#until he started having more serious medical problems

[eepymonstrr]

plsss my dad tryna push religious shit on me 💀 YOU GUYS SEE HOW QUICK THEY ARE TO TURN WHEN THERE’S A MEDICAL ISSUE WITH *THEM*??

[trans-axolotl]

also in regards to that last article about varied ways of thinking about psychosis/altered states that don't just align with medical model or carceral psychiatry---I always love sharing about Bethel House and their practices of peer support for schizophrenia that are founded on something called tojisha kenkyu, but I don't see it mentioned as often as things like HVN and Soteria House.

ID: [A colorful digital drawing of a group of people having a meeting inside a house while it snows outside.]

"What really set the stage for tōjisha-kenkyū were two social movements started by those with disabilities. In the 1950s, a new disability movement was burgeoning in Japan, but it wasn’t until the 1970s that those with physical disabilities, such as cerebral palsy, began to advocate for themselves more actively as tōjisha. For those in this movement, their disability is visible. They know where their discomfort comes from, why they are discriminated against, and in what ways they need society to change. Their movement had a clear sense of purpose: make society accommodate the needs of people with disabilities. Around the same time, during the 1970s, a second movement was started by those with mental health issues, such as addiction (particularly alcohol misuse) and schizophrenia. Their disabilities are not always visible. People in this second movement may not have always known they had a disability and, even after they identify their problems, they may remain uncertain about the nature of their disability. Unlike those with physical and visible disabilities, this second group of tōjisha were not always sure how to advocate for themselves as members of society. They didn’t know what they wanted and needed from society. This knowing required new kinds of self-knowledge.

As the story goes, tōjisha-kenkyū emerged in the Japanese fishing town of Urakawa in southern Hokkaido in the early 2000s. It began in the 1980s when locals who had been diagnosed with psychiatric disorders created a peer-support group in a run-down church, which was renamed ‘Bethel House’. The establishment of Bethel House (or just Bethel) was also aided by the maverick psychiatrist Toshiaki Kawamura and an innovative social worker named Ikuyoshi Mukaiyachi. From the start, Bethel embodied the experimental spirit that followed the ‘antipsychiatry’ movement in Japan, which proposed ideas for how psychiatry might be done differently, without relying only on diagnostic manuals and experts. But finding new methods was incredibly difficult and, in the early days of Bethel, both staff and members often struggled with a recurring problem: how is it possible to get beyond traditional psychiatric treatments when someone is still being tormented by their disabling symptoms? Tōjisha-kenkyū was born directly out of a desperate search for answers.

In the early 2000s, one of Bethel’s members with schizophrenia was struggling to understand who he was and why he acted the way he did. This struggle had become urgent after he had set his own home on fire in a fit of anger. In the aftermath, he was overwhelmed and desperate. At his wits’ end about how to help, Mukaiyachi asked him if perhaps he wanted to kenkyū (to ‘study’ or ‘research’) himself so he could understand his problems and find a better way to cope with his illness. Apparently, the term ‘kenkyū’ had an immediate appeal, and others at Bethel began to adopt it, too – especially those with serious mental health problems who were constantly urged to think about (and apologise) for who they were and how they behaved. Instead of being passive ‘patients’ who felt they needed to keep their heads down and be ashamed for acting differently, they could now become active ‘researchers’ of their own ailments. Tōjisha-kenkyū allowed these people to deny labels such as ‘victim’, ‘patient’ or ‘minority’, and to reclaim their agency.

Tōjisha-kenkyū is based on a simple idea. Humans have long shared their troubles so that others can empathise and offer wisdom about how to solve problems. Yet the experience of mental illness is often accompanied by an absence of collective sharing and problem-solving. Mental health issues are treated like shameful secrets that must be hidden, remain unspoken, and dealt with in private. This creates confused and lonely people, who can only be ‘saved’ by the top-down knowledge of expert psychiatrists. Tōjisha-kenkyū simply encourages people to ‘study’ their own problems, and to investigate patterns and solutions in the writing and testimonies of fellow tōjisha.

