#so i doubt ill let recovery stop me much

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy resident evil #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon

[shiorimakibawrites]

Idea: Sanctuary (Daredevil)

Last one, I promise. At least until the muses give me more ideas through I'm hoping they actually let me write finish something before piling more work on me.

Brainstorming notes where any feedback or suggestions are welcomed.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Defenders - Angst with eventual comfort - Medical inaccuracies - Beginning of Season 3 Matt.

Sanctuary

Matt Murdock / Daredevil x Reader

Possible Ch. Titles: John Doe – Where There Is Life – HIPPA Violation – Do No Harm – Confession

You are a doctor who works at small charity clinic.

One day, as you are heading home, you are stopped by Father Lantom.

Not sure how you know him – maybe you are Catholic and starting attending Mass after moving to NYC.

Father Lantom asks you for a favor. There is someone who needs a doctor but you can’t take him to a hospital or tell anyone about him.

This request gives you some misgivings but you trust the priest and figure that he wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t necessary or important. So you agree to his terms.

He takes you to where your patient is:

(1) Still in the St. Agnes as it was in canon but tucked away somewhere out of the way.

(2) In the basement since they seem to want to keep Matt’s presence a secret and keeping someone in a building full of kids isn’t how you keep them a secret.

John Doe is half-naked, unconscious, and badly hurt. He should be in a hospital but they are adamant about not taking him. You wonder who is this man is but Father Lantom and Sister Maggie claim not to really know, that they found him like that but you aren’t sure you believe them.

Maybe you have some kind of healing power – the power is relatively minor, you can boost someone’s natural healing ability – cannot instantly and completely heal someone’s wounds or illnesses but you can heal enough to turn a deadly injury into a survivable one. Lessen the recovery time – you heal in one week instead of two.

There is some cost to your healing power – (1) takes energy (2) have to know exactly what you are doing to avoid more harm than than good (3) you can feel your patient’s pain while healing them (4) some combination thereof.

Despite efforts to keep things secret, you learn some things about your patient. He had been injured before but got medical treatment of varying degrees of quality (no shade on Claire, sometimes Matt does his own stitches) – that he was blind – seems to have sensitive skin – stuff from nightmares and mumblings when he is feverish (apologizing to various people – Dad, Elektra, Foggy, Karen, Stick . . .).

You also notice the man is very handsome.

You try to figure out which of the two people missing from the Midland Circle your patient is – attorney Matt Murdock or the vigilante Daredevil. Daredevil fits with the muscular body, the scars, and the insistence that he not go to hospital. Matt Murdock fits with the blindness but you struggle to think of why Matt Murdock cannot go to a hospital.

John Doe (Matt) isn’t exactly cooperative with unraveling the mystery when he walks up but not uncooperative either – sometimes he doesn’t seem to care if you know who he is, other times he does – you think its part of his depression.

Because yes, Matt when he wakes up is the same cheerful person we saw in the beginning of Season 3 (obvious sarcasm is obvious).

Matt needs SO MUCH therapy – physical and psychological. Neither of which is your specialty but you doubted that you could bring either in on this . . . maybe you have friends who are a physical therapist and a psychiatrist or psychologist whose brains you can pick. They will probably eventually get curious about your questions.

Maybe they discover things and become part of the team. Again, nothing against Claire but she might need some help with patching up vigilantes – if for no other reason, she cannot be everywhere. Also as a doctor, you can write prescriptions for things like antibiotics (given how often he lands in dumpsters, it is amazing that Matt hasn’t gotten an infection yet).

At some point, you move Matt from the church to your place.

Romance is slow burn.

#fan fic ideas #upcoming fic #daredevil #mcu daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #hurt/comfort #matt murdock angst

[stickythoughts1989]

The Signs Part 1: harm / death / health / sleep

Before my diagnosis, I thought about death and harm a lot. 

On many occasions, I convinced myself I would die young and I mostly accepted this as a fact of life. There were signs it was coming true everywhere. And sometimes I even welcomed death – after all I was severely depressed, too. Other times, however, I feared it would come true so much that I panicked at the sight of graveyards and recoiled at the mention of anything remotely related. 

Growing up I worried about my family member’s safety constantly. I convinced myself that if I didn’t say “I love you” to my parents on the phone as they drove home from work each night, they would die and I would never be able to forgive myself for not saying it. At times I pictured their deaths so clearly in my mind I started to believe it was already true. I began to doubt my reality and avoid any potential threat to my so-called safety.

As a little girl, each night, every part of me had to be tucked carefully behind the covers out of fear that someone or something might come and hurt me. I rarely ever made it through the whole night at sleepovers so my parents started to pick me up and drive me back each morning no matter the distance or inconvenience. 

Sleep, a simple concept, is not so simple for me. Back then I couldn’t, and still really can’t at nearly age 35, sleep in the same room as others. Sleep – a time and space I couldn’t feel in control of – felt akin to death, and the two have become tightly wound together. Being awake just feels safer. I worry what could happen to me if I let go. I worry what may happen to someone else if I let go. 

For example, when I was a teen visiting my grandmother, I stayed awake all night listening to her breathing in and out in the bed right next to me. I did so out of fear that she may die any second. I saw that imagined future so clearly in my mind – I was certain it would happen and it would be my responsibility to call my family and the authorities. I would never, ever get over the vision or memory of my beloved grandmother dying right next to me. 

So I stayed up. I feared sleep so much I became an insomniac. My anxiety fought my need to rest tooth and nail. Staying awake all those nights meant I could be better prepared if something did happen. Thankfully, no one has yet died next to me but that didn't stop the fear that pervades every corner of my conscious mind. 

Sickness – especially the kind that can kill you – is scary.

Any sign that I was remotely ill, I crumbled. At my first job I became a puddle of tears on the floor upon hearing I had a minor thyroid nodule. Death was imminent and it was only a matter of time and circumstance before it would become my truth and destiny. 

At age 27, I went under anesthesia for the first time. Though it was for a minor procedure I just knew I wouldn’t wake up on the other side of it. While I was confused, surprised and delighted to still be breathing a few hours later in the recovery room, the uncertainty of not knowing when I might die in the future crippled me. Maybe death then would’ve been easier, or so I thought. Because at least then I would know.

Now I can  recognize that fear of harm or death are some of my biggest OCD obsessions or themes. But another big one is perfectionism. More on that soon.

#obsessive compulsive disorder #ocd #mental illness #anxiety #depression

[ghostofnibelheim]

azure-steel​:

Cloud does stop when ordered to but not without the obligatory and hostile “what?!” hissed between clenched teeth. Though he doesn’t bother to turn back to the man until he hears the tell-tale drag of stone against stone. The wall quakes beneath his hand, eliciting a small startled gasp from an otherwise dry throat, he motions to push away from the wall, but the action isn’t quite executed as his attention is drawn to the hole now gaping wide within the rock.

It was like something out of a movie, at least it nothing like Cloud had ever seen in his lifetime, and up to this point there had been plenty strange occurrences to force him to question this given reality. He’d lost count of the times he’d lay in hope of this just being one drawn out horrific dream and he was yet to wake up in his own bed.

Perhaps he was still trapped in that pod…

But it takes him a little time to process the new order being delivered to him now and Cloud stands there a moment attempting to make this new situation make some comprehensible sense, not that it really matters.

At which point since he’d woken at the man’s feet not two days prior did anything make sense?

Still, there’s a reluctance to obey and the turmoil posed by the order to ‘come get dressed’ was displayed via the slew of aggrieved grunts huffed through the blond’s nose and the habitual motion of his head towards the entrance of the grotto from which he’d entered. His clothes - well the remainder of them, he was indeed wearing most of them -  were that way and the sway of his body towards that hollow to his rear was a force he was finding difficult to ignore, were it not for the compelling invitation extended by his unlikely saviour.

The look of exasperation was impossible to fight as he turns back towards the man, his eyes mirroring his inner defeat. He doesn’t want to go with Sephiroth, simply looking at him was enough make him feel so desperately ill -

       Never again…                Never again!!

- but even he knew in this state he would die so very quickly without the former SOLDIER’s intervention. Even compared to the ever waking nightmare of the pod, Cloud had never felt more like a prisoner than he did now. A victim of his own damn making.

I hate this.        I hate myself…                I hate YOU! I hate YOU! I HATE YOU!

Keeping this inward thoughts firmly locked in the ever spiralling cage of his already cluttered mind, he succumbs to the order, staggering back towards Sephiroth and this new passageway. He almost slips, once, maybe twice against the slick moss eaten stone before he reaches the other by this secret doorway. And he stands there for a moment, feeling worse for wear and breathless, a niggling ache gnawing at his lower back; no doubt a lingering injury from when Sephiroth had thrown him against the wall only moments ago. No doubt that was going to complicate this long and seemingly never ending recovery.

“I’m struggling…” he admits then, though it’s clear it pains him to say it, what with how the words barely ghosted across his tongue coupled with the sudden aversion of his gaze to the soft grasses beneath his bare feet. “… help me walk… please?”

VS… He still couldn’t figure out the meaning, no matter how meticulously he tried to scavenge in the far recesses of his memory. Once again, Sephiroth found himself wondering exactly how much time had passed since his days in SOLDIER. Some things were being harder to remember than he thought they should be.

He let the imposing dark wing retreat, light burning through its shape and sending a hot spike through his shoulder as it did. It left behind a mildly painful tingle every time, that he’d gotten accustomed to quickly, like that of hot metal touching the skin over his shoulder blade. He rolled it in vague discomfort just then, the presence of mind making that sensation more concrete and difficult to ignore for the moment, when he noticed the infantryman was actually moving towards him instead of anticipating him back to camp.

With a faint tilt of his head he turned to watch him, stumbling slowly on his way to him, gaze low and, if Sephiroth’s abilities in reading him had gotten any better by now, bitter.

To the reluctant request, he didn’t answer right away. Rather, he impassively studied the blond’s expression. The features of his way, and the way he looked at him. It was clear even to Sephiroth that the man wasn’t eager to summon him for aid, consumed by pride and hatred, as he should be. Yet, he’d asked, even admitting to his weakness. More importantly, not once did those stained blue orbs falter in direction of the spring that still gurgled past Sephiroth’s form. They remained low to the ground, not acknowledging the temptation from which he’d just admonished him.

How could he say no to such a well-behaved display? Cloud had even asked please, a standard Sephiroth would have never held him to… but that he inwardly appreciated. It wasn’t a word he’d heard often.

The irony that he’d hear it come from one of his victims didn’t escape him all the same.

“Always make sure you save enough energy to come back to me on your own, when you decide to wander off.” He said, slit pupils traveling over the blond’s form, taking in the effort of every muscle and fiber of his body barely to stand before him. “Just like this.”

Granted, he was well aware that a good amount of energy had been knocked off by his shove just moments ago. But it had been a necessary sacrifice. He didn’t even want to think of what he’d be dealing with now if Cloud had managed to drink his poison.

He indulged that notion with a soft snort under his breath, moving over to the former infantryman to hold onto him around the waist with one arm. The hold felt a lot closer without the bulk of their respective armors in-between, something he took notice of quickly. The man was still pretty thin for what his frame had to have been in full health.

#01B || This goes on your permanent record. [IC: Sephiroth] #12A || You belong to me. [Cloud Strife] #04 || Four Seasons [Divergent Megaverse] #04t3 || Fall of Angels [Thread] #azuresteel #azure-steel

[thehealingkind]

Learning to Let Go

One of the most significant lessons you learn with the onset of CFS is that once you expend your energy you don't get it back. The difference between this and a healthy person is that a healthy person who feels a little weary might choose to go for a run and then enjoy a post exercise high. Or organise a catch up with an energy inducing friend. That's not how it works with CFS. When/if you get up in the morning you have to decide what you NEED to do that day (rarely is it about what you WANT to do). So as an example, you really might need to get your dog out of the house, or to eat, or to pay one online bill. At my worst I could choose just one of those activities in my day - knowing that carrying out that one activity would deplete me of my prescious energy stores for the remainder of the day.

Let me set the scene. In my healthy state I am that highly organised and efficient (if not fastidious) person. Everything is in it's place. I'm perfectly timely (to the frustration I am sure of my friends). I have work related 'rules' around response times to emails and phone calls. I am a committed, communicative and loyal friend. I have high expectations of myself and (I am sure to the frustration of those in my life) of those around me. I don't need anyone to tell me where I have neglected any of my duties because you can be rest assured I've beaten myself up about it enough

So what happens to house work you may well ask?! Well that's a good question, because here in lay the challenge. How do you think an ordinarily highly efficient person copes lying around on her bed or couch all day looking at the floor desperate for a vacuum, thinking about the bathroom that hadn't been cleaned for a fortnight, the sheets that hadn't been changed, those friends you hadn't contacted in weeks, that dog who had been stuck inside all morning.  Initially she doesn't cope well and it comes back to accepting your illness, recognising your now limited capabilities and making peace with that. If I hadn't learnt to let things like this go it would have truly negated anything positive I was doing for my recovery. Guilt, worry and anxiety (oh how they bubbled up!) became my arch enemies so it was vital that I got to a place where I recognised that these insignificant things simply didn't matter.

As many of you would know I had a minor relapse a few weeks ago and am yet to recover to the good health I was enjoying pre relapse. My energy stores are depleted so once again, each morning I make decisions about what NEEDS to be done. And all the stuff that  I don't have the capacity to do? I just Let. It. Go. As an example, I change sheets on Sundays. On Sunday afternoon I had to remake my bed but I had nothing in me to iron my sheets and I'll be honest, that kind of niggled at me. Until I stopped and asked myself why it really mattered? Who really cared (bar me)? Same goes for the rest of my house work and everything else I have neglected in my life (including exercise) over the last few weeks.

As long as you are not hurting yourself of anyone around you learning to let go in many facets of our lives saves us so much precious energy, chronic illness or otherwise. Guilt, anxiety, unnecessary worry - all of these negative feelings do little but drain us of our positivity and exuberance and have huge implications on our health long term. Next time you feel one of these negative emotions ask yourself just how significant this situation is in the broader scheme of things. And when you realise how ridiculously pedantic you are no doubt being (directed straight at me FYI) give yourself some big deep breaths and congratulate yourself for letting go.

