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attemptsonherlifepdf · 3 years ago

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bojack horseman and bo burnham: the art of acting like you’re acting and the comedy of misery

at the core of bojack horseman, raphael bob-waksberg’s 2014 comedy, is a story about the relationship between performance and depression. the protagonist of this renowned tragicomedy is best described as a sympathetic villain; he is shown to clearly be in the wrong across various events of the show, and is explicitly referred to as a bad person, but the audience is granted deep access to his personal struggles, resulting in some portions of the audience finding themselves on bojack’s side. the duality of his character is complex, but can be broken down into some core components, that all stem from the impacts of stardom and performance. the standup comedy of bo burnham arguably echoes this sentiment in real time. having been a performer from a young age, burnham creates work that serves as a satirical commentary on the life of entertainers. he uses original songs to explore the reliance upon and resentment for his performative nature both onstage and within his personal life. both the comedian and the netflix show are widely understood to be thinly veiling their critiques of the entertainment industry behind a particular brand of witty and absurd humour.

both bojack and burnham’s content openly criticises their audiences and explicitly states the manufactured nature of the narrative the audience is fed. in the fifth season of bojack horseman, the show satirises itself by having bojack star in a police procedural drama, parts of which are actively written by other characters to reflect events of bojack’s life. the titular character he plays, philbert, is the epitome of selfish male angst, and an example of what bob-waksberg’s show could have been; another story about a sad and angry man whose guilt supposedly makes up for the people he has hurt. according to bojack, philbert teaches us ‘we’re all terrible, so we’re all okay’, an interpretation that is harshly disputed by diane: ‘that’s not the point of philbert, for guys to watch it and feel okay. i dont want you, or anyone else, justifying their shitty behaviour because of the show.’ this moment is a direct reaction to some of the online reception bojack horseman has received. various circles of the show’s fanbase have found themselves relating to the protagonist to the point of defending his untoward behaviour, a response not intentioned by the show’s creators. this is not the only example of bob-waksberg’s ability to make his work self-evaluative. in season six’s exposure of bojack and sarah lynn’s problematic relationship, characters question their sexual encounter from the first season. the writers use this as a way of examining their own choices, and the harmful tropes they played into when using this exploitative sexual encounter as a gag. this self-evaluative quality is what sets bojack apart as a show that assesses the performance it participates in, much like the comedy of bo burnham.

bo burnham is known for directly addressing his audience, particularly in terms of discouraging idolisation and parasocial relationships. some examples of this manifest as responses to hecklers rather than a planned bit in the show, for instance:

heckler: i love you!

bo: no you don’t

heckler: i love the IDEA of you!

bo: stop participating!

he actively addresses the issues posed by being an entertainer, and encourages the audience to understand and recognise that his onstage persona is just that: an exaggerated persona. not once does burnham claim to be fully authentic onstage, and even moments of authenticity we see in his latest special, inside, are staged. we make the assumption that having the physical setting of a stage stripped away grants us a more personal look at the entertainer’s life, but he makes it clear that even in his own home we still see the aspects he has carefully constructed rather than the full truth. arguably though, parts of the show really are authentic; in his monologue during make happy, bo deconstructs his own show in a way that is similar to bojack horseman’s later seasons, admitting that all he knows is performing and thus making a show about the more mundane and relatable aspects of life would feel ‘incredibly disingenuous.’ in his attempts to separate himself from this onstage persona he actually manages to blur the lines between what is acting and what is now part of his nature as a result of his job. this notion is echoed in bojack horseman as bojack’s attention seeking nature is attributed to his years acting in front of a camera every day.

bo suggests that the era of social media has created a space in which children’s identities mimic that of an entertainer like himself, describing the phenomenon as ‘performer and audience melded together.’ in this observation he criticises the phenomenon. bo attempts to force the audience to recognise the ways in which their lives are becoming shaped by the presence of an audience and to some extent uses his own life as a warning tale against this. he points out the way in which the ‘tortured artist trope’ means that your cries for help or roundabout attempts of addressing mature themes such as substance abuse, mental illness and trauma become part of that on stage persona and therefore become part of the joke. both bo and bojack address these topics in more discrete manners earlier in their careers, but this eventually becomes expected, and thus they are forced to explicitly detail their struggles with these topics in order to be taken seriously. even then, portions of the audience are inclined to see it as part of the persona or as something that fuels the creators creativity and thus does not need to be addressed as a legitimate issue. the emphasis on creating a character or persona promotes the commodification of mental illness: any struggle must be made into a song or a joke or a bit, must be turned into part of the act in order to have value. this actually serves to delegitimise these emotions and create a disconnect between the feeling and the person, as it becomes near impossible to exist without feeling as though you are acting. even when an artist’s cries for help become blatant, they continue to go ignored because now they serve the purpose of creating content that criticises the industry they stem from. online audiences can be seen as treating bo burnham and his insightful work as existing to demonstrate the negative effects entertaining can have, and because this insight is useful or thought-provoking to audiences, he is almost demanded to keep entertaining and creating. in response to this demand, his work becomes more meta and his messages become clearer, and the more obvious his messages, the more people he reaches. this increases audience demands and traps entertainers in a cycle fraught with internal conflict.

during bojack’s second season, bojack’s date asks him, ‘come on, do that bojack thing where you make a big deal and everyone laughs, but at the same time we relate, because you're saying the things polite society won't.’ this moment exemplifies how aspects of his genuine personality have now become a part of his persona and this is demanded of him in genuine and serious situations, undermining the validity of his emotional reactions. he immediately makes a rude comment to the waitress at the restaurant they’re in and satisfies his date by performing that character he has set himself out to be. some circles of the fan base have argued that bojack is written as a depiction of somebody with borderline personality disorder, offering a psychoanalytical lens through which to view this notion of performance. a defining symptom of borderline personality disorder is a fluctuating sense of self; having grown up on camera, being demanded to perform to others as young as six years old, bojack’s sense of self will have been primarily dictated by the need to act. whether this acting is for the sake of comedy, or as a representation of masking his mental illness, when they need to act is taken away bojack entirely loses his sense of self and relapses into his addictions: ‘i felt like a xerox of a xerox of a person.’ burnham’s depictions of depression run along a similar vein; in his new special he poses the idea that his comedy no longer serves the same personal purpose it once did for him. he questions ‘shit should I be joking at a time like this?’ and satirises the idea that arts have enough value to change or impact the current global issues that we are facing. burnham’s ‘possible ending song’ to his latest special, he asks ‘does anybody want to joke when no-one’s laughing in the background? so this is how it is.’ implicit in this question is the idea that when the audience is taken away and there is nobody to perform his pain to, he is left with his pain. instead of being able to turn his musings and thoughts into a product to sell to the public, he is forced to just think about them in isolation and actually face them, an abrupt and distressing experience.

the value of performance and art is questioned by both bojack and burnham, particularly during the later years of their respective content. burnham’s infamous song, art is dead, appears to be a direct response to the question ‘what is the worth of art?’ he posits that performing is the result of a need for attention (‘my drug’s attention, i am an addict, but i get paid to indulge in my habit’) and repeatedly jokes throughout his career that the entertainment industry receives more respect that it deserves (‘i’m the same as you, im still doing a job or a service, i’m just massively overpaid’). his revelations regarding the inherent desire for attention that runs through all entertainers is frequently satirised in bojack horseman. bojack is comically, hyperbolically attention hungry and self-obsessed, and the show has a running gag in which he uses phrases along the lines of ‘hello, why is nobody paying attention to me, the famous movie star, instead of these other boring people.’ his constant attempts to direct the focus of others towards himself result in bojack feeling like ‘everybody loves you, but nobody likes you.’ his peers buy into his act and adore the comical, exaggerated, laughable aspects of his character, but find very little room to respond to him on a genuinely personal level because of this. interestingly, bojack appears to enjoy catering to his audience and the instant gratification it produces, whereas bo burnham becomes increasingly candid about his mixed feeling towards his audience. ‘i wanna please you, but i wanna stay true to myself, i wanna give you the night out that you deserve, but i wanna say what i think and not care what you think about it.’ he admits to catering to what audiences want from him, but resents both the audience and himself in the process as it reveals to himself which parts of his character are solely for the sake of people watching him.

within bojack horseman, this concept is applicable not only to the protagonist, but to the various forms of performer demonstrated in the plot. towards the show’s end, sarah lynn asks ‘what does being authentic have to do with anything?’ to which herb kazzaz responds, ‘when i finally stopped hiding behind a facade i could be at peace.’ this highlights the fact that because entertainers are demanded to continue the facade, they do not receive the opportunity to find ‘peace.’ this sentiment is scattered throughout the show, through a musical motif, the song ‘don’t stop dancing.’ the song stems from a life lesson bojack imparted to sarah lynn at a young age, and becomes more frequently used as the show progresses and bojack’s situation worsens.

sarah lynn is also used to explore the value of entertainers; in the show’s penultimate episode, she directly compares her work as a pop icon to the charity work of herb, arguing that if she suffered in order to produce her work. it has to mean something. she lists the struggles she faced when on tour: ‘i gave my whole life...my manager leaked my nudes to get more tour dates added, my mom pointed out every carb i ate, it was hell. but it gave millions of fans a show they will never forget and that has to mean something.’ implicit in this notion is the idea that entertainment is the epitome of self-sacrifice. there is a surplus of mentally ill individuals within the industry, largely due to the nature of the industry itself, but some may argue that the cultural grip the industry has, and the vast amounts of respect and money it generates annually, gives the suffering of these prolific individuals meaning.

the juxtaposing responses entertainers feel towards their audiences manifest as two forms of desperation: the desperation to be an individual who is held accountable, and the desperation to be loved and validated. we see both bojack and bo depict how they oscillate between ‘this is all a lie’ and ‘my affection for my audience is genuine’, or between ‘do not become infatuated with me im a character’ and ‘please fucking love my character i do not know how to be loved on a personal level.’ bojack explicitly asks diane to write a slam piece on him and ‘hold him accountable’, similar to bo’s song ‘problematic’ in which the hook includes the phrase ‘isn’t anybody gonna hold me accountable?’ for his insensitive jokes as a late teenager. their self-awareness is what enables their self-evaluative qualities, but self-awareness is its own issue. bojack grapples with a narcissistic view of his own recognition of his behaviour before settling on a more nuanced, albeit depressing take. originally he makes the assumption that in recognising the negative aspects of himself, he is superior to those who behave similarly: ‘but i know im a piece of shit. that makes me better than all the pieces of shit that don’t know theyre pieces of shit.’ eventually, during his time at rehab he is forced to reconcile with the fact that self awareness does not, to put it bluntly, make you the superior asshole, it just makes you the more miserable one. the show does, however, make a point to recognise how the entertainment industry protects ‘pieces of shit’, prioritising their productive value over how much they deserve to be held accountable, demonstrated using characters like hank hippopoalus. the show itself obviously stems from the entertainment industry, as it is a form of media produced by netflix, one of the most popular streaming platforms available. bojack horseman and bo burnham represent the small corner of the industry that is reflective enough to showcase the damage it inflicts. this is powerful in terms of education and awareness, and urges audiences to question their own motives and versions of performance, but the reflection alone is not powerful enough to help the artists in question. burnham’s candid conversations surrounding his mental health continue to reveal a plethora of issues somewhat caused or sustained by the nature of his career. within bojack horseman, bojack is only able to stop hurting other characters when those characters construct a situation that forces him to face consequence, his introspection alone is not enough. while bojack ends on a message of hope, suggesting to the audience that reverting back to the status quo is not the only acceptable way for events to end, it leaves stinging lessons and social commentary with the audience regarding the unnatural and damaging narrative that performers live through. on a similar but markedly different note, bo burnham’s work and personal progression is playing out in real time, and not in a way that is as raw and genuine as it appears. each bit is planned, even the most vulnerable moments that appear unplanned and painful. his latest special is not entirely devoid of hope, but does translate to audiences as a somewhat exaggerated look around the era of social media and the development of performance, using himself as an example.

the absurdist humour that often acts as a vehicle for poignant statements or emotionally provocative questions is very specific to each media creator. bob-waksberg’s use of puns, tongue twisters and entirely ridiculous circumstances served to simultaneously characterise his points as an expected part of the show’s style of humour, similar to bojack’s emotional instability, but also to make them appear gut-punching in comparison to the humour. burnham’s work is similar in that poignant but blunt statements are often sandwiched between absurd and exaggerated jokes, making them stand out via contrast but not giving the audience too much time to dwell upon them as they are said. performance art is second nature to entertainers, and is presented a an issue that is infiltrating the general population via social media rather than solely affecting the ‘elites’. bojack horseman and bo burnham present the duality of artists simultaneously attempting to level the playing field and increase their chances of survival in the industry, and encourage audiences to know that everyone is bluffing and you’ll never have the right cards anyway.

i.k.b

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eligaxy · 4 years ago

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Wind

☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Venti x gn!Reader

☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : near death experience, you’re confused asf about everything, bad writing cause i suck, spoilers for the we will be reunited quest!! And also for venti’s backstory, venti is serious for once (yes it’s a legitimate warning🤚)

☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Some angst, some fluff? Idk bye🤨

☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : "It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask." (2.8k words)

♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : i’m an idiot simp, i did this in one sitting and half asleep, english isnt my first language BLA BLA IM SORRY FOR MY POOR WRITING BUT HAVE THIS

basically you don’t know if you can trust venti or not, head says no, heart screams yes

Also, I was listening to stormterror’s lair ost while writing it, just because its fucking amazing, you might wanna listen to it too

I’m nervous to post this?/&:! This is the second fic i’ve ever finished in my whole life

i love venti and he’s hot in his god outfit i don’t make the rules

KAY ENJOY <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

Saying you were exhausted would have been an understatement. After reuniting with your sibling, you had been frantically searching for clues about khaenri'ah and ways to Inazuma. With no luck, you couldn't find any traces of Dainsleif or of your twin. The ruins had been sealed and you had no idea what happened to the inverted statue or the corpse you had found there. Desperately, you clung into every little information you had, you would have turned every rock on this archon damned continent if you had to, which is what led you into those ruins near Guilli plains.