Self-reflection is at the heart of this practice. Tōjisha-kenkyū incorporates various forms of reflection developed in clinical methods, such as social skills training and cognitive behavioural therapy, but the reflections of a tōjisha don’t begin and end at the individual. Instead, self-reflection is always shared, becoming a form of knowledge that can be communally reflected upon and improved. At Bethel House, members found it liberating that they could define themselves as ‘producers’ of a new form of knowledge, just like the doctors and scientists who diagnosed and studied them in hospital wards. The experiential knowledge of Bethel members now forms the basis of an open and shared public domain of collective knowledge about mental health, one distributed through books, newspaper articles, documentaries and social media.

Tōjisha-kenkyū quickly caught on, making Bethel House a site of pilgrimage for those seeking alternatives to traditional psychiatry. Eventually, a café was opened, public lectures and events were held, and even merchandise (including T-shirts depicting members’ hallucinations) was sold to help support the project. Bethel won further fame when their ‘Hallucination and Delusion Grand Prix’ was aired on national television in Japan. At these events, people in Urakawa are invited to listen and laugh alongside Bethel members who share stories of their hallucinations and delusions. Afterwards, the audience votes to decide who should win first prize for the most hilarious or moving account. One previous winner told a story about a failed journey into the mountains to ride a UFO and ‘save the world’ (it failed because other Bethel members convinced him he needed a licence to ride a UFO, which he didn’t have). Another winner told a story about living in a public restroom at a train station for four days to respect the orders of an auditory hallucination. Tōjisha-kenkyū received further interest, in and outside Japan, when the American anthropologist Karen Nakamura wrote A Disability of the Soul: An Ethnography of Schizophrenia and Mental Illness in Contemporary Japan (2013), a detailed and moving account of life at Bethel House. "

-Japan's Radical Alternative to Psychiatric Diagnosis by Satsuki Ayaya and Junko Kitanaka

[thevirtualvalentine]

004. ONE PIECE, CAPTAIN KOBY.

content warnings: afab!fem!reader, virgin!koby but it’s not vital to the plot, riding, top!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cheesy “trapped in a small room” smut troupe, penetrative sex, dry humping, sex with feelings, “good boy” is used twice.

plot: your regular patient, Captain Koby, visits your office but you’re both thrown in a small broom closet during an evacuation drill! He may or may not have a crush on you and your dubious positioning on top of him will send him over the edge.

Captain Koby wouldn’t call himself a hypochondriac, but he cannot keep himself from waltzing into the nurses station on some bullshit excuse to see his favorite nurse. He’s just one of many of your admirers, and he’s more than aware of the fierce competition for your attention. While he doesn’t believe rank means anything in the grand scheme of winning your affections, one quick use of his haki has basic cadets running so he can spend alone time with you.

“And what is it this time Captain?” You whip around in your seat when he sheepishly says hello, scratching the back of his neck. You greet him with a sweet smile as he shuffles in.

“Uhhh, heart burn, yeah terrible terrible heart burn. Think you have anything for me?” He knows he’s full of shit, but it’s worth the effort anyway if he gets to see you. His cheeks tinted just as pink as his hair, you’re pretty much the only good thing left on this base and that’s why he can never bring himself to leave until Garp makes him hull ass on another adventure. The way you smile at him so sweetly whenever he speaks makes his heart flutter almost uncomfortably fast in his chest, maybe he does have heart burn…

“At your age? You’re too fit to be bogged down by all these health problems Captain.” He likes the way it sounds when you say his title, it just rolls off your tongue better than anyone else’s.

He’s quick to think of another excuse, “but what if it’s something serious!” You laugh as he sits down on your medical table removing his captains jacket. You pull down your skimpy nurses uniform before walking over to him with his chart on your clipboard, “I just wanna make sure.”

He wins another smile from you as you stand in front of him to check his vitals. You of course note how hot his face is and how he nervously twiddles his thumbs back and forth. He’s cute, too cute. Coming to your office week after week with a bosh excuse.

Koby loves the feeling of your hands on him, how delicate your finger tips skim over his shoulders and face. Of course it’s all professional, but who is he to complain? The scent of your haircare products and vanilla hovering in the air as you walk circles around him. It’s almost like a familiar routine between you two, he comes into bother you and you almost enable his deep-seated crush by not kicking him out flat on his ass.

