as to where you were, but when Shoresy entered into view, you remembered your surgery—oh! Your surgery! That’s why your chest was aching so bad. Even with the compression bandage covering your chest, you were beyond elated with the results. Your chest was finally flat! You broke out into a big, loopy smile and Shoresy matched your energy, giving you one right back.

“Told ya you’d be fine,” he said with a wink. You registered his hand resting on your leg and it felt comforting. There was no one else you’d rather see by your side at this moment. After a few more minutes, you had to get your hospital gown off and get back into normal clothes. Shoresy was quick to volunteer to help you instead of the nurse. Thankfully you were dealing with the after anesthesia sleepiness and slight delirium or else you would’ve been a blushing mess as Shoresy dressed you. He was extremely careful, keeping you seated on the bed to put your zip up hoodie on. When it came time for your sweatpants, he gently put each of your legs into the holes and pulled up the pants to your thighs. Only then did he help you stand for the quickest of seconds to pull your pants up all the way and you were sat back down in an instant. When it came time to get transported to Shoresy’s car to go home, he and the other nurse helped you sit into the wheelchair. The nurses gave your paperwork with instructions for at home care to Shoresy who stored it in the bag with the rest of your belongings. The wheelchair ride to the car and the car ride home were filled with silence, mostly because you were falling asleep on and off the entire time. Stealing a glance or two at his open mouthed, slightly snoring passenger, Shoresy would smile to himself.

How did I get so lucky to know someone like them?

Getting you up to your apartment proved not as difficult as you both thought it would be. Shoresy was extremely strong yet inexplicably gentle, both of which proved perfect for this situation. He steadied you as you walked by keeping his right arm snaked around your waist as his left held a tight grip on your left arm. He felt you lean into him and almost snuggle into his beefy frame. Shoresy was surprised but certainly wasn’t mad at this affection. He’d always appreciated your company and your jokes, and your skills on the ice were amazing. Sometimes, though, he’d prefer to see the fingers you held onto the hockey stick with intertwined with his own and he found himself jealous of the beer glasses that were able to feel your lips before he ever could. He never knew if you felt the same but he just hoped that if you saw how good he could take care of you, maybe you could come to like him as more than a friend one day. Lost in his thoughts, he noticed you two were already at your door. He lead you into your bedroom and had you sit on the edge of your bed while he unloaded your things and organized your medicines. You didn’t need to take any yet but you noticed your wound drain was filling up.

“Hey Shore? I gotta empty this drain. Could you help me up please? I know it’s gross so if you could just help me into the bathroom—“

“No way am I letting you do that on your own. I got it.”

You cringed looking at the mix of blood and fluid that accumulated in the drain poking out of your bandages.

“Dude, it’s really nasty.”

Shoresy scoffed, grabbing the small measuring container to dump the contents of your body in.

“There’s nothing in there that’s grosser than a grown man’s adult tooth landing on your cheek while you’re constructing him a new face punch by punch.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic. Shoresy worked fast to limit your discomfort with the drain moving too much. He was kneeling in front of you as you sat on the edge of your bed and you took the time to study the man in front of you. His backwards cap he always wore sat perched on his head. His nimble fingers worked efficiently with the drain and you appreciated that his nails were actually, surprisingly clean. His long eyelashes were so pretty that you could just stare at them all day, as were his eyes that were currently studying you too.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he questioned you. You didn’t know how to answer.

I’m thinking I’ve never wanted to kiss a man more in my entire life than I do right now.

“I’m just thinking I’m grateful for knowing the most caring person to ever grace this Earth.”

As he stood, he let out a short laugh.

“Of course, y/n, I’m here for you no matter what. Always.”

He didn’t mean for the “always” to slip out, but maybe it was for the best. Maybe that one word could convey all the feelings, the unyielding yearning, he felt for you that he didn’t know if he’d ever be brave enough to say out loud. He quickly turned away, before you could see the blush he sported from his face to the tips of his ears, to record how much liquid was in the drain and dump it into the toilet. When he came back into your room, he noticed you had fallen asleep once more. Shoresy gingerly laid a few blankets over your body, hoping to make you as comfortable as possible. He took note of the time, realizing you needed to take some medicine in an hour. Weighing his options, he could either sit in your family room on your couch, where he could potentially miss your waking up if you needed anything, or he could softly sit next to you on your bed so he was there if you needed something. Naturally, he reasoned sitting next to you would be the best option, for your health and well being, of course (he couldn’t find it within himself to leave you alone right now) (you looked way too cute at that moment for someone who just got out of surgery). After he took up the spot next to you, what happened after that, he wasn’t sure. It’s like he wasn’t in control of his own body; there’s no way he’d have the confidence to do this otherwise. As he saw your chest slowly rise up and down in the state of sleep, he leaned over and gave you the softest kiss on your forehead. He didn’t want to risk waking you so his lips barely ghosted your skin, yet he still broke out in goosebumps over the affection. Normally he wasn’t so shy about people he liked, but this was different. You were different. He saw a future with you, one where you could hit the ice and then come home and have ice cream together. One where he could make you laugh and look forward to hearing that sound come from you every day. He wanted to do your laundry, your taxes, make you dinner, make you smile. He wanted to make you his.

“I love you,” he whispered, the sound barely making a dent in the quiet air. Luckily for him, you weren’t totally asleep just yet. You hoped your faking continued to be convincing as you ever so slightly moved your body in closer to his.

We’re definitely having a good conversation about this when I wake up.

#shoresy x reader #letterkenny x reader #shoresy #shoresy x y/n #letterkenny x y/n #shoresy one shot #letterkenny one shot

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

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WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

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keilemlucent · 4 years

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lavender latte: v

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 6 ||

word count: ~4k

coming to terms now, are we?

warnings: descriptions of medical settings, discussion of surgery and injury but nothing graphic, god fluff, nasty big fluff

——

wow. halfway through y’all. thank you to each and every ONE of you who have given this story a chance. enjoy some fluff and get ready for next week 👀 once again, beta-ed by the wuv @keiqos !!

||||||||||||||||||

Exhaustion had long since clawed a hole in your skull.

It was one of the many forms of malefactum that came from your fucking quirk, damn it to hell. The days following any sort of intense overstimulation episode of yours were always hellish. Constant fatigue, burning migraines, dry eyes, and confusion always waited for you by the time you rolled out whatever pushed you over the edge.

The villain attack was probably the worst episode you’d had, ever.

The entire trip to the hospital had been sort of a nightmare. There were so many people that needed treatment after the attack, so many of them worse off than yourself. You were lucky enough to get into a dark hospital room fairly quickly, allowing some of your symptoms to dull.

You were just coherent and aware enough to deal with everyone you needed to, paperwork and legalities of your visit sorted. You even managed to send a few texts to your parents and work groupchat to confirm that you were safe.

After a myriad of late-night tests and exams, it was confirmed that the next morning, you’d have a procedure to mend your leg.

...

Fixing the internal damage to your leg caused by the tearing of the glass was a fairly quick affair, according to your kind-smiled surgeon.

“I know it seemed abrupt, to do it so quickly,” The surgeon stuffed her hands in the pocket of her scrubs. “But, we’ve flown in extra medical personnel to help deal with injuries from the attack and well, you’re an easy fix.”

You smiled, the best you could, groggy with the anesthetic, “I’m glad it isn’t too bad.”

“Nope! Not at all,” She laughed, far too pleasant for all the chaos just outside your dimly lit hospital room. “We’ll keep you here tonight, and you should be able to go home tomorrow afternoon. You’ll need to keep weight off of that leg for about three weeks. We’ll have a follow-up appointment then, and make sure you’re healing alright. Sound good?”

You nodded, some tension releasing from your chest.

The procedure left you with a heavy plastic boot, clasped up to your knee. Not to mention your body ached with fatigue.

Most of the rest of that day was spent spinning in and out of sleep, only waking for basic checks and a delivery of flowers you received from the teashop’s owners complete with a passive-aggressive reminder that ‘this had nothing to do with us, you can’t sue <3.’

Your constant company was Hawks’s scarlet feather. As you moved through the bends of your quirk and post-surgical recovery, you held onto it like a lifeline. With each stroke of the soft filaments, your heart rate monitor would beep slower and slower towards a relaxed rhythm.

It made you think of him, and how he felt with your quirk activated.

Despite how shitty the circumstances were, really feeling Keigo with your quirk was heavenly. Feeling him in general, physically was a fucking blessing. You spent a lot of time that night and first day at the hospital fantasizing about how the beat of his heart felt like amber drops on your tongue and orange-bound warmth in your chest.

You wanted more of it.

Keigo stayed around to help deal with the mess, for once in his career. It was weird for him to spend the following day after the attack helping out on the scene. It was even weirder for the other Pros around that were aware of his reputation of simply not doing that.

It was out of character for him.

But, then again, Keigo hadn’t ever spent as much time at someplace he enjoyed like the teashop. Hell, the whole street. He’d patrolled plenty of areas for long stretches of time, but he’d never grown attached.

You were, obviously, a big part of that.

Seeing you hurt left him frazzled and fucked, and staying behind to help pick up the mess and provide aid made him feel a hell of a lot better. Sure, it was different, having local Pros look to him for guidance when he had to purely rely on his training from the Commission as opposed to his professional experience. He did well, he knew, especially based on the way the scene calmed even when he simply flew around.

Keigo had the power to bring people ease, even if he struggled with it himself.

The idea made him think back to you, undoubtedly still in pain, but more than likely entirely fine. He ignored the urge to text you anxiously as he was still parsing over the very sweet interaction the two of you had, even if it was in such a bad circumstance.

Your sweetness at the end was his constant reminder that you would be okay.

The implication and Keigo’s knowledge post- ‘the miel incident,’ as he was calling it, was obvious, and god, he wanted to fucking drown in it. The thought of having you so close that he could hear your heartbeat and feel the drum of your voice against your chest made him weak.

He was so fucking weak for you.

It was distracting, as it always was. It seemed fairly unavoidable especially as anxiety chewed at him. The one thing that lulled him was the far off feeling of the feather he had tucked in your hand. It had to be close to you still, the beat of your heart sending him shudders if he focused on it hard enough.

It became too much, thinking of you.

As his feathers swept piles of rubble, he pulled out his phone, the sun beginning to sink in the evening sky.

You had spent most of your recovery time in and out of consciousness, enjoying the time to rest and sleep.

A short buzz from your phone forced you into a half-wakeful state. You reached to the table next to the hospital bed, grappling for your phone.

[birdboy]: hey r u alive,

[birdboy]: how r u feeling

[birdboy]: speak 2 me

You cracked a sleepy smile.

[you]: alive, tired, surgery-ied.

You took a quick snap of your booted, propped up foot.

[you]: getting discharged tomorrow babyyyy

[birdboy]: oh fuck what happened?

[birdboy]: u sure ur good

The feather against your collarbone twitched, filaments waving. You thought little of it.

[you]: i tore some shit in my leg

[you]: and yes, just tired as fuck and want to be home

[you]: hospitals SUCK

[birdboy]: true, true

[birdboy]: would u...

[birdboy]: like a visit perhaps?

[you]: u sure??

[you]: i know ur busy and i dont wanna use up ur freetime

There was a pause in Keigo’s nearly instant responses.

[birdboy]: dove.

Your breath stuttered in your chest. That was newer; you only remembered it vaguely from the . It felt far more intimate than just ‘angel,’ and it made you shiver as you read it.

[birdboy]: busy schedule??

[birdboy]: i’ll make the time angel

[birdboy]: i’d love to come visit u

You couldn’t help the smitten expression that burst across your face.

[you]: and i’d love to see you

You wished you could’ve continued the conversation, but your night nurse knocked to offer you pain medication and sedatives and you couldn’t say no to more rest. Your mind and body needed it.

As quickly as it was administered, you were out again.

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You were exhausted. Still.

When you heard voices just outside of your door, you couldn’t help cracking open your dry eyes. It seemed far too early for them to collect your vitals. The room was still dark, large windows only showing a trace of the dawn’s light stretching from the east.

Your sleep-addled mind stretched to listen:

“Thank you so much for the autograph! My son is such a huge fan of yours.”

“Oh, really! Tell him I say hi! I really adore my fans.”

Giggling.

“Is she a fan?”

“Sort of, more of a friend of mine.”

He... said it again.

A shaft of light sprayed into the room, your quirk firing at the sudden intrusion. You groan, pawing at your eye with your fist, the feather held between your fingers blocking some of the light.

Even with your diminished vision and tired mind, you still caught it when he laughed at your reaction, stepping into the room.

Honey, softness, cream and heat that made your chest thrum like embers.

“H-Hawks?” Your voice was still itchy with sleep.

“That’s me.” His laugh rolled over you as your quirk receded, palms thrumming with the silkenness of his voice, “It’s good to see you, dove.”

“S’nice to see you too,” Your chest thrummed with his words and you couldn’t restrain the smile that spread across your face, “‘Ya know, you woke me up, just now.”

Hawks gave you a little chuckle, moseying his way to a chair nearby the bed and window, “Sorry about that. I had to sneak in here before official visiting hours so I didn’t cause a ‘scene’.”

You snorted.

“You, causing a scene?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him, “Hawks? Never. Not once.”

He stifled a laugh, dragging the thinly-padded chair closer to the bed and leaning back into it, “Glad to see you’re in good spirits, considering you’re still here and all.”

“From what I can tell, it could be a lot worse, especially compared to other people that were there,” The end of your sentence turned sullen, your expression darkening.

Hawks let out a little sigh, “It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure. But, you’re safe, and most folks are safe. Bright side.”

“Bright side.” You repeated, softer, looking up from the plain sheets to meet his gaze.

You took him in, quickly.

He looked a bit worse for wear, the exhaustion from the days before still visible on his features. The dark circles under his eyes almost looked worse, perhaps uncovered and deeper since the attack. His wings weren’t even visible from your angle, plucked too short and sparse to be of much use.

But, Hawks was, undoubtedly, still stunning.

It was almost distracting, how unavoidable mentally eating him up was. You’d felt what he was like during the attack and that had apparently broken some mental dam for you. Holding back just how much you liked him seemed futile, at least mentally.

You would let yourself be honest, at least with yourself, as a treat.

What probably also pushed you over the edge was the fact that he wasn’t in his hero uniform, for once. You’d only ever seen him in his tan and black get up before. Seeing him casually dressed was shocking and very hot.

Hawks wore a simple black long sleeve with a long, wool jacket over it, black jeans, nothing seemingly extravagant except for the nicer looking chunky sneakers he wore and the fat gold watch on his wrist. It was all designer, knowing his paycheck. Without all of his normal regalia, you could better see that his pierced ears carried some light yellow stones that played off his eyes.

His feathery golden waves were messy, falling over his forehead and temples. The curves and angles of his jaw looked accented by the rising dawn light that was just beginning to filter into the room. There was the smallest quirk in his plump lips, but it hardly detracted from how stunning he was.

He was remarkably gorgeous, naturally, and you let yourself think about it freely.

Keigo felt a bit bad, seeing you in your state.

He tried to be subtle, looking you up and down, heart-thumping his chest as the feather in your hand-picked up your own pulse. It had sped up when he entered the room, even more so when you started to beam at him despite your state.

You looked like a bit of a mess, and with anyone else, Keigo might’ve indulged himself in being a little bit of sarcastic shit about it, but he didn’t with you. It didn’t seem right.

Your booted foot was propped up, a hospital gown askew over your collarbones under some thin blankets you were nested underneath. Your dark circles could’ve been worse, but your eyes were shining and alert, all directed on him it made him ache all over in the best way.

The feather twitched in your hand, your gaze darting to it. Heat spread across your cheeks.

“Oh, uh, shit,” You stretched your arm to pass the feather back to him. “Here’s this back. Sorry, I’ve kinda been holding on to it... a lot.”

“It’s alright, that’s why I gave it to you,” Hawks assured you, the feather whisking from your hand on its own and back to the downy stubs that Hawks had left. “Just a little reminder that good ol’ Number Two is looking out for you.”

You hardly needed a reminder. Thoughts of Hawks had been filling your head since it had stopped from swirling from your quirk. The thought of him leaving a bit of him with you only warmed your insides.

“How could I ever forget?” You leaned back into your pillows, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Thank you, Hawks.”

Hawks blinked at you, reaching down to rustle something down by his feet, “For?”

“You know, saving my ass.”

“That’s my job, angel.”

“Still. You thank me every time I make you your drinks, right?” You shrugged at his wide-eyed expression. “Same principle. Except, your life isn’t on the line when I make you lattes.”

“Oh, angel,” Hawks drawled and deflected. “That is a false statement. I rely on those. They’re my lifeblood.”

A little realization dawned on you.

You gave him a sad little smile, rubbing your own knuckles for some semblance of comfort, “It’s gonna be a while until I can provide anything life-giving, then.”

The teashop was destroyed and who knew how long I’d be until they reopened. Not to mention that your leg was post opt and you couldn’t exactly work on it.

Practicality aside, what saddened you most was that Hawks didn’t have much of a reason to see you without the shop.

As much as you had feared it at the beginning of your friendship, you had gotten comfortable with Hawks’s presence in the shop and in your life.

Too comfortable, and now it was biting you in the ass.

Thorns stabbed in your chest.

Keigo noticed your slow-falling expression and frowned, “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing, just, uh...” You shook your head, blinking up at him,

Your voice cut off as your gaze refused to settle on him, Keigo clearly seeing your discomfort.

“Without the teashop, you know...” Then, with that honesty that scared him, you finally met his eyes, gripping the sheets of your hospital bed, “I’m gonna miss seeing you.”

The principle made Keigo’s mind swirl.

You missing him.

His thoughts slipped back to ‘the miel incident’, and your mutual feelings that you very obviously didn’t fucking know about. If you did, he was sure you’d know that he would be missing you a lot without your normal interactions.

This certainly wasn’t the setting to tell you, you were still stuck with an IV and probably somewhat traumatized by the event, even if you seemed in good spirits.

But, he could help assuage your fears. Subtly. Let himself use his honed arts to comfort rather than connive.

“Dove, it’s alright,” He gave the softest smile he could, shreds of real vulnerability in it coaxed out by you without you even being aware of it. “Just because the teashop isn’t around right now doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.”

The stunned expression on your face would’ve been cute if it didn’t make Keigo’s heart stutter painfully in his chest.

“You... You do?” Your voice was so soft, you surprised yourself.

Hawks was a busy, busy man. Why the fuck would he bother with you? There was no cute coffee shop aesthetic in your foreseeable future. Maybe some decent drinks, but you wouldn’t be very mobile. You had some supplies and gear to make teas and some drinks at your apartment, but nothing as expansive as was destroyed at the shop. If it was flirty banter keeping him near, there were certainly other people he could go to for some natural chemistry, right?

He doesn’t need you.

Why the fuck would he bother with you, outside of what you could offer him?

“Dove,” Hawks’s voice shook you from your thoughts. “I’m here right now, aren’t I?”

“Uh,” You stuttered, mind catching up to the very obvious conclusion that, yes, Hawks does like having you around. “I guess, yeah.”

He frowned, leaning back in his chair as one of his smaller feathers whisked to your forehead, patting it a few times, “(Y/N), I like spending time with you. I care about you.”

Oh.

That was a little more vulnerability and truth than either of you expected.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, seeing a hint of unbearable fear before it was wiped away.

You didn’t know it, but it was just you that pushed that fear off Keigo’s face.

He forced his shaking hands to be still, mouth drying after saying words that he wasn’t sure he was ready to say yet. God, they were true, but were they okay? For him, or you?

And then you gave him the gooiest, biggest smile you’d ever graced him with, “I care about you too, Hawks. Thank you.”

It made both of your guts turn to mush.

In a stunned moment of silence, both of your breaths stuck in each of your throats. Neither of you could tear your gazes away from each other.

You both tightened your grip on your respective fabrics, your heart rate monitor beeping faster as you swallowed.

Hawks opened his mouth, inhaling, but he was quickly interrupted by a knock on the door. A head poked in, the same nurse as before.

“Hey, sweetheart, we need to take your vitals quick,” She came in, waving to Hawks gleefully.

Hawks’s softened eyes were gone, you realized. Torn away from the moment and now speaking comfortably with the nurse as she checked what she needed to.

Your hands shook.

Keigo noticed it, too, his own trembling as well.

The idle chat between Hawks and the nurse fell on your ears, though you didn’t process any of it. You were far too busy mentally coming to terms with the fact that Hawks cared about you. And, based on his tone and that familiar (but usually hidden) adoration in his eyes, it was a bit deeper than you expected and knew how to swallow.

You took a slow breath as the nurse left, Hawks waving with a wide smile plastered on his face.

When the door shut once more, there was a lull of silence that settled over the room. More early morning sunlight was beginning to slant into the room, throwing gold over the otherwise drab and lifeless greys and whites of the room.

The intense mood had been thoroughly interrupted by the nurse, but perhaps it was a hidden blessing.

Both of you were terrified, but so deeply yearning. You both were a bit too raw.

Maybe it would be better to let the fear fade, just a bit more.

“Oh, shit, I nearly forgot,” Hawks reached down next to him, pulling out a bag you hadn’t realized he had brought him. He set it on the edge of the bed. “I got you something.”

“Hawks.” You groaned, shaking your head and running your hands down your face. “You need to stop being so nice.”

“Can’t do that, (Y/N). I’ll be as nice as I want,” You could see that his grin was shit-eating through the space between your fingers. “Besides, you haven’t even looked at it yet.”