[ringdingjjongs]

just a heads up!! in 12 hours i will be preparing for surgery so i’m not sure if i’ll be on much for a while!! i’m stubborn and dumb, so chances are i’ll be on, but just in case!! i have 2 weeks of posts queued so this blog will stay active but i just might not reply to stuff as fast bc recovering!! anyway i hope all of you are doing well bye 💕💕💕

#text #alex update #still not sure what to make my personal tag rip #but aahhhh 12 hours to go #Yikes #the thing is idc about physical issues #so i doubt ill let recovery stop me much #but i may have to deal with a lot of mental stuff #and ofc i shouldnt post it all here so aahhh #my mood after surgery is a mystery for now #but the good news !!! today was v good !!! #probably bc im acting like its my last day fjkskflala #which will kill me tomorrow probably but alas #i spent today on taemin vlives so its great #also i finally watched shinee stuff yesterday #so idk im just happy and feel good right now #i love them all so much so sigh good stuff #ill focus in this good mood instead of stressing #but aahhh okay ill stop rambling akfklslfw #goodbye i love shinee with my entire heart

[actualbird]

peanut is luke's ESA (emotional support animal)

wc: 797

so in main story 5.3, i remember mc saying something about peanut in her internal monolog. something along the lines of like "peanut is a very well trained bird and it's not usually a species of bird one would get as a pet. was peanut given to luke by the NSB?" and i was like probably not! i really doubt that even the most well trained of birds can do very much in the missions that luke has shown himself to have taken (aka missions that expose him to DEADLY GAS THAT KILLED ALL HIS TEAMMATES AND NEARLY KILLED HIM) so for a long while, i figured luke just got peanut as a pet himself

but then today i was like. HM. NOPE. ACTUALLY, THE NSB COULDVE GIVEN PEANUT TO LUKE. just not for investigation purposes, but for luke's shitass mental health

the NSB gives Agent Raven a pet bird as an ESA, an emotional support animal

i know theres a lot of memes about this, the classic "sir, thats my emotional support fictional character" and i do love those memes. but also ESAs are very very helpful in terms of aiding the recovery/treatment of people with mental illness. it's not a cure all and definitely not something that all people will find helpful, of course, but for many, it can really frigging help (TRUST ME, i used to work for an animal assisted therapy health service, ive seen how much of a difference it can make for a lot of people okay).

ESAs have a lot of benefits like lessening anxiety and/or depression (and thus lessening physical symptoms of those things), providing companionship to lessen loneliness (which can exacerbate many mental illnesses), and in general just create this relationship of clear and mutual love which is great all around.

another thing that makes ESAs great is the fact that theyre domesticated animals and thus, they need to be taken of.

enter luke pearce.

hes great. hes awesome. hes smart as hell and skilled in combat and has probably killed people in the past and we just dont have a canon number for his body count. hes also got SUCH A TERRIBLY LOWLY VIEW OF HIMSELF that has been present even before he acquired his terminal illness. and to make all that worse, aside from aaron, luke is alone. he's away from mc and is probably already thinking of not returning because his job is violent and he needs to be violent and he cant let her see him like that.

luke doesnt see much value in himself and has little attachments. what happens when a guy like that ends up having to go on dangerous missions?

you get somebody who gets the job done and gets it done well but does it in a manner that pays no heed to his own safety. im pretty damn sure luke was getting a new stab wound like, every other month.

aaron is so stressed. HES SO STRESSED!!! and while aaron is a surgeon, he can definitely see that luke's mental state is gonna run his physical state into the ground. aaron has tried to get luke into therapy but luke always refused and when the NSB made it a requirement, luke was the MOST UNCOOPERATIVE MFER EVER. luke clams up when anybody tries to get him to confront the self destructive aspects of his personality!! hes always on guard!!!

but then one day aaron sees luke happily playing with some stray cats.

and aaron has a eureka moment.

he calls up some therapists, he pitches his case to NSB higher ups about how giving agent raven an ESA will absolutely totally help him stop being 1 inch from death after missions, and the NSB greenlights it because god they cannot lose agent raven since hes really frigging good

enter Peanut the Myna bird, the NSB sponsored ESA for the world's most depressed secret agent

luke, for the first week, is so so pissed at aaron for this. but then by the next week, hes stopped giving aaron the silent treatment. by the third week, luke is sending aaron pictures of peanut like, every frigging hour

and the change is noticeable. it's not perfect but...

luke takes care of himself more and is more careful not to get into as many life threatening injuries because now he has a little chirpy bird he needs to look after, something that relies on him and needs his care and also ensures he isnt alone, something that he loves and loves him needs him to come home

in short

luke: i am your best agent but i hold myself at such a low value that im basically suicidal in every mission

nsb: not allowed. heres a bird

luke: I WOULD DIE FOR THIS BIRD

nsb: ...try again

luke: I.....WOULD LIVE FOR THIS BIRD

aaron, from the sidelines: //THUMBS UP!!!!!!!

#tears of themis #luke pearce #tot luke #xia yan #tears of themis headcanons

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 14

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Going to Florida on vacation also seemed to be the perfect time to find out where the other boys came from and their pasts. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): The boys share their pasts, which can be rough. Mentions of suicide, past abuse, PTSD. There’s also quite some drinking in this chapter.

“He’s fine. Just a little bit too much sun.” You chuckled in a whisper, tucking Jin under the blanket. With that, you exited the room with the 6 others. The oldest had felt a little faint after playing in the sun, which led to his current state.

“We should-”

RINGGGGGGG

“Ugh, one minute.” Jimin took his phone out of his pocket, walking away to answer his call. You and Jungkook looked at each other, shrugging. You headed to the living room, with you draping your legs over Hoseok to watch television, not that Hoseok minded.

“Jin hyung is asleep... That means his snacks are unguarded!” Jungkook shot up from the couch, running to the pantry.

“Nothing stand between him and food.” Taehyung raised an eyebrow. Namjoon shook his head and chuckled, bidding all of you goodbye before leaving with a book tucked under his arm.

“What’s for dinner?” Yoongi asked.

“I think steak and pasta.” Jungkook said, mouth stuffed to the brim with cookies. The staff that worked here had the same schedule as those back in Korea.

“What shall we do tonight?”

“I don’t know. We should stay in on our first night. To just... chill.” Hoseok shrugged and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Even when we put a vacation notice out, work doesn’t seem to stop coming.” Jimin stormed in, complaining. Taehyung raised an eyebrow at his best friend, shifting to let him sit on the couch.

“That’s what you get for opening a new place 2 weeks before the vacation. And a big place, with a lot of manpower needed.” Jungkook scoffed. Jimin sighed, full of regret. He had opened a new male host lounge for ladies 2 weeks ago and safe to say, the business was booming. His phone was ringing non-stop from wanting business partners.

“I’ll just leave it to the others to handle.” Jimin said.

“Yeah, put the phone away. You’re here to relax.” You put your hands behind your head.

“I’m guessing you did the same?” Yoongi faced you.

“My family knows I’m on vacation. There’s an emergency number if they really need to reach me, which I doubt they will. It’s my last vacation before I have to hear my mother start nagging me again.” You rolled your eyes.

“Nag you?” Taehyung tilted his head.

“My brother’s, her star child, is coming into town with my very pregnant sister-in-law for the birth of her second grandchild.” You explained and the boys all nodded, understanding. At the ball where they met your parents, there was a brief mention of your older brother.

“I was an only child. Never had siblings. Omma was worried that if she had another, he or she would come out sick like me.” Jimin forced a smile.

“I’m sorry, Chim.” You reached over to hold his hand.

“It’s okay. Fortunately, Yoongi hyung was there to break me out of the hospital.” He turned to the older, who was sitting on the adjacent couch, sipping from his red wine glass.

“You broke him out of a hospital?” Your eyes widened. Yoongi let out a long sigh, placing his glass on the table.

“Since she couldn’t figure out the reason why Jimin was always sick, Mrs Park thought the only way to provide Jimin the care he needed was to lock him in a hospital.” He explained. Jimin cleared his throat.

“I first met Yoongi hyung at a martial arts convention. Since I used to train in kendo, omma let me go but I couldn’t participate in the demonstration. When he found out that omma checked me into the hospital, he got me out and brought me to join the family. Even when I was sick, Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung took care of me.” Jimin gave a small smile.

“I mean, since we’re telling our family stories, my mother abandoned me when I was younger, at an amusement park. I joined an orphanage after.” Hoseok said.

“Yoongi hyung’s father adopted me to be hyung’s playmate but that was it. We could only see each other during playtime. Other than that, I stayed in the small hut in the backyard.” Hoseok continued.

“It was practically a tool shed with a mattress.” Yoongi said bitterly.

“Yoongi, so your father...”

“He was rich, powerful, as was Namjoon’s father. We had been friends for a long time since our fathers were friends. After our fathers died, we dissolved their associations and formed our own.” Yoongi explained.

“I see... I didn’t know both your fathers were also... in the same line of business.” You tried to speak.

“With the way my father treated Hoseok and my mother, we don’t bring him up. Same with Namjoon.” Yoongi said but there was a warning tone in his voice.

“I-Is it, my turn?” Jungkook lifted his head.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You comforted. Jungkook took a deep breath, shaking his head. If anything, he trusted you and wanted you to know his background.

“I was quite a small kid, so I was generally quite quiet in school. I had one older brother. Mum and dad worked a lot so it was mostly my brother and me. At first, hyung was the best brother I could ever ask for. He took care of me, protected me, everything.” Jungkook gulped.

“Then one day, he started treating me like I was invisible, at school and at home. That progressed to him hitting me and bullying me, hurting me.” He said sadly.

“Jungkook...” Jimin said sadly.

“Namjoon hyung was passing by an alley when my brother almost beat me to death. He brought me to the hospital to get treated. Since then, I’ve been living with him.” Jungkook finished.

“Did your parents come find you?” You asked.

“They never believed me when I told them hyung hurt me. He must have told them I ran away or something since he thinks he left me for dead.” 

“But you’re stronger now.” Taehyung patted Jungkook’s head. Considering Taehyung didn’t start his background story, the others assumed that he already told you about him.

“Dinner is served.” The butler informed, breaking the thick tension in the air from all the heavy conversations. 

“I’ll get the others.” You said, going to head upstairs. The first person you checked on was Jin, he was still fast asleep, which you let him be. Namjoon was standing in the hallways, outside of Jin’s bedroom.

“I heard what the boys told you.” He said. You nodded your head in acknowledgement.

“(y/n), I think you know that with such backgrounds, it’s not all black and white for them. On top of always falling ill, Jimin lived with a fear of being a burden, like how his own mother treated him. Yoongi hyung lives with the guilt of how his father treated Hoseok. He feels the need to make it up to him with his life.” Namjoon started.

“Hoseok is afraid of abandonment. Taehyung dealt with meltdowns, panic attacks, so much trauma. You’ve seen it, he’s still not over what happened to him.”

“And Jungkook, I can’t tell you the number of times I had to stop him from taking his own life. He was afraid of being hurt by the one he loved, just like before.” Namjoon sighed.

“I know, Namjoon. It must have been a lot for you and Yoongi to face, along with your own fears. But look at who you saved. Where would they all be now if you and Yoongi didn’t help them?” You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Everyone comes with their own battle scars. But that’s what makes us human and survivors, right?” You smiled.

“You always know what to say, doc.” Namjoon chuckled.

“Of course. I’m the best, am I not?” You nudged him, making him laugh even more. With that, the two of you headed downstairs to the dining room, where the others were seated around the table. Namjoon sat at the head of the table while you sat between Jungkook and Yoongi.

“Let’s eat.” Namjoon waved for the wait staff to bring in the trays of food and pour the drinks. Even if the dinner was quieter than usual, it wasn’t suffocating. You’ve reached a new level of understanding with the boys. 

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Jimin asked. 

“I wanna go look around the city. If possible. Maybe buy some things for myself.” You shrugged.

“Yes! Shopping! We’ll come too!” Taehyung and Jungkook cheered. You smiled, somehow knowing that it was going to be chaotic with the boys. Hoseok clapped his hands in excitement. 

“What if I wanna go on my own?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“No way! It’s not safe for you to be on your own.” Jungkook shook his head, putting his arms in a cross. 

“Are you saying I am not capable to defending myself?” You asked him with a smirk.

“Ooh, you’ve done it now, Kook.” 

“Yeah, even I don’t go there.” Yoongi decided to join in on the fun of teasing the maknae. Jungkook’s eyes widened when he realised what he did, immediately facing you and rubbing his hands together in an apologetic matter.

“I’m sorry! You are very much capable of defending yourself! Even better than me or anyone else because you’re a strong, independent woman! I would never doubt your strength! Please don’t kill me!” He rambled on. You threw your head back in laughter, reaching over to pat his head. Even the others just looked on in amusement. 

“Alright, let’s stop teasing, Koo.” You said. 

After dinner, everyone was gathered back in the living room, watching some show that was playing on the television. 

“The night is young! We should party!” Hoseok declared. 

"This is not going to end well.” Yoongi clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. It was obvious he had to deal with his drunk brothers multiple times before. 

“I brought drinks and snacks!” Jungkook brought two big trays out, one with different alcoholic drinks and the other filled with snacks, courtesy of Jin’s stash. You took a bottle of beer. Hoseok and Namjoon did the same, clinking bottles with you. Jungkook grabbed some soju.

“Hyung? You want one?” Jungkook offered a filled shot glass to Taehyung. Taehyung, who doesn’t usually drink, shrugged and accepted it. Yoongi stuck to his whiskey like always.

“Honestly didn’t think the drinking was gonna start on our first night here. But I’m not one to complain.” You shrugged. 

“We’re on vacation. It’s always drinking time.” Hoseok said. 

“I agree!” Jungkook grinned. You snorted in response. Jimin decided to have soju with the other two, taking an empty shot glass. Jungkook happily filled it up for him. 

“Hey...” Jin stood at the stairwell. 

“Hey, Jin. How are you feeling?” You asked as you stood up to head to him. Jin gave a small smile and a thumbs up. 

“Are those my snacks?!” His eyes widened as he marched over. 

“Shot?” Jungkook offered as a consolation. Jin glared at the maknae but took the tiny glass, glancing over at you. You shrugged, nodding your head in approval. Hoseok and Taehyung shifted to give Jin space to sit down. Everyone with their drinks, cheered to your first night on vacation, taking a swig. You leaned against Jimin’s side. 

“Do you want dinner, Jin?” 

“Nah, I’m fine with the snacks and drinks.” He waved you off. 

“Alright but if you feel dizzy again, stop and rest. And tomorrow, please remember to hydrate yourself when out.” You lectured. The boys all groaned, even if you were only directing your words at Jin. 

“Now you’re nagging.” Taehyung boxed his ears, whining. You rolled your eyes, reaching to smack him. 

That night, when all the boys retreated to their rooms, passed out drunk, you were in your room spending some alone time. There was a knock on your door and you stood up from your bed, shuffling over to see who it was. 

“Hobi?” You were shocked. 

“C-Can I come in?” He rubbed the back of his neck. You nodded your head, stepping aside for him to enter. 

“Can’t sleep?” You asked softly. 