Walking along the destroyed buildings your eyes caught sight of a dandelion and you froze. You missed them so much, why couldn't they go back home with you? All you ever wanted was to be by their side why, why were they running away from you?

You remembered your travels, the moments you shared together, their protectiveness over you, the fondness in their eyes when you smiled at them. You remember the times you got hurt and healed one another with your now missing powers. You remember sleeping by their side and being grateful to the universe to let you keep your ray of sunshine everywhere with you. How ironic.

What had they meant 'once you reach the end of your journey' ? What does that even mean? Stupid twin, if they knew you were here the whole time, why hadn't they come to you? Why were they always leaving just when they were within your grasp? Why? Did they know how much you missed them and how much your heart broke when you finally saw them? Did they?

You only realized you were crying when a small gust of wind had your wet cheek react to the cold, breaking your train of thought. Wind.

The wind is everywhere, you think, free as a bird, always accompanying every citizen of this world, never truly alone. With this in mind, you resumed your exploring, slower this time.

A sigh escaped your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but the wind did comfort you a little. Almost as if he was here. God of freedom and of the breeze, he was more a singer than a protector and you couldn't bear to think about him. Was it true? What Dain said... Did he destroy this nation? Was he the cause of the scenery that still haunted your nightmares up until 500 years later? Your brain simply couldn't accept that Venti, your Venti, you catch yourself thinking, could have made such an act of wrath. He was the epitome of freedom, why would he take the very thing he based all of his existence on from mere mortals? Barbatos simply couldn't be afraid of being overpowered, he didn't even care about power. All he wanted was freedom and happiness for his people. Surley this couldn't be right?

But then again, who were you to deny the wipe out of an entire nation? The gods did it. They were afraid that Celestia would be overthrown by the pride of humankind, the destruction of khaenri'ah by divine beings was a fact. There was no misunderstanding about this. That was the one thing you were sure of. So why did you feel like crying even more now?

The mere thought of a gentle soul such as Venti committing innocent people to an eternity of suffering didn't sit right with you. Even when his dearest friend Dvalin had turned against him, he didn't try to stop him, didn't even ask the dragon to save him. He healed and helped him, gave him a choice.

'What is freedom if demanded of you by a god?' was the same person that asked this question the same one who committed mass murder? Genocide?

Did the little wine-lover bard you had grown fond of destroy all hopes and light your kin had?

You remember that night when he freed Stanley from his burden, freed his and his friends' spirits. You had marveled at his action, in that instant he was a god, and he definitely hadn't struck you as a murderer. You remember that look of silent pain and grief in his eyes when he sang the tales of the nameless bard he had taken the appearance of. You knew he trusted you enough to share his story, something so personal, you could almost feel the war that took down the tyrant of Mond. Oh how much you cherished that evening, treating him to some well deserved dandelion wine afterwards, his favorite, and asking him to sing you more about the time where was nothing but the spirit of a breeze.

Your heart broke a little, remembering his rosy cheeks and drunk smile, you wish you could talk to him, ask him what happened. What did he do, was he really as dangerous as you had been told? If so, then why did you feel so good around him? Why did you feel like you could give hi-

You stopped walking upon seeing a ruin guard up ahead in the distance. You're so stupid, you think. Feeling this way is not gonna get you anywhere, especially with how the bard had been missing for a few weeks now. Ever since you had last seen your sibling.

Where was he, where was he wandering off to? You walk towards the disabled ruin guard, not really paying any mind to it, still thinking about the god you longed to meet with. If you could see him, what would you even say? Would he even answer your questions? Why did your stomach feel so light and funny when you thought about seeing him, why aren't you angrier?

You're almost at the killing machine's level now, so lost in your thought you don't notice the five other similar robots hidden behind a wall next to it. You notice them only when it's too late and you've already turned them on while thinking about examining them and collecting their serial numbers. When you hear the familiar tick of the mechanism turning on, you internally panic and think about running away only to calm down moments later and think to yourself that you can simply beat it and take what you came here for. Even if you are emotionally and physically tired, you can manage, you think.

That was before hearing five other consecutive ticks right after it, and all around you.

Turning around, your gaze falls upon the small army of field tillers. Fuck.

Paimon wasn't with you today, you had asked for some time alone which she hesitantly accepted, so you couldn't ask her to go fetch help. You would have been worried if you had all your capacities but with the state you were in, you were wondering how you were going to survive this fight. You were alone, none of your companions with you, and deeply weakened by the busy day you had and the few hours of sleep you had managed to steal away from the night. Was it today you would meet your doom, with all your questions and uncertainties unanswered?

You tried your best to fight with the strength you had left, but quickly grew desperate after what felt like hours of efforts to swing your blade and being able to only take one monster down out of the six. It didn't help that you got injured along the way, their blows becoming harder and harder to dodge. After being thrown on the grown for the third time, you understood you had at least two broken ribs and that your shaking legs would soon fail you as well.

Fear crept upon you, you would die here today, alone. Alone. You couldn't talk to your sibling after all, couldn't understand. You didn't even get to talk to him one last time. Him... You would die without the knowledge of the truth about your bard. You would die alone. You didn't want that, you couldn't look death straight in the eye.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

In Mondstadt, there was a musician, a weird singer everyone had heard about at least once. He lived off of his songs and was mostly known for having a great story-telling and being an alcoholic.

The number of people who knew the true nature of his identity were few and he was perfectly content with that. He didn't wish to be a god anymore, his gnosis had been taken away anyway and it's not like he had any power over the city of wind nowadays. Even if his people still worshipped him as Barbatos, it didn't sit right with him to be called a god anymore. It actually never did, he thinks to himself with a smile, he never really took any responsibilities that came with the divine title which is why he was so weak today. But it didn't matter to him, his smile turns into a soft giggle.

Sitting on a mill that was once born from his steps he looks fondly over the city he founded. Even if they were godless, the citizens were still thriving and free. He cared oh so very deeply about the place even if he rarely, if not never, showed the affection within his heart. He remembers the day he grew strong enough to dispel the storms over his actual Mondstadt, and made the weather gentle enough so that there was no need for fireplaces. Nowadays, he loves watching birds nest into the chimney tops and seeing them found their own home. It gave him a sense of belonging like no other, not above his people, but walking among them and watching them nest into this cocoon he created. He was proud of what happened to his land and would do it all over again if he had to.

Especially since it led to him meeting you. This thought doesn't catch him off guard, you often roamed around in his mind after all, and it's not like he didn't write at least three songs about you and your feat, your smile, your courage...

Ah there he goes again, rambling about you in a whisper. He turns around to the statue of him his people erected in his honor, chuckling at how they never made the connection with his signature braids. His, but not really his, since he had stolen this form from someone who was much more deserving of this power than him. Seeing his friend being honored with the statues of the seven around the land made him happy, he hoped that it was a good enough thank you gift in return for everything that the bard whom he couldn't even remember the name of anymore did for him.

Upon gazing at the statue, he remembered telling you of his long gone friend. It was the first time he had talked about him to someone else, he didn't even mention it to Venessa, she who made him believe in himself again. He could ask himself why, but he simply knew that you had something different, more than meets the eye. Perhaps it was because you weren't from Teyvat, or perhaps it was just you being as simple as your natural self but he was simply and utterly captivated by your being. You inspired him to no end, at first he thought it was because he had never met someone like you and he loved new things! But as time grew and he got to know you, he understood quickly the meaning and depth of his passions. He thought of it with a light chuckle, content with your presence alone. He really did need and want you around.

So why did he purposely avoid you like the plague?

The wind had brought to his ears that you had met with Dainsleif.

And your twin.

His first reaction was to search for you, talk to you, he wanted to be here to know what happened! You had searched so long, he couldn't contain himself, still listening to what the wind told him, he started running with excitement but... But wait, Dainsleif was... He told you what?

Oh.

So you heard about Khaenri'ah. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned back, only sending a warm current of wind your way, hugging you from afar.

He wasn't ready to talk about this yet, not ready to face you and absolutely not ready to answer your questions. He was a coward, he thought, running away like that but what else could he do, really. It was only natural for him to be as uncatchable as air.

A sorry excuse to avoid the fact that even if his past had marvelous story like the one of the nameless bard, it also had its share of darkness, something he wasn't ready to dive back into. Especially not now when your arrival has been shaking this world up like it hasn't been since at least 500 years.

But oh, how he longed to see your face or to hear your voice. So he asked a breeze to report to him what you were up to, and where you were. Just in case! he tells himself, what if you needed help ehe? But he knows you're competent and you won't need the help of a weakling coward like him anytime soon. Or so he thought.

Because when the breeze only gives him a few words back, his blood runs cold.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

As you murmured these words in your desperate state, not really for anyone but yourself as a last resort, a prayer of some sort, you tried to stand by leaning yourself on your sword and failing miserably. You didn't dare look up as you heard the loud footsteps of the metal giants coming your way. It was over, and you barely managed to accept it.

As you rested your forehead against the cold handle of your sword, you closed your eyes, tears starting to make their ways out of your closed eyelids. All you could feel was remorse.

A soft breeze moved your hair slightly and your chest felt like a black hole had taken place where your heart used to be, regretting to not have been able to meet him under the tree at Windrise one last time.

The breeze quickly grew stronger, until it felt unnatural and you looked up from the ground, only to close your eyes again immediately when you realized the wind was too powerful for you to keep them open. If you had struggled to see though, you would have been blinded by the white light that soon illuminated the whole ruins. You didn't have enough time to register the situation when you felt a hand being laid atop your shoulder, snaking around your collarbones and pulling you back into... nothing? Another arm circled your weak form and a voice you immediately recognized said

"I've dealt with things worse than you, now crumble."

You realized that if you couldn't feel a chest behind you while still being embraced by his arms, it was because he was floating above you, and not standing behind you. A look in his direction confirmed your suspicions but what stunned you wasn't the fact that he was flying, but the attire he wore. Barely covering his body, a white set made of materials that seemed like clouds and liquid gold contrasted perfectly with his regular green clothes. His hair was glowing green and his eyes that were focused on the ruin guards up ahead had a marvelous shine that you had never seen before. He had that same aura he did the night he freed Stanley, but there was also something different about the way his hands gripped you a little too tightly or the way his voice sounded.

"Venti.." You muttered his name, relief and affection flooding you all at once, in his presence you felt as if nothing bad could happen to you. How foolish could you be, just a few hours ago you were speculating wether or not he had wiped out an entire civilisation and now here you were, being saved by him and feeling safer than you had in months.

"Close your eyes, I don't want give you a headache" he said, slowly floating legs first towards the ground. His unusually serious voice surprised you (and him) but you did as he told you. Letting go of your sword and leaning back into him, you let him deal with the monsters ahead of you.

"It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask."

Being protected by a god really didn't feel that bad. Especially when you were in love with said god.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Thank you so much for reading whatever this is until the end :’)

Don’t hesitate to comment or reblog, tysm <3

Ps: venti loves u and so do i do pls take care of urself mwah

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact scenario #venti x reader #venti x traveler #venti x lumine #venti x aether #el writes♡

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strictpunishedhubby · 3 years ago

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Schon die Ankündigung eine ausgiebige Tracht Prügel auf meinen nackten Po verdient zu haben, und sie im Laufe des Tages zu bekommen, macht mir jedes Mal große Angst, Ich weiß dann, es ist für mich unumgänglich meine Strafe für mein Vergehen schmerzhaft erdulden zu müssen. Ich werde weinen und heulen wie ein kleiner Schulbub. Dabei werde ich allerdings nicht nur innerlich erregt. Manchmal dauert es Stunden, bis ich den Befehl erhalte, meine Kleidung bis auf meine Mädchenwäsche, die ich ständig zu tragen habe auszuziehen. Wenn ich dann endlich aufgefordert werde die Utensilien zur meiner notwendigen erzieherischen Bestrafung zu bringen, wächst meine innerliche und äußerliche Erregung. Ich stehe nur angezogen in meiner Mädchenunterwäsche, schuldbewusst und verlegen vor meiner ernst und streng mich anschauende Frau, um von ihr weitere Anweisungen zu erhalten. Ich zittere, fange an zu schluchzen, bitte natürlich vergebens, mir nur dieses eine Mal die anstehende Haue zu erlassen. Oft viel zu oft befinde ich mich in dieser misslichen, demütigende und beschämende Lage. Ich scheine wirklich nur das Denkvermögen eines 5 jährigen ungezogenen Trotzjungen zu haben. Weiß ich doch aus Erfahrung, mein jämmerliches, erbärmliches Verhalten bewirkt bei ihr immer, mich noch entschlossener und drastischer zu bestrafen. Auch wenn ich jetzt dadurch noch verängstigt bin, ich habe meiner strengen Frau zu bestätigen, die blamable schmerzvolle mir bevorstehenden Züchtigung ist gerechtfertigt und unerlässlich, besonders auf Bezug meines ungeratenes Verhaltens! Nach jeder körperlichen Bestrafung habe ich mich artig bei ihr zu bedanken, Einsicht zu zeigen und mich aufrichtig wegen meines Vergehens bei ihr zu entschuldigen, sonst wird mein Po ein zweites Mal, natürlich noch heftiger versohlt.

Und in der Tat, es verbessert meine innerliche Einstellung meiner Frau zu gehorchen, ihr zu zeigen wie sehr ich sie liebe, ihr den notwendigen Respekt zu zollen, und sie zufriedenzustellen! Das ist doch die vordringlichste Aufgabe eines jeden Ehemannes! Aber ihr auch zu bestätigen, die Erziehung und die Strafen, die sie über mich ausübt, als gut und richtig zu empfinden, ihre Bemühungen als Zeichen ihrer Liebe und Fürsorge zu sehen.

Meine Frau, aber auch ich sind davon überzeugt, Ehen in denen die Frauen ihre Männer durch Zucht und Ordnung streng erziehen, sind glücklicher und beständiger.