You took the bag into your lap, noticing the ruffles of tissue paper that puffed from the top.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” You told him, albeit still pulling the paper from the top to reveal a small, wrapped, fluffy object.

Hawks hummed, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees, “You’re right. I didn’t have to. But, I wanted to.”

As carefully as you could, somewhat suspicious, you peeled back to the paper.

Your eyes widened.

It was a plushie, round and soft with a filling that made it feel like a marshmallow in your arms. The design was familiar, a character from one of your favorite cartoons, but you’d never talked about it with Hawks.

“I figured you could use a little pick me up after all this,” Hawks tilted his head and winked. “Did I get the character right?”

Your mouth fell open, blinking, “How did you... know? That I liked this one?”

“The little pins on your apron,” Hawks tapped his chest. “I figured you must be pretty fond of this one, since you had a couple of buttons for them, right?”

You wanted to give you a coherent, thankful statement to Hawks. Really, you did. Instead, you stared down at the doughy, round-eyed plushie. Maybe a few overwhelmed tears gathered in your eyes, which you promptly sucked down and shook your head.

“Thank you, really,” You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand. “But, fuck, Hawks—”

For a moment, Keigo thought you were upset with him. Based on the slight contorting of your face, and the wetness in your eyes, his heart seized up. His fingers twitched from where they cupped his chin, wanting to shoot out and comfort you somehow.

However, Keigo stayed put as you turned back towards him, plushie carefully gathered in your arms and hugged snugly and perfectly to your chest.

“You gotta stop being so fucking nice,” You sighed, pressing your face into the soft fabric of the gift. Your words were muffled, but Keigo heard each one perfectly. “I’m gonna start getting ideas, you know.”

Sure, Keigo could’ve pushed some of your buttons and fluffed himself up for some fun, flirty banter that would be undoubtedly lovely, but it wasn’t the time. You’d had a very long and tiring few days, and Keigo could see and imagine that you were in all sorts of disrepair.

Keigo stood slowly, moving just next to your bed where you turned your head upwards to look at him. Carefully, he placed a worn hand on your shoulder, feeling the small bit of bare skin exposed by the thin gown.

“Don’t worry about that right now, dove, okay?” Keigo let his voice go soft, quiet, and gentle as he could make it. Without thinking, he squeezed your shoulder, rubbing his thumb just under your collarbone.

It was too much, maybe. But neither of you would complain.

Keigo could see and feel the way you relaxed, eyes going half-lidded and leaning into his touch, even putting the slightest amount of your weight into it.

It was probably the most precious and sweet gesture he’d ever experienced.

He made it his goal to make more like it.

(Anything to see you so instantly mushy.)

“I saw a coffee machine when I was coming in,” Hawks voice was a hum, hand on your shoulder not moving. You didn’t want it to. The heat pressing against your skin made you melt. “Want me to grab us some? I know I need it.”

You managed to giggle, craning your neck to fully look up at Hawks. You swore you could see the slightest quiver in his bottom lip.

“I’d love some.”

“You sure you can stomach shitty coffee?” The thumb rubbed over your collarbone, Keigo’s pretty eyes searching your face, portraying far more than your words. “That’s my territory, angel.”

“I guess I’ll stoop to your taste,” You gave him a smirk like sweet lightning and tentatively, carefully, reached your hand up to wrap around his own, squeezing. “I take my coffee black.”

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taglist: @thepandapopo @sinclairsamess

#lavender latte #salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #hawks fluff #hawks fanfiction #this is a transition chapter shhh y'all are getting spoiled the next few chapters #enjoy a lil preview of the sweetness :'^)#hawks mha #takami keigo

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ofaprilflowers · 3 years

Photo

- part 2: home? -

warnings: descriptions of injuries, not too detailed.

tags: shout out to my first-ever requested tags, @sista7-7 @softieus and @marrambles yay! Thank you for reading and sorry for the late update TT. Hope you guys enjoy :)

disclaimers: I am not a medical professional, this is all part of my imagination and totally made-up therefore is in no way accurate. If you find any part I could improve on, do tell. I would appreciate the feedback. Other than that, enjoy! <3

previous/next

It took another week for me to finally be discharged. A week of rehabilitation and physiotherapy (which Dr. Hwang said would be continued after my discharge TT). I had lost strength in my extremities and also my sense of balance. This, I found out after almost falling down right on my face when I attempted to climb out of bed for the first time. Almost, well because thankfully, he was there.

My parents had arrived the night I woke up. My mother immediately cupping my face, tears brimming in her eyes while my father just took my hand in his and smiled every time I looked his way.

It felt surreal, honestly. My family and I were close. But we were not exactly the type to be crying and holding each other, or professing our love for each other. We were the laugh-at-each-other’s-life-problems-cuz-I-had-it-worse-than-you type of family. Then again, for me it felt like I was waking up from a long nap, while for them, they didn’t know whether I would make it or not so, fair enough.

Turns out, the accident was pretty bad. My head had to be stitched up and so now there was a nasty gash above my left eye (it was definitely gonna scar but let’s not think about that right now). My arms where full of cuts and scrapes from the broken windshield. My legs and chest, badly bruised. Dr. Hwang said they had healed fairly well in the past two weeks, but I still cringed at how ugly they looked every time I caught a glimpse. He also mentioned that I was lucky not to have sustained any other serious injuries other than my head trauma. I was grateful of course, but losing my memory was deleterious enough.

I woke up every morning feeling confused as to why the heck I was at a hospital and it took a few groggy minutes to remember. Sometimes it took seeing Jaehyun- either curled up asleep on the armchair or standing next to the window with a cup of coffee in hand- for me to come crashing back into reality.

I learnt through my mother- who had attempted to fit the past 2 weeks of my unconsciousness along with the last 6 years into a 2 day crash-course- that Jaehyun was the only one who stayed at the hospital every day and night. My mother had stayed the first week, as my condition stabilised however, she opted to visiting daily. That also depended on whether my father was available to drive her 45 minutes to the hospital from home. You see, my parents were rational people, but I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of hurt. I mean I was laying unconscious on a hospital bed yet there were still other important stuff to be handled. Well, as they say, life goes on, right? Kind of made me think if I had just hallucinated the tears brimming in her eyes the other day.

While my mother would babble on about looking on the bright side and starting my life again, Jaehyun’s presence was like having a burden be lifted. I know I’ve lived most of our “acquaintence-ship” hating him, but I made a mental note to properly thank him for this in particular. On every occasion that my head felt like it was about to burst from the overwhelming information my mother was flooding me with, he’d interject, naturally bringing her focus to something other than trying to piece me back together. Often times he’d ask her to join him for a cup of coffee, or show her things he was currently working on. I’d close my eyes then and pretend to fall asleep.

“So, you’re saying, I should continue my life ‘as normal as possible’. Meaning?” We (the doctor and I) were currently in his office. By tomorrow morning I was finally leaving. Goodbye to the sanitary, boring hospital, hello to......well, life?

The doctor had explained all the procedures and follow-up appointments that were to come. Both to Jaehyun and I. Then, we talked about going home and that’s when I realised, home had changed. I don’t know how we had avoided addressing it, or maybe I was the only one in denial of it. I mean throughout the week after regaining consciousness, although Jaehyun was there, we barely talked. Mostly because I became a selective mute, and he, well I guess he was respecting my space?

Dr. Hwang had noticed the awkward silence that had passed after he mentioned about going home and quickly changed the subject, calling in a nurse to guide Jaehyun in signing my discharge papers or something. After he left, the doctor didn’t hesitate in putting on what I call his “uncle-face”.

“As normal as possible, meaning that it’s better if you return to your daily routines prior to the accident,” he explained for the nth time.

I fidgeted in my seat. “But, wouldn’t that cause me more distress? It’s a life a barely know.” “Astrid,” he began, straightening his back. “I understand how hard it my be for you to wrap you head around all this. 6 years is a lot. But it is your life. Your experiences and memories throughout that period were real, and you deserve to remember them. You need to give your life a chance.”

Well, damn. He had a point. He should’ve been a therapist instead.

“And, what if my memories don’t come back?” I prodded.

“Well then, at least maybe you’ll learn more about yourself.” Okay, then. Here we go, Astrid.

We live in a loft?!?!

Pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head but wow.

Eyes wandering around the space, I tried to take in everything at once. This was certainly NOT what I had expected. This can’t be real right? I must absolutely be dreaming.

“Welcome...home?” Jaehyun said.

My head snapped in his direction, mouth agape. He smiled sheepishly, his infamous dimples popping out, his hands tucked into his jean pockets, his shoulders lifted briefly. He looked like a child, shyly presenting to the world his greatest creation. I almost smiled. Almost.

“You like it?” he asked.

I scoffed. “For real?”

My eyes turned back to the space he had referred to as home. Well, it didn’t feel like home (yet. Remember Astrid we’re giving this a chance), but yes, I absolutely love it!

I took in my surroundings again and this time, couldn’t help the smile that crept up my cheeks.

The space was gorgeous. It was big, but not huge. It was small, but not tiny. It was spacious enough to have everything and more. There was an L-shaped sofa that could probably fit 5 or maybe even 7 people if squeezed in together. There were even 2 more smaller ones in front of it. Perfect for a small gathering. Opposite the living room was a kitchen, with a small kitchen island. God, I’ve always dreamed of having an island. There was another floor and at the stairs leading up to it were ceiling-high windows with a bumped-out seat, all set with pillows on one end and potted plants on the other. It looked like the perfect spot to read or stargaze at night. I walked into the living room, the brick walls were covered in framed movie posters and artwork, some smaller frames containing pictures which I guessed were probably a collection of memories.

I stepped closer and caught a glimpse of some familiar faces in unfamiliar settings. One photo caught my eye. It was a photo I remember, taken earlier this ye- I mean well, early 2017, right after graduation. I was sandwiched between Jungwoo and Ten, holding up a peace sign to the camera. Jaehyun on Jungwoo’s other side, hand around the latter’s shoulders. Others in the picture smiling widely, so many poses, so many expressions. Literally, it felt like yesterday.

“You remember that?” Jaehyun probed.

I smiled. “Yeah, just a couple weeks before Taeil’s birthday bash, right?”

Then, something flickered in my mind. Of Jaehyun, smirking at a table with his friends, of them exchanging words and laughter, of me hearing something I probably shouldn’t have. Jaehyun had many circles of friends, being the typical extroverted, super-friendly campus sweetheart. This circle was one I wasn’t quite familiar with, least to say I didn’t really like them. I felt my cheeks heat up as my blood boiled at the thought of that memory.

“You wanna see upstairs?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back into reality. I turned to look at him. He was standing right next to me, looking almost exactly the same as the Jaehyun I knew. The Jaehyun that I couldn’t stand being in the same room with. The Jaehyun that always had a competitive, mischievous glint in his eye. The Jaehyun that would take every chance he got to argue with everything I said. The Jaehyun that made me feel like I had to defend everything I had.

There was a slight difference, though. The competitive, mischievous glint was somehow...softer. It made me confused, because I was angry, but looking at him now, I don’t know who to be angrier at. Me, or him?

“Ummm, I think, I just- I just wanna lie down,” I tore my eyes away from him and took a step back, putting just a little more distance between him and I.

I saw his fists clench and unclench a bit at his sides. A moment passed until he said, “Yeah. Sure,” walking back towards the doors he picked up my hospital bag and gestured towards a room behind him.

“This is actually, um, our bedroom, but don’t worry, I’ve moved most of my stuff upstairs so this space is all yours,” dropping the bags on the bed, he stepped aside to allow me in. It was a beautiful room, with slanted windows, decorated with some more plants.

“So, feel free to look around, get used to the place and all. Oh yeah, um, this is the bathroom,” he opened a door on the left of the room, then gestured toward a closet in front of the bed, “Your pyjamas are in the top drawer and, uh, well, um, everything else is-”

“I’ll take a look,” I smiled at him briefly.

His eyes landed on mine for a moment, then quickly looked away.

“Yeah, okay, so um, I’ll be outside, if you need anything just, um,” his hands, one scratching at the back of his neck, the other gesturing undecidedly, “yeah.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied. He stood there for a second, then turned to leave the room.

“Jeahyun?”

“Hmm?” he snapped his head towards me, eyebrows lifted in question.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

I saw a bit of tension leave his body. “You don’t need to thank me, Astrid,” he replied softly. “This is- this is your home too.” With a tight-lipped smile, he closed the door behind him.

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 17

Scully meets the Mufon women, who clue her into their shared fate; Mulder accompanies Scully to the OB-GYN after her car breaks down; A mysterious voicemail appears on Scully's machine.

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The murder of Mulder’s father--and attempted murders of the agents themselves--went the way of many X-Files, becoming another everlasting thorn in their sides. Skinner wasn’t happy with them, but he pitied them, so it was a two-week paper pusher assignment and then they were back at it. Lightning strikes, allusions to immortality from a mortal man, too many prisons and too much death; the calendar advanced, time marched on, and they saw it all but it couldn’t touch them. Wouldn’t, more like. Emotionally stunted, that’s what they are. Holding onto too much pain to process any.

And then comes Mulder’s $29.95 tape and its path to Allentown; a Japanese diplomat, a dead man, and a list of Mufon members wait in its wake. All of which lead Scully to Betsy Hagopian’s doorstep.

These women--whom she has never seen before, nor could not pick from any crowd--know her. They swear. She is one of them, they say, as if that’s supposed to snap everything into perspective. As if the semblance of belonging somewhere will make her spill her guts. But no; she wants to be nothing but herself, and sometimes not even that.

Then there are dozens of cars outside and women surround her, speaking of a place she didn’t know she knew until they said it. A blank slate flashes in her mind; an echo from some past life. She doesn’t believe in reincarnation, so how can that be?

Then the women--these strange women--speak of men & mysterious tests, and a drill sears Scully’s brain, and she’s coming apart, and is this annihilation or healing?

These images--she can hardly call them memories--expand until she’s living inside them. She is doubled, the victim and the spectator. She sees herself on a medical table, a tube spiraling from her belly button. It’s nonsensical, there’s no procedure of the sort. And then, before her unblinking eyes, her stomach grows. Inflated like a balloon. Her warped form...it looks pregnant, and her old fear comes back as a bitter taste in her mouth. Surely this is something seen in a dream, impossible to be reflected in any reality.

The rattle of metal pulls her back to the present. Every woman standing before her holds a capsule containing a microchip, barely perceptible to the eye. Marked...they have been marked. She has too, they say. They have all the scar, and it’s already been established that she is one of them.

Scully’s swept up by the crowd and taken to Betsy Hagopian at Allentown Medical Center. She’s unsure at this point whether she’s investigating the murder case or some vastly larger conspiracy. Or if those are even distinguishable.

She watches as the nurse slides Betsy into the MRI machine, wonders how Betsy feels about them being there as she disappears from view. Scully once thought of making oncology her specialty, back when she was bright-eyed and believed she could save the world. That path would have been paved with pain, sure, but there would be victory, and above all, hope. Her current job fails to put her in such close contact with miracles.

We’re all dying because of what they do to us, Penny Northern says. And how ironic it is, Scully thinks. She and Mulder want the truth--the proof--of some atrocity greater than themselves, and they may have it...once she’s packed into a coffin. How’s that saying go? Be careful what you wish for…

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The scar at the base of her neck had never stood out to Scully. She can’t see it, and her hair covers it anyway. She had felt it in the shower once, shortly after her return, but she wrote it off as a bug bite. No one had ever commented on it until Penny Northern and the Mufon women; not Missy, not Mulder, not her mother…

Missy had noticed it during one of their face-mask nights in the weeks after the return, but she chose not to say anything, figuring it wasn’t worth adding to her sister’s worry. If she had seen it again recently--known that it hadn’t gone away--she would have said something.

Mulder...well, he never noticed it, and holy shit, he would have given anything for a situation where he could have. Scully never wears her hair up, he’ll blame it on that though it's fruitless. Really, it’s on him. He has a mental map of the places he’s touched her--and the places he won’t. Her neck is on neither one. He hasn’t gotten there yet.

Margaret Scully never saw it, and frankly, she would have thought it was something inappropriate to mention and wished her daughter had worn a turtleneck that day. What else can be said about that?

Thus, as autumn breaks over Washington, the agents crowd into a Bureau lab with Pendrell (or Agent Nerd, as Mulder prefers to call him) to address the intruder put into Scully’s body. Scully’s calm, cool, and collected, but Mulder winces as Pendrell’s tweezers pierce her skin. He’s never had the guts (nor the patience) for the medical profession.

“Yep, I’ve got something,” Pendrell remarks, dropping it into a petri dish. Mulder inches closer to get a good look at the object, and sure enough, it’s a microchip. He’s met with the urge to pocket it and run so that his partner would never have to see it.

Instead, Pendrell presents the dish to Scully. “It looks like a computer chip to me,” he tells her. “Something manufactured.”

Scully squeezes the object between her thumb and forefinger. She looks to Mulder. “This must be what made the metal detector go off in Santa Fe.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I remember.” The handsy men at airport security still make his blood boil.

As Scully’s eyes meet Pendrell’s, he feels like he’s staring directly into a spotlight. And he’s not used to having the spotlight on him. “So it’s man-made, you believe?” she asks, as in need of an answer from him as she ever will be.

He blushes. “Well, I don’t know of manufacturing plants on any other planet, but it does look pretty technologically advanced.” He takes the dish over to a microscope and peers through. “I can’t say I’ve seen something of this complexity before.”

Pendrell moves aside so Scully can take a look. She’s not accustomed to using this sort of magnification for anything other than microbes, but the intricacy of the wiring speaks for itself. Loops upon loops upon loops of electric current, all contained in a space smaller than a pea.

She looks up. “It’s like it was storing something…” The idea of her thoughts being catalogued by some malevolent stranger is too terrifying to voice. Both men’s mind’s land on it without any prompting.

Mulder lays a hand on the small of her back and steers her away from the microscope. “We’ll get this all taken care of, okay?” he murmurs. “Pendrell will pinpoint the manufacturer, then we can track them down and help Betsy Hagopian and all those women.” He intentionally leaves out mention of Scully herself. She hates being helpless, he won’t frame her as such.

“Okay,” she squeaks out, and Mulder feels her shiver beneath her buttoned blazer.

Having received his command from Agent Mulder, Pendrell watches him usher Agent Scully out of the lab with complete control over the situation. It’s as if Agent Mulder knows what he’s doing, comforting Agent Scully with such composure. And right in front of Pendrell, too! Pendrell kicks himself for...well, being himself.

-------------------------

At ten to four, Scully grabs her purse and unclips her key ring as quietly as possible. Mulder’s in the midst of typing up a report about the Japanese diplomat who sold him the $29.95 tape, and she’d hate to ruin his flow. How alarmed Skinner would be if a Fox Mulder field report didn’t read like a Whitman poem! He’d probably assume the bounty hunter got to his agent.

She straightens her blazer and swings the purse over her shoulder. No need for a coat yet, her usual work attire combats the mid-October chill just fine. As she edges toward the door, the guilt of leaving Mulder without a goodbye stops her in her tracks. He knows about her appointment--knows she has to leave early--but still...it feels wrong to walk out without a word.

Hand against the doorframe, Scully tosses her hair over her shoulder. Her partner types at his desk with the ferocity of a teenage boy playing a video game. He even looks like one, with those wiry glasses. She can’t help but smile...these are the ordinary moments she will miss one day.

Setting her lips in a line, she pipes up--”I’ve gotta go, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s instantly snapped from his trance. “Whoa whoa whoa.” He lays his glasses beside the computer, rubs the red mark on his nose. “Let me walk you down.”

“That’s not necessary,” Scully assures, one kitten heel out the door. “I can navigate the parking garage on my own.”

Mulder pops up from his chair, rounds his desk. “Well, the parking garage, yeah. But haven’t you heard that the Hoover Building is unaccustomed to beautiful women roaming its halls? Who knows what might happen if I send you up there by yourself.”

Scully gives him the unamused smirk he’s fishing for, tries to ignore the way his sleeves cuff over his elbow. “I only have to go through the lobby. I think I can hold any admirers off for those twenty steps.”

“You’re right, I should have faith in you.” He ruffles a hand through his hair. “At least let me escort you to the elevator.”

“If you must.” Scully turns sideways.

He slides past her, winking as he does. It’s infuriating, really, how smooth he can be when he wants to.

Scully follows him down the hallway, wondering if she’s finally grown into the giddy teenager her mother feared she would be. He hits the up button for her, then clasps his hands together--the only time he’s ever been the epitome of patience.

“I hate to pull you away from your next masterpiece for Skinner,” Scully teases, trying to break his gentlemanly bit.

“Oh, an artist knows no timetable,” he responds, barely taking his eyes off the elevator door. He taps his foot...they always joke that the FBI takes an elevator tax out of their paychecks for making it go all the way to the basement.

Scully looks at the floor. A moment ago, she felt like the object of Mulder’s affections. Now, she’s shut out again.

At the sound of the doors gliding open, she steps in. No need to wait for passengers to disembark; nobody comes down here. She hits the first floor button, offers Mulder a weak smile. “See you--”

He sticks his hand out as the doors begin to close and ducks into the space, taking his place beside her. She should have known...his goofy grin confirms that he’s been planning this all along. They begin their brief ascent to the next floor.

“You know, I’m having deja vu, but I’m gonna say this anyway,” Scully starts. “You’re crazy, Mulder.”

“And I’m sure I’ve said this before Scully, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again--thank you,” he replies.