“Just a lot on my mind.” He admitted with a soft sigh. You sat on your bed, legs dangling off the side. You patted the space beside you and Hoseok gladly accepted, sitting beside you as the moon shined in. 

“Bringing up the past isn’t easy. It opens a lot of scars you thought were healed, memories that you thought was locked away, feelings that you thoughts were gone. It’s okay, Hobi.” You whispered with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around him. Hoseok placed his head on your shoulder. 

“It’s okay.” You comforted. 

“She left me there, all alone. For strangers to take me. And I probably will never know the reason why until the day I die.” He said aimlessly.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Hobi.” You squeezed his hand. 

“Yoongi hyung still feels so guilty for what his father did when he adopted me. But I always think that even if he did treat me badly, I still got to leave the orphanage and meet Yoongi hyung.” 

“And then you met the rest of the boys. Look how inseparable you all are now.” You stroked his head. 

“I also got to meet you.” Hoseok added. 

“I’m just there to clean your cuts and take care of you when you’re sick.” You laughed. 

“That’s not true. You mean a lot to me and everyone else, more than you’d think, (y/n).” Now, it was Hoseok holding your hands, looking into your eyes, his full of honesty and sincerity. 

-

You woke up the next morning, rubbing your temples, feeling the slight effect of the alcohol from the night before. Hoseok was still passed out beside you, sleeping soundly. You got out of bed quietly, washing up before heading downstairs. The house was quiet, signalling that maybe no one else was awake, still sleeping the alcohol off. 

“You’re up?” You nearly jumped when Yoongi appeared, drinking a cup of iced coffee, his hair slightly damp and messy from his shower. 

“Yeah. I need a hangover cure and a coffee.” You went to the kitchen. The maid brought you a cup of water and the small bottle of hangover cure. You downed the bitter liquid following that with water.

“Here.” Yoongi fixed you an iced coffee of your own. 

“Thank you.” You sipped it.

“Hoseok... he’s with you?” Yoongi cleared his throat as he asked. You nodded your head with a hum. 

“Yeah. He came over to talk then we just fell asleep after.” You explained. Yoongi gave a nod, moving to sit out on the deck. You trailed behind him quietly, taking the seat across him. All you heard were the crashing of the waves and the strong wind rustling the trees. 

“I’m part of the reason he’s like that.” Yoongi spoke. 

“Why do you burden yourself with that?” You asked back. Yoongi blinked, seemingly surprised by your words. 

“You know it’s not true, you know that Hobi doesn’t think that, and yet you force yourself to live with the guilt. You know that you’re not like your father, whatever he did to Hobi was out of your control.” You said. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yoongi said with gritted teeth. 

“Exactly, I don’t. But what I see is you feeling sorry for yourself and Hobi being worried about showing his emotions because he doesn’t want you to start feeling guilty again.” 

“He said that?” 

“Not exactly. It’s pretty obvious to a bystander.” You shrugged. 

“Yoongi, I have better things to do than to stand here and taunt you. The only people there were you and Hobi. Will anyone ever understand what each of you went through? I don’t know. You and I both know that Hobi holds whatever happened close to him. But he sees the light, even in a dark situation. If he can do that, I don’t see why you can’t.” You said. 

“I know.” Was all he could reply. 

“I’m going to check on Jin, okay?” You stood up. But you were yanked back by your wrist. Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your middle. 

“I hate that you’re right.” He mumbled. You let out a soft hum, patting the top of his fluffy hair. When Yoongi released you, you looked down at him. 

“You saved so many of them, Yoongs. Give yourself more credit. They all look up to you for a reason.” You laughed. 

“Go check on Jin hyung.” He said, patting your hip. 

“Right on it, sir.” You saluted. That made Yoongi break out into a small smile as he watched you leave. You hummed a random tune as you headed upstairs to see how Jin was doing today. 

“Doc? You’re here.” He slowly opened his eyes, squinting to focus his vision on you. He gave you a sleepy smile. You smiled softly as you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you placed your hand on his forehead. He wasn’t warm to the touch. 

“How are you feeling?” You whispered. 

“Okay. Sleepy... Hungover.” He chuckled, a little embarrassed. 

“I’d bet. You can come down later to get some hangover cure. Luckily I told the butler to stock the house when we arrived yesterday.” You patted his shoulder, making him laugh. 

“(y/n)!” When you exited Jin’s room, you saw a shirtless Jungkook barreling down the hallway, headed straight for you. You jumped back but he caught you.

“Good morning, Koo.” You said in amusement as he hugged you. He mumbled something in his sleepy stupor. 

“What are you saying? I can’t understand you.” 

“I went to your room to look for you but you weren’t there. I thought Hobi hyung was you but it wasn’t. Why is Hobi hyung in your bed? Where were you? Ugh... I have a headache and I’m hungry.” He rambled. 

“Alright, alright. Slow down. I went to get some coffee to help my hangover and was with Yoongi on the deck. Then I went to check on Jin. Hobi just stayed the night after we talked. I have alka seltzer to help your hangover and I think the chefs are cooking hangover soup for all of us. Would you also please put on a shirt?” You answered all his questions, ending with one of yours. 

“I’m sleepy.” 

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I don’t know! My head hurts.” He whined. You sighed, patting his back as you led him back to his room. 

“You stay here. I’ll bring you a hangover cure then you can see how you feel after that.” You instructed. He nodded his head like an obedient child. You went downstairs to get a small bottle and a glass of water.

“Thank you.” He received the two, drinking one after another, cringing slightly at the bitterness. 

“It should help your headache and funny stomach. I’ll go check on the others to see if they need help.” You told him, tucking him back into bed under the blanket. 

“Will you come back?” He held your hand. 

~~

Ko-fi link

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[shotosprincess]

BAKUGO SCREAMING AND IZUKU

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ AAAA HIII TYSM FOR REPLYING TO THE BNHA PLAYLIST THINGY FOR FICS I LOVE YOU MWAHMWAH

anyways aaa bet !! ill do midoriya first if you don’t mind bc im currently in such a soft mood and hajdjj i just love him sm :((

— 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖’𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨

inspired by this playlist by nimbus on yt !! pls check them out ansjdjf their playlists r heaven ^^

❝ you never truly understood that about him, the way he continued to put himself through the pain, to push himself, even, past his limits and then some—

plus ultra. and now his arms were all but littered with rough scars of diluted white and blunt tan. ❞

notes ! gender neutral! reader,, best friends to lovers au ,, 2nd person pov

summary: in which your best friend deku shows up at your dorm late at night due to kacchan locking him out. he asks for bandages to stabilize his newly-healed scars, and you ask to kiss them.

genre: fluff !! <33

it went without a doubt that deku had been to recovery girls’ office more times than anyone else at the academy. it hurt, honestly; each time you saw his still-healing figure emerge from the little swing of her door, a sharp pang reverberated starkly through your chest, for though the freshly-scarred over wounds didn’t diminish his beauty in the slightest, you simply couldn’t deny that an empty eddy of sadness settled in you whenever he was in such a state.

and unfortunately for you, he was constantly in it.

his body could only take so much. and he was still so young too—the very same held true for your heart.

it’s been that way ever since the two of you had first entered ua as shining, eager students. though in all fairness you had to admit, he was...different from the very beginning. even as the prelude to his eventual rising and growth in his quirk, he had shone with a certain unmatched brilliance ever since the entrance exams. and over the years you spent together, you had watched him persevere so passionately towards the glow of his ultimate goal; to be a hero who can help others. little did he know just how much he already had. he had always been so excruciatingly oblivious and aloof to even the evidence and affects of his own kindness, and you hated the fact that so many tended to take advantage of it. of him.

though, of course, this did not mean that he was weak in any form. no, if anything he was quite the polar opposite—he had proved it time and time again, and yet it didn’t mean that he couldn’t get hurt too. the dull aching of tiredness ringing in his eyes, the one he tries to desperately to mask, the ragged marks scattered across the pale valleys of his once-scar-barren skin; he wasn’t immune to pain, to injury. and yet, he fought. you never truly understood that about him, the way he continued to put himself through the pain, to push himself, even, past his limits and then some—

plus ultra. and now his arms were all but littered with rough scars of diluted white and blunt tan.

nevertheless, truth be told, you actually admired it a great deal. his sheer determination, the purity of his motives, it was more than laudable. despite all of it, you truly couldn’t help but feel this...magnetic urge to help him. protect him. if you could soothe the pain in any way, even if it would be but a temporary relief—

three knocks clack on the door.

you and izuku’s secret door code—just a silly little something the two of you made up a few months after the dorm system had been put into motion, and all so you could sneak out to the grass-flooded yards of the building and train together.

naturally, you open the door.

“ heyyy there you are! “

your head perks up at the cheery jingling of his voice, all drafts of exhaustion and sleep deprivation washing away almost instantaneously. he might as well be the very personification of caffeine at that point, despite how direly he needed it himself.

the starry shine of his eyes meets with yours as a diluted sanguine seeped colour into his face. he turns his head away awkwardly.

you lean against the doorframe, smiling at him. “ deku...you didn’t tell me we’d be training today. plus it’s a little late right now, don’t you think? i’m already in my pajamas. “

“ yeah, um, sorry about that. kacchan...kinda locked me out. “

“ he what? “

“ he locked me out. “

“ how does that even—don’t you have separate rooms? “

“ well, yeah, but we were racing down the halls after glass today and he...got to my room before i could. well, honestly i have no clue what he’s doing over there. “ he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“ oookay then. little concerning, i won’t lie. “ your shoulders lift in a shrug, arms crossing in front of your chest as your shy laugh matches his.

“ so i was wondering if...you know...i could maybe stay here for a bit? “ his voice wavers subtly, though you’re quick to catch it. the tips of his ears flush with a deepened pink.

you can’t help but silently gush about how cute he looked.

you’re quick to snap out of that too. eyes bursting open with a brilliant shock, you notice he’s fiddling nervously with his fingers as you remain absolutely, positively frozen in place.

“ i’m—what? “

his countenance immediately shifts to one of sheer embarrassment. flustered, he begins to frantically wave his hands in front of him, as if to put some sort of considerable distance between his panicking self and your seemingly-composed demeanour. and as if that would do anything to deescalate the tension which was only progressively building between your equally-timid selves at this moment.

“ ohmygod i didn’t mean it in a weird way or anything! i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll just—i’ll just go— “

you slide against the wood a little bit, pushing your weight against the slightly-agape door, so it swung open even further to reveal the, admittedly, fairly-messy state of your room. draped carelessly on the side of your bed, a sweater you had taken off earlier because the temperature of your room had suddenly decided to heat up an unreasonable amount. countable cups holding shallow pools of hour-old drinks scattered throughout nearly every shelf. a creased textbook splayed out, cover up on your desk.

yep. definitely looked like someone’s lived here.

“ i mean...you could come in if you want. no one’s stopping you. it’s a little messy though, i haven’t found much time to properly clean it yet, with exams coming soon and stuff. “ a small smile accompanies your growing blush, despite how much you were trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible.

psh, right. as if letting him in your room—something you had never done prior in the history of your friendship—wasn’t a big deal in the slightest.

his eyes shoot wide as his arms flail about. you have to keep yourself from laughing at his silliness.

“ uhm, i mean...only if that’s okay with you! “

“ yeah, yeah, of course! you need a place to stay for now, after all. who knows when bakugou’s gonna let you back in? “

“ yeah, i guess you’re right. well, i mean, if you really don’t mind— “

you playfully roll your eyes, giggling as you shove him into your room.

“ oh, quit it with the politeness. you’re too nice, you know that? “

“ too...nice? “

“ too nice. “ you reiterate, giving his shoulders a little squeeze.

his head lolls to the side as he carefully lowers himself onto your bed, his sweater shifting with the subtle movement.

for a few moments, the space between you is occupied with a simple, comfortable silence. it’s refreshing, really. a welcome difference from all the boisterousness of the academy. you loved the action and everyone’s energy, of course, but sometimes what you really needed was really just a simple break from everything. to do nothing but exist for a little while, to simply be without the constant pressure of having to get up and jump into action all the time. just for a few moments. and so you relished in these said moments spent with him, for who knows when the next time you could ever be with him like this again would be?

and then his voice fills that void of silence, but you’re not disappointed in the slightest.

“ hey. “

“ yeah? “

“ you don’t happen to have any extra bandages, do you? “

“ bandages? for what? “

he clenches his fist, flexing the muscles in his arm. “ for...stability. just in case. i can’t afford for my arms to get hurt more. “

“ oh. well, uhm...i think i have a few spares in my drawer! “ you push yourself off the bed, leaving the comfort the soft sheets brought about, pulling open a tiny drawer. taking out a transparent box of bandages, you jump back onto the plushness, sitting cross-legged directly across from midoriya, who’s already presenting his arm.

your lips silently part as your fingers wrap themselves around the thick ivory fabrics of bandage, rolling them around so you could wrap them around him.

another pause of wordless silence falls.

“ hey deku? “

“ yeah? “

“ could i...could i kiss your scars? “ you whisper, afraid that he’d get mad, though you knew he was anything but the type to do such a thing.

the meadow depths of his eyes kindle a cozy hearth within you as his initial surprise quickly softens, melting away into what could only be described as the most endearing smile to exist.

“ sure. “

jagged patches and uneven streaks of faded cloud white and prominent earthy tans decorate his arms, and you can’t help but bring the rosiness of your lips to meet them. you decide begin with the ones littered along his fingers.

one kiss for the scar resting within the curved dip between his thumb and index.

“ for every time you used just a flick of your fingers to defend everyone back then, when you didn’t even have full control over your quirk. “

a longing sigh leaves him as he reminisces briefly on the memory. you place a soft kiss upon the scar resting at the side of his pinky.

“ for every fist you made with this hand, for every punch you’ve delivered in the name of other’s safety. “

a drop splashed onto his arm, trickling down and tainting the scars etched into his forearm with a subtle, diaphanous sheen. you look up through your lashes, and a prominent gloss coats the kindness of his dark emeralds. your hand comes up to carefully caress his cheek, cupping it gently as the pad of your thumb swipes beneath his eye, wiping away the upcoming tear. your features are knitted together in concern.

“ are you okay? i can stop if you want me to— “

he takes your hand in both of his, squeezing as if to keep you there forever. “ no, don’t. please.“

it’s a tiny whisper, a softened plea into the dark quiet of the night, as if he were ashamed for wanting to be taken care of. your brows curve downward as you pull your twined hands to your lips, tenderly planting your lips where your skin kissed his.

“ hey, hey. it’s okay. it’s okay. “ you hush him, running your free hand through his thick tendrils of vivid, verdant green.

he leans into your touch, nodding at you as if to urge you to continue, which you gladly accept.

you shift a little closer to him, kissing the thick mark of serration painted into the skin of his wrist.