Rebloge, schreibe einen Kommentar (auch wenn Du eine andere Ansicht vertrittst) , gib ein like, wenn Du davon auch überzeugt bist, strenge Ehefrauen sind die besseren und verantwortungsbewussteren Ehefrauen!

Just the announcement that I deserve a good beating on my bare buttocks and getting it during the day scares me every time, Then I know that it is inevitable for me to have to endure my punishment for my offense painfully. I'll cry and howl like a little schoolboy. But I don't just get aroused internally. Sometimes it takes hours before I get the order to strip off my clothes except for my girls' underwear, which I have to wear all the time. When I'm finally ordered to bring the utensils to my necessary educational punishment, my inner and outer excitement grows. I stand, dressed only in my girls underwear, guilty and embarrassed in front of my serious and stern looking wife for further instructions. I tremble, start to sob, asking in vain, of course, to let me off the beating just this once. Far too often I find myself in this predicament, humiliation and shame. I really only seem to have the thinking abilities of a 5 year old naughty defiant boy. I know from experience that my pathetic, pathetic behavior always causes her to punish me even more decisively and drastically. Even if I am still frightened by it, I have to confirm to my strict wife that the embarrassingly painful punishment I am about to face is justified and essential, especially in relation to my inadvisable behavior! After every physical punishment, I have to thank her in a polite manner, show understanding and sincerely apologize to her for my offence, otherwise my butt will be spanked a second time, of course even more violently.

And indeed, it improves my attitude to obey my wife, to show her how much I love her, to give her the necessary respect, and to please her! That is the most urgent task of every husband! But also to confirm that the education and the punishments that she inflicts on me are good and right, that her efforts are a sign of her love and care.

My wife, but also I, are convinced that marriages in which the wives discipline their husbands strictly through discipline and order are happier and more stable.

Reblog, write a comment (even if you have a different point of view), give a like if you also believe that strict wives make better and more responsible wives!

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morizoras-cave · 4 years ago

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Purple Patches

Benedict Cumberbatch x Teen!Co-Star!Reader, Tom Holland x Teen!Co-star!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending

Description: Filming the newest Dr. Strange movie (in which Tom would also appear), you grow quite close with the two leads, Tom and Benedict. But you’re hiding something alarming from them. Four months in the entire crew get a week off to see their families for Christmas, and when you return Tom and Benedict can’t help but feel troubled, as your body is rippled with purple patches.

Warnings: CHILD ABUSE, physical abuse, broken family, alcoholism, depression, anxiety??

A/N: I had another imagine written but im ngl its kind of.. weird? its unconventional for sure. and its definitely bad. so, maybe ill rewrite someday or something? ALSO SORRY IF YOU DONT CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS, JUST IMAGINE YOU HAVE SOME SORT OF EVIL CHRISTIAN STEP DAD WHO FORCES IT INTO YOUR FAMILY

The taxi you sat in drove slowly in the New York traffic, as snow fell outside, coating the entire city in blinding white. You couldn’t enjoy it however. Your entire body hurt, and yet you still couldn’t find even a moment to worry about your health. All you could think about was them.

Tom and Benedict. Your sweetest coworkers, and at this point your closest.. anything. Family, friends? Who cares, you had no one else. You’d gone back for the holidays like everyone else, even though you wished you could have just stayed at in your trailer. Your dad, like any other time you saw him, had used this time to pour his anger and alcoholism out on you. Your body which had finally begun to heal, was now back to square one, covered in cuts and bruises.

You knew what would happen if anyone found out. You’d be taken from your family. But in truth, although you hated being around him, you wanted to wait for your dad. You wanted to wait for him to get over his alcoholism, you wanted him to get better, and then he’d treat you better.

But they would find out. You were covered in bruises and purple patches. Your face was fine, except for your neck, but the rest of your body was ruined. Ugly. You could hide most of it, but it hurt. Even just sitting there, in the soft and plush taxi seat, you body was aching and wailing like a police siren.

And what if they noticed you foundation-covered hands? Or the movie required you to wear something more revealing?

“You okay?” the deep voice of your taxi driver ripped you from your thoughts. A single tear had slid down your face. You cleared your throat and nodded, wiping the tear from your cheek.

You arrived at the set, and an impossible knot had been tied in your stomach. Nervousness tingled in your heart and your legs, but you got up anyway, trying to calm your breath. The moment you stood up, you winced and stopped.

You managed to roll your luggage to your trailer, biting your lip continuously in order to keep yourself from screaming. You threw it on the floor of your trailer, whimpering and doubling over in pain.

“Y/n!” a rapid knock on your door, interrupted you. It was Tom’s voice. You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes, and then opening the door. Tom stood there in your doorway like a smiling idiot. Your lips widened into a smile just from seeing him.

“Y/n!” he repeated stepping inside and wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You bit your lip again, hiding your pain-wrenched face in his chest, before hugging him back. He placed his head on yours sweetly. “I missed you!” he gushed.

You hit his chest playfully, “I missed you too,” you frowned for a moment and looked away. Tom’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you okay?” You simply nodded. Tom stared at you for a moment and then shook his head. “Anyway, um, Benedict asked me to tell you that he’s invited both of us youngsters out for dinner tonight. Just as one last ‘fuck you!’ to work, before officially start back up tomorrow.”

“That does sound like something he would do,” you agreed and Tom laughed, punching your shoulder playfully. You yelped loudly, retreating quickly from him.

“Woah,” he exclaimed, holding his hands up, “Are you okay? What happened to your shoulder?”

“I fell,” you said. Nervousness jabbed at your ribs. You’d barely talked to Tom for a minute and he’d already asked if you were okay twice. He seemed to buy your explanation, and apologized for accidentally hitting your sore shoulder, to which you nodded absently.

Tom was silent for a couple of heartbeats. He studied you. You were not usually like this. Or maybe you had been a little like this those four months ago, when you first started filming. He didn’t understand what caused you to be that way, so distant and unhappy.

“Hey, anyway, I’m gonna go, I’m trying to actually read the script this time,” he joked, and you laughed because you knew it was a hopeless task.

“Have fun,” you mumbled, and as soon he left, you body slid down against the wall, and your facade crumbled, tears leaving your eyes.

___________________________

Before the dinner, you took three pain killers. Then, you waited restlessly, hoping that the pills might kick in. They did but your body felt strange and buzzy. You ignored it, a blossoming hope forming in your chest that you might be able to conceal your pain in the pills and the clothing.

Benedict came knocking on your door around 7, a smile on his face. “Y/n!” he said, and you both hugged. A small smile had formed on your lips, when you actually managed to deal with the ache, now much weaker than previously.

You both then walked to Tom’s trailer, and then the three of you walked to a restaurant, not too far from your filming location.

“So, what have you two been up to in our little break?” Benedict asked once you all sat down, having ordered already. You glanced at Tom, hoping that he’d start.

“Me and my brothers went back home to our mum and dad. Had a pretty regular Christmas. I gave the best gifts. I got some pretty cool socks,” Tom joked around. You and Benedict stifled a laugh. Then both Ben and Tom looked at you, and you realized it was your turn to tell them about what you’d been up to.

“Oh, well, I.. I spent Christmas with my parents. My grandparents and cousins also came,” you were lying through your teeth. You avoided their eyes, sipping your soda.

“Got any presents?” Benedict asked and you cursed at yourself internally for forgetting such a simple part of Christmas. And for making things awkward.

“I got some clothes, some books. Pretty standard stuff,” you forced a smile, “What about you, Benadryl?”

Benedict rolled his eyes at your comment, making you and Tom fist-bump one another, giggling quietly as he told you about his own Christmas. The night was going alright, except for that rough start. Mostly you avoided any talk of your family, and you could feel yourself getting better, the further the conversation got from your family. Until-

“Y/n, what’s that on your hand?”

Instinctively, you pulled your hand to your lap, straightening yourself up and gulping. You looked down, pretending to inspect it and then looked up.

“It’s, uh, it’s dirt. Wow, I should really go wash my hands, haha-” Tom grabbed your hand from under the table, pulling it towards him. Your foundation was wearing off, a large purple patch stemming from your wrist and snaking up your hand revealing itself.

You couldn’t breathe. Both Tom and Ben just stared at it. You tried to pull back but Tom was much stronger than you. Tears blurred your vision.

“Y/n, what is this?” Tom whispered, and you felt his fingers rubbing the bruise gently. The tears finally fell, and now both men were looking at you. Benedict looked serious. It was an expression you’d never really seen on his features before, at least not outside of your acting.

“I-I fell..” you mumbled, but you knew it was useless.

“Y/n.. Who did this?” Benedict’s voice was low, gently setting a hand on your shoulder. You flinched.

“I don’t know.. I don’t..”

“Y/n!” Tom’s voice was raised. You immediately jumped away from them both, putting your arms in front of you in fear. Several people turned to look at you three. Shaking, you lowered your hands, and saw Tom and Ben staring at you worriedly. Tom had tears in his eyes.

“Let’s talk about this back at the studio, okay?” Benedict, now afraid to touch you, spoke slowly and comfortingly. You nodded and then two men got up, standing on either side of you, grabbing one of your hands each.

“Was it your dad?” Tom growled as you walked in the night, moon rising in the sky.

“Yes..” you whispered, so low you wondered if they heard it, but they did. They both exchanged glances. Tom was furious. Benedict was too, but he was collected. Tom itched to ask you more and help you, console you right there on the street, but Benedict sent him a warning look not to.

You walked back to the studio in silence. The three of you entered your trailer and you quietly wished you had predicted something like this would happen, because the bottle of strong pain killers was still out and open on your kitchen table.

Benedict spotted them immediately and grabbed them. His eyes narrowed as he read the bottle description. Then he looked at you and then it again. Tom watched helplessly, holding your shoulders gently.

“How many more are there? Bruises.” Ben was clearly angry. He was losing his cool, hands shaking as he grabbed your hand to pull up your sleeve. You tried to move his hand away, but he slid the sleeve up to your elbow and just stared at the blue, yellow and purple that littered your arm. Tom was frozen beside you.

Ben slid up your other sleeve, breathing speeding up as he saw more, and then he tugged at the collar of your turtleneck, exposing the jarring and ugly sight of a red handprint. He pulled away suddenly, walking away from you.

“Fuck!” he yelled, hitting the wall of the trailer. He hung his head low. You jumped and turned around, but Tom simply embraced you, and then sat you both down on the floor. You hid your face in his neck, sobbing again. Tom’s hands slowly rubbed your back.

“Okay..” said Benedict after a while. You could hear that he’d calmed down. Ben angrily wiped a few tears from his face, turning to you and Tom on the floor. Tom was simply frowning now. He never wanted to let you go. He never wanted any harm to come to you.

“I’m gonna call the police and get your dad arrested,” he said, and you heard his footsteps, as he wondered what to do next.

“No!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet away from Tom. Both men looked at you in confusion. “No! You can’t do that, he’s- he’s just trying to get better. If I wait a little longer, he’s going to get better.”

“Y/n..” Benedict whispered sadly and you ran to him hoping to stop him. “You can’t wait for him. You’re putting yourself in danger..” you shook your head, but Ben grabbed your shoulders and looked into your eyes, “he’s a grown man, Y/n. He doesn’t deserve pity or patience. Not after doing this. Nothing excuses this. Nothing.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lip quivering, but still you nodded.

“Can your mother take care of you?” Ben asked, piercing blue eyes still staring into your soul. There was no point in lying anymore, you knew.

“No.”

“Alright, then you’ll stay with me.” Ben declared, “You’ll stay with me until we can find someone from your family who can take care of you.” You looked up at him with shining eyes. Despite the uncomfortable situation you found yourself in, a genuine smile broke out on your face.

You hugged him, thanking him breathlessly. Ben and Tom made eye contact, and smiled gently at each other. Tom had cried silently at your interaction. The thought that someone would hurt someone he loved so dearly shattered his heart completely.

“Now,” Benedict said finally, “we need to drive you to the hospital.”

You agreed and while Tom drove, Ben was in the backseat on the phone with the police department. You just watched the beautiful neon lights shining in the pitch black night, snow illuminating the ground. People still littered the streets.

You knew it now. Your father didn’t deserve your waiting, and though it would take very long to finally live with and truly understand, it was worth it to start the fight. You truly owed it to the two jerks you worked with. What would you even do with out them?

#marvel #avengers #dr strange #dr strange x reader #dr. strange #dr. strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #stephen strange x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #avengers x reader #avengers cast x reader #marvel cast x reader #marvel x reader

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thehermitsaltar · 4 years ago

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Hey how are u? Can you do an angst prompt 2 with the mandalorian ?

A/N: im much better now ive received this ask!

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

(credit to og prompt list maker!)

Mando let out a soft groan as he sat down in the pilots chair of the Razor Crest. He gently lowered himself and clutched at his bruised ribs. Once he was finally seated a sigh of relief escaped his lips. Unfortunately he didn’t have much time to wallow in pain before his newest crewmate came thudding towards the cockpit.

The doors opened to reveal Y/N, his on flight mechanic.

Usually Din wouldn’t travel with other people without a reason, but considering all the issues with the Crest lately, he thought maybe it would be okay for a bit. Plus Peli wouldn’t let him leave the shop unless he took the young apprentice with him.

“Howdy Boss.” Y/N’s voice was bright and full of pep. He walked over to lean against the control panel and face Mando.

“I told you, Y/N, I’m not your boss.” Din grunted out. Truthfully he enjoyed the endearing nickname but he wouldn’t let anyone know that.

“Whatever you say Boss. Anyway, I fixed up wires by the kids hammock and put a new panel over it.”

Din was truly amazed at how fast and well the man worked. However, he wasn’t amazed at how his Child kept pulling panels off the ship and messing up wires. But that’s why he got a mechanic.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Din huffed and felt a sharp pain shoot through his entire torso. The air from his lungs escaped with a harsh gasp.

The man beside Din immediately looked over with worry. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Was all Mando could say before another pain, one worse then before, went to his very core. All he could do was clutch at his beskar chest plate and lean forward on the control panel.

Y/N tried to talk to Mando but the other man couldn’t even hear him. The blood rushed to Din’s ears and everything sounded muffled and far away. Before he knew it everything went black.