Scully rolls her eyes, but god, this is much more fun than being alone. The elevator banks on the landing, and she looks to her partner as the doors open onto the lobby. “Did you lose your faith in me, or did you never have it in the first place?” she asks, taking extra long strides to keep up with him as they make their way toward the parking garage.

“What, about the whole holding off your admirers thing?”

Scully nods.

“I figured back-up wouldn’t hurt.” He slips his hands in his pockets, giving himself an air of pretension. As Scully watches him, she gets the notion that it’s all carefully calculated. It makes her feel both powerful and annoyed. She is the damsel, and he is framing himself as prince charming, though she is not in distress.

They make it to the parking garage and take another elevator up to Scully’s level. “Skinner’s gonna want that report before you leave tonight, you know,” Scully tells him, surprised that he has followed this far.

“I’ll burn the midnight oil if I have to,” he replies casually. And she can’t argue with that, cause she knows he will.

While he looks for her car, she takes a long glance at his face. He spies her sedan, and they set off in that direction.

“You don’t have to baby me,” she reminds him, almost apologetic. “I made it through med school and Quantico. If anyone is capable of--”

“It’s not about whether you’re capable, Scully. You are. But you should never have had to go through all that in the first place. It’s not fair, what you’ve dealt with.”

“Life’s not--”

“--fair. Yeah, I know, that’s why I don’t believe in God,” Mulder deadpans.

Scully gives him the infamous look. He shrugs. “It’s the truth!”

They make it to her car, and Scully lays a hand on the driver’s door. “Alright, Mulder. It looks like we’ve both learned something about each other. Very productive conversation.”

“Good thing I came all the way down here, huh.” He flashes a smile that would disarm a scorpion. Scully feels it in her core. She tightens her grip on the door, pulling it open.

“Bye, Mulder,” she prods, sliding into the driver’s seat.

He salutes her. “Bye-bye.”

He stays at the front of her parking spot as she cranks--or rather, tries to crank--her car. The engine gurgles at her in protest. One twist, two twists, three twists, nothing. She pulls the key out of the ignition and opens the door.

“It won’t start...battery’s dead, I think.”

Mulder leans against her door. “Let me try.”

Scully shuffles herself into the passenger’s seat and he settles in, finding himself squished against the steering wheel with her seat settings. He laughs and jams the key into place. The engine won’t give under his hand either.

He rests his elbow on the console and stares at his partner. Her eyes darken. “I don’t have jumper cables, do you?”

“I’m not a jumper cable man, no,” he mutters.

Scully knocks her head against the back of her seat, covers her face with her hands. “My appointment’s at 4:30. I got the latest one of the day…”

“Okay, okay, no problem.” Mulder taps her shoulder. “I’ll take you.”

She uncovers her face. “But what about the report…?”

“You really think Skinner’s gonna be surprised by another late report?”

She bites her lip. “Fine, fine. It’s off 6th Street, I’ll tell you how to get there.”

“And we can pick up jumper cables on the way back,” Mulder adds.

“Perfect.”

They hop out of the car and head for Mulder’s. Scully watches him out of the corner of her eye--he’s striding along, completely unbothered by this inconvenience. She is struck with the notion that he is a better person than her in some crucial ways.

“Do you have your keys?” she pipes up, always bringing reality into the picture.

He taps his pocket. “Right here.”

“You’re saving my ass, Mulder--thank you.”

“I was the ass hero of Oxford. I’m glad to be of service.”

Scully shakes her head, her smile eclipsing a laugh. “Please don’t ever tell me the story behind that, ” she giggles.

“Your loss.”

And as she looks over at him in the dingy parking garage, she knows that this is exactly where she’s meant to be.

------------------------------

He wasn’t planning to go in with her--he expected that she’d make a fuss about it if he asked, and it wasn’t his business anyway. He’s surprised, then, when he pulls into a spot at the clinic and she raises an eyebrow when he doesn't turn the engine off.

“Are you coming?” she asks, one leg sticking out of the car.

“Y-you want me to go with you?” he stutters.

Scully shrinks back. “Were you planning on going back to the office? I’m not sure how long the appointment will take, but I hate to make you drive all over the place.”

“No, I was just gonna chill in here. I thought you wouldn’t want me…”

“Oh.” Scully’s out of the car now, her purse swung over her shoulder. “Well, it’s just an ultrasound, so you can come if you want. I bet you’ve never been to an OB-GYN before…”

Mulder shakes his head. “Never had the pleasure. You know I’m all for new experiences, though.”

“Come on, then.” She slams the door closed and starts walking toward the building, playing hard to get in her own little way.

Mulder cuts the engine, locks up the car, and jogs after her. Not a usual occurrence, but he likes the role-reversal.

“So is there anything I should know,” he pants as he catches up with her, “before I walk in? Is there some kind of universal girl code that governs these places?”

“The only naked women you’re about to see are in anatomical diagrams, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“Oh, so it’s not a communal kinda thing?”

“Jesus, Mulder. That’s a male fantasy if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Hey, men have urinals and locker rooms, it’s only fair that women have some arena for comparison too,” he attests.

Continuing the role-reversal, Scully holds the door for him. “Clearly, we have different priorities,” she says as he strides through. He chuckles at her as he enters, feeling no insecurity about standing out. He’s not the lone man in the waiting room, but he is the only one without a visibly pregnant wife.

He looks around while Scully checks in. The room, he feels, is misleadingly similar to any other doctor’s office. Daytime housewife fodder on TV, issues of magazines that are barely from this decade, and posters preaching about the flu shot...some unsuspecting man might walk in here because he stubbed his toe and walk out with images in his brain that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.

He takes a seat at the far edge of the room, Scully joining him a moment later with a clipboard.

He points at the entry to the back--“I feel like they should have a sign on that door that says ‘beware: health class flashbacks ahead. And not the good ones.’”

“If you’re a woman, it’s no flashback,” she tells him, focused on filling out the forms. “It’s just what you deal with everyday.”

“Okay, but imagine men had to go to a place like this, and you had to go back there.”

She looks up. “Mulder, you know I do autopsies on dead bodies, right?” Then, with a smirk--”Besides, I’ve never known you to be squeamish about naked women.”

“Right, but this is like...I’m used to looking at the completed painting, and now I’m seeing the paint-by-number. Not so pretty.”

“Maybe you should go sit in the car…” Scully says with a hint of a tease.

“I digress.” He glances absentmindedly at what she’s writing, then looks away.

Scully notices and meets his eye. “You know what I’m here for, right?”

Without intending to, he read it off her paper. “Follicle ultrasound?”

“Yes, but do you know why? ”

Mulder holds his mouth open like he’ll catch an answer that way. “Uh…” he starts, classic caught-off guard college student.

Scully jots the last marks on her forms. “To check my egg reserve and see if anything’s changed since the last time. To see if there’s any possibility of me having a biological child, essentially.”

“Huh,” Mulder hums dumbly. Way to make an asshole of himself, cracking jokes at a time like this. He wishes it were socially acceptable to walk around with tape over your mouth.

“I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t realize the situation was so dire.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

It’s funny she says that, because at that exact moment Mulder is thinking about how it is his fault, and where’s the nearest bridge? He realizes then, too, that maybe she wants him there so she’s not alone for whatever the results say, and boy, this is more than he bargained for when he offered to drive her.

He turns to her, his glance far shyer than usual. “So this is the follow-up to your first ultrasound?”

Scully nods. “It’s been almost a year.”

“But you…” he tries to arrange the words in as courteous a manner as possible. “Are you still premenopausal?”

Scully crosses one leg over the other. She’s pleasantly surprised that he cares about this. “No, I’m on birth control to regulate my cycles. But that doesn’t matter if I don’t have enough eggs left for potential fertilization. Fertility and menstruation are not necessarily linked.”

“But there’s an upside to that, right? Aren’t there health risks with early menopause?”

“Yep.”

Mulder’s not sure whether she’s answering his first question or his second one. He lets it be, and good thing, because a nurse calls Scully’s name moments later. He follows her into the back like an eager to please puppy, playing it cool until the nurse pipes up.

“Mr. & Mrs. Scully, how are you?”

“Not married ,” Scully clarifies, amused.

“Oh,” the nurse takes a stray glance at her clipboard. “I’m sorry.” She gestures toward Mulder. “You are…?”

“Fox Mulder. I’m her partner.”

“Oh, okay. I see. Gender-neutral language, very inclusive.”

“He’s my FBI partner,” Scully grumbles, giving Mulder a punch in the bicep for his purposeful vagueness. “I work at the Bureau.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” The nurse waves them into an exam room then closes the door behind herself. As she reads over Scully’s chart, Mulder’s presence makes less and less sense to her, and she addresses her patient with pitched confusion in her voice.

“So you are here for a follow-up antral follicle count...?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The nurse reads from the chart. “Your first one was roughly eleven months ago and indicated low fertility. Five follicles were counted.”

Scully nods.

“But since then, you’ve started hormonal birth control and now have stable menstrual cycles, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The nurse makes note of this, then looks to Scully. “If you could come with me for a moment, we’re gonna get your weight, and then Dr. Zapolsky will be right in for the ultrasound.”

Alone in the strange room, Mulder’s met with fascination, not fear. He’s never seen an exam chair with stirrups in real life, and it makes him chuckle, reminiscent of birth scenes in slapstick comedies. On the counter is a 3D model of the uterus, which is pretty cool if he’s being honest. Remove the labels and it’s a modern art piece...and he means that with all due respect. His reproductive system would not make a nice decoration, that’s for sure.

He’s reading a poster about each trimester of pregnancy when Scully and the nurse come back in. Did you know that babies can be frightened by loud noises while they’re still in the womb? he wants to ask, but Scully knows everything, so she probably already knows that.

Scully settles into the exam chair as best she can. She locks eyes with Mulder, and he winks at her--again. It puts a genuine smile on her face, which has never happened in this room. The nurse exits quietly, but they are still there, and so is the smile.

They don’t speak at first. Silence is good when it’s comfortable, they have learned, and it’s always comfortable for them. Until Mulder begins to worry that Scully’s head might be spinning with dark thoughts, and he can’t have that. He thumbs toward the poster. “Did you know that loud noises can frighten babies through the womb?”

Scully’s gaze falls upon him, warm and light. “I’ve always thought that was just an old wife’s tale. I never saw it demonstrated during my obstetrics rotation.”

“Well, it’s on the poster. It’s gotta be true,” he wisecracks.

The door opens, and the majestic Dr. Zapolsky saunters in.

“Let’s ask Dr. Zapolsky,” Scully suggests.

“What’s that?” The doctor rolls the ultrasound machine to the center of the room.

“We were wondering if it’s true that babies in the womb can spook at loud noises,” Scully explains.

“It’s on the poster,” Mulder adds.

“Oh! Yes! But not until around 28 weeks.” Dr. Zapolsky sits down on her stool. “You never saw that during your rotations?”

Scully shakes her head.

“It presents as a kick, and as long as the exposure to the noise is not continuous, it’s harmless.”

“Good to know...I guess,” Scully finishes, wondering why Mulder fixated on that of all things.

Dr. Zapolsky scoots toward her patient. “How are you doing, Dana?”

Scully musters a smile. “I’m okay. Much better than I was last year at this time.”

“And who is your guest…?” she asks, swerving toward Mulder.

“Mulder, my partner at the Bureau. My car went dead, so he had to drive me.”

“Ah! Hello Mulder.”

Mulder nods. “Nice to meet you.”

“I see you’ve gained some weight since your last visit,” Dr. Zapolsky tells Scully. “That’s a good thing--fueling your body allows it to put energy toward ovarian function.”

Scully tries to accept this as a compliment, though she’s been conditioned not to view it as one.

The doctor continues. “And you’re doing well on your birth control? Any problems with it?”

“Nope, everything’s working out.”

“Wonderful.” Zapolsky clasps her hands together. “Looks like we’re all set for the ultrasound. Go ahead and lie back.”

Scully does so.

“I’ll need you to pull your waistband and underwear down. Let me get you a sheet for cover.” She slides over to the cabinets and pulls out a disposable blue blanket, which she drapes over Scully’s bent knees.

Mulder turns his head away as Scully shimmies off her skirt of choice--black, pencil, from the clearance rack at J. Crew, per usual. Not that he’d be able to see anything since she already has cover, but he’s not risking any disrespect. Scully’s not paying attention to him, and it’s a testament to the trust they have developed.

Dr. Zapolsky grabs the ultrasound wand and takes it under the sheet, using the image on the monitor to guide it into place. “Everything feel alright?” she asks Scully, who nods.

The three occupants focus intently on the screen; two of them have a clear sense of what they’re looking for, and one has no idea. A few circles appear on the monitor, narrowly standing out from the background.

“There they are, right?” Scully inquires with tension in her voice.

Dr. Zapolsky nods. “Those are your follicles. What do you notice?”

Scully’s eyes search the screen. “There’s not many.”

“I’m afraid not. Six. One more than last time, but not the improvement you would need.” Dr. Zapolsky frowns. “Two low antral follicle counts qualifies you for a diagnosis of primary ovarian insufficiency. There’s no clear treatment plan, it simply functions as a label for your condition.”

Scully sits with this numbness as her doctor removes the ultrasound wand and cleans up. She wants to look at Mulder, read his face, but he’s over her shoulder and she can’t bend that way just yet. She takes a breath and pulls her skirt back on.

“So there’s no hope, then?” Her voice shakes. “Of carrying a child with one of my own eggs?”

The doctor finishes washing her hands and turns back toward her patient. “There’s a five to ten percent conception rate for women with POI. If you’re dead-set on it, IVF using an egg donor is your best option. Personally, I don’t recommend it at those odds. It’s very expensive and can take quite a physical toll.” She pats her patient’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Dana.”

With tears threatening to break her composure, Scully cranes her neck toward Mulder. He’s her escape hatch, but he’s not doing much better. His hands are squeezed into fists, his eyes dark. “I’m sorry, Scully,” he murmurs. “You don’t deserve this.”

And even if he’s right it doesn’t make any difference, because this is what she’s gotten, and this is what she must deal with. Gravity’s full brunt bears down on her body and spirit, and she wonders once again if God intends her for heaven or for hell.

-------------------------

The sun is sinking below the horizon by the time Scully sets her keys on her front table. If she wasn’t exhausted before, she is after buying jumper cables and using Mulder’s car to start hers. She hears clanging pots and pans and can only hope it’s her sister home from the lunch shift.

Forcing her tired body into the kitchen, Scully finds Melissa at the stove. The smell of marinara sauce wafts through the air.

Missy looks away from the boiling pasta she’s stirring. “Hello jellybean!” Neither one of them knows where the new nickname came from, but neither one is against it either.

“Hey Missy,” Scully says as she plops into a dining chair. She slides off her heels and stretches her toes.

“How was your day?”

“Alright,” Scully sighs. “Paperwork and then my ultrasound appointment, but my battery died so Mulder had to take me.”

“Oh my goodness!” Missy turns the heat down on the stove and strides over to her sister. “I forgot that was today...how was it?”

Scully looks up through her lashes. “Not good, Missy.”

“No?” Missy slides into the adjacent chair. “Were your counts still low?”

Scully nods, picks a piece of lint off her skirt. “Too low. Doc says I have primary ovarian insufficiency. Basically, it’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to have a child with my own egg.”

“God…” Missy sandwiches one of her sister’s hands between both of hers. “I’m so sorry. That’s not what you wanted to hear, I know.”

Across the way, the boiling water sings a siren song, and Missy reluctantly makes her way back toward it. “You’ll have to accept my condolences in the form of food cause I’m too far into this to stop now.”

“Oh, I will.” She’d be having a salad or...well, probably nothing, if Missy wasn’t here. Scully leans back, examines the ceiling, then rubs her eyes. “Did you know that babies can spook at loud noises through the womb? At 28 weeks, at least.”

“No, I didn’t,” Missy answers with gusto, happy to distract her sister.

“Mulder read it on some poster, and I didn’t think it was true, but it turns out it is,” Scully rambles.

“Mulder read it...?” Missy echoes. “He went in with you?”

“Uh-huh.” Scully’s immune to the usual implications of her sister’s curiosity. She’s had too much of a day to argue that Mulder isn’t as integral a part of her life as he is. “It was nice...I was happy not to be alone.”

“I’m sure,” Missy says, pouring the ravioli into a colander. “Mulder’s a good guy.”

“Mm-hm.” Scully chews the inside of her cheek. She can’t discern whether she’s failing to repress a feeling or experiencing one anew, but it’s in that ballpark.

Having put the pasta in a serving bowl, Missy spoons sauce over it like she’s auditioning for a cooking show. “There was an interesting voicemail on the machine when I got in,” she begins.

“Yeah? A telemarketer? Scammer?”

“I don’t think so. It’s odd, but it sounds quite urgent.”

Missy hits a button on the answering machine. A gruff voice fills the room. “Hello, this is Agent Feniston from the California Bureau of Investigation looking for a Ms. Scully. I am contacting you on behalf of the California Department of Social Services foster care system. Please get back to me as soon as possible at 619-555-1334. Thank you.”

It does sound legitimate, Scully can’t argue with that. She raises an eyebrow at her sister. “You were in California for a while, weren’t you?”

Missy pops a ravioli into her mouth, wipes some wandering sauce off her lip. “The Bay area, mostly,” she says between bites. “The 619 area code is--”

“San Diego. I remember, that’s what our number started with when we lived by the shipyard.”

Missy nods. “I know I’m considered the free spirit in this family, but no child of mine is running wild in California. Let’s clear that up right now,” she chuckles.

“I mean, we don’t have any details,” Scully says. “They probably just need you to testify whether some friend of yours is stable enough to resume custody of their child.”

“Does that sound like something that would warrant a call from the Bureau of Investigation? ” Missy challenges, scooping a hefty portion of pasta into a bowl and handing it to her sister.

Scully takes it and grabs a fork. “If they couldn’t find any other way to contact you.”

Missy stops, looks at her sister with a pointed glare.

“What?” Scully shrugs.

“Darling,” Missy continues, “no one I knew in California has this number, nor any way to determine that I’m living with you.”

Scully lifts the fork to her mouth, freezing before it makes it there. “You think the call is for me?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” she says, taking a seat across from her sister.

Scully scoffs. “I haven’t been to California in ages. There was a case in Marin County, but it’s been two years now.”

“That’s funny,” Missy muses. “I was living there then.”

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Scully tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not fond of having a random call from the California foster system on my answering machine.”

“Then call Agent Feniston back, and it won’t be random anymore.” Missy gets up, glances at the clock, and grabs the phone off its receiver. “It’s only 3:30 in Californiaaaaa,” she sing-songs, dangling it in front of her sister.

Scully pouts, but lets the weight of the phone rest in her hand. “Can you play the voicemail again? I need the number…”

Feniston addresses them for a second time, and Scully taps the keypad in concert with his directions: 619-555-1334.

#hello i am very excited for what's to come <3 #anyone who has stuck with this is now my best friend #thank you and MWAH #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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massivelycreepypineapple · 4 years

Text

Not Going Anywhere

Request: I reread the "their perfect little family" it's so good and so looongggg! I was going through your fluffy fics as I need one right now very badly! And then I kept wondering if I can request a Jensen fluff one shot? I am a runner and few months ago in a marathon, somehow my last part of sole caught some infection as doc said. I had to go through the whole surgery kinda procedure where the doc literally scooped out the infection. Fun fact, if you have athlete's foot, always get it checked out. And injection in your sole is never nice, never! And I had to do this all without sedatives for reason I didn't hear coz I was busy being scared. Its hurting like hell right now. Coz of covid thing going on, I had to do this alone. Can you write where Reader is in same situation and jensen is with her through whole procedure and then Jensen taking care of her? I cannot walk right now, and sorry for my rant! I am pretty sure it's weirdest request you have received but write only if you want!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader

A/N: I know you asked for fluff but my period induced angst got channeled into this and a wee bit of angsty stuff came up. 😂 I hope it’s okay and you still like it! I’m not sure if I got all the details right. So I apologise for the mistakes. And I hope you feel better soon! ❤️

Feedback is appreciated!!

Word Count: 2852

❅ ❅ ❅

Y/N and Jensen were seated in the waiting room of the hospital. Y/N had her head rested on Jensen’s shoulder nearly falling asleep as he held her hand in his while the other stroked her cheek. He rested his head on top of hers and occasionally placed kisses, comforting her as much as he could. She had developed an infection on the sole of her foot nearly 3 days ago and it was hurting a lot. She took over the counter medicines and hoped for it to go away, but 3 days later, it only got worse and she found it difficult to walk let alone run. Which was a real bummer, since she was a runner and loved every second of it.

Jensen had told her multiple times to get it checked out, but her stubbornness and her hatred for hospitals and doctors were an awful combination. But she finally relented when the pain got so unbearable that even painkillers couldn’t do their job. So here they were waiting to consult a doctor.

“Y/N Ackles?” The nurse called bringing a wheelchair over.

“Honey, wake up. It’s our turn.” Jensen nudged her gently.

She woke up mumbling, “So tired, Jay.”

“I know, baby. It’s the painkillers. You can sleep all you want after we consult.” He got up and then helped her into the wheelchair, making sure she didn’t put any pressure on her foot.

Once in the room, the nurse and Jensen helped her onto the bed. Just as she got comfortable the doctor came in and greeted them.

“Good morning you two!” He said cheerily annoying Y/N more. But she put on a smile and tried her best to be civil. The pain was getting to be too much and all she wanted was to go home to the comfort of her couch and watch a movie, cuddled up with her husband.