“ for every countless moment you’ve sacrificed for your dream. “

another kiss to the one just above it.

“ for every hour bled into the night that you spent helping me train. “

your fingers dance along his arm, finally stopping at the scar stretching from his elbow and dragging upwards. as per routine, your lips come down to delicately kiss it.

“ for every ‘ plus ultra! ‘ you’ve ever passionately shouted. “

little giggles left the both of you at that.

your touch trails to the scar just beside it, kissing it as well.

“ for every life you’ve ever saved. “

you look him in the eye. holding his arm like this, you were so close to him. and yet, you didn’t want to pull away. if anything, it was the very last thing you would ever want to do. he matched your stare, a certain sense of longing displaying in your gaze as it reflects off of his. the prolonged stare lasts longer than it probably should, longer than what best friends should probably look at each other this closely, this intimately for. the moonlight dimly shines through your window.

and then it happens.

his lips collide with yours in a captivating symphony, hands going straight to twirl through the locks of your hair as you wrap yours in a loose loop around his neck. everything feels as though it had all snapped into place, and the tension you had felt before was all completely dissipated now, displaced into the passion in which this kiss exuded. it was earth-shattering, galaxy-shredding. it felt as if even pain itself could never reach either of you, not in this moment.

this moment was for the both of you, and no one else. in this moment, in his arms, nothing and no one could hurt you.

he pulls away, stunned, lips parted with a saturated red. you stare at him with just about the same level of blankness, of utter shock at what you two had just done.

but then the realization catches up with him, and he is pulled out of the daze. much to your surprise, he doesn’t move away. if anything, he pulls you closer, enveloping both your hands within his just as he did before.

and just as you had done earlier, he brings them to his lips.

“ and that’s for every ‘ i love you ‘ i’ve ever wanted to say to you but never had the guts to. “

#bnha writing #bnha fic #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #mha writing #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha deku #deku x you #deku x y/n #deku fluff #deku x reader #deku fic #izuku x y/n #midoriya x reader #mha fluff #izuku headcanons #midoriya x you #fluff

[troubatrain]

taxi - j. markstrom

a/n: i swore on my life i started writing this and then hours went by and it was done. by the way, aside from this song i still have yet to chose any players for the rest of this series and the google form is open for suggestions (it’s linked below) but anyways, i need to start by saying this got super personal for me and this showcases some of my own experiences with my own mental illness, and not everyone experiences those things the same way and i just want to remind everyone of that before they read! also, i definitely suggest listening to the song while reading it because it just feels right.

i need to tag @danglesnipecelly​ because k wrote a matty fic and in turn i’m legally required to write a marky fic

part of my lovely little lonely series

tw: mentions of depression, mentions of post-partum depression

“...and in the backseat, when you asked me, is the sadness everlasting? i pulled you closer, looked at you and said love, I think it is...” - Taxi - The Maine

Jacob wasn’t sure when things had gotten so bad.

You were doing better, and Jacob even thought you were doing better than before. You’d been going to therapy again regularly, less of Jacob forcing you to go for his sake and more of going by your own will. You were back on your meds, but even you admitted they felt like they might have been working this time around now that you found the right fit. The adjustment to your new surroundings in Calgary seemed to be going smoothly, spending time with Annica and Elias like you weren’t constantly battling with your own demons.

But god you were.

Jacob honestly thought you were braver than anyone he’s ever known. You met a few years back, when you used to throw on a smile just to walk out the door and Jacob was just starting to make a splash in Vancouver. He was the only person who seemed to notice you in the large crowd you were who was mingling with a few of his teammates. He knew you were something special in that moment, and he’d tell you everyday until you started to believe it. What he didn’t know at the time was, you’d just gotten diagnosed with depression and you were tackling it on your own. Not a soul knew about the days you couldn’t wait to sleep because it was the only time you were able to turn your brain off. They didn’t know about the mess in your apartment that was so embarrassing but you still just couldn’t clean it. And they definitely didn’t know about the long drives where you just thought about never coming back.

Jacob didn’t know these things for a while, but when the signs became clear, he tried his hardest to understand. He came over and cleaned your apartment when you were at work, shrugging it off when you asked him what prompted him to do it. Jacob made sure you were taken care of on days he knew you weren’t able to do it yourself.

Then the east coast road trip happened.

Your relationship was new, and you hadn’t told him what was going on even though it was becoming incredibly clear that he knew. Jacob has always been patient, and you always joke it’s because he’s a goalie, but the truth was that his heart was bigger than him. You called him, teary eyed while you sat on a park bench in the middle of Vancouver and told him you couldn’t do this anymore. At first he thought you were talking about him, maybe he’d overstepped a line he shouldn’t have, but it was clear you meant life. It was just too much, and Jacob knew it was time to push talking about it.

So you did, you laid there in the bitter cold on that bench until the sun came up and talked to him about your mental illness. You talked about your therapist who you’d been seeing but you were honest about the appointments you skipped. You talked to him about the full pill bottles in your bathroom because you didn’t want to take them but you didn’t want anyone to notice you weren’t picking up prescriptions. He was calm, listening to your words and not reprimanding you on the stall in your recovery.

Everyone moves at their own pace Y/N, you can move like a turtle if you want to and I won’t tell you to hurry up and get better.

Jacob never pushed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t educate himself. He read and read and read, everything he could on how he was supposed to help

you. He took classes, he listened to talks and he’d even attended meetings with other people who were in his same position. He wanted to understand, and he did his best to. Jacob did this because he loves you, and he wanted to make sure that was never going to be something you could question.

So that brings him here, standing in your shared bathroom while he counted how many pills were left in that orange bottle and he just knew the math wasn’t going to add up. Jacob runs a large hand over his face, rubbing his temples while he spun out about how this could be his fault. Maybe he should have stayed in Vancouver. Was the change too much for you?

“Babe?” You call out, leaning against the bathroom door and looking at him sadly. Your voice was soft, it always was, like Jacob being in distress was more important than the hell he’d seen you go through.

“Have you been skipping days?” Jacob asks, never with an accusatory tone. He learned that lesson, watching you shrink at his words when he asked if you’d been in bed all day. You start to utter an apology, Jacob raising his hand at you to stop because you didn’t owe him one, “Why didn’t you call?”

Tears were welling up in your eyes, your lip quivering while you tried to find the right words. Jacob didn’t look mad, he wasn’t - he was feeling guilty. He promised you, if you called it didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a game, he’d be there as soon as he could, “You need to be with your new team-”

“Fuck my new team,” Jacob scoffs, shaking his head and opening his arms to you, “You think I’d want to spend any more time with Elias than you?”

“No, I just,” You sigh, pushing a piece of your hair back that seemed to just fall back into place, “I didn’t want to be a bother, you need to be with these guys all the time and how can you do that if you’re worried about me?”

“I can do that because I want to do it,” Jacob reminds you, pushing that same piece of hair back where it belonged, and it stuck, “I don’t feel like I have to worry about you, I want to.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier not to?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jacob’s waist and pressing your head into his chest. His heartbeat was steady, he was steady.

Jacob was the most stable thing you had in your life. You couldn’t figure what you’d done to experience unconditional love like that, a person to care for you so much that they would do anything to make you happy. He calmed you on the days you needed most and he never pushed you harder than he thought you needed. Turtle speed. He always called it that, but he’d rather see you move slowly to get better than throw on another fake smile.

“My life wouldn’t be easier if you weren’t in it,” Jacob hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Do you want me to set out your meds for the week? In that little container I got you?”

You nod, making a promise to yourself to take the step in getting better. Jacob reminded you constantly, you can’t do this for him, you needed to do it for yourself - he was just helping. He was always going to help.

***

You seemed better.

Jacob swore you were actually doing okay, the little check ins he was doing was working and when he got back from his next road trip - nothing seemed wrong. You were standing across Johnny’s house, laughing along with Annica and a few other girls and Jacob knew that laugh was a real one. This was good, seeing you out laughing and smiling.

“So, when is it going to be time for you?” Annica asks, her hand running over your ring finger, “Marky has to be thinking about having a few running around soon.”

You wish it hadn’t set you off. It was a simple question anyone would ask a couple who’s been together this long.

Children was a conversation you weren’t ready for. The thought terrified you, not because you didn’t want to have them, it was the post-partum talk. You knew the risks, all of the things that could happen after and you didn’t want to stomach that. What if you weren’t enough for your kids? They didn’t ask for a mother who couldn’t get out of bed sometimes let alone take care of them, and you’d be insane to think that was a healthy way to raise a child.

Jacob’s eyes remained on you while you rushed out of the house, fiddling with your hands and shaking your head. That was your tell, and Jacob excused himself immediately, chasing you out of the house. His hands grab your cheeks, steadying you for a moment and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“She asked me when we were going to the marriage and kids thing and,” You ramble out, closing your eyes and shutting your mouth. Jacob knew where you were going with this, it was fear he had too. It was the reason there was a ring in one of his coat pockets at home that’s never been opened because he was waiting for the right time. He’d wait forever if he had to. You were the one there was never a doubt about it.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” Jacob sighs, knowing this conversation was far too heavy to be had in public, “But, you’ll never be alone, I’m never going to leave, I’m never going to pressure you into anything. When you’re ready I will be too, but I don’t care how long it takes.”

“What if it’s too late for kids?” You whisper, the fear that Jacob could tell you he’d wait forever but you’d seen him with kids, he was made to be a father.

“We can adopt, foster, whatever you want,” Jacob assures you, the idea of having children never had to be biological to him, “Chucky asked me if we were looking to adopt the other day…”

You let out a laugh, looking and pressing your lips to Jacob’s. You couldn’t thank him enough, not like he’d ever let you, but he was so good. You leaned your head on his shoulder, watching Calgary pass you by while Jacob hums to the radio next to you in the cab to get home.

“You think I’ll always be like this?” You ask, a question that could have been for either of you.

“There’s always going to be bad days, but you’re never going to be alone on them. I promise.”

“Turtle speed?”

“Turtle speed.”

#jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 15

It's been a bit, hasn't it?

.

.

.

Toshinori pushed himself up off the ground with trembling arms. Although, by the position of the sun, it hadn’t been for long, he’d blacked out when—

“Oh, no,” said Toshinori. His head throbbed at the sound, making the edges of his vision go dark and fuzzy.

When All for One had broken through into the shared mindscape.

“Oh, no,” he repeated.

Where was Izuku? He had to find—Oh, thank goodness, Izuku was right there. He let out a sigh of relief.

His relief was short-lived. Izuku, to put it lightly, did not look well. His eyes were open, but only glazed slivers. His breath was coming shallow and fast, not quite to the point of hyperventilating, but it was a close thing. His skin was pale, except for deep, bruise-like circles under his eyes. He was sweating more than Toshinori had ever seen him sweat (which was really saying something; Izuku broke out into nervous sweats with some frequency). Perhaps most concerningly, he was shaking like a leaf.

Izuku was, Toshinori realized, still maintaining the effect of Two’s quirk.

He tried to reach inside himself, contact his predecessors, but swiftly pulled his mental fingers back, as if they had been burned. Bad idea.

“Izuku,” he said, “can you hear me?”

Izuku made a small, pained noise that tore at Toshinori’s heart.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” he said. Izuku didn’t answer, but then Toshinori didn’t expect him to.

The simple act forced Toshinori to call on the embers of One for All. Not enough to make his muscles swell, but enough to give him the strength of an ordinary, healthy man. His muscles and his remaining intact lung screamed in protest, not to mention his scars. He ignored them.

He stumbled forward, priorities shuffling themselves. They’d been trying to escape, but if Izuku was this ill… he needed a doctor. An exorcist might be a good idea, too, what with All for One running around in their heads.

But to get a doctor, they’d have to put themselves in commission hands, and Toshinori could feel the echoes of Two and Three telling him exactly how stupid that would be.

The commission had sent Hawks after Izuku. Toshinori had no doubt they’d throw him in Tartarus, and the treatment of criminals in Tartarus was one of the few things Toshinori had publicly disagreed with the HPSC on in his hero persona. Not that it had gone anywhere. He simply hadn’t had the time to really push it and the commission had somehow managed to paint him as somehow too good, too forgiving, to be trusted when it came to the disposition of terrible villains.

“’ll be’kay,” mumbled Izuku, the sentiment clearer over their mental link. “N’ospital.”

“Okay,” said Toshinori, slightly breathless. “Let’s—Let’s keep going, then. Find a good place to camp out, far away from Todoroki Touya, here. Yep.” He was aware he was rambling, and needlessly at that, but he couldn’t help it.

One foot in front of the other.

Was that a car running?

Toshinori, keen on getting help and care for Izuku, even if it meant hijacking a car, changed directions slightly. Of course, it would be ideal if there were friendly bystanders who didn’t believe the hero commissions lies and had a medical license and a healing quirk, but Toshinori would be more than happy with—

He stopped. Laughed. Laughed some more, a little hysterically. There, abandoned in a ditch like a beached sailing ship, was Vlad King’s much abused car.

Sure, it would have been reported stolen by now, and the police and heroes would be looking for it, but that was a problem for future-Toshinori. Present-Toshinori, on the other hand, was simply grateful for the windfall, and wary – the presence of the car could indicate the proximity of the League of Villains.

He gently put Izuku down in the passenger seat, turned the car off and made sure it was in the appropriate gear, then walked around to the back of the car and lifted it out of the ditch.

If his muscles had been complaining before—

He staggered back to the driver’s seat, leaning heavily on the side of the car the whole time. Blood dripped from his mouth. “This is nothing, my boy, nothing,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, as he felt Izuku’s concern press heavily against him. “Used to have worse every day of the week.”

Toshinori got the sense that Izuku was not, in fact, reassured. Nevertheless, he grinned, pouring every drop of his fabled ‘everything will be alright’ smile into the expression. Even if Izuku couldn’t see it, Toshinori needed some of the comfort that came with donning a familiar mask

“Let’s see if we can get to the Wild Wild Pussycats today, after all.”

.

“Eri-chan,” began Abe, tapping together her papers. She’d drawn the short stick. Ito was interviewing one of the older students, and Abe got the feral child.

“No,” said Eri.

“I didn’t even ask you a question yet.”

“Only people I like get to call me -chan. That’s the rule. Prinzible Nezu said so.”

“Principal,” corrected Nezu, cheerfully, like the unhelpful rodent rat bastard he was. If only she could have gotten him kicked out… but, no, he and Present Mic were both sitting in on the interview.

“PrincipalNezu told me, and he’s in charge.”

“You tell ‘em, Eri-chan!” said Present Mic, just a little more loudly than was comfortable.

.