Mando woke up in his bed in a daze. He looked around to find no one near.

Din gingerly sat up and looked down to find all the armor on his torso missing. Bandages and a thick healing salve were the only things covering his broad, tanned chest.

He stood up and supported his weight on the walls of the ship as he tried to make his way to the cockpit. There he found Y/N in his spot, with the Child in his lap. Din cleared his throat to get the mans attention.

Y/N jumped in his spot and had a blaster to Din’s chest before he could utter a word. Realization quickly flooded Y/N as he processed who was before him. He securely put the blaster in his holster all the while holding the Child in his other hand.

“What are you doing up?” Y/N’s voice was laced with anger. He handed the child to Mando as he approached him. “You need to lay back down.”

The Child cooed up at Din with a smile on his face.

“What happened?” Din’s voice was groggy with sleep. His words came out as a husky whisper.

Y/N ushered Mando to sit before he began talking. “You passed out due to pain and internal bleeding. My question is, why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” Y/N’s voice was strong and firm.

Din looked down in shame. He didn’t lie to people close to him but for some reason he felt he had to lie about this.

Y/N scoffed softly and looked at his own feet. He silently got up and left to some other part of the ship. He couldn’t stand to look at Mando any longer.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to put on new bandages.” Y/N muttered over his shoulder as he left.

Din was left with his thoughts and the Child in his lap.

A few hours had passed before Y/N saw Mando again. He had been sat in the cockpit just as Y/N had left him. Only when he came back the Child wasn’t with him, probably in bed, and Mando put on a thin tunic.

With the small medical kit in hand, Y/N spoke. “I need to change your bandages and add more salve.”

Din huffed and spun his seat around to face Y/N.

“You gotta take off your shirt.”

“This thing was hard enough to get on.” Din said in a low voice.

“I-I’m sorry but I cant put this stuff without access to the wound.” Y/N really did feel sorry for Mando, even if he did lie to him, he still hated seeing Mando in pain. “I can help you.”

Mando thought for a moment before he gave a small nod. He lifted his arms up as much as he could and let Y/N pull the shirt off.

Their skin briefly made contact and it sent chills up Din’s spine. It had been years since someone had touched his bare body.

Y/N made quick work on gently undoing Mando’s old bandages and began applying a new layer of salve. The physical contact was almost too much for Din to handle. He knew having these feelings were wrong but that still didn’t stop the blush rising up his chest.

Thank the maker for Y/N breaking the tension.

“I was worried about you, Boss.” He looked into where he thought Din’s eyes would be, and frowned.

The pain in Din’s chest that he felt was worse then the physical pain.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.” He blurted it out before he could even think about it. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Y/N’s whole expression changed between an array of emotions. Until he finally settled on a snarky smirk.

“For such a smart guy, your an idiot.” Y/N chuckled and went back to work on Din’s chest. He was suddenly stopped by the hug Mando enveloped him in.

It was firm and comforting. The heat of Din’s skin contrasted with the cool beskar helmet pressed against Y/N’s face. This hug felt like something more but it could never been anything more with a Mandalorian.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x male reader #male reader #x male reader #fluff #angst

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silkylious · 4 years ago

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Funny Way of Saying I Love You (Dabi x Reader)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Warnings: angst(i have an addiction i swear), fluff Prompts: #9 “That’s a funny way of saying ‘I love you’” and #16 “When have I ever let you down, babe? Okay, don’t answer that”

A/N: Thank you for the request! im taking my time writing these since im physically incapable of writing drabbles. I hope you like this!!

Shutting the door behind you, a soothing dusk breeze fluttered your hair as you moved farther away from your daily hell. Your boss had made it a point to be a pain in the ass today, well, more so than usual. Working overtime on a Friday evening wasn’t what you’d hoped to be doing but you couldn’t exactly complain, it wasn’t like you had anything planned and the promise of an extra paycheck didn’t sound displeasing. Rubbing your temples to ease the headache (courtesy of your boss’s incessant bitching), you walked on autopilot to your apartment, you couldn’t wait to treat yourself to a bubble bath and maybe even some wine. Little did you know that your plans would be thoroughly ruined by a certain scarred villain.

You made the decision to pass by a nearby convenient store that wasn’t too far from your residence to cop some snacks. Filtering through the brands of alcohol, you grimaced at the overpriced tags of the various red wine brands, you settled for some cheap liquor with a sigh. It ain’t much but it should do the trick. After paying for what little stuff you’d fetched, you continued on your trek to your humble flat. The sun had completely vanished from the sky, a lingering crimson bleeding into a rich indigo. Your thoughts were so spellbound by the beautiful sight, that you just barely heard a strained grunt from your left. Blinking back into reality, you halted in your steps right next to a comically shady alleyway. Just like in those horror movies. You snorted at the thought, briefly comparing yourself to that one character who always dies first in movies. Though your internal jesting was cut short when the same sound propagated through the alleyway again, this time much more haggard, closely followed by violent coughing. Against your better judgment, you treaded forward cautiously. Why were you doing this? You weren’t sure. Maybe it was the unfulfilled dream loitering in the back of your mind resurfacing after many years of suppression, but you couldn’t not help someone out in a time of need.

The deeper you ventured into the alleyway, the louder your rationality shouted, begging you to turn around and book it to your apartment complex. You were stopped in your steps when an aggressive cough broke the quiet, the sound now impossibly closer and blood splattered all over the ground before your feet. Your eyes followed the vermilion trail, skinny legs covered in bloodied up, skin-tight jeans came into view, you were met with familiar scarred features. His eyes were struggling to stay open, though at the sight of you he forced his lids apart, flashing you a bloody, half-pained smirk, red liquid running down his scarred tissue.

You blinked. Dabi blinked. You blinked again and then-

“What the shit, Dabi! Are you okay?!”

You dropped to your knees next to his limp body propped up against the shaggy wall. He gave a humorless chuckle, more blood oozing out of the corners of his lips. Dabi hummed when your hands touched his fucked up face, your quirk already pacifying most of his pain. It wasn’t a healing quirk, you were simply able to transfer emotions, feelings and sensations (to and fro) with skin on skin contact. You didn’t want him knocking the fuck out from sheer pain (heaven knows there is no way you were going to lug this human heater home), so you had to ease him a little before tending to his injuries. Your body twitched as the hurt from Dabi’s body merged into your own.

“I’ve seen better days, sweetheart,”

“You don’t say.” The words came out harsh, reprimanding. Dabi winced, from the pain or from your tone, he wasn’t sure.

The plastic bag that had been temporarily abandoned came in handy, you sorrowfully used the liquor to clean the large gashes on his abdomen (not wanting to risk an infection on the way to your complex), wrapping them up securely with scraps of his shirt. So much for a relaxing bath and liquor. You heaved him up on semi-steady knees and took a different, more desolate route back home. The last thing you’d want right now is for authorities to see you walking an injured Dabi, one of the most wanted villains in the current climate, home. He leaned most of his weight on your shoulder, his shit-eating grin told you he was doing it on purpose. You couldn’t find it in you to retaliate as you usually would, too worried to come up with any snarky comments.

This had become way too much of a ritual for your comfort. You’d find him bleeding by your doorstep at ungodly hours, silently asking for shelter. Each and every time, you’d patch him up, provide him with food and your company. You’d grown attached to the scar faced male, and even if you disdained his line of work, you’d respected his life and independence (as independent as someone who crashes on your couch near daily can be). For the past couple months, his tasks had been getting progressively more and more dangerous. Your heart couldn’t help but clench each time you saw him beaten and bruised. You knew it was risky letting these feelings develop, Dabi had made it quite clear that your relationship was nothing beyond physical, with a level of mutual respect and trust.

But this was the worst condition you’d ever seen him in after one of his missions. Not too dissimilar to the first time you met; bloody, bruised and half-conscious, truly a sight to pity. You’d noiselessly knelt down, pressed your hand onto his cheek, he hadn’t even been able to flinch at your touch, too disoriented to react properly. Though in mere moments, he began feeling the pain ebb away; the injuries were still there, he just couldn’t feel them, he equated the numbing sensation to painkillers and drugs. His eyelids parted, revealing gorgeous teal irises. Full of ethereal beauty, despite being unfocused. You had to actively shun your quirk from relaying your attraction to him as you soothed his pain, his staples and marred skin a stark contrast to your soft fingers. That night you gave him a place to stay while he was on the run, you didn’t know why, but you did. Just this one time you’d said. One time became two times. Two times became countless and the rest is history.

The apartment door was slammed open, you were beyond irate. The more you thought about him, his situation, your situation, the more you felt the urge to knock shit over and scream bloody murder. Turquoise hues followed you with contempt – and mild amusement – but mostly contempt. Dabi took his usual spot on your worn-out couch, while you stomped your way into the bathroom to get a first aid kit. With your absence, Dabi was left to his own thoughts running amuck. Dabi wasn’t oblivious. He knew what your silence meant, knew what the look of unbridled worry in your eyes implied. Yet he didn’t want to address the less than subtle growing feelings you have for him. Attachment in his line of work was a surefire way to get hurt, he figured that if he kept whatever relationship you guys had physical, he wouldn’t have any issues to fuss over. But he couldn’t lie to himself, Dabi was conscious of the budding adoration in his heart from the moment you helped him out that first time, in that filthy alley. God, he needed a cigarette.

Much to his pleasure, you came back before his mind could implode in on itself. You sat beside him on the couch, leaving more space between you than usual. Without saying a word, your hands undid his makeshift bandages, slowly but surely patching him up an inch at a time. It honestly felt like a routine at this point. That prompted a sour taste in your mouth, you couldn’t stand how careless he’d been recently, and it was eating you up inside. But you didn’t dare voice your concerns, not wanting another aimless argument with him. If silence would save you another headache inducing fight, then silence it was–

“So, you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass?”

Or not.

“Shut. Up.” You weren’t in the mood for his quips today. Fatigue from work, babysitting a villain and dealing with unrequited feelings severely fouling your otherwise warm attitude. You were just on the brink of throwing caution to the wind and letting loose all the muffled feelings you have for him. One more comment and your composure would shatter. Conveniently – or not so conveniently, he seemed to be in a talkative mood tonight.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?” The question was redundant, he knew exactly what was up with you, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Your quietness was killing him. He had to say something. He should have chosen his words a little more wisely though.

“What’s up with me?! Are you being fucking serious right now?! I come home and almost every day find you bleeding on my doorstep. Almost every day I give your reckless ass a place to stay, only for you to go and get yourself hurt again!” Pent up rage exploded from within you, an amalgamation of emotions gushing out of your pores. His eyes blew wide, not only because he had never seen you this angry, but because of the surge of emotions flooding him. In your fury filled stupor, you’d let go of the tight rein you had on your quirk. With a hand still touching his bruised forearm, you began unintentionally bleeding your feelings into him. Rage, sorrow and worry were just a few of the many emotions that rocked his being. But one stood out among the rest, outshining the others with blinding ferocity. And it honestly scared him, how powerful it was, zapping through his body. He figured you had feelings for him, that much was obvious, but he didn’t think they were that strong. Your breathtaking emotions awakened something in him too, pulling it out of the depths of where he tried to hide it, push it down in hopes of abolishing it.

It was too much to handle this, he kept coming back for help when he could easily seek any of his colleagues out, the implication that you meant something to him was so elating yet so damaging. It kept you stuck in place, barred from shutting him out or walking away. You couldn’t keep hanging onto the hope that he might reciprocate your love. It was harming you, no matter how sensuous he was in bed, no matter how gently he held onto you afterwards, he would never call you his lover. He made that crystal fucking clear. You had to put a stop to this. You leveled your shaky voice as much as your vocal cords would allow, barely whispering.

“Get the hell out, Dabi. I don’t wanna see you here again.”

The emotions sifting through him mellowed out, no longer was rage at the forefront. Pain, hurt and heartbreak ravaged him. But that one emotion was still there, despite him being a gaping asshole, it was still present. He smirked.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘I love you,’ doll.”

“Wha–“ Before you could question his response, he swiftly captured your lips in his own to shut you up. It was a quick, firm peck, but its aftermath amused him greatly. The look of bewilderment on your face was damn priceless. You were, again, transferring your feelings to him. Adoration, confusion, the overwhelming urge to pimp smack him; it was all too entertaining for him. His vibrant teals settled upon your hand still gripping his arm. No fabric to separate them. Your own eyes followed suit. Oh. You immediately stopped your quirk, redacting your palm in the process for good measure. Dabi delighted in the bashful look that overtook your face, his own growing soft. He had trouble accepting his own feelings, but after experiencing yours, he would, at the very least, try for you. Awkward silence ensued. You both knew it was his turn to talk, to finally let out the unsaid words you’d been longing for.

“(name), I… I wanna do this right, take you out on dates and shit,” He cleared his throat. “If you’d let me.”

Your answer came in the form of a crushing hug. Your love was pouring into him again, this time of your own accord. You held onto each other, his hands biting into your skin, your own carding through his dark locks. You didn’t need words. Figuratively and literally. He felt everything in bright, flashing colors, he never wanted this moment to end. But it did. His phone rang.

Clear annoyance shined in both of your eyes. With a heavy sigh, he left your embrace, getting up to answer the call.

Another mission.

With the very recent revelations both of you had come to, the idea of him going on missions carried a lot more weight than it used to. Now in front of your apartment door, he put on his shoes, ready to head out to the League’s hideout. Dabi turned around, breath hitching when he saw you standing there frowning, eyes tearful. For some reason, you had a gut feeling this mission wouldn’t be so easy. You didn’t want him to go. And it was showing.

“C’mon, baby doll. Don’t give me that look. I’ll be back, I promise,” When you didn’t even crack a smile at the nickname he sighed. “When have I ever let you down, babe?” He quickly backtracked. “Okay, don’t answer that,”

You managed a small giggle, shaking your head. You approached him slowly, silently wrapping your arms around him. You relished in his quickening heartbeat. Pulling back, you placed your hands on his clothed shoulders. You edged forward, puckering your lips against his own, the point of contact allowing you to relay your inner turmoil to him. Your hands itched towards his face, fiddling gingerly with the multiple staples aligning his cheeks. “Come back, okay? I love you.”