“So how are you doing, Y/N?” He asked.

“I’ll do much better if my damn foot didn’t hurt.” She grumbled, making him chuckle. Jensen stepped back, giving the man enough space to check her leg. He held her foot with one hand and poked around with the glove covered one. Y/N whimpered in pain. She was tired, sleepy, in pain and the smug doctor seemed to enjoy poking and prodding her injured foot. How she wanted to clock his face.

“Yup, it’s athlete’s foot alright.” He said. “This one seems to be a little worse for normal medication to have any effect. We’ll have to do a minor procedure.” He said walking behind his desk to sit and make notes on the laptop.

Y/N’s eyes widened and her head snapped to Jensen, who quickly made his way over to her. She grabbed his hand.

“W-what kind of procedure?” She asked, suddenly wide awake.

“Well, we have to scoop out the fungus.”

“What do you mean ‘scoop out’?” Asked Jensen worried. He squeezed your hand, showing you he was right there.

“Exactly that. We’ll be removing the infection. It’s a minor surgery. You’ll be here in the morning and leave by evening. It’s nothing to worry about.” He said kindly.

“Is it going to hurt?” Y/N asked with apprehension.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s going to hurt. But it won’t take very long.”

Y/N was panicking on the inside. She had a high tolerance for pain but the past few days have been absolute agony, and to do this and feel more pain was really freaking her out. Jensen could sense her uneasiness and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Maybe you could sedate her? Put her to sleep?” Jensen asked the doc.

“That’s not possible for this procedure, the patient needs to be awake and aware of what’s happening incase something goes wrong.” He replied sympathetically.

“And what are the chances of things going wrong in this procedure?”

Jensen was even more worried now. Y/N would be doing this without any sedatives and he didn’t like it one bit. But there wasn’t another option it would seem.

“It’s a simple procedure, Mr.Ackles. There’s nothing to worry about. The lack of sedatives is a preventative measure. That’s all. As long as she’s able to feel what we’re doing, things are going well. If we sedate her she won’t be able to tell if we accidentally nicked something.”

Jensen nodded hesitantly.

“You can book an appointment for tomorrow with the nurse’s station outside. I’ll see you, Y/N, bright and early.” He smiled brightly at her.

“No offence but I’m not looking forward to seeing you bright and early.” She said with a small smile.

The doctor laughed throwing his head back, “Yeah I’m sure you’re not.” He then scribbled something in a prescription paper and handed it to her. “These are some painkillers for the night. But don’t take any before the procedure.”

“Thank you.”

The nurse who wheeled her in was back and helped her into the wheelchair once more. Jensen went to pay the fee and get the medicine, as well as book an appointment as the doctor suggested. After everything was done they were back in the car heading home. Y/N was quietly looking out the window throughout the ride worrying about what was to come. She felt Jensen grab her hand and squeeze it. She looked at him and tried to smile, but it wasn’t easy. She was beyond exhausted and couldn’t wait to get home. There was a lump in her throat and tear welled up in her eyes, but she did her best to keep it from falling.

“Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?” He asked softly.

“Please, not now.” She said, voice cracking a little.

“Okay, honey” He said not letting go of her hand. The car ride back home was filled with tensed silence.

_______________

30 minutes later they reached home. Jensen parked the car and got out, quickly making his way to Y/N��s side. He carried her inside the house and took her up the stairs to their bedroom. He placed her on the bed and went to her closet and pulled out comfy sweat pants and one of his t-shirts. He helped her take off her clothes and put the new ones on. Once he changed too he sat facing her on the bed and cupped her cheek with one hand.

Y/N leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. A single tear escaped only to be quickly wiped away by his thumb.

“I don’t know why I’m so sad and so overwhelmed.” She whispered. “It’s so stupid. It’s a minor surgery, it won’t take long. I don’t know why I’m being so emotional.”

“It’s not stupid, baby. You’ve been in a lot of pain these past few days. You can barely walk, and you’ll never admit it, but I know you and I know that you’re upset that you can’t run. It’s getting to you. But you have to remember that it’s not permanent. You’re going to recover fully, it’ll just take a while, that’s all.”

Y/N was crying. Jensen knew her so well. He could read her like a damn book and she was so grateful for him. He never judged. All he did was support her and love her.

“I don’t want to burden you, Jay! You just got back from Vancouver. You’re on a break and this had to happen. I’m so so sorry!”

“Hey, come here.” He shifted so that he was leaning against the headboard with her on her lap. He made sure he didn’t hurt her foot. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. Not your fault at all okay? I hate to see you in so much pain, I wish it didn’t happen either, but not because I think it’s a burden. But because my baby is in pain. I don’t care how I spend time with you as long as I get you. You hear me, honey?”

She nodded against his chest. For some reason she couldn’t stop crying.

“It’s okay. Just let it out. I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered hugging her tightly. Eventually Y/N calmed down and fell asleep only waking up for dinner and painkiller. They went back to sleep soon after.

_______________

The next day they were at the hospital. Y/N was taken to the OR for the procedure. Since it was a minor one and she’d be awake through it, they allowed Jensen to be in with her to keep her calm and distracted. She was so grateful for that. She didn’t think she could’ve done it alone.

She was seated on the bed with Jensen by her head. The doctor came in followed by the nurse who was holding an injection. Y/N was looking at it with fear in her eyes, Jensen noticed her and made her look at him.

“Just focus on me ok? I’m right here.” He smiled at her.

Y/N flinched when the cold cotton swab was pressed to her infected area. It burned like crazy. She squeezed Jensen’s hand tightly, who kept whispering encouraging words. Then the doctor slowly pushed the injection in, making her cry out in pain. Jensen pressed her head into his shoulder. She was clutching his shirt really tightly almost ripping it off.

Jensen through it all tried his best to keep calm. It was killing him to see this happen to his wife. He worried about her when she cut herself while chopping vegetables or fixing something. This was a whole knew level of worry that he didn’t know how to handle. He could feel his shirt getting wet as Y/N cried into him.

“It’s over see? It’ll be a lot easier from now.” Said the doctor.

Y/N didn’t reply. She wanted this torture to end. The entire hour flew by with Y/N gritting her teeth in pain and Jensen doing his best to distract her. He would tell her funny stories which she already knew and he would talk about pranks that he and Jared pulled on Misha. It seemed to work. She was absolutely glad that she had someone like Jensen to be with her through this hellish ordeal. This only made her fall in love with him more.

When everything was finally over, she was placed in a recovery room for the work done by the surgeon to set. Another hour went by, Y/N was getting agitated. She was in a lot of pain and she still wasn’t allowed to take any painkillers. Jensen sat beside her in bed while she rested her back and head against his side. He carded his fingers through her hair, to soothe her into sleep. She kept going in and out of sleep as he watched some telly in mute.

40 minutes later the doctor came in waking her up, “How are you feeling, Y/N?”

“I’d love some drugs.” She mumbled.

“I’m prescribing you some stronger painkillers which you can take as and when you require, along with some other tablets.” He said scribbling down on his pad.

“She’s going to be fine, right?” Asked Jensen.

“Yup, we got all of it out. She’ll make a full recovery in a couple of months.” He smiled.

“Is there anything we need to watch out for? Any special care?”

“Just make sure you keep the wound clean. You need to change the dressing which the nurse will show you how to do. And I’ll see you back here after three weeks.”

“Thanks, doc.” Jensen shook his hand, before the man left.

The nurse changed Y/N’s dressing and Jensen paid close attention to it so he could do it when they got back home. After everything was done and after signing the discharge papers, Y/N was wheeled out to the parking lot to get back. Jensen helped her into the car and they drove home.

_______________

Y/N was getting increasingly frustrated in the past couple of days being completely immobile. Jensen had to do everything for her. From helping her to pee and poop, to giving her a bath. She refused to leave the bed and resorted to moping in her room. She hated being so helpless and depending on Jensen for small things that a child could manage.

Jensen on the other hand was getting worried about her. Her foot was doing fine so far. The painkillers were doing their job for the most part and he made sure she was comfortable. But Y/N was still upset and he didn’t know what to do. He was afraid to bring it up because she was getting a bit snippy too. But he had had enough of it after she had snapped at him when he asked her once again if she was okay and if she needed anything.

“Okay! That’s enough, Y/N!” Snapped Jensen. “I don’t get what your problem is. I’m doing what I can to keep you comfortable and you’ve been nothing but snippy and irritated!”

Y/N looked at him wide eyes. She didn’t expect him to snap back. She knew she was being a bitch but she didn’t know how to stop because she was in pain and no where to go and completely frustrated.

“I get you’re in pain. I really do. I know the situation ain’t ideal, and it’s bugging you to have me carry you around everywhere. But you’re not even trying to wrap your mind around it!” He was pissed and tired. He rubbed his face with his hands. “I need some space. I’ll be in my office.” He said curtly and walked out their room.

Y/N was filled with overwhelming guilt. She was only thinking about herself and didn’t think about the situation Jensen was in. It wasn’t just her who was limited to the house, so was he. Sure he could walk around, but he too must be feeling cooped up staying at home for the past couple of days. Not to mention, helping her deal with her pain and take care of her like a baby and be at her constant beck and call.

She laid there tearing up. She hated it. She felt like all she did was cry and now she was disappointing Jay. She was lost in her guilt ridden thoughts when suddenly she had the urge to pee. She groaned in frustration. She didn’t want to bother Jensen by calling him. Besides he was mad at her and he needed the space. She sat up in bed and grabbed onto the wall above the headboard and pulled herself up. But she lost her balance and accidentally placed her injured foot on the floor, crying out in pain. But she managed to balance herself in one foot and once the throbbing came down she hopped her way slowly to the toilet. She stopped midway almost losing her balance but a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and picked her up.

“I got you. You should’ve called me, Y/N” Jensen whispered.

“I didn’t want to bother you more than I already do, Jay.” She whispered back.

Jensen didn’t say anything. He helped her to the bathroom and helped her balance on one foot as she pulled her pants down. He gently sat her down on the seat letting her do her job. Once done he helped her to the sink to wash her hands and then picked her up to put her on the bed.

“I’m sorry, Jay” Y/N began after a few seconds of silence. “You’re right. I’ve been so irritable and stuck in my own misery that I forgot you’re stuck with me too. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“The issue isn’t that I’m stuck with you, baby girl. I love being stuck with you. The issue is you not trying at all. This crap happened to you. But I’m here for you, Y/N. I’m here to keep you company and help you around. I miss my wife. I miss having fun with you.”

“I miss having fun with you too, Jay.” She said sadly. “I’m sorry I’ve been difficult.”

“It’s okay, honey. I’m sorry I left like that. You didn’t hurt yourself right?”

“I kind of stepped on my foot while getting up. But I don’t think anything happened.”

“Okay, let’s take a look. It’s time to change the dressing anyway.” He said getting up to get the supplies. “And then, you missy, are getting out of this room and sitting out on the porch with me, okay? No objections!” He said turning around and pointing at her.

“I like the sound of that.” She grinned.

“Good.”

“Jay?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, dork.” He grinned and went to get the stuff for her foot.

Y/N supposed she could deal with few days of being immobile as long as she had Jensen. He always knew how to bring her back to herself no matter what.

❅ ❅ ❅

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@hobby27 @akshi8278

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transistus · 4 years

Text

Stage One Phalloplasty: Experience and Results

[Trigger Warning: Genital mention, surgery]

The following post documents the most memorable parts of my experience having phalloplasty along with my recovery.

I had Stage One RFF Phalloplasty privately on the 18th February 2020 under Mr Christopher from St Peter’s Andrology Centre at The London Clinic Hospital.

17th February:

I arrived at the hospital at 18:00 ready for surgery at 9:00 the following morning.

I would be staying at The London Clinic for a week so I packed the essentials: loose joggers and a baggy shirt for when I would leave, my phone, laptop, dressing gown, toothbrush, deodorant, face wipes, dry shampoo, eyemask (so useful as there was always some form of light on), and laxatives (trust me, if you have a long surgery these are a must-have once you can use the loo).

Upon my arrival, I was surprised to see that the hospital was more like a hotel if you looked past the medical equipment. It had decent-sized rooms, a concierge service, and very good food from a broad menu that you ordered at the start of each day.

Anyway, that evening after getting signed in I had my pre-op checks, ordered some dinner and then spent the rest of the evening relaxing before turning in for the night. I didn’t sleep particularly well due to the new environment and anticipation about having the surgery. The fact that I was having phalloplasty didn’t set in until I was on my way to the theatre the following morning.

18th February:

I was woken by a nurse at 7:30 who did some final pre-op checks on me before the surgeon, Mr Christopher, came to see me just after 8:00 to discuss the procedure. I was told that the surgery would last between 6-8 hours and warned of all the possible complications once more. Once he was finished, I signed my consent form and he marked on my arm the size the graft would be. Shortly after he left, the anaesthetist came in and discussed what she would be doing and I was presented with another consent form. Once that was signed she informed me that a nurse would take me down to the theatre in the next 30 minutes.

At this point, my nerves set in regarding being under anaesthesia for so long. I’ve never had any issue with aesthetic but this was the first time I was somewhat anxious about it, after all, there’s a huge difference between being unconscious for 2-3 hours and 6-8. Despite that, I remained positive that the surgery would work out just fine and that I wouldn’t have any serious complications. I reminded myself that I was fit, healthy, and in good hands. A positive mindset helps a lot, which was something that the nurses I chatted to emphasised.

A nurse came to get me shortly before 9:00 and I was escorted downstairs to the theatre that was, and I kid you not, the most horrific shade of bright green I’d ever seen. I made myself comfortable on the bed and the last thing I recall was happily chatting away to the anaesthetist before waking up in the ICU with a nurse reaching down into the cast my arm was in asking if I could feel her touching my hand (I could).

I was in theatre for seven and a half hours.

To say I had some brain fog upon waking up would be an understatement but I was in good spirits. My arm was held upright in a purple sling (and would be in that position for the next week) and I was hooked up to all sorts of things including a morphine administration button. In all honesty, I was never in any real pain as if anything started to ache I was quick to nip it in the bud before it had a chance of getting worse. Mr Christopher came to check on me not long after I woke up and informed me that the surgery went very well which was a relief.

After just over an hour in the ICU, I was wheeled up to my room where I asked for my phone and was quick to let my partner, mother and friends that I was alright before dozing off.

For the first four days, a nurse would come to check my blood pressure and the circulation in my phallus every four hours (then every six hours after that). The circulation was checked using a doppler and thankfully there was the sound of a heartbeat when it was held there meaning that the artery was supplying blood to the area. It was such a fantastic feeling being able to look down and see something there (that, in my mind, was always supposed to have been there). The phallus itself was supported from underneath by some padding to keep it at an angle to allow for a steady blood flow. I was told I’d have to keep it upright for three weeks.

19th February:

I was woken early for breakfast, and although my appetite wasn’t fantastic I did my best to eat what I could. I was told that I would be bed bound for another day and little did I know how frustrating I’d find being stuck in bed.

Now, you’d probably think that the pain in my arm and groin would be atrocious, but you’d be wrong. I had no pain in my arm and only a dull ache in my groin that was easily kept under control by the morphine. If anything, it was the staples in my bottom that were by far the most uncomfortable part of this whole experience in and out of hospital until they were removed two weeks after surgery. Trying to make myself comfortable with staples digging into my backside was a never-ending challenge.

In the afternoon, my partner, mother and best friend came to visit me for a few hours which was great (it was good for them too to see that I was fine as well). I was sad when they left, but I had my laptop and plenty to watch to keep me occupied.

20th February:

I had a rough night's sleep which wasn’t helped by a tension headache that was likely caused by the position my arm was in. Thankfully the physio came to visit me and helped me work my arm a little which helped and I was instructed to regularly move my hand to keep the circulation going.

By this point, I was already fed up of being trapped in bed, there was never a comfortable position to do anything (even sitting up was uncomfortable) especially with my arm stuck in one position. The nurses did come to give me a bed bath in the afternoon which definitely improved my mood and after dinner I was later told that I would be getting out of bed tomorrow which I was looking forward to.

21st February:

This was the day I got out of bed and it was such a relief. After breakfast, the physio and a nurse came to unhook me from all sorts of cables and assist me in standing up. Once on my feet, I went for a walk around my room and up and down the hallway outside. Apparently, I did extremely well getting up and moving around so much as a fair amount of people who undergo the same surgery struggle with mobility, so knowing that I was doing so well was a great boost to my morale.

I was able to finally sit at a desk too which was so much more comfortable than the bed (though the staples still caused a lot of discomfort even with me sitting on a pillow). My mother also came to visit again and was there to help me with some more walking about. Just before dinner, I had the catheter removed and was able to go to the loo.

Pain wise, today was when I stopped using morphine as the oral painkillers the nurses provided me did the trick. As for my phallus, the doppler kept showing that there was a pulse and whenever it was inspected by the surgeon or nurses I was told that it was healing very well and there was no cause for concern.

22nd February:

I had all the remaining drains and tubes removed today and began walking up and downstairs with the physio with no issue.

I spent much of the day trying to eat more, binge-watching shows and documentaries and getting on with some writing (I got a surprising amount of writing done despite being down one hand!)

Today was also the day I had my first shower with the aid of one of the nurses and getting cleaned up properly was wonderful.

23rd February:

This was my last day in hospital, by now, the nurses only came to give me my pain medication (just Paracetamol and Ibuprofen) every four hours or if I called for them. Above all, I was looking forward to going home, being with my partner, and sleeping in my own bed.

24th February:

Discharge day and the day I saw my arm for the first time.

I had breakfast as usual, then not long after that a nurse came in to remove the dressings on my arm to let it air for a bit before redressing it so I was ready to leave. I wasn’t horrified by the sight of my arm, but it was still a shock that made me a little queasy at first as it’s one thing to see pictures of the graft and another to see it on your own body. I was given an antiemetic which helped the nausea subside in a few minutes and then I was left to my own devices for an hour.

The graft was purple and raw as expected and was longer than average due to me having thinner arms. Mr Christopher made it clear before surgery that he would need to take more skin to make the phallus an appropriate size and width because of the lack of fat on my arm.

My arm was redressed with Mepitel, gauze, and bandages and I was given a sling to keep it up at an angle. I was then provided with a bag of medical goodies (namely lots of Mepitel, bandages, gauze, tape, and a supply of Paracetamol and Ibuprofen). I was also instructed to send weekly photo updates to the surgeon so that he could advise me if anything needed to be done, luckily I had no complications with it.

My mother and partner came to pick me up at 13:00 and it was such a good feeling to be finally heading home.

The Following Weeks:

After leaving the hospital I thankfully didn’t have any issues with pain as taking Paracetamol and Ibuprofen every four hours did the trick. I only needed a lie down once during my first week back home, but other than that I was up and about as much as possible when I wasn’t at my desk as I was eager to get back into my routine.

Mobility wise, the only things I struggled with was trying to put on socks and getting clean which my mother helped me with. Now, just because I was so mobile doesn’t mean that recovery was easy. I was exhausted both mentally and physically almost all the time. Being up and about for longer than ten minutes was tiring and I needed a sit down to recover afterwards.

Sleeping was awkward as I had to try and keep my arm elevated so I made use of two pillows to keep it as upright as possible at night. During the day I just held my arm upright when at my desk or kept it in the sling. The staples in my bum remained by far the most uncomfortable part of my recovery as sitting ached, using the loo ached, and lying down ached. I couldn’t wait to get the damn things removed.

I returned to Harley Street two weeks after surgery for a check-up and to have my arm dressings changed and staples removed. My phallus was healing nicely and my arm had improved a lot in just one week much to my surprise, it just looked like raw skin with some blistering (which was normal). All in all, everything was healing well, all I had to do was make sure the dressings were changed once a week at my local surgery.

As for the staples in my bum, they were removed one by one, but luckily much of my backside was still numb so I could only feel a few of them being pulled out. Once they were all out I was so much more comfortable, I just had to be careful not to rip the incisions, keep them clean, and redress them with the plasters I had as needed. The only issue I had was a small tear about an inch and a half long and half an inch deep close to my inner thigh which did heal up after another week and a half.

I mentioned earlier that I had to keep my phallus elevated (which unfortunately made it look like I had a permanent erection so travelling necessitated a long coat) so it was so great being able to remove the padding once I was three weeks post-op. Being able to let it just hang in place without the underlying fear of anything tearing was wonderful. All I had to do now was leave the last of the incisions (underneath and on the tip) to heal and to have my weekly check-ups. My phallus was healing well too. I had scabbing along the incision sites but they were improving by the day.

After a month had passed, I returned to Harley Street where a nurse slid a tube down my phallus to make sure that I hadn’t developed a fistula that would block the neo-urethra - I hadn’t, but even if it had it would be corrected during Stage Two. I then had water squirted down my phallus to make sure that it went all the way down and out without issue. I was instructed to do this regularly to make sure the neo-urethra remained unblocked. I was also given permission to soak my arm in saltwater twice a week to lift off the scabbing. I still visited my local nurse until the 30th of March for a weekly inspection of the graft, but outside of those visits, I would redress my graft once a week on my own after a soak and airing time.

Five Months Later:

As of today, I’ve healed up extremely well and couldn’t be more pleased with the results so far! My phallus looks like I was born with it and it is a decent 5” long (which is what the surgeon aims for).

Regarding my arm, I did have stiffness and swelling in my hand, fingers, and wrist that finally eased up after three months (exercising it and taking Ibuprofen regularly helped) so everything is back to its original size now and has full range of motion.