Eri nodded to let Present Mic know the noise-cancelling earplugs were working.

.

“In this situation,” said Abe, sternly, “I am in charge.”

The girl tilted her head, and suddenly her expression went from ‘pouting child’ to ‘superior being contemplating an uppity insect.’

“Eri-san,” began Abe.

“No,” said Eri.

Abe looked up incredulously. What was wrong with -san?

She decided to ignore it. “You spoke with—”

Eri began to scream like a teakettle whistling.

“Can’t you control her?” Abe demanded, turning to Nezu, who chittered.

“This is very good progress!” he said, barely loud enough to hear over the ongoing shriek. “Before now, Eri-chan was too hesitant to act out or misbehave in any way, fearing the punishment that her former and completely unqualified caretakers would inflict upon her.”

Abe didn’t know which was more longwinded, the still-screaming child or the rodent principal. Her body was so tiny, how was she still screaming?

.

Eri clicked off the Present Mic-themed combo audio recorder and player in her pocket at the same time she shut her mouth. Principal Nezu was right! This was fun! At least, it would be if Deku was here.

“I get to pick what you call me,” said Eri, patiently. Since this person wasn’t smart enough to see that Deku was only the best hero ever and not a bad guy, she’d have to explain slowly.

The person evidently wasn’t even smart enough to breathe, as she was slowly turning purple.

“What,” she said, in stilted tones, “would you like me to call you.”

Eri let the smile Aizawa had taught her spread across her face. “Eri-sama.”

“Is that a joke?”

“It’s very important to respect the boundaries children establish, Abe-san,” said Nezu.

.

Katsuki blinked. It was about time he woke up. Stupid dream time dilation or whatever. Stupid boring soy sauce face and his stupid boring mindscape dreamscape whatever hellscape. There was a limit to what you could do in a square mile that mostly consisted of a tape-covered jungle gym and a boring apartment building. Katsuki had found it, and, after spending a good period of time being angry about it, had decided to go to sleep.

Dream time dilation or whatever the commission proctor had been going on about after the first billionty-and-one stupid hours, it didn’t matter, Katsuki hated it, it was just taking too damn long. If he didn’t have to do this to keep his provisional license, he’d tell the commission to shove this stupid pointless training up it’s—

About a minute after he should have twigged to something wrong, Katsuki realized the ceiling was too familiar.

He sat up. Why the hell was he in UA’s infirmary?

And not just him, about half the class was here with him.

He scowled. So, something had gone wrong with the test after all, and it looked like Deku wasn’t involved. Stupid nerd would hold it over him.

“Hey!” shouted Katsuki, spotting Recovery Girl. “What the f—”

“Language!” scolded Recovery Girl, shrilly, practically teleporting across the room to jab Katsuki with her cane. “You’re in a school, young man.”

“I know that!” protested Katsuki. “But why the f—” he faltered under the force Recovery Girl’s gaze even as she started to run through the checklist she usually did for people who’d been knocked out like wimps. “Fudge. Am I here.”

“I think the more pertinent question is, how are you awake? There should be at least one more hour, if not two, left to that quirk.”

“I went to sleep,” said Katsuki, attempting to fend her off.

“Well, you wouldn’t be waking up if—”

“No. In the shhhtupid dreamscape thing. I went to sleep.”

Recovery Girl paused for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t suppose you were the one whose mind they were exploring?”

“No. That was soy sauce face. Why are we back here? And where’s the nerd?”

Recovery Girl seemed to droop at his question, and a heaviness filled the air. “That’s a long story.”

“Did we get attacked by Dusty McGee again?”

“No.”

“So, what did happen?” snapped Katsuki. “The nerd break out a new quirk in the middle of the training or something?”

Recovery Girl’s eye twitched, and she sat down on a nearby stool, taking a deep breath.

“The hero commission suspected Midoriya of working with the League of Villains and attempted to use the training to interrogate him. Under the influence of at least one mental quirk, Midoriya fled. At about the same time, All Might left and met up with him, after which the commission accused Midoriya of kidnapping All Might. They haven’t given him an S-Rank villain classification, but I suspect that’s just because the paperwork hasn’t gone through yet.”

All right. Honestly, with his creepy stalker notebooks and obsessive All Might shrine room, Deku probably seemed like a prime kidnapping suspect to an outsider, but considering that Katsuki had witnessed Deku and All Might’s sickeningly sweet interpersonal interactions, somehow managing to be a goddamn third wheel to some sort of surrogate parent-child found family drama nonsense…

“Has anyone told ‘em it’s more likely the other way around? And that if it was, it’d probably be for the nerd’s own good, too?”

Recovery Girl nodded tiredly.

“They hiding out here?”

“Midoriya is a wanted criminal.”

“So what?”

“We’re a school.”

“You’ve lost me.”

Recovery Girl sighed. “No, Midoriya is not here.”

“Well, that’s stupid. What are we doing about it?”

“Right now? You are doing nothing. Commission investigators are in the building, and it would be better if they thought you were still unconscious.”

Katsuki grumbled. “Should go and try to bring him back.”

“What, so he can be arrested?”

“No!” said Katsuki, defensively. “But he’s probably running around out there making everything worse!”

“Bakugo,” said Recovery Girl, patting his leg, “from what I’ve heard, the only thing that could possibly make this worse is being found.”

.

“Can you describe to me the circumstances under which you lost your quirk?” asked Ito, the other commission investigator.

“Sure!” said Mirio, hoping the man couldn’t detect his discomfort at the subject. Even if he’d made that split second choice to shield Eri with his body with full knowledge of the consequences, to jump in front of Nemoto’s bullet, it was still a traumatic experience. It still hurt, even if he didn’t regret it.

He took a deep breath. “Well, it was during the Shie Hassaikai raid. I had gone ahead to confront Chisaki Kai and rescue Eri. There were a few other yakuza with him, members of the Eight Bullets. Nemoto Shin, Sakaki Deidoro, and, ah, Chrono, I think. I can’t remember his proper name.”

“That’s fine. Please continue.”

“I engaged with Sakaki and Nemoto while Chisaki and Chrono went ahead. I was affected by their quirks, but managed to get by… It was a hard battle!” he interjected, suddenly. He belatedly realized he wanted to draw out this line of questioning, and dove into a supremely detailed description of his fight with Sakaki and Nemoto. It was funny, too, and he saw Ito getting sucked in.

Sir would have been proud.

“And then, I chased after Chrono and Chisaki!” said Mirio, gesticulating wildly to illustrate his movements. He continued narrating the battle, the wild swings of fate, Eri’s hope and fear, the strikes and counterstrikes! Just like when he’d first debriefed after the raid.

Weirdly enough, going through it like this also made him feel better. Less like he was reliving a terrible, painful moment in his life, and more like he was telling a very dramatic story.

“—aaaaaaand,” he wrapped up, “Chisaki tossed the gun with the erasure bullets to Nemoto – I hadn’t realized he was still conscious. I’d been too worried about getting to Eri.” He shrugged. “I got shot.”

“Despite your quirk?”

“I didn’t want Eri to be hit.”

“Even though the loss of her quirk might have been a blessing for her? Considering the difficulty she has using it and the pain it gives her.”

Mirio felt his smile settle into something blander and more dangerous than his usual beaming grins. “Are you suggesting that I should have let a six-year-old be shot?”

“Not at all,” said Ito, making a mark. “Now, where was Midoriya at this time?”

“He hadn’t caught up to us, yet,” said Mirio. “He was with Sir.”

“Who?”

“Sir Nighteye,” clarified Mirio. “Before that, they were with Rock Lock and some of the others, I believe.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“I wasn’t there, so… no, not really. But the exact situation should be on file, from our debrief, and Rock Lock can confirm or clarify.”

“Only the parts he saw,” said Ito. “Did you try to use your quirk after that? Or did you simply assume it was gone?”

“Of course, I tried to use it!” said Mirio, feeling somewhat offended. “I’d trained it to be reflexive. Right after, I kept thinking my quirk would protect me, and moving too slow to dodge attacks. I got really beaten up.”

“And was this before or after Midoriya Izuku arrived?”

“Before, mostly,” said Mirio. “It isn’t like the fight stopped the minute he showed up.”

“And you are certain your quirk stopped working before Midoriya arrived.”

“I’m sure.”

“How did you know you were hit by a permanent quirk-erasing bullet?” asked Ito.

“Well, when my quirk didn’t come back we were pretty sure,” said Mirio.

“But you didn’t know beforehand, for certain, that the bullets were permanent.”

Crap. Mirio had screwed up somewhere in there. He could feel it.

“I think Nemoto and Chisaki were shouting at each other about it during the fight,” said Mirio. “They were pretty proud of it.”

“But you did not know, for sure, that your quirk loss was permanent,” insisted Ito. “There was no way for you to know that their claims about the bullets were true.”

“I mean… not really,” said Mirio. “But, again, here I am without a quirk.”

“Yes… but that isn’t the only way a person can lose a quirk, is it?”

“The Scourge of Kamino was already in Tartarus when the Shie Hassaikai raid took place,” said Mirio. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Did Midoriya Izuku come into contact with you before the end of the day?”

“We talked, yeah,” said Mirio.

“Physical contact.”

“Actually… no,” said Mirio. “After the fight, we were both whisked off to the hospital, separately. Midoriya came to visit me after we both got patched up, he felt guilty about not getting to me and Eri sooner, and--” Oh, dear, he’d have to think back on that conversation a bit more. Later. He swallowed. “--and… Sir’s death…” He looked down at his hands. “Sir… in retrospect, he didn’t like Midoriya very much, but his death hit Midoriya hard. First death in the line of duty. It… it was the first time I’d seen a hero die, too.”

“You’re quite certain he didn’t touch you? At all?” asked Ito, undeterred by Mirio’s not-at-all-feigned grief.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” said Mirio, now annoyed by the investigator’s callousness.

“I see.”

.

Ochako rubbed her eyes, but the darkness stayed. “What,” she said out loud, her voice somehow doing the opposite of echoing, “what happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Todoroki. He had positioned himself so as to guard her back.

“There was a bang,” said Iida, “and then…” He trailed off, clearly finding just as much difficulty in describing the event as Ochako did thinking about it.

“They were talking about All for One getting in,” said Ochako. “You don’t think…?”

“Maybe we timed out the quirk and we’re about to wake up,” said Iida, optimistically.

“Where’s Aizawa-sensei?” asked Todoroki.

“I don’t know,” said Ochako. “He was standing with us… I mean, I couldn’t see you guys at first, either.”

“I’m here,” said Aizawa.

Ochako turned to see their teacher methodically scanning their black surroundings, his eyes red. “Do you know what happened?” she asked. “Do you think this is just, I don’t know, a new transition? A memory?”

“I don’t know,” said Aizawa. He blinked, eyes returning to their normal colors.

“It isn’t,” said an unfamiliar voice. The figure of a young man with uncut white hair slowly faded out of the darkness. “Hello.” He raised a hand. “I’m One. Or, I guess, you can call me Kazuki. Sorry about the landscape. Most of our mental resources were just rerouted.”

“Does this have something to do with that vault thing Izuku mentioned?” asked Ochako.

“Yes, sadly,” said One. “My brother’s broken out. Which means you really shouldn’t be here. All our minds are about to become battlefields. I have some techniques that might help you get out, but--”

“Six told me there was something taken from Midoriya that we could get back, if the vault was open. Is that still a thing?”

One raised a fist to his lips, and pressed down. “You understand, don’t you, that to search for this is to go into my brother’s mind?”

“If it’s to help Midoriya,” said Todoroki, stepping forward, “we’ll do anything.”

“That is very admirable of you,” said One. “I do mean that, I really do, and I’ve seen your heroics and spirit through Izuku’s eyes. But I’m not sending children to fight my brother. Eraserhead, you’d be going alone.”

“I can work with that,” said Aizawa.

“But we won’t be in any real danger!” protested Ochako. “The worst that could happen to us is that we’ll run out of time and wake up. Right?”

“Don’t underestimate my brother. Judging from the fight at Kamino, he lost a lot of quirk control and strength after his first fight with Eight, or else he’d never have been captured. But that’s only if we take it at face value. I don’t doubt that he has five or six plans in place to escape Tartarus and steal every interesting quirk in there, thereby increasing his power exponentially, or even healing himself.”

Ochako blinked. How would anyone heal from… Wait. “Overhaul.”

One’s smile was a bitter thing. “I certainly wouldn’t have put the two of them in the same prison.”

The villain at Kamino, already strong enough to go toe to toe with All Might, with Overhaul's power? Ochako shuddered.

"What did he take from Midoriya?" asked Aizawa. "I'm going to need to know before I do this."

"You're sure you want to do this, then?"

"I haven't decided."

One sighed and pushed his hair back, out of his face. Ochako was struck, momentarily, by how the color of his eyes perfectly matched Izuku's.

"My brother took what he always takes," said One. "His quirk."

"But!" protested Ochako. "He has a quirk! He has..." she trailed off as another revelation hit her.

"He…" said Iida, next to her, "has several quirks."

"He has your quirk," said Todoroki with one-hundred-percent unwavering confidence.

"You had a quirk like All for One," said Aizawa. "But considering what we've seen… the quirk to pass on quirks?"

"That's why you call yourselves by numbers! Because that's the order you had the quirk in!" added Ochako.

"I prefer thinking of it as the ability to share quirks," said One, "but since everyone but Eight and Nine is dead, the distinction is academic."

Aizawa sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Okay, let me get this straight. You and... your brother both had meta quirks. He could… give and take quirks. You could just pass your own quirk on. He decided to become a criminal mastermind. You decided to, I don't know, invest your quirk until someone had enough quirks to fight your brother?"

"And they're all related," said Todoroki.

"And you're all related," said Aizawa with an air of suffering.

"It was significantly less intentional and more complicated than that, but, yes, those are the basics."

"And, for some reason, All Might thought that it was a good idea to pick a teenager for the job."

"In his defense, Eight thought my brother was dead. The one you should really be throwing shade at is Seven."

"I have questions."

One tilted his head. "Normally, I would answer them, but we're running out of time."

Aizawa sighed. "Alright. I'll do it."

"We want to help, too!" said Ochako.

"Three will find a way to ghost murder me if I get you involved in a fight with my brother."

"So would I, incidentally," said Aizawa, "and then I'd expel all of them."

Iida cleared his throat. "Is there any way for us to help without coming into contact with All for One?”

“Yes,” said One, clapping his hands together. “Getting out before that Suzuki fellow does and giving Izuku some good publicity.”

One’s image seemed to waver and split, then, as if Ochako had crossed her eyes. She blinked, hard, but after that there were still two of them.

“I’ll lead you to my brother’s mind,” said one of the Ones, waving at Aizawa.