Breath caught in his throat, Dabi tried to push the words setting him aflame through his lips, but he couldn’t. This was happening too fast; it was giving him whiplash. He didn’t know how to say those words yet, so he opted for calling out to you.

“(name)…”

Without even using your power, the conflict in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. you pushed your forehead to rest against his. His love burned through you, so intense, so like him. With a tiny tug at your lips, you lulled the raging storm in his mind. “Shh, Dabi. I know.”

With a parting peck, he was out the door. He didn’t know what was to come out of this mission, but he did know that he now had one more reason to come out alive.

#dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi boku no hero academia #dabi my hero academia #bnha dabi #mha dabi #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #todoroki toya x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi imagine #someone help why cant i write drabbles ffs #100 followers event

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years ago

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I’m feeling very angsty. I’d like to request an Oikawa angst but with a good ending. Similar to the Hanahaki disease, when a person goes through heart break it causes their heart to literally form into glass and break. It will result in the person never being able to love again or die through the agonizing process. The symptoms of one going through a what I call “Glass heart” syndrome include; Dark cracks on the chest stemming from the heart that spread and grow darker the worse the heartbreak is, the victim becomes physically weaker, and they’ll cough up blood. The reader handles it differently.

The summary for this is that Oikawa seems honestly into the reader. Cozying up to them, getting to know them, turning down his fan girls as he dumps for the reader, and seems to be wholeheartedly in love with the reader which of course made the reader fall for him. However a few days later, he becomes distant, stopped messaging them, and just ignores them. The reader overheard him talking about how it was something he did out of boredom and was planning on moving onto a new girl. This causes the reader to feel an internal strain on their heart as said organ turns black. The next few days, the reader becomes emotionally detached, has empty eyes and an emptier smile, and simply endures their agonizing pain. Oikawa learns of this but the reader simply tells them how they heard he didn’t mean any of the kind things he did and thanked him for helping them realise that love is worthless and lets their heart shatter as he watches in horror.

The reader recovers, emotionless and empty causing everyone to read Oikawa for filth. His guilt consuming him as the days go by seeing it was his fault that the reader lost their heart and as much as he wants to fix things while falling in love with the reader from their past kindness and love, the damage is done. Let’s timeskip a few years and when Oikawa sees the reader again, he’s surprised to see their happy and normal again only to see them smiling again. He wants to talk with them and be close with them after realizing his feelings after all these years but he sees them with another man (Kageyama or Ushijima) and when they see Oikawa again, they give him that dead, empty look before leaving him again.

(Shop boy this is unnecessarily long and detailed but you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I just had to drop this idea at least and you can shorten it if you want too)

I asked for detailed asks so...Im gonna start it rn 😤 I can't guarantee it'll be out by tomorrow since I'm writing chapter 19 of my story on quotev and an Akaashi bday special which is already late 💀 But it will be written!

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu #whosaskingangst #whosaskinganswers

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petri808 · 5 years ago

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Fandom: Fairy Tail. Rating: Mature. Nalu AU ANGST trigger warning. Based on this post. Just under 10k words

Lucy Heartfilia is diagnosed with a heart defect. Stuck in the hospital waiting on the transplant list, there is only one thing bringing any light to her dreary world; a volunteer named Natsu Dragneel who truly becomes her bittersweet savior.

@uzumaki2810 Here you go, I hope you like it :) Also thank you to the angst queen @doginshoe IM SORRY I FORGOT TO ADD THIS MESSAGE ;-; she beta’d and bore the tears with me to make sure it was a good story :)

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It all started back in her last year of middle school when puberty really kicked into overdrive and she developed a well-endowed chest. She assumed the little pricks of pain related to the added weight cause they sure gave her a backache if she pushed herself too hard. Exercise was overly exhausting, so there went any chances of making the cheer squad in high school. Not that Lucy was really interested in sports, but by the start of high school she realized any physical activity needed to be avoided. But she didn’t want to worry her father since it was a random pain that would only surface if she exerted herself; ergo it was her boob’s fault, and she kept the pain to herself.

As time passed, and her high school years carried on, Lucy did her best to ignore the symptoms, even when something new manifested itself. Fatigue… she was studying too hard. Rapid heartbeat… well, there was that cute boy that just walked by. Shortness of breath when she laid down… it’s just from the weight of her chest. Each and every time, Lucy found a rational explanation. She buried her nose in her studies as an outlet, which she really didn’t mind so much. Her favorite thing to do in the world was to write quick fantasy stories she’d make up, and she’d often spend her breaks holed up in the library researching some new topic of dragons or fairies or whatever had caught her attention.

“Ugghhhh,” Lucy flinches as the blinding white light breaks through the surface of her vision. She shields her eyes and slowly opens them but can only manage a tiny squint. Her mind was groggy, and she swore her limbs felt like dead weights. “W-Where am I?”

She hears the muffled sound of her father’s voice calling for a doctor. Why was there a slight ringing in her ear? Something about she’s awake now, hurry? The rest had been too muffled to understand. Had she been asleep? Lucy was completely confused. But the light… the light was so bright!

“Ms. Heartfilia? Ms. Heartfilia, can you hear me?”

It was a strange male voice talking to her. Where did her father go?

“Yes,” she croaks out, flinching as her body is coming out of its slumber and suddenly a sharp pain hits her again. Lucy winces, this was worse than before.

“Ms. Heartfilia, do you know where you are?”

She shakes her head.

“You’re in the hospital, dear.”

Wait! It was her father’s voice again. What did he mean she was in a hospital! Lucy forces herself to open her eyes fully, though, keeping her hand between her face and the overhead lights. “Why am I in a hospital?!”

Lucy hears the doctor's voice again, seemingly at a distance because her viewpoint was limited, speaking to someone. Fainted. Temporary amnesia. Congenital heat disease. Wait what?! “Hey what’s going on?!” she calls out then is hit by another spike of pain. Damn it! “Dad? Hello?!” But it’s like she was being ignored. Birth defect. Advanced case. Surgery. “Someone please talk to me!” Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Talk to me!!!” A third, and now the largest stab of pain hits her. Lucy cries out at the pain and curls in on herself. More shouting and the voice returns, hands probing something near her chest, and machines starting to blare out warning beeps.

“Please calm down Ms. Heartfilia, calm down, don’t push yourself too much or the pain will get worse.”

How could this get any worse…

That was 3 years ago, and the sands of time were running low.

Her father had done all he could, dragging her to specialist after specialist, exhausting a chunk of his fortune on doctors from one coast to the other, only to be told Lucy would need a heart transplant or she may not see her twenty-first birthday. The most they could do for her while she waited on the transplant list was implant a ventricular assist device into her body. It gave her a small measure of freedom instead of being tied to a normal transcutaneous machine, but it was still uncomfortable. Her movements were restricted, she had to be careful of catching a cold, and what ended up being the hardest part, was the breast reduction surgery they had her undergo at the same time of the VAD surgery to reduce the weight and strain it added to her heart.

For so long she’d blamed her large breasts for causing all her pains, but now that she knew they weren’t, it was sad to see them go. They were a part of her after all, no matter how much of a headache they could be. For weeks after the surgery, Lucy could barely look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t recognize herself anymore. This youthful woman with tubes sticking out of her stomach which attached to a device around her waist that helped her weakened heart muscles do their job to keep her alive. That had been the diagnosis, a congenital birth defect that weakened her heart muscles, and as she aged, the muscles would continue to deteriorate. Oh, her father was so furious when they were told she didn’t qualify for an artificial heart because death wasn’t imminent.

It hadn’t taken long after completing high school that the depression had surfaced. All of her friends were moving on to college, most to distant campuses so she had no one to talk to. Lucy would hide away in her bedroom for days at a time as the internal struggle mounted. Why continue to go through this pain and struggle… why not just end it quickly and painlessly. It was tempting. From the research she’d done on heart defects, the end wasn’t very pretty. Her only hope was a donor, but people die every day on the transplant list waiting for a heart that never came, just growing weaker and weaker….

At least the VAD had given her two decent years, but her days of being an outpatient at the hospital had come to an end. Even with the device assisting her heart, Lucy’s body was struggling to deal with the strain. The smallest exertions required fuel from her heart to power her body, so even something as minimal as the fatigue of reading a book for too long could trigger an arrythmia or worse, and the pain that may accompany it. She needed to stay in the hospital so that her heart could be constantly monitored and if there was any sudden change, they could address it quickly.

The doctors were doing their best to keep her alive in the hopes a donor would surface. But you never knew when one would become available, and her time was running short. The original prediction of not making it to twenty-one was fast approaching. Frankly, Lucy felt like it was by the luck of the draw and the odds were better at a Las Vegas casino. It was a lonely experience being cooped up in the hospital and thankfully there was one glimmer of happiness amongst the sterile white halls.

“Lucy!”

“Hi Natsu.”

He smirks, “I brought you something.” The young man was bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back.

All the volunteers that visited the hospital were kind people, but there was one that made Lucy smile the most. A young man named Natsu Dragneel. She’d told herself at the beginning of her medical odyssey that she wouldn’t let anyone get too close to her, not only for her protection but there’s. The pain of losing someone you care about was an emotion Lucy had borne at the tender age of five when her mother lost her own battle to cancer, and it was a feeling she didn’t wish upon her worst enemy. But this man sure made that promise a tough one to keep.

Natsu’s adoptive mother was a long-time surgery nurse at this hospital, who had had taught him the value of life. It was because of seeing her kindness towards people that spurred his decision to be a volunteer. Even at eighteen years of age he knew that volunteering would be difficult, and five years later, he would admit it never got any easier. Many volunteers eventually burn out, especially when dealing with the terminal patients, but Natsu pushed through, reminding himself it was those very patients that needed their support the most.

“Oh,” she quirks an eyebrow, “what is it?”

“Tada!” he whips out a single yellow rose with pinkish-red tipped petals and hands it to her. “My younger sister showed me how to dye the tips, isn’t it cool!”

Lucy takes the flower, “wow that is really beautiful! The pink even matches your hair.” She lifts it to her nose and picks up on the light rosy fragrance it exuded. “Smells nice too.” She tries to hand it back to Natsu.

“Tch, my hair’s not pink, it’s salmon, and I made it for you,” he smiles, “something to brighten your day.” Natsu then walks over to the small bathroom and fills a cup with water, brings it back and places it on the small windowsill next to her bed. “For the flower.”

“Thank you,” Lucy blushes a little and hands him back the bloom since she couldn’t reach the cup herself. “It was really kind of you to bring me that Natsu.”

“Nah,” he places the flower in the cup for her, “I’d do anything to make you smile.”

It wasn’t every day, but Natsu would come to see her as often as he could. His regular job as a construction worker wasn’t a regular 9 to 5 kind of thing. Some weeks he might work five days straight, while on slower periods like the winter and early spring months it may only be a couple of days a week depending on weather. He’d told her that working with his hands was something he enjoyed immensely, and the company was training him to be a carpenter.

Natsu sure wasn’t what she’d expected of a construction guy. Oh, his hands showed the roughened appearance of someone who worked hard for a living, but she thought they would be these rough and tumble kind of men. Not Natsu, with his goofy and sweet personality. She could only imagine how well such a line of work helped to keep the man in shape. He always wore t-shirts and jeans, but his trim features hidden behind the fabric were easily discernable.

The light of the sun brought the yellow rose to life along with a slight tremor in her heart, not of pain but of adoration. Lucy smiles sweetly at his remark, her eyes crinkling, glinting with a tinge of moisture she had no control over. She didn’t want to admit her growing affection for this man who always said the sweetest things or made the most charming gestures. Natsu was always so compassionate and supportive, while never making it seem like it was just his job as a volunteer to comfort the patients. It was easy to wish that maybe… he was doing it just for her?

Lucy ducks her head, hiding the hint of jealousy coating her cheeks and tone, “I’m sure you make such kind gestures for the other patients too.”

“Oh, no,” Natsu sits beside her and takes her hand, “just you.” He gently lifts her chin, forcing her to face him. She averts her eyes, but he stares forward, softening his glare, almost wanting to chuckle that he’s had such an effect on her. “You’re special to me.”

Of all the patients in this small hospital, Lucy Heartfilia was the one his heart grieved for the most. It wasn’t fair, at only twenty years old, for this beautiful and intelligent woman to be tied to a hospital bed, watching her life flash by in the form of ridges and valley peaks. The first time they had met was two years ago, but back then she would only come in for overnight monitoring’s or check-ups, and after her major surgery, she stayed for a few months during the recovery process. By now, they were friends, but it had taken work on his part to get her to open up to him.

“No, I’m not…” Lucy sucks the corner of her bottom lip in to stifle the tremor.

His tone deepens in a comeback, “Yes, you are.”

Her eyes finally snap to his, and when she sees the determination behind them, reality kicks in. He was telling the truth! Oh, heaven help her. It was cute to dream, but not for it to be real. She feels a sting in her chest and pushes his hands away. “Please don’t,” her voice is barely a whisper, trembling from the stinging pain in her heart and her soul. “I-I shouldn’t be….” ‘This is so wrong… Because I’m dying and he deserves someone better. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Stupid little daggers of jealousy! She clutches her chest, willing her heart to still, and pain to subside, ‘please go away!’

“Hey, hey!” Natsu immediately switches his concern from being flirty to concerned. “Lucy please calm down, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you!”

“I-It’s okay, I-I’ll be okay.” She fights the tears back with all the strength she can muster. Lucy didn’t want to cry in front of Natsu. “Please, Natsu, I don’t want to get our hopes up l-like that…. If this… If things were different….”

“Shhh,” he cradles her face, “shhh, it’s okay Luce, I feel the same way.”

After a few moments, Lucy lets out a long exhale. “I appreciate it, I really do.” She looks up and cracks a pained smile. “You’re the only thing keeping me going, but I-I just don’t even want to think about not being there for you…”

It was Natsu’s turn to crack. “Please don’t finish that.” He looks down, holding back the urge to cry or show how upset it makes him. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“But it…”

“You don’t know that, no one knows that, and I,” his voice falters, seething with all the will of his soul placed behind it, “I will cling to hope till my dying breath.”