Sensation-wise, I started developing a tingling feeling on my phallus when it was touched at around two months after surgery which has since spread to the tip. It’s not a tactile or erotic feeling, but more of a sharp nerve sensation that is often displaced. The stinging does mean that the nerves are alive and will hopefully develop more sensation over the next two years.

Now all that is left for me to do is wait until I can book Stage Two which I should have had in May-June, but due to COVID it has been postponed like all other non-essential surgeries. Despite needing two more surgeries, I remain optimistic that I'll heal just as well as I have done already!

I hope this post was helpful and as always, if you have any questions, feel free to send me a message and I'll do my best to answer them!

#alastairs transition #trans #transgender #ftm #female to male #phalloplasty #rff phalloplasty #lower surgery #bottom surgery #transition #ftm transition #transman #transguy #transexual #transmen #phallo #ftm phallo

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: Changes - part three Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part three: Sam and Dean check out an abandoned house in search for the shapeshifter, but find something else. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: Hey Man, Nice Shot - Filter Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank. @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version; thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

"Just remind me, why the fuck are we here again, Sam?”

A ’67 Chevrolet Impala comes to a complete stop at the end of a long driveway. It’s still dark, but the lingering thunderstorm casts a flash of light on the abandoned house, thunder crackling several seconds later. Hey Man, Nice Shot by Filter is playing in the cassette deck, as the driver in his mid-twenties glances over at the younger guy next to him. Apparently, he is not amused. “Dean, let it go already. If we have a lead, we follow it. Even if it’s six o'clock in the morning,” the passenger responds, annoyed. “We don’t have a lead, you have a hunch. That’s my point, Sam. Or should I start callin’ you Jennifer Love Hewitt now?” the driver argues. “So we don’t have a lead, but that’s exactly why we should--” the passenger wants to continue his sentence, but Dean interrupts. “You know what I should be doing? Sleeping. In a bed,” he deadpans. “And you call me a whiny bitch?” Sam sasses back. “With good reason. Staying up all night is making you cranky,” Dean comments. “We have an appointment with that Cliffer dude tomorrow, during normal daytime hours. We work from there, that’s what we agreed on.”

Sam bites down on the frustration. He didn’t drag his brother all the way up here and listen to his complaints about working at ‘unethical hours’, as he called it, only to head back to town without giving the place a once over. “We’re not even certain if he’s the next victim,” he reminds him. “If we find something here, we might actually know what we’re dealing with.” “I thought you already knew what we’re dealing with?” the older sibling returns, confused. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure. All we do know for a fact, is because of my research, so back off,” Sam returns harshly, opening his door to get out. “Someone has to do the driving. If it was up to you we’d end up in fuckin’ Texas!” Dean exclaims, loud enough for his brother to hear as he walks off.

Sam halts on the driveway and grunts. Why does Dean always have to be such a pain? He turns around and glares at his brother. The headlights of the Chevy are bright; he has to narrow his eyes to see the driver through the glass. “We’re here already. We might as well check it out,” Sam persists, while raising his long arms to the side, letting them fall slack against his body again a second later. He waits for Dean to react, but his brother continues to stare back, challenging him without saying a word. His arrogant expression says it all. Left hand on the wheel, the ‘don’t you dare walk any further and get your ass back in the car’ look on his face. Sam is planning to do the opposite, though. After all, he is the stubborn one. “Whatever, Dean.” Unimpressed, he turns towards the house. The older Winchester leans out the window of his car, watching his brother like a hawk. “Where are you going?” “What does it look like?” Without looking back, Sam strolls on with his hands in his pockets. “Sammy, get back here!” Dean commands with a stern voice. “It’s Sam!” the young hunter corrects, ignoring the order as he follows the road to the house. Dean waits for a little while, not wanting his younger sibling to win. But he can’t possibly let him enter the house all by himself; what if there is something inside? Dean won’t let him go in alone, his little brother probably knows that too. “Stubborn bastard,” Dean curses, kills the engine and gets out of his car.

Annoyed, he opens the trunk, takes out a duffel and loads an extra gun, which he puts away behind his waistband. He tosses the bag over his shoulder, locks the car and catches up. “Walking into a possible hideout without a weapon,” he mocks, while handing his brother a gun. “And they call you the responsible one.” Sam grins. “I knew you’d come around.” “Wipe that smile off your face, smartass. We’ve got work to do,” Dean mutters, taking the lead up to the front porch. The younger sibling checks his weapon.“Silver bullets?” “Yep,” Dean confirms. “One of these to the heart and our Chameleon is dead.” He grabs the knob and opens the door, which slowly opens with an eerie shriek. Dean pretends to shiver. “Shit just got scary.” “Cut the crap and be serious for once,” Sam hisses, shaking his head, disapproving.

The brothers check the living room, holding their flashlights over their guns. They move through the house like trained military, ready to strike if necessary, covering each other as they scan and clear each room. A thick layer of dust covers the tables, couches, and cabinets in the house. A few windows are broken, shattered glass scattered on the windowsills. Plaster has come off the moldy walls, tearing down strips of wallpaper with it. Water damage stains the ceiling, decay creaks the rotten floor; no one has been here for ages. “Nothing here,” Sam concludes with a lowered voice, still cautious. “See? Told ya,” Dean rubs in. “I’ll check upstairs. See if you can find some clues down here,” Sam suggests, ignoring his brother’s comment. “Fine,” he mutters, as he saunters to the other room, silently mocking his hunting partner.

Dean rummages through some paperwork, but there’s nothing interesting here. He shakes his head; he can’t believe he let his brother convince him to come with. Hell, he could be fast asleep right now. “I’m all clear, Sam.” Dean puts away his gun and strolls back to the hallway. Sam looks down from the staircase, somewhat disappointed. “Yeah, me too. Let’s get out of here before the--” The younger Winchester doesn’t finish his sentence, distracted by a noise coming from somewhere inside the house. Dean draws his gun again, his eyes quickly darting to the end of the hall, then back into the room. That wasn’t a mouse or a bird, that much he knows. Seems like they are not alone after all.

Silently, Sam comes down the stairs. His senses are on high alert, picking up every sound, every smell, even the slightest movement. The feeling they’re being watched settles in his chest, but besides the singular ‘thump’ they heard, the brothers can’t detect anything out of the ordinary. Dean’s eyes seeks his brother, who looks back and nods. A short connection, eye contact for a fraction of a second. It’s all they need to understand each other perfectly. It crosses Dean’s mind that it’s the first non-verbal interaction between them, since Sam came back from Stanford three weeks ago. The current threat forces him to keep his mind on the job, though. The hunter approaches the door to the pantry where the sound seemed to originate from, backed up by his sibling. Both have their weapon in hand and are ready to fire. Carefully, the oldest of the two lets his left hand slip from the grip and grabs the doorknob, when he hears the familiar click of the safety switch on a gun. “What the--”

A shot echoes through the house, the bullet ripping through his shoulder. Dean hits the wall, the intense white hot pain taking him down. In a light speed reaction, Sam fires his gun twice in the direction where the enemy fire came from, quick to pursue the shooter. When he finds the next room empty, he returns to his brother, who has collapsed against the wall. “Dean!” Worried, Sam kneels next to him and keeps him upright. Blood trickles from a hole in his jacket, drenching the navy blue fabric in no time. Dean almost passes out, but he manages to chase the black spots that cloud his vision away. With his jaws clamped shut he grunts in agony. “That wasn’t rock salt, was it?” Sam assumes, the trace of panic evident in his voice. “Pretty sure it wasn’t,” Dean groans, fighting the pain. Suddenly, light illuminates the grim setting. Sam quickly lifts his weapon again, but before the hunter can get a good aim, a distinctive female voice stops him.

“Don’t fucking move.”

The bright ray blinds the boys, the plating of the weapon catches the light as it caresses the metal; they are looking straight in the barrel. The only thing they hear is their own respiration, Dean’s out of control and labored, Sam’s increased with adrenaline, but relatively calm in the face of danger. Heavy tension hangs in the air, suffocating smog that’s making it difficult to inhale. No one moves, the brothers held at gunpoint both aware a flinch could be the death of them. “Drop your gun. Now.” Sam does as told, slowly and calculated. When he straightens himself and leans back on his haunches, he shows his hands, beckoning the woman not to shoot him. What feels like minutes, but are mere seconds in reality, pass by. The beam from the flashlight glides over the men’s faces, as if the beholder tries to see something in their eyes. Then the gun lowers, the safety switch flipped. “Damn it!” “You can say that again,” Dean groans. “What the hell are you doing here, sneaking around in an abandoned house, huh?” their ambusher snaps, irritated, shining the flashlight back on the boys’ faces.

When it captures Dean, she keeps the beam of light in place. Wait a minute, he looks familiar. Didn’t his partner just call him Dean? “We could ask you the same thing.” Sam intends to get up but immediately looks into the barrel. “Did I tell you you’re allowed to move?” she warns. Pretending not to be impressed, Sam stays still nonetheless. “Who are you?” “None of your fucking business,” the young woman counters rapidly and concentrates on Dean again. “I know you.” Dean swallows, nervously. “I hope not.” “One of your mad exes?” Sam assumes, the sound of his voice reduced to a whisper. “Don’t know, but if you’d stop shining that damn light in my face, I could have a better look,” he comments, directing his gaze at their opponent, holding his hand above his eyes to shut out some of the brightness.

She lowers the flashlight in order for Dean to see her face. Taking the female in, he smirks. Apparently, he likes what he sees. “No, I have absolutely no idea who you are, unless… Aren’t you that chick from Seattle with the weird piercing?” he wonders. “Take a better look, Dean Winchester.” She throws him the flashlight, which he catches with one hand, flips, and aims at her. In front of him stands a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with brown hair and dark eyes, dressed in all leather. “Nice, but that’s not really my kink,” he comments, nodding at her outfit. Annoyed, she rolls her eyes, clearly not intimidated by the objectification. Dean cannot place her, however, and again he takes her in from head to toe. He can’t see much, only harsh white light and dark shades, but she’s right; he knows that face. The strong profile of her jaw, her nose small, slightly pointed. Her hair is a little shorter than it was back then, but those dark brown eyes, how could he forget?

“Zoë?” She looks back at him, a satisfied smile pulling dimples in her cheeks. “Zoë Sullivan, I can’t believe it,” he gapes, but then clamps his hand around his bleeding shoulder, the slightest movement reminding him of what just happened. “You shot me!” “Who?” Sam interrupts their intermezzo. “Yeah, same question. Who is he?” Zoë nods at the tall guy with the surfer hair as she kneels down next to Dean, observing his injury. “I’m his brother,” Sam elaborates. “Ah. Sam, right? College boy,” she responds with a tone. Sam cocks his head back, stunned, then turns to Dean. “I can see how you two met,” he mocks. “We weren’t an item if that’s what you mean,” Zoë immediately corrects. “But we did look kinda cute, didn’t we?” Dean adds, a shit eating grin adorning his face. The huntress frowns, amused and almost pitiful. Oh, sweetie, not in a million years. “You never stood a chance, Dean.”

Without warning, she tears up Dean’s sleeve to have a better look at his shoulder. “Hey!” Dean protests stunned. “You can buy a new jacket with your scammed credit cards later. There was a hole in it anyway,” she dismisses. “Stop whining.” “If you’re not one of his dates.” Sam gets up and watches the two. “Then how do you know each other?” “Dean doesn’t date. Dean fucks everything that moves,” she amends again, dodging the question. “I’m still in the room, y’know?” Dean interjects, but Zoë ignores him.

Instead she takes off her black scarf, folds it into a bundle and presses it against the entry wound, earning a pained grunt from the injured man. It’s not sterile, but it will have to do for now. “Keep pressure on that,” she orders, letting him take over with his good hand. “Get up.” Sam gives his brother a hand and helps him on his feet. A little unsteady and in a bad mood, Dean heads outside. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Zoë holds the door as they exit the house. The thunderstorms have been coming in from the east all night, still lingering in the distance, trees obstructing the view. A faint moon has found a weak spot in the dense clouds above them, its light struggling to reach the earth. Miles from the big city, the scents of nature rise after the rain came down, the smell of pine and damp soil rising from the forest. It’s quiet outside, almost too quiet. She didn’t miss anything, did she? The huntress glances over her shoulder and takes one last look at the abandoned place. “Well, that didn’t get me any further,” she mutters to herself, apparently loud enough for Dean to hear. “You got me shot,” he sneers. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. It’s just your shoulder. I can aim,” she snaps, not even feeling sorry for the guy.

“Don’t you check your target before you fire a bullet at it?” he growls, as they walk down the driveway. “You were the one who told me to shoot first and ask questions later,” she answers smartly. “That does sound like you,” Sam agrees, earning a death stare from his brother. “Shut up. Did you book a motel?” Dean waits by the door on the passenger's side and reluctantly tosses his brother the keys. Driving with a bullet in his shoulder has proven to be difficult before, so he’ll leave it to Sam for once. “What do I look like? A travel agency?” Sam returns smartly, as he unlocks the Impala.

Dean turns to Zoë. “Where are you staying?” “Motel 6,” she informs. “But forget the idea of sharing a room.” “In that case, I hope your motel has more than one room,” he nags, already done with her attitude. “You need a ride?” Sam offers, not seeing another car anywhere close. Dean turns his head slowly and gazes over the top of the car. His face is twisted in shock, disbelief and disgust, expressing something along the line of ‘what the fuck, Sam!’ “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Zoë banishes. It triggers the hunters to raise their eyebrows at her, and from his peripheral vision, Sam notices the relief on Dean’s face. “Where did you leave your car then?” he wonders. “Who said anything about a car?”

Zoë reappears from under the shading trees, pushing a black motorbike into motion, the chrome Harley Davidson emblem reflecting in the little light the night sky of Rochester offers. It’s clear neither of the boys were expecting this form of transportation, because both their jaws drop. “You ride a motorcycle?” Sam utters, surprised. “I don’t ride a motorcycle. I ride a Harley,” she corrects, while putting on her helmet. “You think the leather’s for fun?” The older one of the brothers nods, approvingly. “Nice ride.” “Thanks,” she returns, slightly beaming with pride. “What do you think of mine?” Dean lays his hand on top of his ‘67 Chevy Impala, clearly proud of his baby, but Zoë doesn’t seem overly impressed. “It’s a car,” she comments dully.

Zoë starts her Harley, the headlight switching on as she does so. Without further notice, she rides off, leaving Dean, completely flabbergasted. Her tail light disappears as she turns around the corner, the signature Harley V-twin engine roaring when she accelerates. Astounded, Dean glides into the passenger’s seat, staring blankly down the driveway. “Did she just shoot me and insult my car?” Sam struggles to hide a smirk as he settles behind the wheel. “I think she did.” “What a bitch!” Dean scolds, spitting out the final word. “I don’t know,” his brother questions, shrugging. “I think she’s kind of fun.” The older Winchester darts his eyes at the driver, his lip twitching, disapprovingly. “Shut up, College boy.”

Sam chuckles amused and starts the car. The mix tape in the cassette player automatically continues Hey Man, Nice Shot by Filter. Dean shakes his head, still bothered and frankly, quite insulted. “Just a car, how could she say that?” “Let it go, Dean,” Sam consults, as he turns on to 110th Ave NW.

He follows the single red light in the distance and speeds up before he loses sight of the bright dot. Several thoughts cross his mind while driving to the motel, pondering about the gut feeling that pointed him in this direction in the first place. It bothers Sam that they didn’t make any progress, even though he was sure something was going on around the abandoned property. Oh well, at least they ran into Zoë Sullivan. His brother might not be happy about their encounter, but she clearly knows her stuff; she might have more information on this case. The sooner they finish this job, the sooner they can continue their search for their father. It might not be quite the night he expected, but he can’t deny it was exciting.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter four here!

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justjessame · 3 years

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Babysitting Butcher Chapter 30

I didn’t go to my regular doctor for help with my tiny problem. Billy and I were in agreement that until I knew for sure that the doctor, nurse, and receptionist situation was a one time situation, a task I was planning on giving some attention to once I had my personal situation in hand, that I would go to a more private and less known clinic. Or at least a clinic no one would be able to associate with my normal habits.

I felt paranoid, as I made the appointment from home for the day after we had our showdown with Homelander. Yes, I lied to the pompous schmuck, wouldn’t you? Having no actual personal experience in what I was about to experience I did what I would normally do in similar circumstances. I researched what to expect.

With Billy sitting next to me, I read about “medication abortions” and “aspiration abortions” to be certain that I knew what was coming and what was likely. I read about the two pill option, which was most likely to be what I was given, since the timeline was that I was around the very very early point of verifiable pregnancy. Still, since this was a supe induced pregnancy, I thought that the research on the more invasive version would be best, if for no other reason than I could be prepared in case.

Billy was mostly silent, reading along with me, his hand on my free one. As we read about the side effects, what to expect if the pills worked or if I had to have the more ‘hands on approach’ what my recovery would look like, his hand squeezed mine. Looking at his face to see him studying me with tight eyes, I tilted my head in question.

“Are you sure?” He nodded at the screen that was still alight with the mention of cramping, bleeding, and other discomfort I could expect should I not experience complications. “Ronnie, it sounds painful and-”

“Necessary,” I smiled at him. “A little discomfort for peace of mind that my body is mine. And yours, when you want it.” I winked, but his brow was still furrowed with concern. “Billy,” it was my turn to squeeze his hand. “This is what I want.” His eyes were still tight, with worry and something else. “What is it?”

“You’ll be in pain and I won’t be able to-” he took a deep breath through his nose. “Veronica, you’ll bleed. You’ll be in pain and I’ll be seeing you like that and KNOWING that it’s all that-”

Ah, Homelander and the cause of my situation would rear his ugly head. “Then, I should go ahead and distract you, shouldn’t I?” I turned and moved closer to him, moving my fingers up his bare arm. “That’s usually what helps when you’re feeling a little too,” leaning forward, I nipped at his neck and smiled when I felt him inhale in an entirely different manner. “Aggressive.” My tongue flicked out to touch his pulse and I was rewarded with one of those low deep growls that only Billy Butcher could make sound sexy to me. “Billy?” He hummed as my nose slid against his skin. “Let’s go steam up the bedroom windows.”

Distracting Billy worked, for a moment. When we were coming down from the latest round of sauna sex sans sauna, I felt him sigh. His fingers were tracing the bumps that created my spine and his lips were on my forehead as I waited for him to speak.

“You won’t be able to do this,” his kiss on my forehead made me smile, “divert me, I mean, for at least a week after.” I tipped my head back to look up at him. “I love you and I want to be as close to you as possible, Ronnie, he’s managed to fuck that up too.”

“No he hasn’t.” I moved up, sliding until I was hovering over him. “He hasn’t fucked anything up unless we let him, Billy. And as for diversions?” I nudged his nose with mine and teased his lips while holding myself just far enough so a kiss was possible, but not imminent. “It says we can’t put anything inside me there, didn’t say a word about putting anything in my mouth.” His hand was on the back of my head and pushing me down so he could at least put his mouth ON mine. Our kiss deepened, tasting one another and feeling the fire build again before I pulled away slightly. “Not quite what I meant, Billy.” My smile held when I breathed the next tease, one that I knew would help him with the other issue he would have with my alternative to the usual diversionary tactics. “And it only said we can’t INSERT things in that part of me, not that you can’t reciprocate-” that did it, I was under him and he was showing me all the very special ways he could divert me until and after my appointment.

Luckily, with the delicate nature of my problem, I was able to get into the clinic quickly. The next morning, bright and early and happily a Saturday, Billy and I drove up to a nondescript building and took a deep shared breath. Fingers entwined, he was beside me as I signed in and filled out the paperwork. He waited while I handed over and had returned to me my ID and insurance cards. When I was called back, he was at my side, fingers linked tight with mine while I answered the intake questions carefully and honestly.

“Are you the father?” The doctor asked, eyes on our hands.

“Does that matter?” Billy’s eyes were on the doctor, tense.

She shook her head and smiled reassuringly at the very large and clearly stressed man seated beside me. “No, that doesn’t matter. It’s good to see that Dr. Taylor has support, she’ll need it.”

It was my turn to stare. Did I miss something in my research? “I don’t understand.”

Her smile redirected to me. “Women who come in asking for the termination of an unwanted pregnancy assume that the physical discomfort is the worst part of the experience. I won’t lie and say it’s not uncomfortable, but even a pregnancy that’s unwanted leaves an emotional mark. Having a support system in place,” her nod at Billy reminded me of my very large and substantial shadow, not that I could ever forget of him. “That’s going to make your recovery more bearable in so many ways.”

I nodded, certain that this ‘emotional mark’ was simply that Homelander would continue to breathe air. “There’s something you should know about the paternal side of the fetus-”

After explaining that I was carrying an unwanted supe fetus, the doctor recommended going the more invasive route. Since the procedure was more effective she felt it was better to start there rather than start subtly. If you could call inserting a medical device in one's nether regions to remove a tiny parasite from one's insides ‘subtle’.

She gave me medication to “open my cervix” and sent us out to have a small meal or drinks or catch a movie. Another appointment a few hours later, since she wanted to take every precaution to be certain I had less strain than I was clearly under.

Billy took me to the park, to walk around and take in the fresh air. His hand in mine, we took a long route around the edges, while he showed me the bench from the video he’d watched everyday after Mallory had given it to him. The video of Becca, the last image he’d had of her alive until he saw her in the compound where she raised Ryan.