“I’ll stay and try to help the rest of you get out,” said the second One. “We should - Oh.”

“Oh?” repeated Aizawa. “‘Oh,’ what?”

“Oh, we forgot about someone,” said One.

.

“Oh,” said All for One, catching sight of an anomaly. “Who is this little intruder to our gathering?”

“Just some government lackey,” said Miranda, hands still for now, but in a position where she could likely summon ball lightning in a matter of minutes. “Not someone you can use as a hostage.”

“Actually,” said Ryuji, who, unusually, had yet to disappear from All for One’s senses, “if you could figure out a way to get rid of him, it would be convenient.”

“Two!” snapped Nana.

“Come on, we were all thinking it,” said Ryuji.

“You can’t use a him as a murder weapon,” hissed Nana. “Nine will get in trouble.”

“You’rethe one who repeatedly dropped him from a dozen stories up. And the one who was fantasizing about murdering him in real life.”

“That daydream could have belonged to anyone.”

“It had Gran Torino in it.”

“Eight knows Gran, too!”

All for One coughed, returning the full attention of the vestiges to himself. “Is this a pathetic attempt at a distraction?”

“Do you know any other adjectives?” asked his little brother, who was slouching off to the side with his hands in his pockets.

All for One sneered. “Are you not taking this seriously?”

“Not really, no,” said Kazuki, “and neither are you, or else we’d be fighting already. We both know that what you can affect here is limited.” He started counting off on his fingers. “You can’t bring us back with you, you can’t affect Nine’s morality, you can’t take the stockpile, you--”

“I knew it!” shrieked the little intruder, jabbing a finger at All for One. “I knew it! You’re All for One! Midoriya is working for you!”

“Hey, if you’re going to do the sibling thing and prove me wrong about the whole ‘can’t do anything’ thing, can I suggest you start with him?”

All for One narrowed his eyes and scanned his relatives. There was an uncharacteristic lack of protest.

“Are you briar patching?”

“No,” said Hibiki, “they’re quite serious. I personally would prefer it if you didn’t kill him, but not enough to risk myself.”

He could always trust Hibiki to be blunt and straightforward. He got it from his wonderfully forthright and businesslike mother. He hadn’t loved her like he loved his current, still-living spouse, but she had been refreshing.

“Mood,” said Rokuya.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” said dear, sweet Izuku, raising a hand, “but I’m not actually comfortable letting All for One kill him in front of us.”

“Don’t try that now! You’ve shown your true colors, traitor!”

“Don’t worry, kid,” said Daigoro, “we’re pretty sure he won’t be able to.”

“Torture, then.”

“Not sure he can do worse than Nana did.”

“All I did was drop him!” protested Nana.

“Repeatedly, from a great height,” Miranda reminded her.

Everyone was much more relaxed, now, and… were they ignoring him? They were!

“Are you all under the effect of a quirk?”

“Yeah,” said Kazuki. “How else do you think this is happening?”

“No, I mean… your personalities… they’re all…” He gestured at the One for All users who had stopped to watch him.

“Niichan, I’ve tried to tell you this before, but at least for me, I’m not all that great a person. You just suck so enormously that I look like a saint in comparison.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is,” said Kazuki. “I mean, think back to our first argument. I was less concerned with your overall morality and more concerned with the fact that the demon king alway loses--”

“Excuse you, but I’ve beaten every one of you.”

“No you haven’t,” said Hibiki. “I, at least, died with no input from you.”

“Killing you is obviously different from beating you,” said All for One.

“I mean, by the time you chucked me in that vault, it had evolved to a moral and ethical complaint,” said Kazuki, his one visible eye unfocused in remembrance. “But it started out with me worried about you getting yourself killed.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It really did. You know, I don’t think I ever told you this, but if you’d been twenty percent more ethical? I would have absolutely been on your side.”

“What.”

“I mean, it was you, the government, and ragtag resistance groups, and the government sucked.”

“I can confirm that,” said Miranda, “and it continues to be disgustingly corrupt. But since you’re also swimming through the human experimentation cesspit, we’re staying where we are. Don’t get any ideas.” She ended the sentence with a hiss and fog started rolling in.

“I agree that if you stayed away from the kidnapping, murder, and cult stuff, I would have probably stayed with you,” said Ryuji. “Except you did do all that stuff… Why are we even talking about this?”

“I would add personal freedom to the list of things I’d want from you in the hypothetical world where we stayed on the same side,” said Hibiki, “but, otherwise, I agree.”

All for One blinked several times, a small part of his mind cherishing the fact that he had eyes. “Do you all feel that way?” he asked, oddly touched but also strangely disturbed.

“No,” said Daigoro, “the rest of us hate you and the government just about equally.”

All for One turned his gaze to the quivering ‘government lackey.’ “I see. So, I suppose I have the government to thank for this turn of events. Hm? What did you do to have these soft-hearted fools so upset with you?”

The little man squeaked and jabbed something like an epi-pen into his leg. A second later, he vanished.

“Wait,” said Izuku. “Wait. THAT’S how to get out? That’s so stupid! Can we do that?” The last was said as an aside to Nana.

“Not with him here,” said Miranda. Her voice had dropped back into its more dangerous registers.

“Oh, so we are going to fight after all,” said All for One, clapping his hands and smiling. “What fun.”

.

“I can’t believe you distracted him and got Suzuki to leave like that,” said Aizawa as they stepped out of the fog.

“Well, my brother always did like to hear the sound of his own voice. And be a jerk, but I’m sure that was obvious,” said One. They came to a stop in front of a normal-looking apartment building. One sighed. “This is where we lived,” he said. “Before…” He sighed again.

Aizawa examined One out of the corner of his eyes. He looked tired.

“How much of what you said back there was true?”

“Huh? Most of it, really. My successors built me up as some kind of big good, but I was never anything but a normal guy with a slightly more functional moral compass than my brother.”

From what Aizawa had seen so far, he suspected One was seriously underselling himself.

“I’m sorry,” said One, “but I’m going to have to leave you here. Nine’s quirk should look like a younger version of himself. He couldn’t have been any older than five when it was taken.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Sorry, not really… I’ve not exactly been inside my brother’s head. If you manage to find a switch labeled ‘empathy,’ you might take a second to flip it on. Or not. Could be booby trapped. Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Great,” said Aizawa.

.

“Midoriya-san,” said Mr. Compress. “We’ve been searching for quite some time now, I hate to say it, but I rather suspect that your son has thoroughly escaped.”

“Escaped,” repeated Midoriya. “Like a prisoner.”

Mr. Compress coughed into his fist. Tomura glared at him through a fog of exhaustion. He was wearing a mask. Why bother with the fist at all? Sometimes, Tomura felt like the only sane person on a planet of aliens.

“Honestly, we didn’t even know he was in the area, Midoriya-san. But… Perhaps at this point, the best course of action would be to return to our, uh… temporary base so that you can get some clothes. I’m sure Dabi will have something that can fit you.”

“Or maybe,” said Toga, hesitantly, “Magne might have had something?”

“Excellent idea, Himiko! Yes, I’m sure Magne’s clothes will be much more appropriate.”

“I don’t know that dressing her in a dead woman’s clothes is a good idea?” whispered Twice.

“Normally,” said Midoriya Inko, “I would say that the fires of my anger at Hisashi provide me with enough warmth to scorch the ground I walk on but—” she shivered, “—unfortunately you may be right. I’m not a young woman anymore, and Izuku would want me to be safe and healthy. So that I can give Hisashi a… firm talking to.”

Tomura shuddered. The ice in her tone was more frigid than the toilet seat in their stupid unheated bathroom at night.

… He hoped Sensei didn’t get a mind reading quirk in the near future. He definitely didn’t want him to know about that metaphor.

“Machia, will you be a dear and take us back? And Mr. Compress, would you put Dr. Garaki back in one of your marbles? I suspect he’ll be… more comfortable that way.”

At least Tomura wasn’t the doctor.

Machia leaned down and let them all get on, though not before fixing Tomura with a glare and delivering some glitchy threat about the ‘Little Lord’ and ‘playing nice.’ Completely redundant, what with Midoriya Inko’s much more pertinent and detailed threat regarding the same thing.

“Hey,” said Twice. “Do you guys smell--? It’s like a barbecue!”

Himiko sniffed the air. “It does smell kinda smokey, guys. Do you think Dabi got in a fight, too?”

“With who?” asked Tomura.

“Well, Izu-chan has to still be around here somewhere, right?” asked Himiko, putting a finger to her lips.

Machia sped up.

“It’s probably just the wind blowing someone’s bonfire smoke this way,” said Spinner.

Machia slowed down again.

Tomura frowned. “There shouldn’t be anyone close enough for that,” he said. If Dabi had set the forest on fire and given away their position, he was going to murder him.

Machia sped up again.

They came into sight of their current base and the source of the smoke.

These happened to be the same thing.

“I’m going to kill Dabi,” said Tomura.

“Are we sure it was him?” asked Twice.

“I don’t care.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #fanfic #long night in the valley

[honeypirate]

Just In Case

Part two

Pro hero Bakugou x fem pro hero reader

in my world Recovery Girl lives forever and trains another who can replace her when she retires who she passes the hero title of recovery girl too.

Anyway on to the story that’s probably not as good as I want but oh well.

Warning- angst. Death. Blood. Ya know the works.

Inspiration- Murder In the City // The Avett Brothers

You write a letter every day. A new one so it stays relevant. Every morning you took ten minutes to quickly write out a letter just in case anything bad happens while you’re at work.

You see, being a hero isnt all rainbows and butterflies and ranks. Sometimes it’s boring. But other times, it’s scary and horrifying. Those days where you barely make it out on top because the villains were crafty.

After one hard therapy session filled with worries and tears, your therapist suggested letters. At least one. To your husband. Just in case.

This morning wasn’t different than your last, you can hear your husband in his office across the hall, humming a song you listened to at dinner the previous night. He made your heart happy with everything he did, minus the way he left his used teeth floss sticks on the counter or the way he could be a little loud.

Every morning you write this letter, periodically meeting his eye through your open doors and he’d wink, making you laugh and stick your tongue out.

Today you watched as he moved, methodical, he’s done this every morning and it shows but he still takes care with every movement.

“Are you ready?” He says as he crosses the hallway “we’re needed in half an hour so we should go soon” you smile at him and somethjng settles in your stomach. Something heavy and uncomfortable. Something wrong.

“Yeah I’m almost done” you say and he watches as you fold your letter and place it in an envelope, writing his name followed by ‘just in case’ then sticking it in your top drawer.

The letters he’s been told about. The letters he supports. He’s actually been writing his own to you as well but you both agreed that you can’t read then unless it’s actually happening.

You try to not focus on the hard substance in your stomach or the way it seems to ache. It’s a bad feeling but sometimes your anxiety could cause them for no reason so you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Ready” you say softly, pulling down your hero mask to press your lips to his for a moment. He helps you readjust your mask with a pink flush in his cheeks. You’ve been married for years but making him blush is as easy as it was day one.

(Skippy skip)

The villains were smart, drawing all the heroes to different locations. You were climbing the stairs of an abandoned building, going to see if the intel about a bomb on the third floor was true, which unfortunately, it was.

Your hands hovered over the bomb, using your electric quirk to cancel out the wires and stop the timer. A scuffing sound catches your attention and you’re dodging a metal rod that was thrown at you to only be stabbed by one from a different direction.

The villain could control metal with his quirk, throwing the rod at you from one direction when he was coming from a different side. “Huh” you say softly as you look down at the rod through your stomach, the pain not even registering yet. “Poor unfortunate hero.” He lifts you by the metal rod and you scream, white hot pain shooting through you as it tears your abdomen as he slams you into the ground, pushing the rod further through you until it connects to the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have a hot date later” he says as he restarts the bomb, placing it farther from you so you couldn’t reach it with your powers, then he’s hopping from the third story window and waving at you with a smirk.

Your hand flies to your ear piece “There’s a bomb! Third floor tallest abandoned building in the-“ and that’s all you can get out before the bomb goes off and the building is collapsing.

The area was covered in dust and smoke, ash falling from the sky. You ripped your mask off trying to get more air into your lungs but it didn’t help that a giant piece of concrete was crushing your right arm and part of your ribs and chest, not to mention you’re still attached to the rod.

“Bakugou” you say through your headpiece, coughing up blood and ash “where are you?” He shouts back “the bomb” you muttered back and it sounded wheezy, you could hear the fluid in your lungs. You heard more explosions before he was appearing right beside you.

“Hey there hot stuff” you say and chuckle softly as he brushes the dust out of your hair “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay” he’s saying but his eyes are filling with tears and his brows are knit. “It’ll be okay” you say but he does not look in your eyes. He’s still fretting, trying to think of how to save you.

“Bakugou.” You say in a commanding voice and he looks at you “you’ll be okay” you whisper, your blood covered lips smiling gently. You reach up with your left hand and cup his cheek, brushing away the hot tears that have started to fall. “You’ll be okay” you say again, your voice sounding weaker “no” he whispers “no. I’ll save you. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you help” kirishima is in your headpiece, telling you how he’s sent first responders your way but you can’t hear him.

Your voice is quiet, your hand going limp and falling from his cheek “You are the best part of me”

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He left the police station and was just walking. He couldn’t go home. Not when it was your home too. Not when he knows he’ll just be reminded of you and how you smiled at him this morning. How he woke up to you kissing his neck. How that will never happen again.

Walking into the office he didn’t bother with any of the lights. He puts in his alarm code and numbly makes his way to your office.

If you’re reading this. That means I’ve died.

Oh god I’ve always hated these letters. It’s so dramatic. I’m going to be okay. I have to be.

But just in case, since were up against major villains every day, I’ll write this letter. The 54th I’ve written so far.

Anyway I would regret not saying anything if it was my last day alive. I know I’m going to go home tonight and hold you, kiss you, and spend it like it was my last. This won’t be different than the last 53 letters I’ve shredded.

But. Life is short. It’s short and before you know it it can be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. So here we go.

If I get murdered in the city tomorrow, don’t go revenging in my name. A person dead from such is plenty, no need to go get locked away. I know you’ll blame yourself and get mad and swear revenge. Bakugou I love you. Let go of the hate and the rage. All I want is you to be happy and you to be okay.

But there’s no need to get over alarmed, I’m coming home I know it.

(His tears start to hit the paper, hot big tears blotting the ink and making it hard to see. )

So if tomorrow is my last day. Ill leave this letter in my desk.

Don’t bother with my belongings. Things never really mattered to me, you know that. Donate them. Burn then. Whatever you want.

Tell my sister that I love her. That I’m sorry if she ever doubted that.

I wonder what my parents will say. Probably that they were proud of me. Please let them know how much I loved them. How much I loved my childhood.