The sudden change in his demeanor, switches Lucy from feeling so self-absorbed in her own thoughts to realize, Natsu has had an effect on her, but she truly had an effect on him too. It hurt even more now that his behaviors weren’t just a rouse to make her happy, and it killed her to think of what he will suffer when she goes.

“I’m sorry, Natsu. I didn’t realize.” She grabs his hand, squeezing it hard. “Natsu I’m sorry. Let’s stop thinking about this then, hmm,” doing her best to keep her tone soft and comforting. “Look at me, Natsu, please, I don’t want to keep fighting with you.”

He sighs, “you’re right. That’s the last thing I wanna do with you.” It was a surprise even to himself that he’d lost his cool, and for the first time the awareness of his growing infatuation became real.

“Good,” she squeezes his hand again. “Hey, um, you know its lunch time, we could eat outside since it’s a nice day…” her voice grows tentative, “if you’ll join me.”

“Lucy Heartfilia, are you asking me out on a date?” He chuckles, ready to put all the sadness behind them. “Because if that’s the case,” the sparkle in his eyes return, “I would be honored.”

For the next couple of months, Natsu and Lucy’s friendship flourishes, as her physical body slowly deteriorates. It was hard, he couldn’t lie, to watch this happen, and if it wasn’t for the strength of his convictions or his plain stubborn attitude about it that kept him upbeat. He knew that she needed him to be her strength, and that fueled his desire to make sure she smiles every day.

Lucy didn’t know, but his mother would keep him updated on her condition. Not that he needed to know all the technical jargon, for he could see it with his own eyes. Lucy herself would tell him just enough information when she needed to, but he never pushed or pried for it, letting it always be on her terms. The cardiomyopathy was getting worse, her heart muscles barely functioning on its own at this point. She had her good days and bad days but walking around wasn’t really an option anymore aside from brief steps for a purpose. It also meant that the muscles in her legs were weakening too. Physical therapy once a week worked with Lucy on light stretches to keep them from completely atrophying, but it was all they could do for her at this point. But no matter how much weight she lost, or that her hair didn’t hold its familiar luster, to Natsu she would always be the same radiant woman he adored.

She’d resigned herself to this fate a lot better than Natsu would have thought a person could do. When he tried to picture himself in her shoes, he was sure he wouldn’t have the strength to keep going, but that was what amazed him even more about her. On her agreeable days, Natsu enjoyed getting her out of her room, even if for brief periods of time. Lunch or dinner in the cafeteria, the grounds of the hospital on a sunny day, or even stargazing when the evening air was warm. He’d bring a wheelchair, and off they’d go, talking about anything or nothing, avoiding the subject of her condition, just giving her a smidge of a normal existence for once.

Lucy opens her eyes at the knock on her door to see a familiar face pop through. “Hey Natsu,” she cracks a pained smile.

“Hey Luce, how ya doin’ today?”

She starts to sit up in the hospital bed, but when it’s clear to Natsu the woman was struggling, he quickly rushes over and assists. “Thanks,” another light smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve been a little sore today.”

“Never apologize to me,” he smiles back warmly. No matter what, he always did his best to appear upbeat for the patients despite his heart literally breaking for them. He places his hand on hers, “so, tell me gorgeous, are ya hungry? We could dinner date in the cafeteria if you’re up to it. My treat,” he winks.

“Stop calling me gorgeous,” Lucy chides the sunny young man, despite the small rosy glow of her cheeks. “I know I’m not, and that’s okay.” With the help of a psychiatrist and over a year of therapy, Lucy had finally accepted her fate and kept moving forward as best she could. If she will die someday, she will die with dignity. Stress wasn’t very good on her heart, so once she made peace with her circumstances, even her physical ailments had benefitted.

“Pfft,” Natsu pretends to be offended, “are you calling me a liar because I know I’m not blind.” His grin growing along with the deepening of red along her cheeks. “Besides, you know I won’t stop no matter how much you complain about it.”

Lucy laughs and her eyes twinkle, “I know, so we’ll keep agreeing to disagree.”

It was in these moments, and why he did what he did, just to see this woman’s eyes light up, that sent his own heart into palpitations. Deep down Natsu knew that the chances of Lucy making it out of this hospital were slim to none, but you’d never know it when he spoke to her. He stifles the urge to sigh. Oh, how he wished the circumstances were different. In a perfect world, Natsu would love nothing more than to walk this woman down the aisle.

He circles the topic back around, “so… dinner, on me?” he teases lightly with a wink. “We can take a trip through pediatrics where there are a few recent arrivals.”

Her gaze lowers as she hides the seventh heaven emotions the young man stirs in her. “I’d like that.”

Natsu squeezes her hand, “I’ll be right back, lemme grab your carriage milady.”

As Lucy waited the few minutes for Natsu to grab a wheelchair, she closes her eyes and does a breathing technique to calm her heart. She hadn’t wanted to show the slight tinges of pain she was getting as they spoke, because she knew it would have worried him. They’d been steadily increasing in frequency lately, and she fought to keep him from discovering that. But she couldn’t help it. Despite her condition, Lucy was still a young woman with an intact mind, she still had desires like any other, and when a handsome young man close to her age flirted with her, of course she would react to it! She did her best not to let these thoughts sink in too deeply and told herself he was merely doing it to make her feel better. It was a lie, but it was the best way to shield herself.

“Ready?” Natsu extends his hand to help Lucy to her feet.

She nods and takes hold, gripping on while he maneuvers her around and onto the chair. It weakened Lucy to where her muscles were slowly losing their strength because her heart was struggling to keep her body oxygenated and functioning properly. With support she could stand for brief periods, but only with support. At least with Natsu, she could put her faith in his hold that he’d never let her fall.

After adjusting the foot plates and making sure Lucy was comfortable, Natsu takes off towards the cafeteria two floors down. He’d already alerted dining when he’d gone out for the chair they were coming down, to prepare a meal within Lucy’s dietary needs. It wasn’t a terribly restrictive diet, but there were some limits, such as no stimulants like caffeine, or anything with a high fat content.

Natsu loved these little dates as he called them. On warm sunny days it may include a stroll outside for some fresh air, or if it was cold and rainy, merely sharing a cup of light hot chocolate in the visitor's lounge in front of the massive floor to ceiling windows. But if Lucy wasn’t feeling well, he was content to sit by her side in her room, talking, telling stories, or doing anything just to cheer her up. Sometimes he would fantasize during these events as if they were simply at home and relaxing like a normal couple.

“Oh yay, beef barley,” Lucy stirs and lifts a spoonful up before letting it flow back into the bowl. “My fave.” She knew why they gave it to her, but that didn’t make it anymore appetizing. Barley was supposedly good for heart health, and the protein it contained was useful for her body. She crunches up the soda crackers the meal came with and drops them into the soup, letting the pieces soak in.

“I don’t mind it,” Natsu shovels a spoonful into his mouth. He always made it a point to eat the same thing they gave Lucy, so she felt more normal about it. “But if you really don’t want it, I could ask them to make you a sandwich instead.”

“No, no,” she waves her hand, her voice oozing with a sense of longing mixed with frustration, “it’s okay, I’m fine with it. I just would kill to eat a fatty, tasty, slathered in sauce cheeseburger with a side of waffle fries or something you know.”

Natsu snorts a laugh and almost chokes on his food as a mental picture of Lucy chomping down on a burger, with sauce dripping down her chin both amuses and arouses him. “I-I can imagine,” he bangs his chest a couple times to dislodge some liquid that made it down the wrong pipe. “Throw some sriracha sauce on that vision and you just named one of my favorite foods.” Could this woman become any more of his dream girl?!

She giggles, “So, um…” Lucy hesitates for a second. She didn’t want to sound desperate or anything, but loneliness was the quickest way to send her back into a depression and she cherished the time the man spent with her. “How much time are you spending with me today?”

“As long as you’d like,” he winks. “I always do my rounds first and come to you last so I can stay as long as I want to.”

Ugh! The flirty thing again! Lucy wills her body to behave. “Wow, that makes me pretty special, huh?”

“Extremely,” he leans in, letting his gaze grow half-lidded, and his tone mellowing into a soothing cadence. “I’m gonna steal your heart one day Luce, that’s a promise.”

“What?! Pfft,” damn, she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks, “there’s no point in stealing a broken heart sir…” Despite the desire to feel aroused over his comment, it also brought a sense of sadness to her she fought down the urge to let tears rise to the surface. ‘He’s just teasing… he’s just being sweet, trying to make me feel normal… It’s not real Lucy, It’s not real!’ But oh, how she wished it was! Natsu was the perfect man that any woman would kill for. Sweet, strong, handsome, silly, she could go on and on with the list. He was the one ray of sunshine in her dreary world now that she truly was all alone in it. The stress of caring for her had driven her father into his own massive heart attack last year. She had no one, except Natsu.

“I mean it Luce,” he reaches out and takes her hand, letting his thumb sweep over the skin. “Broken or not, I want to steal it and have the person it’s attached to a—ll to myself.”

“Please don’t,” Lucy pulls her hand back. She could feel the tears pooling and if she didn’t stop it now, they’d soon fall. “You know I appreciate it, really I do Natsu.” Lucy looks back up at him and cracks a pained smile. “But you deserve someone who’s not broken.”

The absolute pain measured in Lucy’s eyes, and the sorrow in her voice was like a dagger straight through Natsu’s soul. He could understand her desire of not wanting to believe in miracles or to shield herself from further pain, but that only killed him more. She deserved so much more out of life. Ugh, if only he had a direct line to destiny so he could kick its ass and tell it to leave Lucy in peace! He didn’t want to upset her anymore. “Okay, I’ll stop pushing too hard. But I promise you Luce, one day you will walk out of this hospital a healthy woman, and you can steal my heart instead.”

She sighs, “You can’t promise something like that.”

“I have faith,” Natsu gives her his wide, ear-to-ear grin and a wink. “You’ll see.”

How could she stay upset after seeing that smile of his? That damn ear-to-ear grin that lit up his eyes. The eternal optimist, Natsu Dragneel trying so hard to keep her spirits up. He and that smile may very well be the one thing keeping her going at this point. “Okay, okay,” Lucy chuckles, “I give up, yes it's possible.”

“Woo Hoo!” He pumps his fist in the air in an exaggerated victory, “that’s the spirit! Now eat, so we can go check out the babies!”

Lucy laughs again and nods with a smile, “okay.”

It was harder than she let on to him because she knew how much he enjoyed checking out all the new arrivals, but seeing those babies coming into this world while she would be leaving it shortly was painful. All those hopeful, bright little lives…. They were a bittersweet reminder that a hospital holds two balances; the power to bring life into this world or take it away by not being able to heal a person. She didn’t blame the doctors, for they were doing their best, because sometimes the sands of time runs its course and there is just nothing more they can do. It was simply a part of life, to be born and die, never knowing when the grim reaper would come calling.

“Look, look! I was told three were born yesterday.” Natsu points excitedly as he parks her chair in front of the viewing window of the nursery. He plasters his face against the clear glass. “Two girls and one boy. Awww, one already has some hair!” Turning back to Lucy, “can you see okay, would you like me to help you stand up?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I can see just fine,” Lucy throws on a smile for effect. “They are quite adorable, aren’t they?”

“Are you sure? You know the doctors want you to stand sometimes so that your legs don’t atrophy as quickly. I will gladly bear the weight.”

“Are you saying I’m heavy?!” She was just teasing, but it was the perfect setup to do so.

“What?!” he waves his arms, “n-no way! You’re not heavy, I meant I’m stronger so I can hold you up…”

“So, I’m weak?”

“Wait, what, no!”

Lucy giggles at how much the man was stepping all over his tongue. “I’m just teasing you, Natsu. I know I should, but I’m just a little tired today.” That was partially true.

The man pouts, “so mean Luce,” he whines and throws on the saddest puppy dog expression he can muster, even a sniffle for effect. “But it was an excuse to hold you in my arms.”

Oh, how quickly the tides can turn as his bold little statement sets her face ablaze. He re—ally needed to stop with the flirting, or she was about to have an actual heart attack! “All right,” Lucy groans, “just for a few minutes.” It wasn’t the first time she’s allowed him to help her stand and maintain her balance, but before his little retort, she’d never thought twice about it.

Natsu locks the chair and adjusts the foot plates out of the way so that Lucy can put her feet on the ground. “Just take all the time you need,” his voice grows soft and soothing, “don’t rush.”

She tests her leg strength by pushing with the balls of her feet against the floor, rocking them and applying pressure to warm up the muscles. Brief movements, like getting from the bed to the wheelchair were one thing, standing for a few minutes or walking a few feet were another. It was frustrating and embarrassing, so she avoided it as much as possible, like when going to the bathroom. Lucy didn’t mind when the nurses assisted her with that compromising predicament, but this was embarrassing in a different way.

Once she feels her legs are ready, she holds out her hand which Natsu quickly takes hold of and braces her other on the arm of the chair to push herself up. When she gets to a standing position, Natsu moves around her body, placing an arm around her waist as he gently guides her the two feet to the window. He stays on constant alert, monitoring any change so if her legs decide to buckle, he can catch her. As soon as she reaches the window, Lucy places her hands on the slight ledge of the sill. Natsu then switches his position to stand directly behind her, wrapping both arms around her upper chest to hold her close, but above the tubes in her lower abdomen.

Could he feel how much her body was heating up from the intimate contact? Lucy fought her own emotions to keep from escalating and stressing her heart out, for she was keenly aware of how they would look to anyone passing by. Dear heavens, it was hard to do with his chest pressed up against her back…. She wished they could stay like that forever. ‘Breathe… just breathe, Lucy…. Look at the babies, just focus on the babies…’ That only made it worse.