“Well, no signs of any lingering symptoms Captain Koby, just a fast heart rate.” You shift your weight to one hip, letting your clipboard rest against your waist, his eyes following the curve of your body. “You’re good to go, will I see you next week?” Letting your red pen rest against your bottom lip you ask just to mess around with him a bit. He gets so flustered trying to find the right thing to say and you enjoy watching him gesture nervously as word vomit spews forth.

The line outside your waiting room has gotten exceptionally long during his stay and you don’t mean to rush him out, but, you do have a job to do. One cute little captain isn’t enough to distract you from your goals of helping people. “Next!” You call out down the hallway as he pulls his jacket back on.

The emergency evacuation lights start flickering before the long winded siren accompanies it. There must be some sort of drill as the overhead PA comes on. “Attention! All hands report to the dock. This is an emergency evacuation drill.” It’s been a few months since the last one, but still the obnoxious flickering and blaring alarms make your head reel in agony.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to the dock.” It’s Koby, he’s gesturing his hand forward for you to take as soldiers pour out into the hallways, he wouldn’t want you to get trampled over as thousands of people make their way outside. He’s always been sweet like this, a real gentleman.

His grip is strong and protective, yet gentle and nervous as he takes your hand in his. You’re placed in front of him while he clears the way for you both to pass through, that is until you’re both shoved into an open door connected to the long hallway.

Koby swaddles you into his chest to protect you from falling and the door is slammed shut in the process. You doubt you’d be able to get it open with the amount of people still passing through for at least a good ten minutes.

“Well shit, oh Captain Koby are you ok?” You hear groans beneath you and remember why your fall wasn’t nearly as painful as it could have been. There’s no light in the room and it’s rather cramped, barely any space to extend your limbs as you’re trapped on top of him. You push your hands against what feels like his chest while you try to look for a light, however you only find an oil lamp on a crate. You assume this was an area where people would come to smoke during work hours.

“I’m fine, are you ok? Does anything hurt miss y/n?” The concern in his tone his evident, his hands come to cup your face as he examines for any scratches or bruises. He’d never forgive himself if you were hurt on his accord.

“Hey isn’t that my job, I’m fine Captain thank you.” It finally sets in for him how he’s touching you so intimately and the precarious position you’re left in, sitting on top of him with knees on either sides of his hips.

It’s a view he only imagines late at night when it’s just him and his hand, maybe some lotion if he’s lucky to not wake Helmeppo. The lamp illuminates his flustered face as he tries his best to slide out from under you, apologizing profusely and almost knocking you in the face while flailing around.

“Koby,” you say trying to calm him down but he’s visibly panicking and you feel him stiffening under you with each passing second. While he’s been moving like a lune, you’re still on top of him; dress rising above your thighs as your clothed pussy sits above his cock, he doesn’t mean to but it’s rubbing your clit so pleasantly. “Koby, it’s ok, I’m not mad.”

“W-what—” his glasses that are typically resting on his head now lay on his nose. It’s amusing watching a Captain of the marines so discombobulated.

“I said, it’s ok, I’m not mad.” You push his glasses up his face to get a better look at all of him, he’s rock hard and only getting stiffer. “In fact, I’m flattered.”

You lean forward letting your lips rest against his parted ones, looking in his eyes for any sort of hesitation— but that doesn’t last. A hand flies to your curls as he pulls you forward by the hip, you knew he liked you but you didn’t know just how much. His kisses are inexperienced and starved, like he’s been waiting his whole life to have this exact moment with you.

Kobys trying not to bust in his pants at this ‘unfortunate’ situation he’s been dropped into. Not only does he get to be alone with you, he’s quite literally living his fantasy and you want him just as bad. He’s praying his inexperience doesn’t show but he wants to taste you so bad he’ll risk it all.

“Shirt off,” you command, it’s too stuffy for all these layers. Unzipping the top half of your uniform lets your breasts spill out, soft skin illuminated by the glow of the small lamp. He obeys without any sort hesitation, “you listen well Captain.”

The tips of his ears turn pink when you comment on his lack of reluctance, kissing his cheeks and then down the column of his neck as his baited breaths fill the small space.