Now for you, my love, my sweetheart. The love of my life I’m sure of it. There was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The love that let me share your name for these few years.

Thank you. For loving me. For supporting me. For choosing me every day. I’ve never doubted it once. I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.

I'm watching you in your office right now, youre humming that song that played at the restaurant last night.

If I had never seen your face this world would have been such a very different place for me. It would be quieter and colorless. You have truly given me so much in this life that I can never hope to repay you.

You can never know which way your heart will go, but you are the compass leading mine. It will always point to you.

You’ve made me feel alive made me want to live so I could experience all my dreams coming true with you by my side.

I don’t know what else to add

Please, if you know anything, let it be that you were my greatest happiness in life.

I’ll always come home to you

I love you

-y/n

His hand is shaking as he finishes the letter.

He takes a sharp inhale and his knees give out, falling to the floor beside your desk with a soft gasp that turned into a sob as he broke down.

“You. You promised” he whispered between sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as he hugs his arms around himself, hunching forward as his tears make soft patting sounds as the hit the hard wood floor.

He doesn’t know how Kirishima found him but when he runs through the office and sighs with relief when he finds him, he doesn’t move. He stays, broken on the floor, sobbing. Kiri doesn’t freeze, he’s there in a second, wrapping his arms around his best friend. Trying to give him a little comfort.

Kirishima's phone rings and Bakugou growls, taking it from his hand as kiri goes to silence it, pressing answer without looking to see who it is “what” he yells out, his nose stuffy and throat constricted showing how much he’s been sobbing.

Recovery Girls voice is stern through the receiver “You need to get down here right away. She’s alive.”

#bakugou katsuki fanfiction #bakugou angst #mha bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #my hero academia fanfiction #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n

[suddencolds]

even the tiniest drabble with kaeya and albedo where one of them has a cold would make me super happy. i don't even care which one is sick, really, but if you want something more specific i feel like albedo being the sick one could be cute? and albedo has a canon liking for dessert/sweet things so maybe kaeya brings him some hot chocolate????

Hi anon!! First, the mention of sweets is so cute?? I live for Kaeya knowing that and specifically bringing Albedo hot chocolate 😭 (Also to the one other anon who asked for Albedo sjfhajfsh), I’ve always wanted to try my hand at writing Kaebedo, so I hope you enjoy! <3

—

Albedo is in a hurry.

“Good morning,” he says, when Kaeya runs into him just outside Jean’s office. “Forgive me. I can’t stay to talk.”

“Good morning to you too,” Kaeya says. “Busier than usual?”

Up close, Albedo looks slightly off—he’s paler than usual, save for a flush high in his cheeks. Closer inspection reveals that he’s shivering, too, if only slightly.

“Much to get done,” Albedo says back. “I have another shipment I need to attend to.” Before Kaeya can find a chance to respond, he’s already turning, heading for the exit.

Kaeya sighs. “Albedo.”

Albedo turns on his heels, sniffing softly. “What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Kaeya asks, as nonchalantly as he can. Albedo looks surprised for a moment, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. Then he nods.

“I am fine, I promise. I think I’ve...” he trails off, his gaze going distant and indistinct, and ducks into his shoulder. “...hiih’TSCHh!... caught a cold, snf.” Albedo clears his throat; Kaeya almost misses the grimace that follows, the discomfort that catches in his eyeline for a split second, there and then gone. “I should be back to normal in three to five days. Until then, I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Should you be working if you’re ill?” Kaeya asks, skeptical. “If you’re just running deliveries, I can help you with that.”

“It’s only a cold. No fever, and no symptoms that would warrant any additional concern…” Albedo rubs his nose, sniffling into a raised fist. His breath catches again, sharply, without a release. He sighs.  “...I’m sorry. I should really go. I would have liked to stay to chat..”

Then he’s slipping out the door to the Knights’ headquarters, and Kaeya—who still has a day of work ahead of him—doesn’t follow. Still, it bothers him as he goes out with the Knights. It’s been a winter colder than most, and it can’t be much better on Dragonspine, which is cold enough already without taking into consideration the variations of the seasons.

Albedo is honest when it comes to things like this. Kaeya knows that if he says it’s really nothing, he will be fine.

But he’s well-enough acquainted with illnesses to know how simple colds can still be fairly miserable. Albedo had seemed well enough, but appearances can be deceptive, and a cold is a cold. The weather in Dragonspine can’t possibly be conducive to his recovery; Kaeya can’t imagine the stress from running errands is helping, either.

—

Days like this aren’t frequent, but they’re tiring. Albedo gets caught in a frenetic back-and-forth between the camp at the base of Dragonspine, his own laboratory campsite up in the mountains, and the Knights of Favonius Headquarters in Mondstadt, transporting materials from outpost to outpost, double-checking the packaging, informing Sucrose and Timaeus about how the more fragile—or perishable—items should be handled.

By the time he’s back at his campsite, the exhaustion is starting to catch up with him. There are torches, set up around the periphery of the campsite, and usually they do a fair job of keeping the campsite area warm. Today—maybe owing to the fact that it’s particularly windy, or maybe only because it’s a colder winter than usual—he finds that it’s not exactly the most comfortable place to work.

Albedo takes a seat on one of the crates. He’s certainly well enough to be here—the cold he’s caught is an annoyance, but he’s certainly worked through worse. His throat hurts when he swallows, and every few minutes he has to pause to sniffle, wipe his nose briefly into the handkerchief Lisa had insisted that he take, crane his head over his shoulder to cough in an effort to avoid contamination of the materials he’s been using in his alchemy.

It’s disruptive, in the most inconvenient of ways, and he’s not getting any better out here, but he has so many new orders to sort through. He has a new shipment of Fontaine’s specialties to investigate. Rest can wait.

It’s not long before he’s raising the handkerchief to his face—he suspects it will stop being useful soon, for how much he’s used it—in ticklish, agonizing anticipation.

“Hiih... hiIH’izZZSch!!”

He winces, sniffling. The sneeze is just wrenching enough to send pain lancing through his throat.

“HiiiH’GZSChh!” Now his nose is running too, which is even worse. Still, he can’t bear to open his eyes; the anticipation is still there, persistent. “Hheh… heEHh… hehh’NGKT’shh! snf, snf...” He thinks the smoke might be getting to him. Perhaps it would do to try to sneeze this cold out—to expel all of the pathogens first, before his cold has the chance to worsen. Judging by how things are looking, it might happen even if he doesn’t do anything to encourage it.

“heh… hehH’iiSSSCh! HEHH’GKTschh!”

“Woah, bless you,” says a familiar voice.

Albedo’s eyes snap open. “Kaeya…?” He winces, still sniffling, and lowers the handkerchief from his face. Something must be wrong, he thinks—it must be urgent, too, if Jean had thought to send Kaeya up here on such a short notice. “Don’t tell me I mixed up the delivery shipments, snf, rest assured, I’ll… h-have it sorted as soon as I… hiih… can... hiih’GZZSchh!”

“Bless you again,” Kaeya says, sounding unbothered. “Relax, nothing’s wrong. Just thought I’d check up on you.”

It’s a puzzling response, to say the least. Albedo frowns. “Did you need something?”

“No, but I brought hot chocolate,” Kaeya says. When Albedo looks up, he sees that Kaeya is holding two mugs, one in each hand—both of which are miraculously still steaming. He holds one out in Albedo’s direction. “Sucrose tells me you have a taste for sweets.”

“I… am indeed fond of them,” Albedo says, taking the drink from him.

Kaeya brightens visibly. “This is an old recipe. You’ll have to tell me if it’s any good.”

Albedo takes a sip. The taste of it is slightly dulled under his worsening congestion, but it’s warm, fragrant and light, just sweet enough to not be overwhelming. “It’s exceptional,” he says earnestly, curling both hands around the mug to relish its warmth. “I would appoint you Captain of Drinks, if I could.”

Kaeya laughs. “You flatter me. I’m glad it was to your taste~ So,” he starts, smiling in that familiar, unreadable way, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Not off the top of my head... hiiH’DSCHhH!” Unprepared, uncovered—Albedo looks away, suspecting that his face must be red. “...Apologies. I’ve done this...”—he gestures vaguely to the workspace in front of him—“...many times before. I assure you, I can handle it. Did Jean send you?”

“Jean? No, I sent myself. I’m off work for today, and you said there was lots to get done, and you’re not feeling well, so...” Kaeya says all of this simply, as if his presence here is really only natural. As if he’s made the trip here—in the freezing cold, unpressured by the Acting Grandmaster, unaccompanied—just to stand here now, smiling, as if none of that is a big deal. He says, “Let me help?”

Albedo gapes at him.

“I would like to help,” Kaeya adds, sensing Albedo’s hesitation. He takes a seat on one of the crates opposite to Albedo—too close, really, to guarantee that he won’t contract this, which Albedo wants to comment on too. “That is, if you’d let me. I have no doubt you’d be able to handle this by yourself, but I can’t imagine it would be much fun. I’m better at alchemy than you might expect.”

“How chivalrous…” Albedo starts. He turns away to cough softly into his shoulder. “Captain Kaeya, you always manage to exceed my expectations.” It’s illogical, he thinks. There should be no reason why Kaeya’s presence would affect his illness in the least. And yet...

Kaeya smirks. “Since you are so intent on working hard, I figured I would lend a hand. So, where should we start?”

...he definitely feels better already.

[part 2]

#ask #sneeze fic #snz fic #snz kink #i never know how formal to write albedo (even with his voicelines as a reference) but this was really fun to write #1st half in ka/eya's perspective 2nd half in al/be/do's... i do know how perspectives work i swear... #my fic

[imagine-lcorp]

Between Two Lungs (One Shot)

A/N: Hello dears, so here it is the infamous fic I’ve been writing. I really hope this fullfils my dream of crushing your hearts once again and that you have a fun time agonizing over this final choice. Because yes, I’ve made this a multiending fic...As always, remember to tell me what you think, is it something you want me to keep doing for other fics? Also, how did you feel after this? pls let me know. Also i made this PLAYLIST if you want to add some feeling to this while reading... Enjoy! 

Lena Luthor x R/Hanahaki AU//Word Count: 3,464

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

It is possible to die of a broken heart.

You look it up somewhere in the internet. It's similar to a heart attack, caused by a very strong and emotionally stressful event. The death of a loved one, a breakup, a betrayal. It's treatable and rarely fatal. Following the recommendations of your doctor, you can make a full recovery within weeks. Still, it is possible to die of it.

You don't have a broken heart. You wish you had one. Because love, the one only you feel, is growing inside of you and it is much worse than that.

Thankfully, compared to others your condition it's not as painful as it could be.

You have heard about people with roses inside them, how their thorns puncture their pharynges with every breath they take. Others don't get flowers. They get apple or cherry trees with their fruits pouring juice inside their lungs and out of their mouths. Some others have pines and spruces, with cones constricting their organs and rib-cages until they bones break.

So you look at the small white petal that lays in your hand and think that, in your case, it is something almost magnanimous.

Plumerias have no thorns and, even though some can be a bit thick, their branches are soft enough to bend around your heart and lungs without much trouble. Their petals, small and delicate, rise easily up your throat without lacerating it in a coughing fit.

Maybe, you want to think in a very optimist way, if you can keep that love from growing further, you won't have to suffer through it.

Maybe.

So you prescribe for your own heart solitude and abstinence.

The first one is the easiest.

You tell your friends you are sick and need some time to recover. Most of them get worried as they don't know yet what illness has fallen upon you in these troublesome times.

"You know, If you wanted, I could get you a full medical examination." Alex offers with a raised eyebrow, giving you the look of the always concerned big sister.

"Thanks, but it's alright." You assure them with a smile. "I was thinking about spending some time at home anyway."

After a lot of questions you manage to dodge in the end, they decide there's no reason to doubt your intentions. So they leave you to your own devices.

Homemade remedies, or herbicides depending on who you ask, seem to help as you spend your days at home. Drinking some salt water with lemon in the morning, or a couple of vinegar tablespoons in a cup of tea before going to bed. They don't taste that bad once you get used to the flavor and these help you ease the new bitterness that you taste in the back of your throat.

The second is a bit harder.

You have to stop yourself from dreaming her, thinking her, missing her.

She has texted you a few times already, wanting to know how you're doing and offering her help if you don't feel like you're doing okay on your own. You handle it as best as you can. You text back, consistently enough and with measured time and words, so you don't raise any red flags. When you don't seem to answer she calls, but just thinking about hearing her voice makes your chest hurt a little.

You never answer. She doesn't try to call again. You spit your first handful of flowers after that.

It's all fine, you lie to yourself, at least until the pain reaches your insides and white petals come out of you mouth dappled in red.

"You need to tell her." Kara says softly as she pats your back after another coughing fit.

You cover your mouth with your hand, making sure there are no signs of blood or petals as you tight it into a fist. "Tell who what?"

"Tell Lena about the flowers." She sighs when she fells you freeze under her touch. "Sorry. Alex told me if I could get a clear shot at your lungs maybe we could figure out how to help. I didn't expect it to be... well, flowers."

It shouldn't come as a surprise to you but you are still amazed at how easy it is to forget Kara has x-ray vision when she's not wearing her suit. With or without it, she's still the same caring and protective person you have always known. It also explains why she has been so adamant about having lunch together, at least once a week, after your failed attempt at convincing her you were doing well after a month alone. You couldn't expect less from your best friend, you remind yourself as you catch your breath.

"How do you know it's her?" The taste is bitter as you swallow the rest of blood and petals in your mouth.

"It's plumerias, isn't it?" She rubs your back again as you regain you posture. "They are her favorites."

There are a couple of red tainted petals in your palm when you open your hand. "Yeah, they are."  

Kara looks at you and you see something in her you don't think you have ever seen before in the Girl of Steel. But you recognize it, because you feel the same way. Hopeless. Helpless. Powerless.

"(Y/N)." She says like she's already grieving. "It's spreading fast."

The easiest way to get ride of the disease is by removing its seed from your heart, the doctor says. No more than an hour in the operating room and your respiratory system would be as good as new. Common symptoms after the surgery can include aches between your shoulder blades, ribs, back of the neck or chest, weakness and hoarseness in your voice, and, in general, some memory loss and the inability to experiment intense or deep affection towards another person. Most of these stop shortly after you recover, except for the last one.

More experimental methods have been developed with the help of biotherapy. Experts in Japan are said to have reduced the spread of the flowers with other plants like kudzu or barberry, while someone in Europe has been using thrips to eat the plant and control its growth. It's like using maggots to eat your wounds, the doctor explains more enthusiastic than you feel.

You could, of course, try the simplest of things and confess your love.