The babies…. Just a day old. The little angels were like moldable clay. They’ll grow… they’ll change… Will they become teachers or astronauts some day? Oh, look at the one, smiling in his sleep, how precious. Someday, will they make their dreams come true? What will they be like? Good little kids or naughty, friendly, the life of the party or a shy introvert? Like many young girls who dreamt of becoming a mother someday, Lucy had envisioned having a family of her own with the love of her life and the white picket fence. A little girls fantasy. She closes her eyes, praying that Natsu wasn’t paying attention to her. The tears pool behind her eyelids and she stills the desire to sniffle. That fantasy was now dashed like a shipwreck against the shoreline, never to sail the seven seas again. Natsu would have made the perfect husband and father for such a fairytale, and he will one day, just not in her storybook ending.

She’d been so focused on fighting back her emotions, that Lucy hadn’t noticed Natsu’s head was now resting against her shoulder or how his face was curled against the nape.

��It’s okay to cry sometimes Luce.”

His whispered voice, so close to her ear, breaks the dam. Lucy squeezes her eyes tighter and fingertips curl, tensing against the windowsill. Shit, he knew all along. Her knees tremble as the tears flow freely, but she feels his hold tighten around her to keep her from falling. It had been some time since she’d allowed herself to release the pain in this way.

Natsu hadn’t been certain of it until now, but in the last several times they’d come to the pediatric ward, he’d sensed a change in Lucy’s energy. She always wore a smile with a hidden agenda and now he’s confirmed his suspicions. Well, it was his mother really that pointed it out one day when he’d mentioned it to her. The woman was great at understanding human emotions and after years of caring for patients, she’s learned to follow her intuition.

“Lucy was a young woman who may not live to be a mother or have a family of her own, of course it might upset her to see the infants.” His first inclination was to stop bringing the woman to this ward, but his mother gave him a second option. “Help her grieve.” Those three words coming out of his mother’s mouth stunned him briefly. What did she mean to help her grieve?!! “If Lucy has no one to turn to, how can she process what is happening to her. Show her it’s okay to be upset, help her let out the pain before it consumes her.”

“I will hold you for as long as I need to Luce, just let the pain go.”

But it was killing him to do this! Natsu had told his mother that he didn’t think he was strong enough. The woman simply smiled, patted his cheek and said, “I believe in you son. If you truly care, then you’ll have the strength to move mountains for her.” Damn his mother and her intuition, though Natsu realized only a fool couldn’t see how much he was falling for Lucy. He’d sell his soul to a demon to get her a new heart.

Strangely, Lucy’s body wasn’t reacting like she thought it would. Stress usually caused her blood pressure to rise and strain her heart muscles, but that wasn’t happening. She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing like a broken spigot, and maybe that was the best thing, like a release of the pressure that had built up unbeknownst to her. Her hands move from the windowsill to Natsu’s arms, clutching to and resting her head on them. Lucy couldn’t look up, not yet, but she needed to let him know she heard his words, and they meant the world to her.

She would have made an amazing mother, Natsu was sure of it, and it would be a lie to say he’s never thought of or imagined them staring through this viewing window at their own little boy or girl one day. Would the child have Lucy’s beautiful golden waves or chocolate brown eyes? Or maybe take Natsu’s salmon pink hair and onyx eyes. No matter what, the child would be perfect and loved. A child that as the day ticked down on the transplant list was losing hope of ever being born. Crap! Natsu squeezes his eyes closed tight. He couldn’t let her see him struggling with this, but damn if those images didn’t just cut him deep.

Neither of them knew how long they were standing there or even if any of the other hospital staff had noticed. They were in their own little world while time passed them by. It was Lucy who finally let out a small exhale as a last release of all that had struck her today, and with that tension gone, the tears turned into exhaustion. Ever cry so hard and for so long that your body became lethargic? Lucy yawns wide and deep, her eyes growing heavy and clouded, a little lightheaded, ready to go to sleep.

Natsu kisses the crown of her head and without a word, maneuvers her so she can sit back down in her wheelchair. He sets the foot panels in place and helps her feet onto them, then pushes her back to her room. There is a companionable silence, as if all their wordless exchanges had communicated volumes that needed no explanation. Once back in her own room, Natsu helps her onto the bed and set the wheelchair aside.

After helping to re-attach her heart monitors, Natsu checks, “is there anything else I can get you before I go?” She shakes her head. “In that case…”

Lucy motions for him to lean in closer and once he’s close enough, she hesitates briefly then places a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for everything Natsu.”

His eyes widen, shocked by what she’d just done. “Luce?”

“I just felt like doing it,” she blushes. “Tonight… I don’t know, I just feel so much better and it’s all because of you.” Lucy closes her eyes as a yawn cuts through. They were so tired…

“You are very welcome,” Natsu smiles. He moves to leave, but Lucy grabs his hand and squeezes. When he turns back to look, her eyes are still closed, and there is a slight smile on her face which brings a swelling of his pride. He leans down and kisses the back of her hand. “Rest now, and I will see you again tomorrow.”

Mister Sandman beckoned to Lucy of mystical creatures bathed in glittering stars, calling upon father time to bring peace to a weary soul. She didn’t know why, but though the pull was strong, she fought his dreamy reverie. Today had been the most emotionally charged day in a long time. All the tears Lucy had shed brought a new peace to her spirit, something in this entire experience not even a trained therapist could have given her. The amount of love that Natsu provided, whether platonic or wishful yearnings, calmed her, and pushed away the emptiness she had felt for so long…. So long stuck in this pain. She wanted to relive this day forever, safe in Natsu’s arms, drowning in the pool of his obsidian hues. ‘… to steal his heart…’ Lucy knew she already had, just as he had stolen hers in a way. A sense of warmth floods through her body, shielding her to the cool air-conditioned room. Lucy’s smile widens as her mind slips into the abyss of dreams, of a pink-haired prince who’d finally set her soul free.

“Natsu wake up,” the voice repeats as the person attached to it shakes his sleeping form. “Natsu wake up.”

“Huh?” His clouded mind hears the voice of his mother. “What is it?” He turns his head, his eyes temporarily pin-pointed from the harsh lamp light next to his bed. “Mom, what are you doing in my room?” Natsu pushes himself to a sitting position as his mother takes a seat next to him. With his vision focusing better, he finally notices the moisture clouding his mother’s eyes. “Mom, what is it?!”

She takes his hand, squeezing it tightly with her head slightly lowered in pain. “I-I’m sorry, son, but the hospital just called me…. Your friend, s-she had a massive heart attack.”

By the time his mother had finished the sentence, Natsu had stopped listening to anything she was saying. He knew, the moment she’d said I’m sorry… to wake him up in the middle of the night, it had to be…. All the blood drains from his face and his shoulders slump. He felt dizzy, weak, like all of his strength were stripped away, leaving him an empty shell. He turns his head slowly, the tears already flowing down his cheeks in an endless trickle to meet the woman’s sullen gaze. This wasn’t happening! Not yet! Lucy was fine today! Fine!! He wanted to scream! But his throat was closed up, choking back the sobs that wanted to break free.

“Oh honey,” the woman wraps her arms around her son and pulls him tightly against her chest. “I’m so sorry,” her own tears flowing freely and hitting his face. “Don’t give up hope, they were able to save her, but she’s been placed in a medically induced coma.”

It couldn’t be true! Why weren’t his cries coming out?! Natsu’s voice refused to make a sound and all he could do was weep. It hurt so much! His fists clench at his stiffened sides. This wasn’t fair!

“Let it out son, don’t hold it in,” she coos, doing her best to soothe the pain. “They believe she didn’t suffer because it happened while she was asleep, that should give you a bit of comfort.”

No, it doesn’t! She was still in a coma! He’d almost lost her! And, “I-I never g-got to s-say good... good…” he couldn’t finish it. What if she never woke up again? Natsu’s heart ached at the thought he may never again hear her beautiful laughter or that silly snort she would sometimes make when he teased her. This world was too cruel to do this to a woman who should be in college, starting the next stage of her life. A fit of sobs racks his body, ‘I never got to tell her I love her…’

“Would you like me to drive you there, son?”

“Yes, please mom, i-if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Natsu paused in front of the closed door to Lucy’s new room, unsuccessfully preparing himself for what he knew he would find behind it. On the way to the hospital, his mother had filled in a few more details that tore the man up and brought a wave of guilt flooding over him. Had he caused the heart attack?

The heart monitor alarms had gone off only 30 minutes after he had left her for the evening, and the doctors wasted no time in implementing emergency resuscitative efforts. They deemed it a miracle, but after 10 minutes of herculean efforts they were able to get her heart restarted. Lucy was then moved to the ICU unit and placed on other machines such as a feeding tube and ventilator to keep her alive.

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her to see the infants after all. Maybe the crying had stressed her out and neither of them had known it. She seemed perfectly fine when he’d left! Happy, in fact, happier than he’d seen in a long time. Natsu’s fingers absentmindedly trail over the area she had kissed. Lucy was at peace when he’d left. His mom told him her sudden fatigue may have been a sign. Or maybe he clenches his jaw, that kiss was her way of saying goodbye, like she knew something might happen once she’d closed her eyes. The way she’d grabbed his hand when he tried to leave…. “Fuck!” he grits outs as the tears pool in his bloodshot eyes again. “I shouldn’t have left her…”

He pushes the door open and his knees buckle instantly at the sight. Tubes… all the tubes, and monitors, the beeping and lights, bright flashing lights of the stat graphs, subcutaneous fluids hooked to her arms, the drips… slow drips of liquid and medicine flowing into Lucy’s body. He wasn’t ready for it. Her beautiful face partially hidden by the feeding tube running into her mouth and the breathing tubes entering her nostrils. If it wasn’t for his mother standing at his side, Natsu would have collapsed to the floor when his legs lose all their strength and crumple. The woman guides him to a chair placed beside the bed.

“Oh god, Lucy!” The tears pour out and sobs take control of his body. He throws his upper body over hers, clutching desperately to the blanket covering her, and burying his face into its folds. Natsu felt a part of his soul die right then and there. “You don’t deserve this,” his muffled words stolen by the fabric. Why couldn’t they find her a heart?!

“Son,” Natsu feels his mother’s hand resting on his shoulder, but he doesn’t respond. “Son, there’s no telling how long Lucy will stay in this state, so it’s best you say your goodbyes now. They say that people can hear you even if they are in a coma.”

But all he can do is shake his head fervently, denying it to the world and himself that Lucy wouldn’t come out of this. He had hope, damn it! Natsu refused to say goodbye because that meant he’d given up hope Lucy would recover somehow.

The woman seemed to understand her son’s frustration and didn’t push. “Then, just talk to her son, let her know you’re here.”

“Mom, could you… I wanna be alone, please?”

“I’ll come back in an hour to take you home.”

Natsu just nods in response. He hears the door open and close, the click of the lock like the final latch being set on a coffin, sealing them to their fate. He’d known the dangers of giving his heart to Lucy and yet despite what was happening, still had no regrets. She deserved the peace of knowing someone loved her, and if this really was the last moments, Natsu could have that tiny measure of satisfaction knowing he was the one who had provided it to her.

“But you’re not gonna die yet, Luce. You can’t, do you hear me, you can’t! It’s not your time yet, so you need to fight for me please…” Oh, how his heart was shattering into a million pieces as if he was the one with the problem. It fucking hurt! Emotional daggers stabbing him in the chest repeatedly. “You’re stronger than this, Lucy! I know it, you’re gonna wake up from this!”

By the time his mother returns an hour later, the sheer exhaustion had consumed Natsu. She finds him passed out, and it takes a bit of begrudging effort to get him to leave Lucy’s bedside. He was so afraid to leave again in case she passed away, because he didn’t want her to die alone. It was his mother that coaxed him into believing that she wasn’t alone as long as he kept her in his heart.

Day after day, week after week, became a never-ending cycle of zombiesque activity. Natsu’s body was there, trudging through routine, but his mind was broken, battling between keeping hope alive and giving up. He went to work, did his job, then headed to the hospital. It got to where the staff had placed a spare bed in the room, and he practically lived in the ICU with Lucy. He was lucky that his mother was a long-time nurse and he a volunteer with an impeccable standing that the hospital allowed him to bend the visitor hour rules. They knew the woman was alone in this world, so maybe they also felt a sense of duty to become that family for her, because nobody deserved to die alone.

He grew obsessed with anything to do with her condition and used the lonely hours to scour the internet for information. Sure, much of the stories about coma patients being able to hear weren’t really solid or verifiable, but any glimmer of possibilities was worth the effort. It couldn’t hurt to try. Whether it was telling her about his day or what was happening in their town, Natsu would keep talking. He bought a kindle and read stories he thought she would like, fantasies of princes saving princesses filled with mythical creatures. He remembered her saying she used to write such stories and wished he had been able to read them.

When he was too tired to read, or his throat was too sore to continue, Natsu wrote her letters. The staff and his family were getting worried about Natsu. So, the hospital’s mental health service counselor had come in one day and spoke to him on the off chance that they could get through to him. While he refused to listen to most of the advice, he found the writing to be helpful. Maybe when Lucy awakens, she could read them. But for now, it was one way he could pour out some of his thoughts in silence.

He was always tired and exhausted, pushing himself through this day-to-day routine, sometimes forgetting to eat. Concerned staff would often pop their heads in to check on him to make sure he had or scolded him when the hours grew late and they knew he needed to work the next day. His bloodshot eyes held dark bags under them, and his mother swore he was losing weight. But he would always push them off saying he was fine.

“No, you are not son. As a mother I am supremely proud to know I raised a son who cares this much, but I don’t want to lose you too.”

“And you’re not, I’m perfectly healthy.”

“You know as well as I stress is harmful to the body.”

Natsu sighs and runs a hand over his face, “mom, I’m fine, I even cut back on work hours to make you happy.”

“And I appreciate the gesture, but you’re still working, just here!”

“Mom, I’m fine! Please, just leave me be, I-I don’t want to fight. I just want… I’m not leaving her. End of discussion.”

His mother sighs, knowing that her stubborn boy would not listen. “Just please, Natsu, eat more, get more sleep, do it for me.”

“Okay, okay, I will.”