He’s so pale you’re worried hickies will get him in trouble with Garp but he’s squirming under you as your lips make contact with his neck. He’s tugging on your clothes so needily as if to say, ‘harder please, I can take it,’ and goodness do you want to give it to him. What the hell, that jacket should cover it up.

He sighs pleasurably as you work on him, hissing when you scratch at his unmarred skin. His palms grab the globes of your ass as he rocks your pussy against his dick. He’s panting with his head rolled back too lost in the pleasure. “You wanna fuck me captain? That why you come to my office every week.”

He merely moans, eyebrows pinching together in concentration. The fabric of his pants rub against your clit so deliciously, dry fucking one of the navy’s top officers during a drill wasn’t in your plans today but holy fuck did it ignite something in you.

You kiss him again, slower this time, letting your hips drag harshly against his bulge just to tease him. Tongue creeping against his in a fight to slow the pace before he cums in his pants.

“Want you to fuck me Captain, please, I’ll make you feel good,” you half moan, tugging the hair at the base of his neck. If the devil was whispering in his ear right now, he’d let you take him. He trembles feeling need surge through him like a wave, all at once he needs to bury his dick in you to the hilt.

One problem, he’s never had sex before. The way your body rolls on top of his makes his mind hazy, forgetting all about the drill going on outside. “Not enough space,” he huffs, “just fuck me, I’m yours.” Quick on his feet, not missing a beat.

Now it’s your turn to swoon. He looks so honest when he says it, hearts in his eyes as he holds your hips; squeezing against your skin reassuringly.

Sitting back on his knees you pull your dress over your head, slipping your panties off as the lantern illuminates your curves in a soft glow. Koby watches enamored, forgetting that this is the part where he’s supposed to whip his dick out.

“Am I gonna hurt you? I didn’t touch you or anything.” He’s trying to not just reach out and grab you, in his deepest fantasies he gets to drill you in missionary while you call out his name. However, he knows stretching you open is an important aspect of sex (according to his books).

“You’re sweet, but we’ve gotta be quick.” Hovering over his length you use your own slick to lube his dick up before you’re trying to slink down it. He’s pretty average in length with a slight allowance in girth, and yes the curtains match the drapes.

The burn stings before it fades out into pleasure. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, that feels so good,” he whines, gripping your thighs with uncanny strength that’ll surely leave bruises. You wrap your arms around his neck as your cunt tries to swallow him, softly sighing as he fits you like a puzzle piece. Down and down you go on his thick shaft.

He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself, you sucking him in threatens to make drool spill down his chin. Never in his life did he think something warm and yet simultaneously wet could make his toes curl like this. “S’tight, keep going please.” You’re leaned over his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, ignoring the sounds of footsteps outside as you start to slowly bounce on Captain Kobys cock.

“Makin’ me feel so full already,” you whisper into his ear, digging your nails into his shoulders as you clench around his girth. The tip of his cock’s bullying your cervix with each bounce of your hips. The sound of your ass meeting his lap melds with his whines as he tries to get ahold of himself. Your pussy’s just too good.

“Ah— oh, fuck! Faster faster,” his voice sounds so vulnerable as your gummy walls squeeze him in, he hasn’t moved his hands from strangling your waist. Pushing you down further and further each time you chase his base.

It’s all so good; your hot breath, your moans for him to fuck you deeper, the way you’re holding onto him like you need him. He’s utterly melting, succumbing for some tight cunt. Maybe those navy stories he heard weren’t full of shit.

Koby’s chasing his orgasm, using your body as a toy subconsciously. Your ass in his hands as he spreads your cheeks, forcing himself in your heat that scorches him in a way he can’t get enough of. “So good Captain, don’t stop. I could cum on you just like this,” you say pushing him back against the wall. It’s so desperate and raw, his mouth chases yours in a hot kiss as your hands tangle in his hair.

He moans like a little slut each time his tresses are wrapped around your fingers, saliva connecting his mouth to yours. The fucked out look on his face is priceless. “So handsome, what a good boy you are.” Wiping excess drool that threatens to spill past the corner of his lip as he looks like he’s about to cry. His hips jumping to meet yours as that phrase leaves your mouth.

“Oh you like that?” Such a useful piece of information, “then be a good boy and cum for me.”