It only takes to be loved in return for you to heal before any permanent damage is done. The seed that grows in your heart will almost instantly wither, the cough will purge the last of the flowers out of your lungs, and your recovery will last only a couple of weeks. You will breathe again.

But, if your love goes unrequited, you'll reach your fatal end in a matter of days. Doctors will give you a double dose of morphine or induce a coma trying to ease your pain. Flowers, fruits and cones bloom, branches and thorns grow. You convulse and gasp until your last breath when the biggest flowers come out of your mouth. All until your thorax is transformed, beautifully and violently, into a garden of flesh and blood.

Anyone who has seen it happen will tell you, how shocking it is to witness such a thing.

Whatever the case, this only serves to confirm what you already know. You can't be optimistic anymore.

You're dying and you will die, soon with flowers in your lungs or after many years with a loveless heart. Because this life and death of yours, you think, cannot be, shall not be, decided by a coin in the air.

And yet.

"It's flowers...in my lungs." You can almost tell which direction the flower stalks take inside your chest as the words form in your mouth.

"Oh." Lena says as she starts to fidget with her hands.

The anger, that had been growing inside her after weeks of vague replies and evasions, vanishes in her eyes the moment she understands what you're going through.

"Have you...talked to the other person?"

"No, not really. Not yet." You try not to lose your composure as you feel the flowers threatening to rise up your throat.  

"Will you?" She asks.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity pull your already heavy heart down. "It's plumerias."

"Plumerias?" You can see the moment it dawns on Lena, and the look she gives you makes you wish again you could die of a broken heart instead.

"Miss Luthor, I'm sorry but the board meeting will start shortly."    

Jess opens the door a second later and it gives you time to look at the other side and place your hand in your chest. As if that could possibly stop your heart and lungs from collapsing.

"Thank you, Jess. I'll be there." Lena dismisses her with a nod and looks again at you.

She doesn't say anything else and you feel a coughing fit building in your lungs. Stronger than you have ever felt it.

"(Y/N)!" She leaves her chair, running towards you.

You cover your mouth as your chest feels like a boxer is using it as a punching bag. I doesn't feel like it will end quick and when it finally does the only thing that remains is pain.

You thank the chair that holds you in place as you catch your breath.  

"I'm fine. It's fine." You don't want her to see it, but she manages to catch a glimpse of the bloody petals that cover your palm once you recover.

"No, it's not, (Y/N). You're dying and I-"

"It's not your fault." You cut her off, shaking your head and taking a little napkin from you pocket to clean yourself as best as you can.

The death, the break, the betrayal. You feel it all as worry and pity finally merge in her eyes. There's also guilt when she looks at you. It is there along with everything else she doesn't feel for you. So you don't want an apology, especially not from her, especially not like this.  

"You're my friend and I just- I wanted you to know. I got my surgery already programmed."

"Surgery?" You watch her draw back a bit in surprise.

"I'll be fine." You lie again.

"(Y/N), I-"                            

"Miss Luthor, the board-"

"I know!" Lena snaps and, when she realizes the magnitude of her reaction, she retracts, taking a deep breath for herself before answering. "Sorry, yes. Do you think you could hold it for a minute?"

"You should go." You say with a small voice before any of them can say more. "The meeting, sounds important."

"(Y/N)..." The way she pronounces your name makes you want to be over with this already. You just can't stand it anymore.

"We'll talk later." You say. "We got time."

She wants to argue, you know, but you won't, can't, do it. Still, you pull a little smile for her.

"We'll talk later." She replies with a nod.

There will be time for another conversation. There will be time. There will be time. There will be time. You repeat it like a mantra to help you carry yourself out of her office.

Everything else after that passes like a blur.

You know you reach the front door of the building, with the voice of the receptionist behind your back offering to call for help. You stumble on the sidewalk trying to hold onto light poles and signposts to keep yourself from falling. You clutch your hand in your chest as the pain reaches its peak. Flowers come pouring out of your mouth and you gasp for air as you finally fall.

You're delirious by the time you land on the hospital bed.

Many faces come and go then, doctors, nurses, friends, ghosts, both the living and the death. The only constants are your dying gasps and the painful beating of your heart until the morphine does its work. It helps you see, with certain clarity the only face that can make a difference.

"You listen to me, alright? I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier." You open your heavy lids at the sound of her voice, and you see those emerald eyes for what could be the last time. "I love you, (Y/N), please, I love you."

You hear her words, or you don't, or it is simply to late to care anymore. The coin is in the air and there's no more time.

***

☞ You let yourself drift into darkness as the plumerias are pulled to a better light. The garden is gone and what is left behind is only an empty carcass. You cannot stand the emptiness and your heart does what it should have done from the beginning. It breaks and breaks and breaks...

***

☞ Your mind tries to grasp her words but you find your heart too weak to keep a hold of them. So you let them pass through like a shadow. No need for them anymore as the anesthesia and the scalpel give you a break from all this suffering. There will be no flowers and it is, truly, not as bad as it could be...

***

☞ Her words suddenly hit you in their full meaning and your mind does its best to keep and save them into your heart. Even through branches and petals, it has the effect of an echo chamber, repeating those words like a healing prayer. I love you. I love you. I love you...

#Between Two Lungs #One shot #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor x you #lena x reader #lena x you

[anntoldst0ries]

Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first” date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room. 

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but. 

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human. 

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it. 

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously. 

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.  

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me." 

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin. 

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind. 

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right. 

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest.  Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder. 

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky. 

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him. 

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself. 

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much. 

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty. 

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic. 

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. 

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide. 

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye. 

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze. 

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…" 

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong. 

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations. 

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below. 

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY 

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls. 

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding. 

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.” 

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”   

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.” 

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“ 

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself. 

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there. 

In his arms.

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

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

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[elriell]

The Seer of Shadows

Chapter One—  A Fateful Return

It came once more, cold and forceful as it so often did, ripping open her thoughts and bleeding through her unconscious mind. It surged like a powerful river, the running rapids numbed her hearing completely, the soft dreamworld fading to a dark loveless expanse. The terror would only continue to grow inside her, though asleep her whole body seizing with dread, spilling over into reality and it would end how it inevitably always did.

Feyre had thought to comfort her throughout many months, speaking of how the nightmares would get easier and with time the dark clouds that settled over her during sleep would slowly grow weaker and would eventually go away all together. However what she had not told her sister, nor anyone for that matter was that the opposite was true. For her nightmares where only growing stronger, and her sleep shorter each day.

Elain’s scream clawed itself out her throat violently, weaved its way through the night settling in the air, chilling her own blood.  

As she attempted to calm her racing heart which could be heard pounding in her ear like war drums, she knew she could not go on like this for much longer the short bursts of sleep scarcely got her through the day and she grew paler and frailer by the day. It was infinitely frustrating feeling powerless, the backpeddling of her recovery since that terrifying day at the Cauldron, but try as she might she was wilting away like one of her favorite flowers during the winter season.

Disturbing her from her musings a sharp crisp knock sounded at the door. It was during these moments she became most afraid, because the truth was, she never quite knew whether she was dreaming whilst asleep or drifting whilst awake, her visions felt so real, so true, it confused even her own mind. As dread heighten once again, she tugged at the sheets, submerging herself beneath them willing the horrible images that flickered in front of her eyes though her lids remained closed.  

Gentle but firm, the voice called out, “Elain?” At first it was dulled by the ringing in her ears until it came again, louder, clearer, finally breaching her murky thoughts.  

At that her heart felt like it came to a stop momentarily, though it made her feel better to hear his comforting voice, the male on the other side of the door did little to slow the rhythm of her heart.

Taking a deep breath, once then twice more, she vocalized her internal thoughts. “Azriel, what are you doing awake so late?” Or early she supposed, depending on how you looked at it. She hadn’t been aware he had returned after so many weeks away; the shadow-singer had been gone on an important task with the Illyrians, alongside her sister and Cassian. Rhysand had casually informed her over dinner one night after she couldn’t bear to wonder any longer and perked up the nerve to ask, she had not realized quite how accustomed she had become to his quiet strength and companionship. Ordinarily she might not have noticed his absence quite so much, however with Nesta ‘s departure to the mountains as well it had left quite the notable hole in her life.  

“I was returning from the mountains when I thought I heard a scream from the other end of the house, I thought I would seek out the source of the sound. Are you alright?” Azriel paused, he seemed apprehensious to continue but his voice picked back up again, just as clear as before. “May I come in if it is not an imposition.”

Casting a glance down herself she was relieved to see she appeared relatively decent, though sweat lined her temple and her hair was a tangled mess from thrashing about, she supposed he had seen her in far worse states throughout the years. Smoothing her hand through the tendrils in a half-hearted attempt to separate the sweat plastered hair lining her face, and righting the nightwear from off her shoulder.

“Of course.” She replied with a confidence she did not truly feel though the quiver in her voice almost certainly betrayed her.

The door released gently and as it unlocked the candlelight from the hall trickled in slowly, the glow framed his shape casting the rest of him in shadows but there was no doubt who the tall figure with broad wings belonged too, sapphire syphons glimmering across his torso, they seemed to thump steadily almost in unison with her own heart.

There was a stillness in him that set her on edge, though it had only been a few weeks it seemed like a lifetime ago as he stood quietly in the doorframe, whatever calm understanding had grown between them over months prior seemed to be absent. Tonight, he was tenser than usual she could read it in the creases of his forehead, in the tension of his torso, his whole being was screaming out for release. Not to mention his shadows rippled around him, very unusual for him to allow them such free range around her.

"I apologize for disturbing you, I did not realize I was quite so loud.”  

He remained far from her by the now shut door, keeping his eyes downcast probably in some chivalrous attempt to allow her to maintain some modicum of privacy. He was always like that Azriel, gentlemanly to the core.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” His siphons glowing vividly in the dim room.

She knew he was only being kind to her as he always was, nonetheless she appreciated the gesture, did not have the energy to sustain any sort of façade she had been prolonging for Feyre. She had so much to worry over already, what with being pregnant. It certainly wasn't the time for her to fret about her again, so she kept her rising demons to yourself.

“How often has this been happening?” He queried gently, it was so low she had barely heard him, almost as if he had been speaking to himself.

“Not frequently.” Only constantly.

He searched her face for any trace of a lie and she knew with his experience, and intelligence he was likely to see the lie for what it was, if he did, he made no comment on the deception, allowing her this secret. And for that she was infinitely grateful.

He did not speak for a while the silence between them louder than the usual tranquility she was accustomed to when it came to the shadow-singer. Tonight, was different. Perhaps whatever happened in Illyria had put him on edge, at the verge of his control, because the silence between them was anything but serene.

“There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky ours are the former.”  

“You get night-terrors too?” She guessed.

No hesitation. “Of course.”

It was hard to imagine such a strong and stoic man being capable of being rendered powerless by a mere dream, more likely he was trying to make her feel better about her weaknesses, for the fragility of her mind some days. She wondered if going mad might be easier, if she simply let it pull her under, perhaps she could finally get some much needed rest.  

Elain implored genuinely, “And how do you cope with them?” He took his time to ponder her words, carefully picking the ones he would use.

“I want to keep my dreams, even bad ones, because without them, I might have nothing all night long.”    

“That seems inordinately sad.”

A soft chuckle, and then, “Never.” Pause. “Have you spoken to Feyre about your nightmares? From the look of your eyes, I am guessing she knows...”

“No, no... I do not wish to worry her, what with everything going on and all, it would be unfair. Anyway, it is all under control so there will be no need to lose sleep over it.” The god of Irony was looking down upon her she was sure. However, it was her best bet at making sure he did not seek Feyre out and tell her, so she would reason with him, certain he was aware of her sister's delicate condition.

"Mhm.” He fiddled with his rings. “Would you like me to do anything? I could bring you a sweat tea...” Azriel was looking around the room as if it would divulge all the answers to him, or mayhap to avoid looking at her. As the thought manifested, she considered how improper this was, how intimate this room was to her and even further still as she lay in short silk underthings with only a thin sheet covering her lean form.  

“I can wait for you to fall asleep before leaving, if you'd like?” Damn— She had not realized how long her musings had gone on for, taking her silence as a refusal he had persevered on.  

“Oh no, that's quite alright. I am sure I have a tonic around here Madja gifted me.” She refused to tell anyone she had ran out quite some weeks ago, believing she could regain control of her nightmares, perhaps that was ill-advised on her part. Continuing on, “Truly, I was not expecting such a rough sleep or I would have had some before laying to rest.”

A lie, regrettably. Elain felt a heap of shame envelop her but it was no more than she would feel at the look of pity she was sure to receive if anyone knew the truth of it.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Azriel was anything but at ease tonight himself, so at odds with his usually calm steady demeanor. He appeared to be contemplating his next words carefully but settled—

“Well should you need me at any point I'm in the West Wing. Day or Night.”

She offered him a appreciate smile, again it was out of kindness he offered, but it was no matter why as she knew with absolute certainty that she would never take him up on that offer. She watched him take his leave and some part of her rebelled and she murmured, “Oh, Azriel... I am glad you are back home.” A blush rose to the surface quick and hot.

He paused abruptly; his hand was paused wrapped around the doorknob and stayed so as if glued to it, though frustratingly, she could not make out his face with his back towards her, the air within the room seemed to vibrate over her skin, raising goosebumps along the length of her arms. The tension that he had been holding in since he arrived seemed to reach its crescendo, his shadows growing and rising higher up his body swiftly covering him as if safely tucking away whatever was eating away at him.  

She could not be certain as the shadows pooled around them and pulled the room deeper in to darkness but she caught the slight movement as he ducked his head in a nod, a poor attempt to acknowledge that he heard her.

Elain wasn't even sure if that was just her imagination playing tricks because as quickly as she could think it, he regained himself and pulled the door open wide and fast, causing a rush of air to flow over her cheeks, Azriel was through the doorway and a mere shadow before she could even blink.  

All that remained was the fading light from the halls as her door gradually closed on its own accord.

She would lay there for many hours to come, eventually falling back in to dreamland, though this time when she returned her thoughts were filled less of a frigid baren land and replaced by visions of dark mountains scattered with wild-flowers, gentle wind chimes sounding through the trees and a small but beautiful cabin lay ahead.  

Although the inky sky should have filled her with fear there was no such unease here, the shadows seemed blanket her, appeared to comfort her in this foreign land, welcoming her home, even though she was certain she had never visited such a place before.

Elain was not able to identify anything familiar but its presence loomed over her in a intimate embrace and the soft smell of roses soothed her soul and coxed her in to a deep sleep.

The respite would not remain so for long, as the cold abyss would return on her next sleep as the sun set beyond the hills, summoning her to the icy void where reality was far from her reach.

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