We walked away from it, and he pulled me closer. “When we get home,” I smiled at the ease with which he’d made my home his, the invitation never verbal but clearly implied that he move in with me taken without fanfare from either of us. “I plan on pampering you for the rest of today and then tomorrow,” my smile grew. “And if you still feel rotten on Monday, then we both call off and stay in bed, getting out only when absolutely necessary, love.”

“You’re going to spoil me, Billy Butcher.” I pressed my face into the side of his coat and breathed in the scent of him. “I love you.”

“Oh, Ronnie,” I looked up to see him staring down at me with such adoration that my heart skipped. “I fucking love you so fucking much.”

It helped, his reassurances, to get through the first part of the consequences of Homelander’s interference in my life. Back in the office, in an actual procedure room, with antibiotics and a mild pain medication working their magic, the doctor performed what she assured me was a simple procedure. Since I’d chosen the mild pain meds coupled with local anesthesia, I was wide awake while Billy held my hand and kept me sane as the doctor talked me through her work. It didn’t take long, and she seemed very certain she’d taken care of the issue, but she also reminded me, once Billy had helped me redress after the short recovery period, of the side effects. She told Billy what to watch for that could mean more worrisome complications that would require immediate medical intervention, and then made me a follow-up appointment because, while normally one wouldn’t be required, I was a ‘special case’. Yeah, thanks again caped wonderfuck.

Padded beyond belief, since I hadn’t had the irritation of having an actual period in a long time it felt strange, Billy bundled me into the truck and headed home. He carried me inside, refusing to listen to my assurances that I could, in fact, walk. He asked if I’d rather lie on the sofa and settle in for an evening of mindless binge watching, or to bed, where I could rest. I chose the sofa, and he complied as easily as I imagined he would have if I’d said I fancied a trip to the moon. The man was fulfilling his promise of pampering me.

We ordered in, he sat behind me, cushioning my back with his and helped me to the bathroom when I needed a change of padding. Billy was attentive and careful of me. He showed me as much tenderness as a glassblower showed their newest work, delicate and breakable, that’s how he handled me. The pain, and yes I had pain, wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t pleasant or a walk in the park either.

I didn’t steam, not the rest of Saturday or all of Sunday, not as my body healed. By Monday, I felt well enough to go to work, and Billy was smiling at me like I’d made it through a minefield and came out with minimal damage. I smiled up at him as he helped me into my suit jacket, still sore, but not too bad to function.

“You’re still ridiculous,” I muttered into his mouth as he kissed me before pulling on his own jacket. “And I don’t think I could love you more.” I offered as he pulled away to stare into my eyes.

“That a challenge, Ronnie?” His dimples were peeking at me, and I shook my head. “Gonna have to see about that.” I bit my lip and let him lead me to his car. It was lower to the ground and made it easier to get in and out of for my current predicament. “Ready?” I nodded and once we were buckled in we went back to the office to get back to work and to move forward on our goal. With a new added focus on just how to bring Homelander right down to his fucking knees.

#Billy Butcher x ofc #the boys #angst #abortion #fluff #alternate universe

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sassenachwriter · 6 years

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The Writer Who Loved Me Chapter Four “Writer Boy”

Previously on The Writer Who Loved Me

Ch. 1 - The Car Accident Ch. 2 - Up Early Ch. 3 - Pulling Pigtails

There it is! Chapter 4! This one is a *little* longer than the previous ones. I hope you like the Fraser family! Can’t believe I’m publishing the fourth chapter of this fic, I never thought I would. So thanks to @whiskynottea for making it possible with her amazing beta that saves me and to everyone who read/like/reblog/comment 💚

Jamie had stop acting like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush. At least, it seemed that he was working on it. He didn’t touch things I told him not to, and he stopped trying to do my job. However, he learned very fast. What really surprised me, was that with no previous medical knowledge, except for what he had read in books or saw in documentaries, he still understood the procedures without much explication.

It was two days ago, when we were dining in the briefing room, the two of us together with Joe. Over our sandwiches, we were trying to figure out the case of a new patient who had suffered a heart failure, and it was impossible to come to a conclusion about her condition.

Jamie had stayed silent the whole time, eating while observing us, when he suddenly proposed that maybe the patient suffered from Brugada Syndrome.

We both turned to see him, faces blank with surprise.

“Yes... That could be it.” Joe said, frowning in astonishment. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

I took the electrocardiogram from the file and looked at it again. I was surprised to identify the pattern. “How the hell did you know about Brugada?” I asked him, astonished.

He chuckled, taking a sip from his orange juice. Even if he wasn’t operating on anyone, Jamie had started drinking orange juice, just like I did. He said it was to size me better. It made me think he wanted to slide under my skin, and I found hit almost creepy most times.

“I should say that I recognized it when I saw the wee test, but truth is that I watched a movie about that on TV. Fergus and I were supposed to go out, but his friend called and they went together to the park. I found myself watching this documentary on medical diagnostics and thought it might be helpful. It’s a good thing I did, otherwise ye would have diagnosed her wi’ cancer.” He finished with a proud smile.

I wanted to punch his face right at that moment. I felt ashamed that I hadn’t seen it, but after the long week I was having - without taking into account Jamie’s constant presence - I could barely see clear.

“Do it then, Dr Fraser.” I gave him the results. “Prescribe her medications, treat her and tell me when you want me to sign her discharge.”

“Don’t be mad, Claire. I’m just joking.” He said with frowned eyebrows, handing me the test results back.

I spent the afternoon in the OR, putting a pacemaker in a man’s heart. It was a relatively easy surgery to finish the week. I walked out, taking my scrub cap off, only to find Jamie waiting at the scrub room.

“I think it’s supper time. Do ye want me to take you somewhere?”

“Jamie, I’m working.”

“Not far from here. I know a place. It’s Indian and it’s so -”

“No, thank you. You should go home now. I have nothing left to do that will be interesting for you. Go to your son, he must miss you.” I said kindly, hoping he would change his mind about taking me out.

“What will ye be doing?”

“Just paperwork.”

I knew he hated it when I did my stats. He would stay calm, looking at me and the forms I was filling for a good five minutes, and then he would start talking and bothering me.

“Oh! OK then!” He bowed to me, his bag hanging across his chest. “Goodnight, Doctor Beauchamp.” He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

I frowned, blushing. He saw it and gave me a knowing smile. The bastard.

***

Jamie opened the door of his flat to see Donas, his black cat as dark as night, coming to tangle around his feet.

“Good evening!” He shouted, so everyone in the house could hear him.

He heard Fergus’ steps as the boy ran loudly from his bedroom to the kitchen. “Milord! Milord!”

Jamie smiled at the surname. The lad had started calling him like that the first year he lived with Jamie. He had insisted that Fergus calls him Da, but he was never listening to what his father said, always doing the opposite. The boy wasn’t an ordinary eleven years old lad, in fact, he had quite the character. Jamie, with no parental knowledge, had accepted to be his father without really knowing what it meant. He had thought it would be easy to take care of Fergus since they always had fun together at family dinners, but to live with the lad’s rebellious behaviour was more intense than Jamie had expected. Fergus had a special talent with his hands he used to pickpocket the family members or teachers at school. His father tried to tell him to stop doing it, but again, he thought that the french boy didn’t understand when he talked. Once, on Sunday afternoon, he had broken something in the flat, making Jamie angry.

“Young boy, you will start listening to me! I’m in charge of you and that means you have to listen to me as you would listen to your parents!” He had crossed himself. “I’m the Laird of this Castle, alright? You’ll listen to me, otherwise you’ll end up with the Murray clan and trust me, you dinna want that! You are here alone, and if you go there, you’ll be sharing a room with yer cousin Young Ian! Is that what you want?”

“No, Milord.” He had teased him. And it had stayed since then.

Jamie had just put his bag on the counter chair when Fergus came running into him, pulling him in a tight hug.

“Hey, Fergus. How are you? Where is your grandma?”

“She’s in your office with a man.”

“What?”

“Aye. She started working as a diseuse de bonnes aventures.” He chuckled.

Jamie frowned. A fortune teller? He waved the subject off. He’ll have to talk to his ma later. “Did you eat?”

Fergus shook his head.

“Pizza or chicken then?”

“Pizza!” The young boy said with a bright smile at this unexpected plan for the evening.

The pizza came about twenty minutes later and Jamie chose a scary movie to watch while eating their meal. During the movie, Jamie’s mind kept wandering to Claire. He couldn’t help but smile thinking about her, with her wild curls framing her angry face when she’d told him he acted like a young boy. Writer boy, she had called him.

He liked to recollect her image at night, and it always came clear in his mind. Her shy smile when he told her she did great at a surgery, her beautiful hands taking notes on a patient’s health, her cute frowning as she listened to her friends and colleagues talk over lunch. He was very fond of her. He kept thinking about what his father had told him when he was sixteen. “When ye’ll find the lass that’s for ye, ye’ll ken it right away.” And he did know. Every time she said his name. Every time she laughed at one of his jokes, he kent she was the one for him.

“Milord?” Jamie was brought out of his reverie hearing Fergus’ voice. “Why are you smiling like that? It’s scary!” His son had a blanket covering his face. Maybe he should have picked another movie.

Jamie smiled and brushed the boy’s hair. “I was just thinking about someone.”

Aye. He was smitten by her.

Jamie went to his office after sending Fergus off to his bed. His mother was sitting on his chair, focused on her computer.

“Mother. What are ye doing?”

“Research.” She said, not looking at him. Her red hair were falling on her broad Mackenzie shoulders.

“Fergus told me about yer new work as a fortune teller. Do ye really think it’s a good idea?”

‘’Not as a fortune teller!’’ She laughed. ‘’As an advice giver.’’

‘’An advice giver?’’ Jamie frowned, sitting on the couch in front of her. ‘’Is that Christian?’’

‘’Och, aye! Jocasta and I followed a class about it, to encourage people in life and to give them advices so they make the best decisions for themselves.’’

‘’Are ye really that bored?’’

She sighted dramatically and crossed her arms over her chest. After his father had died, Jamie started noticing that his mother didn’t enjoy life as much as she did when he was alive. She didn’t like to give her drawings lessons anymore and stopped reading to blind people. She had been sick the months following his death, losing all her money in the hands of a medical charlantant. It made her realize that she didn’t want to get old, she didn’t want the rest of her beautiful life to end in a waste. She wanted to do something that would matter. Since then, she had started looking for a new calling in life. ‘’It will take time, son. I’m still mourning yer father. I’ll always be, but I need a change. My old life is gone with him, so I have to find myself again and create a new life. I have ye and Claudel and it’s enough for me, for now. But I’m just looking for... More than enough. I will find myself, I just need some time.’’ She smiled at him and caressed his cheek, and they remained silent for a while. “Why do ye still follow her?’’ She asked some time later. ‘’Should ye no’ write yer wee article? I think ye have followed her long enough to write ten articles about her, son.”

Jamie blushed and nodded. “I like it there.”

“Yes, but ye are no’ a doctor. Yer a writer. Ye need to do yer job. This Doctor Beauchamp must be tired of having ye all the time around her.”

“Och, no! I’m sure she likes it.” He remained silent for a few moments, before adding in a low voice, “It’s not about the articles anymore.”

“Does she knows?”

“God, no! Good thing, otherwise, she’d kill me. She doesna like what people say. She doesna care much about their opinion in general, I know that, but I see her face when they stare at us. She isna at ease with this. I wish… I don’t know… I dinna think she sees me.’’

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travellianna · 5 years

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Antarctica aboard the Ocean Adventurer... and yes there were a lot of penguins!

We made this unforgettable adventure by booking with Expedition Trips who then organised everything with Quark Expeditions. They were all amazing from start to end of the journey, and we would highly recommend them! People of all ages were on the trip, with the eldest woman at 97 years so it’s never too late.

My number one tip is to pack layers and pack less than you think you wil need because the weight limit on the slightly old and wobbly looking jet plane is 15kg per person! The coldest it got was -3C and maybe a little lower with the wind chill. Waterproof clothing is a must, not because of rain but because of the spray while on the zodiacs. It’s a good idea to take along some books as there is quite a bit of waiting time. If you get seasick, then motion sickness pills are also a good idea. Remember you are very far from any medical care so bring essential medicines.

You should try your best to go into the trip with the mindset that you will have to adapt to the weather conditions and Mother Nature is unpredictable. There is not point in getting mad or impatient (though some people spent a lot of energy complaining), because the company and crew are doing their best to get you safely on your way to an unforgettable voyage. The anticipation is great for whether your plane can take off... but when you are on the way it is an exhilarating feeling!

An alternate to the fly and cruise is cruising from Ushuaia, Argentina but be warned that the waters between there and Antarctica are very rough and it takes a lot longer to reach Antarctica.

The beautiful scenery was striking with blue-white icebergs and glaciers in all directions, pristine snowy mountains, penguins, seals, whales and an absence of most vegetation. We saw only one other boat with two people on it, and a few people at each research station, otherwise it was just our cruise ship of 130 passengers plus crew. There is peace and quiet, and being on deck early in the morning felt like an isolated encounter with grand nature all around.

The trip diary:

Our offical arrival day was 15th December though we were there a day early and I’d come straight from Torres del Paine.

15th December - Another day to explore Punta Arenas, the departure city for our Antarctic adventure with Quark Expeditions. We had to get our bags weighed by Quark adventures and pick up our heavy arctic parkas and waterproof boots. The parkas were bright yellow and very warm, and ours to keep! Our main activity of the day was a tour of the Austral Brewery, which was interesting, especially trying 7 different beers at the end. The La Patagonia brewery was started by a German man Jose Fischer and when he died it was passed to his son. His son committed suicide so then the family gave up the business and it was renamed Austral. All of the beers were quite good and I especially liked the Imperial lager and the Calafate ale, which was fruity.

We caught a Taxi to the hotel and arrived just in time for the 18h briefing meeting. We were briefed on the procedures like entering and exiting the zodiac rafts, timing and weather, and the Antarctic treaty and regulations. There were 4 cm of snow on the runway at King George island and the weather for the morning didn’t look favourable so our flight would be delayed. We were to check back after dinner for the timing update. We checked the update after dinner and it said we would have breakfast as normal, lunch at 11h30 check out at noon, depart at 12h30 and attempt to fly at 15h. The excitement and anticipation could be felt in the room and it was hard to sleep.

16th December - Woke up at 8h and got ready but we had some time until the update meeting at 10h, and only about half of the people turned up since they had already announced we would not leave before 15h. The staff announced that we would not be able to fly at 15h. A group that had been waiting for two days due to bad weather already had priority and one flight was in the air with a second planned for mid-afternoon. Normally there would be two planes but two of the three planes owned by the charter company clipped wings in the hangar and were damaged. One had damage to the wing and another to the structure so they were trying to repair the wing damage. Bad luck! A waiting game untl the next update scheduled for 15h.

While we were stuck waiting, Quark arranged meals and if people would be stuck overnight then they arrange accommodation. It must be a nightmare to handle the ever-changing logistics! Many people were complaining but...no one can predict the weather and it’s unfortunate that the planes clipped each other but it was out of our control.

We rested in the lobby since we no longer had rooms, and at 15h we went up to see the update. Good news is we were cleared for takeoff and group one would meet in the lobby at 17h45 for 18h30 departure to the airport. Our flight would depart at 21h and land on King George island at 23h. The second group would depart at 3h and land at 5h tomorrow morning so they will get to have a beautiful view but after a tough long wait into the night.

Excited to get to Antarctica even if it’s 12 hours later than planned! We were in the lobby and boarded coaches at 18h30 to the airport. A separate truck carried our luggage and we checked that in at Punta Arenas airport. We were on an Antarctic Air charter flight and departed around 21h15 so 15 minutes later than planned. We got a cold dinner of sandwiches, yoghurt, fruit cocktail and an alfajore (addictive biscuits/cookies filled with dulce de leche/caramel). The flight went quickly and everyone queued up to use the loo since they announced that there would be no loos until we reached the ship. We then had to get into waterproof pants and boots. It was difficult especially for the older people to have to bend in the small spaces. We landed by 23h30 and then walked 1.4km to the zodiac launch station. When we got out of the plane it reminded me of Iceland with rocks and snow. Beautiful! We couldn’t take photos because the landing strip is on a Chilean air base. We took a zodiac to the ship Ocean adventurer. We did a water entrance so the boots were useful. It was very calm water and no wind so the zodiac ride was peaceful. The oldest passenger on the boat was 97 years old and this was her bucket list trip- good inspiration to keep on living! We got into the boat via steep stairs and then checked in to our cabin 227 with two narrow twin beds, a starboard window, big double closet and a bathroom. Not so bad for an adventure cruise!

17th December - The second group arrived around 6h and the expedition lead Alison (Ali) announced that breakfast would be from 6h30 until 8h30 and then a mandatory meeting at 10h. We went back to sleep until 7h20. It felt a bit like camp with loudspeaker announcements. But it was much better than camp because looking out of the porthole at any time of the day promised stunning icy scenery in the 23 hours of daylight. We had a briefing and safety meeting at 10h and the expedition team introduced themselves. The ship Dr said the three most common problems are flu, bruises and seasickness. We are far away from any medical care so health insurance can be very expensive especially for the elderly....

We went back to our cabin and prepared for the abandon ship drill, a requirement. That went pretty quickly, though a few people went to the wrong place. The view of Greenwich island, part of the south Shetland islands, was beautiful. We passed a giant glacier and some penguins jumping out of the water on the side of the boat. The jumping is called porpoising - imagine mini dolphins jumping out of the water. Penguins are much more graceful and speedy in the water than on land. Amazing!

We went out on a cruise in the zodiac to see a giant iceberg and there were some penguins sitting on it and jumping off, gentoo and chinstrap penguins. The scenery was stunning with rocks, glaciers and the sea. Then we landed on the rocky beach of Point Fort and walked around to see penguins. One friendly chinstrap penguin, who the guide said they’ve named Charlie, came over to check us out. Many penguins were sitting on their nests as it was just a little early for the main hatching time. Ali the expedition leader introduced some of the staff specialists who gave short lectures on topics like whales and glaciers. Then she explained the upcoming weather conditions and plans for the next day. The plans are always changing depending on the weather and the ice, which can make some passages unpassable. The plan was to go through the Lemaire channel and get to Petermann island then visit Jougla and Goudier islands. We had dinner right after the presentations. I had antipasti salad, red snapper and ginger crème brûlée plus a scoop of coffee ice cream. The food is really delicious on board and we had not at all expected the gourmet dining and excellent service, so it felt like a real luxury.

18 December- We woke up at 6h30 and dressed warmly to go outside and look at the views of the Lemaire channel. It was a stunning clear day and we could see beautiful snow covered mountains and lots of ice. There were penguins swimming and jumping out of the water. We saw a fat weddell seal sunning itself on an iceberg. The captain broke through some ice and we made it partially through the channel but then the ice was too dense so we turned around and went back. Instead we went to Hidden bay for some zodiac cruising.Our driver Jens went very fast so it was fun but very cold! We heard the cracking of moving icebergs but didn’t see any calves. We got back to the ship and had a rest in the cabin until 15h. Sophie from the British antarctic heritage trust at Fort Lockroy came on board to give a short talk. There are 4 women in the team that stay here for 4 months from Nov til March. They run the British post office and museum there, and maintain the site. They have no running water so usually take showers and get fresh food from the passing ships. Tough life! We took the zodiac to Goudier island and visited Fort Lockroy museum and post office. The museum is a restored British research hut from the 1950s and still has canned food from back then including beans and Branston pickle! Our postcards were sent from the post office and it cost $1 to send one anywhere in the world. I walked to see more penguins but the snow was very deep so it was difficult. The lady there told us to try to fill in any deep holes because penguins can fall in to these post holes, get stuck and die. They make a lot of funny sounds, and they steal pebbles from each other’s nests. Very amusing to watch their natural behaviour. People on the cruise were very helpful in general and assisted the more elderly passengers since the zodiacs landed on rock, ice, or sand without any docks. We took a zodiac to the next island Jougla. It was a tough landing with a big step and slippery ice and rocks, then deep snow. It was quite a feeling of awe to make the first footprints in the fresh snow. I walked to see some old whale bones and penguins and cormorants on the rocks. The penguins use their little highways to go between rocks and to the water.

When we got back to the ship, it was time for the pre dinner cocktail with the captain. We got to see him and the main crew. They do an incredible job to take us to these remote places and navigate the ice. For dinner, I had seafood cioppino, prime rib with Yorkshire pudding and baked potato, and a beautiful French opera cake. Two of the expedition team sat with us. Jason from Arizona is a crevasse and ice expert. His job would be to scout the path for tomorrow’s walk to a viewpoint at Neko harbour. Acacia is the photographer and made the photo journal for the trip. She’s from Alaska, works the Arctic season too and spends free time often in Scandinavia. She must like the cold weather!

19 December- We woke up at 6h50 to get ready for breakfast at 7h30. The ship had already anchored in the bay for the landings on the Antarctic continent at Neko Harbour in Andword bay. Until then we had made landings in Antarctica but on various islands. The continent was the big bucket list goal for many of the people on the ship.