The whimper that leaves his throat is guttural, high pitched as it rips through the air. His strong arms work double time to slam you down over and over again like a machine. He finishes inside you as he clutches you to his chest, keeping himself tucked inside your cunny while his cock twitches n coats your walls white.

“So good Koby, jus like that baby.” You’re rolling your hips on his, trying to milk out anything remaining as he gasps from the stimulation.

“Oh no wait, what about you? I’m so sorry—” he doesn’t even let himself pull out of you before he’s speaking a thousand miles a minute. No worries, you have an idea for that.

You both get dressed as you hear the crowds returning, helping him zip up his jacket to cover the already bruising areas of his neck. Koby pulls your dress down over your ass and then some, like he’s your protective boyfriend or something, you just roll your eyes.

Stepping out into the hallway in a sea of people you hold his hand as he walks behind you, slipping into the crowd unnoticed. You forgot to smooth his hair out so he looks like he’s just slept in some crazy position, oops. He’s got this love drunk look on his face as you lead him back to your office and shut the door. Hearts buzzing around him as he follows you, not even an arrow from Cupid could replicate that look. You get some stares here and there, but your cunts throbbing for more so you couldn’t care less.

You place your “Be back soon <3! “ sign on the handle before turning around to find him sitting on your patients table, looking a bit too eager for round two.

“Now Captain, finish what you started. Nurses orders.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Lazarus (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 2)

"According to tradition, Lazarus never smiled during the thirty years after his resurrection, worried by the sight of unredeemed souls he had seen during his stay in Hell..."

Word count: 5.7 k

Tags and warnings: Angst, fluff, soft smut 🔞. Slightly possessive!Ghost. Graphic depictions of past suicidal thoughts. Dating, kissing, cuddlefucks, emotions (the most daunting cw there is). Unfettered prose about a grown man's complex trauma. Reader is female and works as a medic at the base. Ghost POV.

Summary: You've just started dating Ghost. (This is a standalone sequel to Refugee)

She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.

She's a soft blooming to the senses.

And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.

. . .

They're some kind of a secret, although he doesn't know why exactly.

Perhaps because she knows enough by now. She knows he's a dead man.

A ghost.

And women like her don't date apparitions. They deserve more than just bones and a haunting: they deserve flesh and blood and solid ground. She deserves far more than promises he has no power or right to give.

He has no mandate for life. His is a half-life, and stolen; he's living on borrowed time.

She doesn't only protect his phantom, she shields herself from talk and rumors. It's only understandable. He takes everything she gives him, which is more than he deserves.

He fucks her to ruin on the conference table people share in the meetings. He makes her leak all over his desk during quiet afternoon hours of his office; he makes her come on his tongue in the fucking hangar after a long day, just to get the taste of dry desert sand off his mouth.

She stops complaining about propriety after that. After all, she's the one who came there on his call and allowed him to rip her pants down when there was only settling dust to accompany them in the quiet hall.

It doesn't take long to see that the woman's not actually complaining at all. She fucking loves it when he barges in and simply takes her.

And he buries himself inside her like she's the base. His home after a mission, his destined location after deployment. She lets him fuck her practically anywhere except on the floor.

That's his place. And he has no problem with lying down there in the filth, especially if it means he gets to watch how she sits on his cock until that pretty little face distorts with pleasure that looks like pain.

His field pants and navy blues have cum stains after his visits while she cleans herself up in no time, fixes her hair and looks as innocent as ever. His mask smells of cunt when he's trying to concentrate on missions, and the scent of her juice makes him hard while he's supposed to be instilling brass into bodies. He smokes cigarettes just to drive the maddening taste of her from his tongue.

He's gonna get killed one of these days. The irony doesn't escape him: it's not a bullet or a grenade that will take him, but that sweet, hazy memory of her cunt.

She's an obsession. He injects himself full of her like the most pathetic addict.

Until one day, she says it can't continue like this. That it won't do to rut like animals until the smell of mad sex coats the room she's supposed to stitch and staple people in.

It causes a small panic till she asks him to visit her.

In her home.

It sounds serious: it sounds like she wants more than just his cock. And he's fucking terrified.