“I love you, son.”

“I love you too, mom.”

She kisses his forehead and turns to leave, taking one last look at her boy, and to Lucy. Grandeeney Dragneel pauses with a bittersweet smile as Natsu resumed reading quietly from his Kindle. Somehow, she knew that young girl loved her son back, and it broke her heart to know they were like those star-crossed lovers from a long-lost folktale, never destined to truly be together. She liked Lucy. The girl was smart and sweet, very articulate whenever she visited during her rounds, and her strength through this all was remarkable. Even after being dealt such a cruel hand by fate, she never grew bitter or resentful. Her son couldn’t have fallen for a better girl. Grandeeney slips away quietly before the moisture building in her eyes could be seen by Natsu, bracing against the closed door, and praying for a miracle.

Is this that tunnel people talk about? Lucy wonders as all she could see through her eyelids is the brightest light that seemed just too brilliant to be normal. Her eyes hurt a little from it, but if this was heaven, why is there still pain? She forces her lids open and tries to shield them with her hand that… doesn’t seem to move, huh? But it wasn’t just her arm, her entire body felt heavy. The images filtering in through her vision were blurry, slowly gaining focus as her pupils adjust to the light to see, wait, ceiling tiles? Why does heaven look so much like a hospital?

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Lucy looks over and sees a doctor standing beside her. “Where am I?” Or more like why am I here?

“Do you remember the heart attack?” She shakes her head. “You’ve been in a coma for two months after you suffered a massive heart attack. But luckily, a local donor came through...” He goes on to explain about the surgery telling her that the transplant surgery went well, her body was accepting the new heart, and while she’ll still be going through three to six months or rehabilitation and monitoring, she was on track to make a full recovery.

“Oh-okay, thank you so much, doctor.” It was a miracle to be alive again with a new heart. But something felt wrong, missing?

“I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you again Ms. Heartfilia, but if anything feels off in the meantime, be sure to ring the nurses.” He moves to leave, but she stops him.

“Doctor, the donor, can you tell me about them, please?”

The man hesitates for a moment. “Well Ms. Heartfilia, privacy laws don’t allow me to….”

“You don’t have to tell me their name or anything. Please, just a little information. I’d like to know who saved my life.”

The man sighs and takes the seat next to the bed, clearly torn with what he was about to say. “He was a young volunteer at the hospital who tragically fell asleep at the wheel and passed away from a car accident…”

The doctor's voice droned on for another minute as he tried to reassure her that the man didn’t suffer. It was quick and painless from a one-car crash. As if that was supposed to make her feel any better. Lucy didn’t need to be told the name as tears poured down her cheeks, because she knew. She just knew. That was what was missing, for she knew that if she’d had received the new heart, Natsu would have been the one by her side when she’d woken up… unless he could be there. With all the wires attached to her arm, she could barely move them without the sting of the I.V. lines, but she didn’t care. Lucy’s hands cover her lowered face as the tears continue to stream.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Heartfilia. Would you like me to have someone from mental health support to come see you?”

Lucy shakes her head. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t even think.

“Mrs. Dragneel would also like to speak to you when you’re up to it.”

More tears and sobs choke out. Oh god that was Natsu’s mom, how could she face Natsu’s mother!

Seeing the woman’s distress, the man nods and squeezes her shoulder, “Again, I’m truly sorry Ms. Heartfilia. We all miss him very much. Please try to get some rest,” and leaves the woman to grieve in her own way.

Her head was spinning. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! Why was destiny such a malicious bastard to take away the one person she had and leave her in this world all alone? Lucy clasps a hand over her chest, recalling the last conversation, that last night with Natsu. She squeezes her eyes to the pain of the memories… He’d made her so happy… so very happy, and yes, she remembered thinking for the first time since her diagnosis; she didn’t feel alone anymore. Fuck if she didn’t want to just keel over again, but that would mar the beautiful gift that she’s received. Natsu believed with every fiber of his being that she would walk out of here one day and she will live on for him, that’s a promise. “Our heart,” Lucy breathes out… But how ironic that he was right all along. She really did steal his heart in the cruelest of ways…

#nalu #nalu angst #nalu au #natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #fairytail #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #bittersweet ending #story request #uzumaki2810 #natsu x lucy #au modern setting #hospital setting

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kpopnonous · 4 years ago

Text

Forever Young | Yoongi x Reader

WARNING: angst, death, sadness,suicide, mentions of sexual activities, cyber bullying.

COUNT: 1.94K

“example of the past/memory”

“example of the lyrics”

“example of the present/now”

So are you happy now?

Finally happy now, yeah?

"Yoongi! Stoooopppp!" You said giggling as you felt his slender fingers running along the side of your ribs

The man looked at you and smile, wholeheartedly, before hugging you.

"If I stop loving you, then I'd be broken" You blushed at his words.

Yoongi always had away with words, even if he didn't put any thought to it, you'd always have a wholesome reaction to them.

You leaned forward and kissed his lips. In return, he did the same as he laid you down to show you just how much he loves you.

Yoongi sat in the front row, holding the boy's hand tightly. Trying to hold himself together.

"You look lovely," He told her. He could faintly see the smile on her face. He moved his finger to put a strand of hair behind her ears.

"Thank you for making me feel loved," She told him, as she lightly kissed his cheeks.

뭐 그대로야 난 다 잃어버린 것 같아

( Well, I’m exactly the same )

( I think I’ve lost everything )

You sat there, reading the comments under your music video that you've released. Being a singer wasn't an easy job. It's even harder when you're dating one of the biggest singers in both Kpop and the International industry.

The comments weren't as positive as you expected it to be. They weren't even talking about the music, they were talking about your relationship with Yoongi. Most saying you're only with him because of his fame, money, and exposure.

It hurts to see that your ' fan base ' can say that they love you but then leave negative comments when they've found out who you've been seeing.

It's not like you're now dating him, you've been dating him for two years but decided to make your relationship public in January, to start the new year off with a positive note, but sadly you were failed.

You cried and cried and cried. Reading every single one until one of the comments really get to you. They were speaking about your ex-relationship, with your ex-boyfriend, who used to constantly abuse you, and rob you of your money.

In March, he made claims stating that you were the abusive one in the relationship and would steal his money for your own personal use. He made those accusations on social media. The matter is still being taken care of in court.

You saw a message from Yoongi, his words trying to comfort you as he can't be with you physically due to being stuck in Korea.

You didn't bother replying. You lay in your bed thinking about what you could have done differently.

A week later, it was April the 4th, the day when BTS would be coming back in the states to visit. You were excited to meet them, especially Yoongi. You needed to feel his hands, his hugs, his mouth on you

You quickly got dressed and headed to the boys house. You bought foods for them.

As you reach the door, you ran quickly to knock on it, you saw Jin first, then greeted them all one by one, leaving Yoongi for last. You walked up to him and hugged him tightly. Feeling the tears spill from your eyes.

He hugged you back tightly as if you'll leave him. You pulled him to your lips and kissed him with Passion as you can hear all the groans and disgust from the boys.

He broke the kiss and says "Lets take this upstairs yeah?"

"Okay," you said as you both head to the room to begin your lovemaking.

Later in the night, you woke and removed the sleeping Yoongi's arms away from you. You got up and grabbed a piece of paper and start writing down words. Words that you feel emotionally.

After you were done you put the note on the desk, went into your bag for some pills and took them. You then went back to bed, kissed his forehead, and went back to sleep.

Yoongi woke up the next morning, smiling as he remembers last night's activities. He pulled your body closer to him as he rests his face into your neck.

"Morning," he said, as he kissed your neck, but you didn't move. He poked your shoulder but you still didn't move.

He raised his body and laid you on your back.

"Hey, Y/N, wake up" But there was no response. He shook your body lightly, then harsh. His eyes started to water at the ideas in his mind.

"HEY HEY WAKE UP PLEASE WAKE UP!" He kept yelling trying to get your body to move, but was disappointed.

Hoseok who was doing a Vlive, saw the comments asking what was the loud noises coming from, he decided to get up and check to see its coming from Yoongis room.

"Y/N GET UP!" Hoseok opened Yoongi's door to see him shaking you roughly and crying. He walked up to him to see you lifeless.

He quickly realized what was going down and went to call the other boys.

The rest of the boys came into the room and saw what was happening, Jin and Namjoon trying to pry Yoongi off of you, Hoseok and Taehyung crying as they try to wake you up, Jimin standing in shock and Jungkook next to the desk with tears into his eyes. He saw the letter and handed it to Yoongi who grabbed it. He opened the letter and read it. After he finishes he burst out in tears for he felt guilt for not helping you.

모든 게 맘대로 왔다가 인사도 없이 떠나

( Everything comes at will and leaves without a goodbye )

The news broke out later that evening. Some fans and news reporters we're following the boys into the hospital. They even bribe the staff for some information.

Yoongi sat in the music studio, writing words after words trying to find the lyrics to make with his new collaboration.

He's trying to find the words to fit the beat of that song and to express how he feels.

' I really love the beat for love yourself! ' he remembers you telling him that. Then instantly words started flowing out, one after the other.

After 5 hours, of writing the lyrics. He emailed the song to the artist that you loved. He knew that you would have loved the song because he made it, he made it because of you. He closes his eyes, thinking about how you would smile whenever you saw his face, he smiled lightly at the memory.

But the smile vanishes quickly as he remembers what happened to you.

"Happy birthday Yoongi!" Everyone said as they watch the gummy smile appear.

You walked up to him and kissed his surprised but smiley face.

"How did you?"

"I have my ways"

Walking into the park, to have a nice quiet evening. You and Yoongi sat on the bench and watch the two couple play with their daughter

"Hmm, when we get older you think we will have a girl?" You asked smiling at the scene.

Yoongi soon joined your reaction and says

"A girl? Please it's going to be a boy"

After winning the AMA, Yoongi quickly rushed the boys to go home so that he could celebrate with you.

"Hyung! Stop rushing! I didn't get to say Hi to Nicki Minja!" Jungkook exclaimed with a whine.

"See you wouldn't understand, what i feel, you'll forever be lonely."

Lonely

That's the one word that hunts him now. He's lonely lost without you. Pathetic.

"Sir I’m sorry, but the autopsy says from a drug overdose. I’m sorry for your losses." The doctor told Yoongi as he keeps breaking down.

Namjoon looked at the doctor confused

"Wait losses?"

The Doctor looked confused for a bit

"You didn't know? She was three weeks pregnant"

The boys were in shock when they heard the news, they all looked at Yoongi who cried even harder when he heard the news.

이대로는 무엇도 사랑하고 싶지 않아

( I don’t want to love anything like this )

"Uh hey vlive how are you?" The boys ask as they made a vlive. The fans noticed the change in the boy's mood. They answered the fans questions about new music and etc. Yoongi mostly zoned out of the whole live until a question came up

'Where's Y/N? Doesn't she lives with you guys? Did her and Yoongi broke up?" That fan must have been clueless as to what took place. The boys looked at Yoongi sadly as he leaned forward towards the camera.

"She was killed by society." A few people have been asking as to what he meant, the ones who know what happened, made comments about how they are sorry and how you shouldn't have been through that.

다 해질 대로 해져버린 기억 속을 여행해

( It’s all done as it gets dark. )

( Travel in the memory )

He got up and left the room, making the boys end the vlive.

Yoongi hugged IU, she smiled sadly at his figure. Small, paler than usual.

"Im sorry for what happened." He smiled at her since she understands and feels what he is feeling since she has lost 3 people she loved a lot.

"Im glad I’m working with you on this." She replied as she patted his back.

"Me too."

He sees you in a white flowery dress, hair loose as the breeze plays with your hair.

He sees your smile, that lovely smile of yours. That smile that could melt away his cold heart.

"What are you doing over there?! Come here!" You shouted to him in a cheerfully as you put out a hand for him to grab.

He walks closer to you, grabbing your hand. You ran, tugging his hand with you, giggling crazily.

"You're crazy!"

우리는 오렌지 태양 아래 그림자 없이 함께 춤을 춰

( Under an orange sun ) We dance with no shadows )

"And yet you love me!" You said sliding down the hill with him holding onto your waist.

When the ride had ended you pulled him up and ran to the river, Han's river. The first time you guys met.

"For once I’m actually happy," You said as you looked out into the river.

"Hmm? For what?"

정해진 이별 따위는 없어 아름다웠던 그 기억에서 만나

(There is no such thing as decided farewells) ( Meet me in that memory that was once beautiful )

"For you. You were like a gift to me. You've helped me when I thought I've given up. You showed me love, care, and affection. You and the boys. I’m grateful to have people like you guys into my life."Smiles. That's all you've been doing. Smiling.

He runs up to you and holds your face. He looks into your eyes and cries all of the pain out.

"If I had known you were hurting. . . "

All you did was just keep smiling. That’s one thing Yoongi admires about you. How you could smile through the pain

Forever we young

"If you had known, you would have been hurting too. I didn’t want you too. I wanted you to think I was fine. But just remember I love you." You said as you kissed his cheeks. You turned away and waked away from him.

"Wait wait!!"

He opens his eyes and looked around, confused as to what's going on, then smiled at the memory, then angry at what had happened.

He decided to visit the Jamwon Park were you guys last met in Korea before you left. He found a bench and sat on it where you guys normally sit. He looked to the left and saw one of your favorite flowers dancing with the winds.

He smiled as he remembers a few things. One of them is a quote you've said.

"People maybe went, but they always leave traces of themselves behind."

He closes his eyes as he can feel your kisses from the breeze. He opened his eyes and smile, as he will never forget the romance you both shared, for he will always love your existence and for what you had taught him.

이런 악몽이라면 영영 깨지 않을게

( If it is this kind of nightmare, I won't ever wake up)

I hope you guys enjoy this. I’ve been debating if I should post this or due to you know. I love both IU(i fucking love her) and SUGA.(yeah we all know that I admire him) I also admire and respect the one’s who helped create this song. I’ve been looking up to them since their debuted. (i grew up with kpop). Please don’t resolve to this. Seek help.Your actions can affect the one’s who loves you.

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