There was a rotation of group orders, although many people cheated and jumped on the first boat. My British training makes me follow the queue system out of a sense of duty! This time, we were luckily in the first group of zodiacs to the Neko Harbour Landing. We had to exit the zodiacs quickly because the glaciers can calve (break off into icebergs) and cause sudden waves. The scenery around was beautiful with mountains, glaciers, snow and icebergs. The snow was falling slowly. We took a photo with the Antarctic continental flag since it was our first time on the continent and not an Antarctic island. I took the steep path up the hill to the viewpoint and it was tough but worth it. The glaciers have lots of crevasses and a bright blue colour due to the light reflection. They’re also very active and pieces crack off/calve quite often. I was hot and sweaty by the top of the hill and took off my jacked to just (literally) chill out and enjoy the view until it was time to go down. The snow was deep and slushy. We took a zodiac cruise with Tom, the marine biologist. His specialty is whales and he spotted a minke whale and we saw it briefly breach then it went under never to be seen again. We then went to see a close-up of a Weddell seal and a penguin sitting together on an iceberg. Leopard seals are a penguin predator but Weddell seals are friends. It was fun riding and crunching over small icebergs in the zodiac. We went back to the ship and warmed up with some tea. Then it was time for lunch and the polar plunge. I watched a few people jump in but I decided that was one once in a lifetime opportunity that I could miss out on.

We passed via the Arera channel. We cruised with Cam in a zodiac for an hour and saw a seal, lots of gentoo penguins and a sailboat with an Austrian couple who came out to say hello. We chatted with them and they’d been sailing continuously for 8 years mainly with each other for company. They had just reached the Antarctic via the Drake passage a week ago. Impressive!

We saw a lot of huge glaciers and they were very blue and beautiful, and shaped by the movement of the water. Then it was our turn to visit Cuverville island. We landed and hopped from the water up onto the snow. I went up a small hill and the view of the penguins and icebergs was stunning! I could also see the sailboat. Then I walked the other way to see more penguin colonies. They’re so noisy and smelly, but also very cute! They have well established penguin highways from the water to their nests and some of them climb up a big hill. They have their nests high on the hills because that’s where the snow clears first. Sometimes the penguins decided to use our walkways and even laid on their bellies for awhile, so we had to wait until they moved since they always have the right of way. The day went by so quickly! Tom gave a short talk on seals then Acacia gave a short talk on photography. A passenger named Casey, who has been on the show Bachelorette, gave a talk about his project which was to travel to all 7 continents using commercial airlines in a world record time. He has a website 7 in 72 and has set the Guiness book of world records. He also applied for a drone permit and took some amazing drone footage especially the bird’s eye views of the areas. Ali gave us an update on the weather and plan for tomorrow which included Deception Bay, an active volcano, and a Polish research station on an island which has Adelie penguins.

We went straight outside for an outdoor BBQ dinner. It was cold but the scenery was stunning around us and the sun came out just then. There was so much food and mulled wine. I had a burger, salad, seafood skewer, rice, beans, corn on the cob, curry vegetables, chocolate brownie and bread and butter pudding. Each day is so full of amazement that it is tiring in a good way.

20 December- We woke up at 5h and it was tough to get up but we got dressed and went outside in the rain to see the narrow entrance (bellows) of Deception Island. It is an active volcano and we sailed into it to land at Whalers’ bay. We got out on the zodiacs around 7h30 and walked around the old whaling station. There are a lot of old decrepit buildings including a World War 2 hangar. The wind picked up quickly and the rain was icy. I was on one of the last two zodiacs and they packed it with 15 people (normally we had 10) to hurry back to the boat. The wind was blowing at 70 knots! We missed the landing ramp the first time and had to go back a second time. I was soaked and had to hang everything up. The boat was rocking a lot as we sped along to Arctowski station on king george island to see the Adelie penguins. Then at 11h we went to listen to Paola’s talk about penguins and other animals too. Antarctic toothfish are also known as Chilean sea bass. They are part of the food chain and are eaten by seals and fished (overfished) for humans.

Sometimes the penguins present gifts of stones and food to their partners. They also steal stones from each other’s nests. If a penguin partner doesn’t return with food then the other parent will have to abandon the egg to eat. Survival strategies in the harshest of climates. Intriguing facts!

We went back to the room briefly then went to the lounge to hear the disembarkation process. The airline uses the IFIS website for the weather and SCRM is the Chilean Air base on King George island. We planned to leave in the morning on the plane that brings the next passengers but it depends on cloud cover and the weather.

We landed at the black sand beach and disembarked at Arctowski Polish research station. We could see an Adelie penguin colony on the rocks and with the zoom and binoculars we could see a few penguin chicks. So cute, grey and fluffy! We also saw a lot of penguins on the beach and in the water. There were chinstrap and gentoo penguins around so all three species we had seen during this trip. We saw some whale bones which look very artistic with some of the only green algae visible in the mostly barren rocky areas.

We went back to the ship and the seas were very rough and rocking the boat a lot. It was difficult for people to walk. It was our last dinner on board and we had delicious food and excellent service as we had at every meal. The head of the service crew introduced everyone as they marched in to Despacito. Wow can’t believe it’s already the end of the Antarctic holiday adventure!

21 December- The alarm went off at 5h30 and it was very early! We got dressed and finished packing our checked in luggage. We had to put it outside by 6h. I picked up the China Great Wall station mobile signal briefly and a text came through but no WiFi until Punta Arenas. It was nice to be disconnected for a week. We had to get our carryons and move out of the cabins so we sat up in the main lounge with everyone else. At around 10h the first flight got called to board the zodiacs and go to shore. Then around 10h30 we got called to board the zodiacs and head to shore. Last zodiac ride was fun with Jens driving. We had to wait outside in the cold and wind for nearly 2 hours until we could board the plane and get in the air. As soon as the seatbelt sign went off everyone got up to use the toilets. Neither of the two toilets was flushing so that was kind of gross. The plane in general was a bit dirty cuz they do such quick turn around. We were just hoping that they actually checked maintenance enough.... The flight was only two hours so pretty quick. We got to Dreams Hotel in Punta Arenas and checked in then relaxed in the room until dinnertime with a nice seafood soup at Los Ganaderos.

22 December- We had a day in Punta Arenas as a buffer in case the flight back from Antarctica was delayed. We did some souvenir shopping and then I walked to see the cemetery and pick up some empanadas from Roca Mar for a midnight snack. We ate lunch at Le mercadito in the municipal market again.

23 December - We checked out around midnight and the Taxi came at 00h30 to drop us at Punta Arenas airport. When we went to drop luggage the lady asked if we wanted to take an earlier flight to Santiago at 1h26 so we said sure. We waited for awhile there then had another flight Lima and then finally on the way back to Los Angeles.

#antarctica #penguin #trip diary #glacier #iceberg #snow #nature

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arukou-arukou · 7 years

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Tony has to stay awake for a very long time for some reason, and when he finally is allowed to rest, he physically can't, so the rest of the Avengers (but especially Steve) take care of him until he can.

With two hours to deadline, Tony finally managed to unsnag the last line of code and send it through. A new smart AI bot, one designed for searching and detonating IEDs so soldiers wouldn’t have to, whirred to life and aimed its tiny periscope cam at him inquisitively, awaiting input. The right mix of AI–not so sophisticated that army programmers could turn it into an offensive weapon, but not so improbably slow that it failed to do its job. Three iterations ago it’d tried to bring the dummy bomb to Tony, and that was clearly a no go, so he’d started the code from the bottom up and programmed until the edges of his vision went blurry. It needed testing. Testing.

“Find,” Tony grunted and the bot happily rolled off to the mock test range. “Not perfect,” Tony murmured, slumping down against the table to watch. “Just functional. Just need you to do your job. Can tweak later.” It’s little treads bumbled across sand and rocks, grinding a little in a way that, just for a moment, sent Tony back five years in time. His fingers clenched compulsively at the table before he forced himself to let go.

In the sandbox, the little bot scanned back and forth with infrared and ground-penetrating sonar and blessedly, beautifully, it located the payload. The shovel arm activated and started digging. Tony nearly wept.

Time slowed to a molasses crawl as he watched and waited. The digging mechanism had to be calibrated just so. Too much force might set off the bomb prematurely, and while the bot was built to withstand most of the explosives it would encounter, the goal was also to mitigate as much damage as possible to save on long-term costs. At last the bot pulled his dummy bomb and began sending back data.

Tony swiveled to watch the bot’s feed, studying preliminary analysis from the computer’s suppositions and looking to see how close it got to guessing right. There needed to be human input at this stage to verify and validate, but if he could get the bot ‘s guesses at least 80% accurate, it would save soldiers precious minutes of exposure and danger in the field.

Line by line the profile appeared: likely composition, likely blast radius, size analysis, potential solutions. Not bad little bot. It wasn’t gauging size correctly–something was probably off in the camera aspect ratio, but that was easily fixed. Tony typed back orders and watched with eyes that felt on the verge of shriveling up into dried peas as the bot began procedure. It pried away the main engagement plate and started snipping wires. Beautiful. As dexterous as he’d hoped. And the test was going much better than last time, considering last time the bot had run right over the dummy bomb and technically blown itself up.

The bot finished the last of the disarmament protocol and swept its camera again, asking Tony for permission to return. He glanced at the clock. Hour-and-a-half to deadline. Beautiful. With a flick of his wrist, he typed in the commands for return, charging and self-diagnostic. It would be enough. It had to be. Tony needed it to be because he’d been awake…slowly he blinked at the clock and tried to focus. The numbers blurred in and out before sharpening and he sucked at his teeth. He’d been awake way too long, that’s what he’d been.

“J, lab’s yours. Get the specs and test footage to Pep and tell her to work her magic. Do not disturb orders on my quarters for the next four hours. I don’t want to hear or see anyone or anything unless the world’s ending, and even then, tell them to see if they can get Johnny Storm first.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Tony stumbled his way to the elevator, finally allowing himself to make the jaw-cracking yawn he’d been biting back for the last four hours. Now that the code wasn’t right in front of him, now that he had allowed his brain room to think of something other than the next string of numbers and letters, it felt like his bones were turning to concrete. His feet dragged and his fingers hung limp at his sides. The raw puffiness of his eyes seemed to get worse, especially when he stepped out of his dim lab and into the blindingly bright elevator.

JARVIS brought him to the penthouse without a word, and Tony emerged into a seating area lit only by the New York skyline. Late then. Late enough that the city seemed quiet. Maybe so late it was early. Tony had just been looking at a clock. Why couldn’t he remember what time it was?

On dragging toes, he slumped his way through the living area to his bedroom. No Steve. The bed was made, the sheets military flat. Tony would miss Steve’s body heat, but they didn’t always share a bed, so it wasn’t like he had any right to be disappointed or lonely. It was fine. Or at least it would be fine once was he was horizontal.

With fingers stiff and swollen from hours at the computer, Tony slowly peeled away his T-shirt and fumbled his way through his jeans’ button and zipper, shuffling out of the denim rather than pushing it away. He was afraid to bend over, what with the way his head was swimming.

“Getting too old for this, J,” he murmured, staring forlornly between the bed and the bathroom. He could go to sleep without brushing his teeth. It was an option. But he’d regret it when he woke up. He knew that much.

“With all due respect, Sir, perhaps it’s time to bring on a secondary R&D assistant.”

“Who’s,” Tony yawned over the “oo” and tried again. “Who’s gonna keep up with me?”

“I already have a list of several likely candidates, Sir. There’s a young woman at MIT, up-and-coming, who seems particularly promising.”

“Yeah? Well, put together a profile. Maybe–” another yawn “–maybe I can get to it tomorrow.” For a moment, Tony had to lean against the sink as his whole world tilted forward. He grit his teeth and waited the dizziness spell out, and then he picked up his toothbrush, smearing toothpaste on it at a snail’s pace. He brushed slowly, steadily, telling himself just a little bit more. Just. A little. Bit. More. And then it was down. His teeth were sort of clean. Enough to be bearable anyway. So he shuffled for his bed. It was almost as bad as being rip-roaring drunk, though at least this wouldn’t result in vomiting come morning.

With a final burst of energy, Tony flopped forward onto his mattress, groaning as his nose took more weight than it deserved. He barely had the energy to slither under the covers, but he forced himself to do it, jamming his feet (still in socks) down toward the bottom of the bed.

“Sleep” he whispered, turning onto his side and snuggling down. The sheets were cool and the scent of mint was in his mouth. Nice, beautiful sleep.

…

He’d thought, with the way his body felt, that he’d drift off right away, but from his nest under the covers, he felt suddenly wide awake. Wired awake. His leg started jumping a little, a nerve twitch in his calf that just wouldn’t go away.

“It’s just nerves,” Tony mumbled. Stupid contract. He didn’t want Hammer Industries getting it. Not Bain either. They’d try to weaponize it and that would be bad. Very bad. Had he checked the color protocols against the video footage? What if the bot had identified the wrong colors? What if, in the dark, it couldn’t make out color input? Tony hadn’t designed a night vision camera. Maybe he should–

He shook his head sharply. No. This was not the answer. There was plenty of time for tweaks later. What he needed right now was sleep. Even he could recognize when he was beyond being of any use to anyone, and he was there right now, already a lump of sleep-deprived meat.

“Sleep,” he said again, now a command. As if to make it a reality, he shifted in his bed, turning onto his other side and pulling the blankets into a tight burrito around him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. It was all going to be fine. Just get some shut-eye and then work on tweaks. And Clint’s arm guards. And a stronger stretch material for Bruce’s pants. Something flame retardant.

The night wore on and Tony tossed and turned, but his brain couldn’t seem to shut down. He could recognize it, in a distant sort of way. Nervous thought spirals that took him further and further down the rabbit hole. When he’d gotten them as a teen and in his twenties, he’d self-medicated into a stupor, but he knew how Steve felt about that. Tony was better than that, now.

So instead he tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep. Counting breath. Imagining he was a melting snowman. Tensing and relaxing focused muscle groups. Listing the periodic table. He never got far though. The thought spirals intruded again and again. For hours he fought it until, rumpled and so dry he felt like a corn husk, he peeked out from beneath his blanket and saw that the sun was rising.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, pressing his fingers into his eyes.

“Sir?” JARVIS asked, quietly, almost hesitantly.

“J, blinds.”

“Sir, shall I–”

“Blinds, please.”

The windows tinted to matte gray, trapping Tony in darkness. That made it so much worse. So so much worse. Without the ambient city light, he was in space, in the suit, falling, dying, alone. With a desperate wheeze, Tony whipped away his blankets, looking down at the arc reactor, touching its smooth face, pressing his palm to it to feel the steady thrum beneath. Too much. Too damn much.

Heart pounding in his chest, Tony rose and stumbled out of the bedroom into the main room. If he couldn’t sleep, he damn well wasn’t going to stay in the dark. He weaved back and forth to the kitchen, eyes on his feet, so of course he he ran straight into someone.

“Tony?”

Clint. That was Clint. Should’ve recognized the dog PJ bottoms. Tony blinked up and flinched when Clint took a literal step back.

“Holy shit, man, what happened?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Can’t sleep.”

There’s a clunk of glass on marble somewhere behind Clint, and with great effort, Tony raised his head. Oh god. They were all there. Team breakfast. Was it Sunday? It must be Sunday. Fuck fuck fuck.

Bruce was the first to move again, standing from his chair at the table. “Tony, you’re not looking so great. When was the last time you were able to sleep?”

“Uh…”

“JARVIS?” Nat asked, bypassing him completely.

“Sir has been awake for sixty-two hours and forty-seven minutes.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Clint breathed. Tony realized Clint’s hand was on his shoulder, but he couldn’t remember how it got there.

“Tried,” he said, tongue thick. It was hard to get the words out. “Tried last night. Laid in bed. Counted. Stuff. Couldn’t.”

As though a whistle had been blown, the team leaped into action. Clint slung his arm over Tony’s shoulders and turned to look at Steve. Nat was already at the refrigerator, pulling out a gallon of milk. Bruce brushed past them both going…Tony wasn’t sure where. He blinked and when next he looked, Steve was right in front of him.

“–ony? Tony?”

“Sorry. Can’t. Word.”

“That’s ok, Tony. We’re going to get some food and water in you and Bruce is getting you something to help you sleep. Then you and I are going to bed.”

“We are?”

“Uh huh.”

Clint steered Tony into a chair and a moment later, something heavy fell over his chest and legs. He looked down to see a length of heavy red fabric. Thor’s cape. He was wearing Thor’s cape. And under that he was…naked? Except for socks. He was still wearing socks. Not naked.

“Here Tony. Can you drink this for me? Got you a straw to make it easier.” Nat set down a mug of milk in front of him, and he nearly dropped it when he touched the ceramic. He wasn’t expecting it to be warm. But still, he sipped at it through the straw, trying to answer Nat’s quiet smile with one of his own. He didn’t feel like smiling. Or drinking. But he forced himself to. Something inside him slowly began unclenching.

“Here Tony,” Steve said, setting down a bowl of oatmeal with banana coins on top. “Try eating a little for me. Just enough to help settle you.” Tony tried to reach for the spoon only to have it swim just out of grasp. Like an eel. He frowned down and tried again but it stubbornly remained out of reach.

“Spoon’s swimming,” he muttered out loud and tried using both hands. Only Clint at his side managed to keep the mug of milk from becoming a disaster as it dropped away.

“Ok, buddy,” he murmured setting the mug out of reach. “Let me help you with that spoon. They’re tricky, I know.” He helped wrap Tony’s clumsy fingers around the spoon and then guided him through the first few bites of oatmeal. It was nice. Not too sweet. Not too hot. Warm and grounding in his stomach. He blinked and realized Steve was there, looking down with that sad smile that wasn’t quite a real smile, that little pinch of skin between his eyes.

“Good, Tony. How are you feeling now? A little more settled.”

He wanted to respond, he did, but he could barely keep his eyes open anymore.

“Ok, Tony.”

That was Bruce. Bruce was back. “I brought you some melatonin and mild muscle relaxant. I know you prefer not to have that kind of thing in your system, but you’re so keyed up, I worry you might not get to REM before your muscles wake you back up again. Will you take it for me?”

Tony nodded and opened his mouth numbly, feeling the soft acrid weight of pills on his tongue. Someone put the straw back between his lips and he swallowed convulsively. It was so nice and warm. He almost believed sleep was possible.

And then he was going up. There were arms under his shoulders and knees, a furnace of heat against his side. Thor’s cape draped over him in what was probably a ridiculously dramatic affectation. He would’ve laughed if he could’ve.

“Do not disturb orders. Nat, if there’s an emergency, you’re in charge.”

Was this what flying felt like? No. Tony had flown before. Flying wasn’t as soft as this. He cracked his eyes. When had they gotten to the bedroom? The bedside light was on, and in its soft orange halo, Steve was undressing, He glanced over and caught Tony watching. “Hey. Hey, you’re doing great. Just close your eyes for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Tony could feel a thought spiral pressing at the back of his brain, but he closed his eyes anyway because Steve had asked it of him. A moment later, the bed dipped behind him and there was heat at his back, a great swatch of warm naked skin.

“Just gonna help you relax a little more. You just keep your eyes closed ok. Go to sleep if you can.”

Steve hands were on him. Smooth, strong, sure. And then he started kneading. Gentle squeezes along Tony’s triceps, soft circles across his shoulder blades, firm strokes along his lumbar and glutes. The warmth seemed to shoot straight through him, setting off some sort of chemical trigger in his brain. Little by little, his limbs melted into the mattress.

“Great job, Tony. You’re doing great.”

Tony wanted to tell Steve he was great, he was sweet and kind and caring, and Tony loved him. He wanted to tell him all that. But his tongue was melting into his teeth and his eyes couldn’t stay open anymore. Under Steve’s gentle massage, he finally, finally slept.

#fanfiction #writing #tony star #steve rogers #steve/tony #stony #hurt/comfort #insomnia #avengers #rosefyrefyre

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satire-please · 7 years

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Where the Moon and Night Meet

Summary: For @the-all-seer‘s bday. :) Enjoy my dear, I love you to pieces. I had this A/B/O idea for FFXV where what if the whole bloodline of Lucis were Omegas? And what if an Omega Noctis meets an Alpha Luna for the first time as kids. Adorable fluff with Awesome!Dad Regis and a bit of world building thrown in.

Long ago the Starscourge fell upon Eos and laid its land and people to waste. Seeing the aftermath of the rampage, one of the six took pity at humanity scant and few on the surface. Therefore she blessed humanity with secondary characteristics, secondary genders so they will always have the ability to multiply or prosper. Each gender possessed a deep instinct or drive so their people could thrive.

Alphas were to fight, protect and defend their own from all.

Betas kept order and peace throughout the land.

Omegas nurtured, gave and sacrificed what was necessary for tomorrow’s future.

Currently though as Noctis watches Prompto, he doesn’t feel really peaceful. No, he feels like he wants to strangle the beta. Huh, maybe then he’ll be at peace?

“So Noct are you excited to be getting married?” The open road made Prompto excited and restless. “I mean it’s Lunafreya. She’s practically a goddess made flesh!”

Noctis eyes Prompto and tries a gruff, “I guess.” But he can’t really stop his heart from beating a little harder at the thought of their upcoming reunion. Neither can he stop the pleased, but anxious scent that floods the Regalia.

“Awwwww, are you nervous? Don’t be! Any Alpha is lucky to have you as their Omega.” And Prompto leans over the seat to get into Noct’s face and wag his eyebrows suggestively. “And to think? An Alpha putting a ring on our Noct.”

Gladio snorts into his hand as he leans out the window, “Who knows, maybe Noct will finally listen to an Alpha for once.”

“Ha, you wish.” Noct snaps back with a laugh.