Women think about whether to wear this dress or that on a date: he thinks about whether to put on the mask or not – he meditates on it for two whole hours. Everything else is clean and in order; he looks like a human and not a soldier. But he can't rid himself of the skeleton.

There's a storm coming when he reaches her place. It electrifies the air until his spine is full of thunder.

She seems surprised – happily so – when she finds him at the door, decent as can be. He gets one of those innocent smiles which are pure sin beneath.

"You came."

"Sure."

She doesn't ask why he's always wearing a mask. She takes what he has to give, which is his all, which he fears will never be enough.

"There's food–"

She lets out a delightful little noise when he picks her up and carries her to what looks like the biggest and softest bed he has ever laid a woman on, ever laid himself on.

So, she likes luxury. Or at least, comfort.

Softness. Hugs… Support.

And kisses, apparently, because his mask is lifted without permission. Not that she needs one.

"Simon, I made you some dinner," she laughs in his mouth, and he's smiling – she's the only one who makes him fucking smile.

"Later," he rasps with a sore throat – he has become soft, too, and it's her fault. He has barked orders all day, but with her, his voice always comes out quiet and calm.

Where her domain at work consists of harsh lights and sterile frigidity, her home is dark and warm like a womb. His senses are filled with lemon and thyme – she has made something he's never tried before, something… Mediterranean, perhaps. A culinary ambrosia for someone who has lived on dog food and tried to thrive on it.

It's a pity that he's a barbarian, and here for dessert. As much as he likes the dainty little thing she has put on just for him, it's not cunning enough to stop him from ripping it to shreds.

She protests at first with a posh little gasp, but then she spreads her legs like it's open season and he's the VIP customer. The laced, pathetic little thing lays in wreckage around all that softness creaming just for him, and his mouth shoots full of water.

The feel of her is better than sinking a knife between two ribs. She's velvet on his scar and coarse stubble and for the first time in his life, he curses the mask. She moans all around him, tries to grab him by the hair still under the black fabric.

And it makes him want to rip it off and let her yank and tug to her heart's content, grab his hair and push his face as deep inside her cunt as it goes.

He tries to fit inside her apartment, a serene space filled with scented candles and clean carpets and frilly little curtains that shift in the restless night wind.

He tries to fit inside her.

The attempt always makes her moan and tremble and sigh. It's hard to focus on the task at hand when he wants to freeze the moment to where her lashes flutter and she stops breathing for a second – when she takes him in with grace and hunger.

"Oh fuck…"

She swears this time, watches with helplessness and an open mouth as his cock slowly disappears inside her. Then she looks up at him like…

Like she's missed him.

"You're a brute," she whispers, eyes shining.

"Thought you liked brutes."

"I made you dinner and you…Ah…"

He arrives home, heavy and loaded with yearning.

First things first.

It has been a week, and there's been no time to relieve the pain, nowhere to go and wank off the sickness that festers inside him every second they're apart. And she's the only one who can cure his disease. But he does feel like a brute for not letting her feed him. When was the last time anyone made him anything?

The sea is booming now, roaring behind the window she has left open. This time, they're not fucking at the base, in some corner of a room with a lock hurriedly latched on. He's fucking her amidst doused lights and a seaside breeze that enters their skin through an open window. He's at the beach, even when there's no sun. The sands are even more stunning with a gathering storm.

He fucks her like a dog, and she looks at him with weak love in her eyes. She's looking up at him with those big, wet eyes like he's the best leader there is - like she's counting on him. Like the people under his command, those who ask for his advice, ask for the next move.

It drives him fucking insane.

It's even better than a good round of sex: that unbound look of adoration. His mask is a poor shield against all that. She slips past it like she's the expert in clandestine warfare here. And suddenly he doesn't want any more secrets. There's a ton of them already; he carries the weight of them in his soul.

He's an underdog, always has been, but he's also a hound for claiming her as his that night.

After he's done fucking her to oblivion, he descends. She comes alive like a jolt of lighting in his arms as he kisses her, then sucks the tender skin of her neck. Everyone's going to see it, he makes sure of that by using the tiniest amount of teeth to finally mark her. She moans an equal amount as she does when she's clenching around his cock.

"Did you just give me a hickey?" She asks, breathless when he's done.

"High time, don't you think," he mutters. The woman will look glorious on the beach and highly improper at work.

Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas…

"You're unbelievable." She only laughs at his obsession. The woman’s not afraid at all, even when she’s face to face with a monster. The sunshine of her smile pairs well with the crackle of thunder outside.

"You want a beer?"

He's too drugged to answer with nothing else than a surprised, drowsy blink. She laughs again and takes it as a yes, which it is. He stares in awe as the woman walks to the fridge, all naked and lax from his treatment, takes out a bottle, opens it, and brings it to him. She takes none for herself; she only serves him like he's some kind of a king. When he takes a sip, she smiles again: lighting flashes somewhere in the distance and gives her an aureole of light, a halo of an angel for a second.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." The wink she gives him makes it perfectly clear that she wouldn't mind him joining her. But as she goes by the mirror, the vision of his claim stops her.

"Simon…"

He gets a scolding, and it only makes the corner of his mouth tug.

"No concealer is going to cover this."

"That's the point," he takes another sip while lying on her too-soft bed. She shakes her head before walking to the shower. The eye of the storm is above him, and everything's silent, like he's lounging on a dream.

The bottle in his hand sweats cold condense in his hand, and like always with her, he finds himself in the present moment. He drinks the beer in less than ten seconds, then takes the mask off and leaves it somewhere among the sweat and cum stained sheets.

It's the first time she has seen him without the shield, the first time she sees his body in full light. Every protrusion of white scar, every part of uneven skin, every marring of two and three stage burns is visible as if he is on a well-lit stage.

"Well. Pleased to meet you."

The smile that greets him, the veil of surprise that draws aside to reveal pure delight and marvel is more than worth the risk. She's frozen in time with a bottle of shower gel in her hands, too preoccupied with the trust he has decided to arm her with. She now has power over him, but he proceeds to do what he came here to do. Which is to make her sing a second time.

"For what do I owe this pleasure–"

The bottle falls on the tiles with a soft plunk as he steps between her legs and lifts her against the wall.

On that, she doesn't only kiss him; she takes the scar of his lip between hers and sucks. The warm water is nothing compared to her hands which sweep up and down his back and release years and years of tension. She whines when he only gives her shallow thrusts, then tries to claw his back to get more of his cock. It makes him chuckle.

"Needy," he comments on such delightful hunger, and she lets out the most annoyed, frustrated noise he has ever heard on her.

"Stop teasing, Riley…"

She tends to use his last name when she's fed up with him. It's supposed to create distance, but it only makes him latch himself onto her more fiercely.

He could torture her, delve deep, dig out even more frustrated sounds from her, but that's a quest for another time. He grants her wish along with his own and slides fully in. She kisses him through the whole fucking, and he feels like he's in boiling water, cooking until the raw meat grows tender and prepared.

And he realizes he's not actually fucking her: he's making love to her. He didn't even know he could do that.

When they've had their fill, the water takes away his gift. It feels wrong that something meant to be inside her leaks down some filthy drain. It's like a testimony, an illustration of his whole life: that his essence, his worth, belong in the sewers.

"You're a beautiful man," she whispers on his skin while caressing his back filled with past torture. His stomach churns, he feels like throwing up and falling asleep at the same time. An odd sensation.

She holds his mutilated corpse under the descending water and breathes life into him. The vomit never comes. He exhales history on her skin, inhales some peace in its stead.

In the morning the sound of thunder has been replaced by myriad birdsong.

. . .

He never meant to bring her here, but the wind on the beach is too harsh today and she's cold. It would be ungentlemanly not to get her a jacket from his apartment when it's only a few hundred meters away.

"To say that this place needs a woman's touch would be an understatement, Riley."

There's little else here but a tv and a fridge. He doesn't need either of them, but they're there to remind him what a home should look like. She takes the deafening silence and barren wasteland well, far better than he ever imagined she would.

"Y'can touch anything you want."

She turns and raises an eyebrow – he already knows that look. He's in for it now.

"Smooth... Very smooth." She walks to him and pushes him to the armchair. Not with force, because she doesn't need it. He falls to the sagged old thing like it's suddenly cloud nine rather than his old deathbed.