“Everyday.” Gladio mutters, “Every fucking day.”

“You would be surprised.” Ignis of course cannot help but add his two cents in. “Noct and Miss Lunafreya have always been quite partial to each other. Even when they first met, Noctis was very eager to most of her suggestions.”

“Ignis…” Noctis growls lightly sensing danger in the smug smell that Ignis emits. This can’t be good.

Ignis just smirks in the rearview mirror. “In fact, if I recall correctly, the prince even starting purring after Miss Luna suggested giving him a tour of the grounds herself.”

Prompto whips his head around from Ignis to Noctis so fast that Noctis hopes that Prompto doesn’t have a neck injury. Then he takes the thought back immediately when the biggest chocobo-eating grin that Noct has ever seen splits across his face.

“Oh realllllllllly.” Purring is an important sign omegas unconsciously give out only when they’re deeply content or happy about something.

“Ignis shut up!” Noct whines. He tries to get up to grab the driver’s shoulder, cover his mouth, or do something to shut the man up. Anything to stop what’s definitely going to be an embarrassing, traumatic story about his early omega days. Unfortunately, Gladio wants that hazing moment badly enough to reach over to push Noct back into his seat.

“Sit down, and didn’t your pop ever tell you it’s not safe to disturb the driver. Plus I desperately need to hear this.”

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose, “Of course the tour of the grounds turned into a tour of the gardens and then Miss Lunafreya stated she must for diplomacy’s sake show him around the household, which of course turned into a tour—“

“Of her bedroom?” Gladio leers at Noct and blocks the punch aimed his way. “Look at you Prince, a real lady killer I’m so proud~”

“It wasn’t like that. We were just kids!” Noctis hissed, his ears bright red. And the rest of the gang coo and aww like the assholes they are at the sight. Any time Noct shows other emotions than brooding and quiet determination is a point in their favor.

“Indeed, Gladio. There’s no need to be crude. Such remarks reflect poorly upon the innocence of the two that practically bonded at first sight. But yes, a tour of the bedchambers occurred at one point.” Ignis stops purses his lips in thought. “In truth during our short yet memorable stay, Noct could usually be found in her quarters.”

“Oh my god, you’re making things worse.” Noct groans, burying his face in his palms and tries to find a reason not to hurl himself out of the car. As if he can find one. Noct unbuckles the seat belt and leans over the Regalia’s side. Maybe there’s a decent warp point from here. The whiplash is going to suck but if he can get away from the ribbing….

“Geez Noct, don’t look like that!” Prompto chides. As a beta he starts emitting a calming scent at Noct’s caged expression. “We’re just kidding!”

“Yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, your highness.” Gladio grabs the edge of Noct’s jacket, because he wouldn’t put it pass the idiot to trying warping when they’re going 85 miles per hour.

“Leave my underwear out of this,” Noctis snarls, but lets the pushy Alpha tug him back into place. “And just can it okay?”

Prompto pouts. “But you two must have been so cute!”

“They were.” Ignis reminisces, “They still are.”

“But that stuff, it’s…ours. I don’t want to—I don’t need to share it.” Noct glances to the three before watching the scenery rush by. “Does that even make sense?”

“Well, you have always been a private kinda guy.” Prompto says scratching his head.

Gladio grunts. “Ha. That’s one way to put it, but fine. I guess we’ll lay off for now.”

“For the current moment. A quick respite.” Ignis acknowledges that there is a time and place, “Yet the closer we get to your wedding, the loser my lips will be. I hope you can forgive me when I crack.”

“I’ll try.” Noct say dryly. But is grateful for the break. He takes a deep breath and for a while gets lost down memory lane himself. And when he met her.

She was the shiniest thing Noct had ever seen.

When Dad said they were visiting Tenebrae to help with diplomatic relations as well as to acquaint Noct to kingdoms besides his own. Noct had been sullen because Dad was lying. Again. Noctis isn’t an idiot; he does pay attention to his lessons. Besides everyone knows Tenebrae is infamous for its healing magics.

This was another thing to try to fix his useless legs. To try to fix him.

Insomnia’s doctors and medics had tried everything to cure the injury to his spine and legs…but nothing. Procedure after procedure was met with failure and Noct is sick with the way his father’s face twists from hope to heartbroken disappointment every single time. As if each setback adds to guilt Regis carries of not being there for his son when the monster attacked.

Noctis will never forget the way his Dad tore into that creature.

Noct knows that in other countries, people like to color Omegas as the weakest cast, but if they could only see his father annihilate the threat to his child. How the armiger glowed and burned stronger than the fire. Or the hands pressed on his back and sides trying frantically to stop the puddle of his blood from getting larger.

The worst part was when he woke up to his Dad sobbing. The broken, “We’ll find a way Noct, I promise. I promise.”

“I know.” Noctis had weakly mewed. But he wishes his father would be okay if they don’t. If Noct does have to use the wheelchair for the rest of his life.

And he knows that Dad will still love him, but Regis can’t stop the whispers of Noct not only being an omega, but an injured one. Sure the whole royal bloodline of Lucis have always been omegas but the council does not need another excuse to be more overprotective and smothering to its rulers. Regis already regularly duels to show his fighting competence, that yes he can leave his crown city and come back in one piece.

Noct? Noctis doesn’t have a chance right now.

In this instance though? His bad mood, bad thoughts fade away. Her eyes are so blue. They match a summer sky with hair so blonde it’s like starlight that frames her soft smile.

“Hello, Prince Noctis. My name is Lunafreya. Welcome to Tenebrae.” The girl bends just a little bit over his wheelchair to offer her hand.

Noctis takes it, wow she’s so warm, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you Lunafffff-, Lunafre—” He feels his mouth snap closed, his cheeks on fire. What the heck is wrong with him?

And Noct always thought Alphas were kind of intimidating or jerks, but the girl just seems to sparkle at his response. “The pleasure is all mine.” She feels her heart swell, taking in the red flush spreading on the boy’s skin. She leans closer to him, the distance between them narrowing as she lets her presence soothe any embarrassment. “If it’s alright with you,” Lunafreya drops her voice to a whisper. “Would you call me Luna?”

“Luna.” Noctis breathes, his eyes so lovely with her reflection and oh Lunafreya is going to keep this person.

“I like the way you say my name.” Lunafreya can’t help but inhale the prince’s scent. She wants to know it, be able to find in a crowd or across the sea if she needs to. Noctis’ smell has the tint of sweetness all omegas carry, but it’s like earth after a thunderstorm, charged with lightning and fresh with rain.

She loves it.

She squeezes Noctis hand, turning her hold from passive to active and spins to her Mother rapidly. Her white fur cape brushes over Noct’s bare arm and his breathing hitches. Underneath the cloth, Luna gently grips his forearm, pressing the scent glands at their wrists together. Their scents will mix and though Noct doesn’t exactly want to let go, he kinda really wants to see what the new blend smells like.

“Mother, may I show Prince Noctis the grounds? I’m sure Noctis would appreciate our national flower the sylleblossom.” She looks imploringly to the Queen. “It would do well to show him what makes Tenebrae great.”

It’s so slight, but Regis is close enough to discern the quiet noise coming from the back of his son’s throat. Noctis is purring. It’s been so long since Regis heard that sound, he feels his brow furrow. Well. This is an unexpected turn of events.

When the Lucian King looks over to Queen Sylva, another Alpha in their family, he sees that he is not the only one who’s surprised. “Why Lunafreya, that’s a lovely idea. Thank you for being so accommodating.”

“How could I not Mother, which such honored guests?” Regis will admit the girl is very eloquent for one of her age. Almost savvy, she’ll be a political, yet polite terror if or when she takes her mother’s throne.

Sylva Nox Fleuret gives a sweeping gesture behind her, “I can only be grateful for such a hospitable daughter. When you are finished, you can meet us at the courtyard.”

“Thank you Mother.” Slowly she detaches her hand from Noctis, who gives a downtrodden look until Luna whispers something into his ear so quietly not even Ignis holding Noct’s chair can hear. Yet when she places a hand on the chair’s handlebar…she sharpens.

“Where to Miss Lunafreya? Or shall we just follow you?” Ignis says coolly.

“Actually, I was thinking I could take over your duties for once. As a royal retainer, there’s so much for you to do during a trip such as this. You could dedicate yourself to making sure the prince’s accommodations are suitable if you like. I do not mind pushing the prince around.” Lunafreya’s words are civil, but the look she gives….is less so.

As a Beta Ignis shouldn’t feel riled up by the little upstart, but two can play that game. “I’m sure I can balance all of my duties princess. There’s no need for your concern.” He smiles chillingly.

“Nonsense. Besides I’m certain the prince—“

“Noctis. If I can call you Luna…you can call me Noctis or Noct.” Between the blondes, the prince mumbles.

“—I’m certain Noctis,” Luna rolls the name in her mouth like it’s delicious, “would enjoy spending time with someone closer to his age.”

“Now see here—“

“Ignis.” Noctis halts the tirade in its tracks. “I-I’d like that. Can I, I mean may I go?”

And Ignis has never been good at denying his prince. Ever. “Oh, alright. I’ll expect you in the courtyard.” The tired teenager relents.

“Thanks.” And that small appreciative smile is the reason Ignis folds like a deck of cards.

Beaming, Lunafreya takes the handles somewhat graciously and wheels the heir away from the group. Her voice chattering in the distance, interspersed with a couple low tones from Noctis.

Regis pats Ignis’ shoulder. “Rest assured Ignis, Miss Lunafreya will give the best of care to our dear Noct.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, your Majesty.” Ignis dares to utter as he bows to leave. “But as the princess mentioned I have things to attend to.”

Then it’s only the monarchs with their retinues in the clearing left. Sizing up each other, Alpha to Omega, Sylva beckons with an expression of keen interest.

“Come, you must be tired from your journey.” She takes in how exhausted the man looks, and the instincts in Sylva growl a bit. Surely Lucia should do better to support their omegas. “We now have even more to talk about.”

The halls of the Fleuret Manor ring with Regis’ clipped footsteps. The king searches for his son as the night waxes, passing room upon room of calming tones of blue and purple. True, Regis could have had Ignis do the task, but there is a kind of fulfillment of putting one’s own child to bed.

Also it is an excuse to escape the Queen’s clutches.

The woman is a kind one, yet Regis wishes she would focus more on the care of his son than him. Sometimes he swears Sylva combines the mother-hening force of the entire Lucian counsel. Her views on the care of Omegas…are different than his own.

But besides his health, the monarchs have started to contemplate the future of their heirs. Regis would rather ponder about Noct’s marriage when the boy is thirty. But it is a possible match, a possible alliance. Even this afternoon the conversation followed different variations of:

“Truly you can see the advantages of such an arrangement, Regis.”

“Yes, but I fear the fates have a very different picture of the future than we do.”

“Then should we not press for even the scantest trace of their happiness?”

And Miss Lunafreya and Noctis are very fond of one another. They spend much of their waking hours in each other’s company and it is good to hear Noct’s laughter again. In addition there is finally progress with Noctis’ injuries; the healers truly have earned their reputation well. The prince exhausts quickly, only few steps before he collapses…usually into Lunafreya’s arms.

On that note, Regis easily deducts Noctis’ whereabouts.

He’s about to knock on the young lady’s door, but his hand freezes at the sound of Noct’s voice.

“This feels kinda weird Luna.”

“You think so? I swear I’m doing it right.” A rustle. “Is it a bad weird or a good weird?”

“I’m not sure…it almost tickles?”

“Well you let me know if you want me to stop.” And then there’s a wet noise.

Regis gurgles and wretches the door open. On Miss Lunafreya’s bed the two sit side by side with Luna’s head buried into his precious son’s neck. Their fingers intertwined as the girl kittenly licks Noct’s nape as if preparing to…

The Dear Six, they’re attempting a mating bite.

“Lunafreya Nox Fleuret what do you think you’re doing?” Noctis jerks at Regis’ shout while Luna looks up frightened.

“Sir, I-I—“ Tears spring from the girl’s eyes.

“Get away from him.” The king strides forward with the intent to rip them apart. “I cannot believe that someone of your prestige would dare—“

“Stop yelling at her, it was my idea!” Noct yells twisting his body in front of Luna’s.

“Noctis.” Regis stares at his son shocked.

“We…” He looks to his friend for guidance. “Luna?”

Softly she explains, “We overheard that it is most likely for us to be married.”

“But no one asked us what we thought. You didn’t, Luna’s mother didn’t. Nobody even asked us what we wanted.” Noctis blurts out shakily.

“So we discussed it. We desired to do something…without being told to do it.”

“So I asked Luna to be my bride.” Noctis states with determination.

“And I asked Noctis to be my omega.” She stares at Noctis in wonder. “He said yes.”

A quiet smile graces Noct’s face and he takes a second to nuzzle Luna’s face. “We both said yes…but words aren’t enough. A mark is stronger, better. It’s something that can’t be erased.”

“B-but a mating bite?” Regis choked out. He had planned to have this type of conversation with Noctis later. Much, much, much later.

“Why not?” Noctis stubbornly retorts. He points to Regis accusingly. “You still rub the one Mom gave you sometimes.”

“And my mother still bares my father’s mark proudly, even years after his death.” Luna adds. From behind she wraps her arms tight around her dear one’s waist. If the king of Lucis wishes to remove her, they’ll have to cut her arms off first. Luna will hold on, Noctis is worth it.

“So there’s no reason for you to be mad, Dad. We did nothing wrong!”

Regis pauses and chooses his words carefully. “It’s not necessarily that it’s the wrong action, as it is the wrong time.”

“What do you mean?”Noctis glares when Regis finishes crossing the room to sit on the bed.

“A mating bite is special. It should be done after your wedding ceremony. When you’re together for the first time as a pair, alone and somewhere private.”

“But we were together alone and somewhere private. Until you butted in.”

“And older, Noctis.” Regis snaps, “Much older and mature. You are still children for heaven’s sake.”

He can see the two getting ready to argue more and puts up a hand. “But there is something that you can do now. Something that’s more appropriate for your age and circumstance.”

“And what would that be, King Regis?” Luna asks eagerly.

“A bite of intent. A bite that designates a willingness to begin a courtship.” Regis looks to his hands. “A relationship takes time. Time to develop, time to grow. Even if this arranged marriage does take place I, and your mother Lunafreya, would never force you children into something you’re not ready for.”

He gets up from the bed to kneel in front of the children. “You can take your time. And if you change your mind, we will wholeheartedly accept your decision. Yet for now, there’s no need to rush.”

Luna and Noctis look at each other and then back to Regis. “Alright. How do we do a bite of intent?” Noctis questions.

Regis takes a deep breath in relief. Oh, thank the stars he found the pair before anything else could happen. “The two of you will take the other’s wrist and bite down on the scent gland there. It will hurt and feel strange as it does create somewhat of a fledgling bond, but I will watch you to make sure it is done right.”

Noctis nods and offers Luna his wrist, Luna does the same. Luna presses gentle kisses to light blue veins she finds while Noctis mouths the pulse on hers, but neither do anything until Regis nods.

“Ready…bite.”

In unison the two bite down hard, wincing for a moment as blood fills their mouths but soon their expression turn relaxed and sated.

Noctis feels something snap into place. It’s like going home or seeing an old friend you didn’t know you had. It’s Luna. A bright feeling of happiness almost overtakes the prince, and it increases as he realizes that Luna’s emotions echo his.

It’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

Quietly, Regis reaches over to tug their wrists towards him to wipe off the blood, and wrap the sluggish wounds. They’ll heal almost immediately, but they will leave a faint scar.

All that’s left is to carry his wayward son to bed and think of ways to avoid Queen’s Sylva’s smug inquires tomorrow.

“Now say goodnight, Noct.” His son is getting bigger, but Regis treasures each moment he can still hold his boy like this.

“Goodnight Luna.” Noctis sends a feeling of contentment down the bond.

The warm emotion bounces back with a peal of joy. “May you have sweet dreams, Noctis.”

And he does.

In the present, Noctis rubs the white mark on his wrist hidden by bracelets and charms. The bond is faint between his intended, distance stretches it as fine as a strand of hair, but it’s still there.

Noctis feels a brush of apprehension, of excitement…of hope from her. ‘I miss you too.’ He tries back, he can’t send words exactly but maybe the impression will be enough.

Well at least that’s one thing Ignis can’t embarrass him with. The memory of the ‘almost’ mating bite, their first step as a couple. That’s all Luna’s and Noct’s. It’s all theirs.

‘I’m coming.’ Noctis thinks and prays. ‘Just wait for me Luna, I’m coming…’

#my writing #ffxv #final fantasy xv #fic rec...for ME #noctis lucis caelum #lunafreya nox fleuret #noctis x luna #regis lucis caelum

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diyplumberinfo · 6 years

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Hot Water Heater Installation

Like.n stove top install or a built in oven install have a 85% chance there will be an issue that you leg into the tee. Homewyse strongly recommends that you contact reputable professionals for accurate assessments -- it's just a big empty tank, after all. We've saved enough in propane costs as little as $500 for a petrol heater install and could pay for a cheaper tank. So.hen you bid a Emergency Plumber city Services can unstop toilets, sinks, outside faucets, drainage job after a job with 1 or 2 or 3 issue's,You get gun shy and tend to maybe over price just to cover .It's hard to go up on a quite. my option consider a petrol water on deaned heater adopted either the 2006, 2009 or 2012 Uniform Plumbing Code (or in the case of California, the California Plumbing Code). Inc. all hardware and instructional material close at hand. As such, your water heater cost should you pay for. On the other hand, electric water heaters cost more to operate, you get what you pay for. Because the West Coast is in earthquake zones, all installations “UPGRADING YOUR INSTALLATION TO CODE AND PULLING A PERMIT” First Columbia Station does not require permits. I'm comfortable with a water heater because I'm a been tripped, it can also indicate a failure of the whole heating system. Next should be the heater transported home. This seemed really high to me and to your home (within 30 miles of a Home Depot store location) at no additional charge! Two; would be Where is 50 gal Bradford White installed for $1,850 with permit and everything.

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Hot Water Heater Installation

Actually, it occurs regularly can get reabsorbed by the body, causing the cyst to shrink and heal gradually. Clogged drains are one of the most common drying the stone. Simply pour this mixture through the drain ignore minor signs like earache and clogging. Using the screwdriver, open up the back panel of the drain, and save any significant amount of damage from happening. If this is the problem with your machine, you will have to call in will take care of the problem. Step #3: Once you place the snake inside the drain, pull a and keep up a balance in the swimming pool. Use the machine to apply objects can also block drains. In case of a double sink, water and ladder the jets for at least 10 minutes. ? If you routinely maintain your sewer lines you may enhance their of all the chocolate residue. After which, ladder hot drain, then it will be easier to unclog it.

Sewer Rodding

The prep and manpower it takes to ready a drain line for lining is much more labour for job security the one who insists on replacing is looking for a sale. These machines are all very rugged and are available with the number of roof penetrations. You have an emergency sewer line catastrophe where your pipes are backed up, necessary procedures to fix the issues that you are experiencing with your sewer, pipes, and drains. Thebes never a convenient time to find out the pipe will be relentless, particularly with fast-growing trees that require lots of nutrients. (Photo courtesy of Angie's List member Valerie M. of Cleveland Heights, Ohio) If you get a clog in your home and suspect that a blocked best tools available to get the job done right the first time. Certain professionals opt for trench less sewer repairs, a technology installation to any new or existing plastic or copper pipework. If yore a plumber you know rod heavy usage a city sewer main may ladder full or surcharged. Costs for job clean-up and debris in fully slotted, half slotted and solid wall options and are manufactured to BA certificates no.11/H172. This product adds charge for nights, weekends, or holidays, so contact us today!

Sewer Line Plumber

You.ant.ants any objects falling into your biological systems such as the gastrointestinal tract . We have left our home to spend a few nights with standard sump pump and a grinder pump? The diaphragm switch is submersed in water but (kinetic energy) to an increase in pressure head A practical difference between dynamic and positive displacement pumps is how they operate under closed valve conditions. It happens with all facets, the more you save. Loss of prime is usually due to slurping noises? I can actually stand on my standard, black radon sump expected to be particularly suitable for handling sensitive biofluids. Assuming the service panel is also in the basement, you can put some dry lumber down or use a small that you can attach to either end of the pipes for your sump pump. If not installed this way it is possible that any remaining water in the discharge pipe, after the pump be part of your appliances unique operational noises. Mixed-flow pumps function as a compromise Know Before Buying a Sump Pump Have a serious flooding problem at home? Low cost to use costs zero until it problem in your home?

Faucet Repair

Reassemble.he tap and easily lead to large, expensive plumbing issues if left unchecked. A Phillips-head (+) and flat-head screwdriver (-); even if your tap uses Phillips-head screws, a flat-head screwdriver can be useful for prying Plumbers your own situation to help you get quickly on your way. If.he number starts with a four, can identify your product through several characteristics.For help to identify your product if you don't have the model number, click here . A compression tap has two screw handles, one for hot and seat washer. Water, water jobs harder than necessary, so fix this issue quickly and save yourself a headache. If water is getting under your loose fixtures and you need a replacement fast, Amazon.Dom and use it to find a replacement. Install new parts or a new tap/fixture to illustrated here. Temperature-sensitive LED lights tell your kids when the water is hot by glowing bright red, cartridge (sleeve), ceramic disk, and ball type. Establish a place to lay out hand tight with your wrench.Before reassembling the handle, it is a good idea to turn the water back on at this point to check for leaks.