He waits for her to climb onto his lap and ride him until the chair breaks under the weight of their love. He could use a new chair anyway.

But she doesn't do that.

She gives her what this place has been missing.

A woman's touch.

Her mouth is hot as hell, wet like the gulfs that used to drown men in the sea centuries ago. She's a siren with her songs, but this time, she's quiet.

The room is not: the deathlike silence is suddenly filled with wet urgency and sloppy sounds of adoration. All his hauntings recede to the shadows like the blowjob is a whole exorcism.

His head falls back, and the first charred moan coats the air like it's been entombed for decades. And it has.

She is encouraged by the sound, and the tongue that sweeps the underside of his cock sends him jolting from his shallow grave.

Jesus fuckin'–

"Fuck…" He tries to blink back tears or death while looking at the crumbling paint on the ceiling. He feels equally worn out on her tongue: old and a lot of work, but a woman's touch is like magic.

"Mm–h." She dares to moan on his cock as if it's the best thing she's had in her mouth in decades, too. She even brushes her fingertips over his balls like they're some newfound treasure. They pull taut under her touch, stupefied by the sudden attention.

He can feel the upcoming blaze. It gathers at the base of his spine, his cock is brick-heavy in her mouth, and she won't stop – fuck, she goes even deeper…

"Fuckin' hell, pet…"

His thighs bunch and spread, a scorching groan erupts like he's a volcano and not a man. That's when she gives his cock a long, torturing suck, and he's gone, there’s no time and space other than her hot velvet mouth that surrounds him like the hot core of a star.

She adds a hand at the base of him, and he explodes so hard that he barely has brain cells left to worry about whether she will choke on it. But she doesn't even gag, even if the first spurts must be more than generous.

Fuck, this woman…

He melts in the chair while she finishes the rest of him, takes all he has to give, like she always does. They're an odd pair: an angel and a demon, and he feels like he's finally saved, resurrected – this room, this chair has never seen anything like this.

It's different with her, the emptiness that comes after. It's not filled with grief but deliverance.

He wants her to know what she’s just done, but he knows the things he's good at, and he knows the things he's not. Words are one of those things. She moans and begs and shatters and swells in his arms, she takes on a volcano and resurrects corpses long since dead, and he still doesn't know how to tell her. That he's hers, that he wants to make her feel as good as he bloody fucking can. He could be tortured for days and he still wouldn't know the right words. He tries to tell it to her in other ways and sees how she settles.

He would rather kill the whole human population on this earth than see her settle for anything.

So he forces the strange words out, fleshes them on his tongue and pushes them through teeth to haunt the stale air of his apartment that has never seen such love before.

"I missed you."

Of course it sounds so odd that she laughs. Bitter, too.

"You missed my tongue."

"No. I missed you."

She finally raises her eyes to his, doesn't try to blink back the watercolors. Those eyes are shining; they're beckoning.

"I missed you too," she says, then lays her head on his thigh like she's only a humble servant begging for mercy.

It's a farce. He's a skeleton, a ghoul of useless rubble while she's celestial; she's summer, a fucking empress.

It rips his chest to see her on her knees on the dirty floor, that she's comforting him in a chair that should've been his disposal site. The leather was supposed to be painted with shards of bone and puddles of pink-white brain; this room was supposed to echo with a single blast of a gunshot, not with roars of fragile love. He would've been found relatively soon, the neighbors wouldn't have had to complain about the smell: after all, the military takes care of their own. A lieutenant's absence wouldn't have gone unnoticed, even if everything else in him would never have been missed by anyone.

He brushes her hair, and she sighs, oblivious to his past hell. All nine circles of it, an inferno that would put poets to shame. And she doesn't know she has pulled him from the depths just by smiling.

. . .

"Promise to come back."

"Yeah I promise."

He can't promise that. Fuck, that he wants to.

Every bullet acquires sound, like that birdsong from her little window. They gain weight, they start to carry death. It used to be his power: to bring destruction. He was put on this earth to reap.

Now he's alive.

He's suddenly a man who can be killed.

Now everything's bright like he's a newborn trying to get used to a world full of pain. Light and sound and time and space; mortality.

Sharpened instincts have never been his friend. It used to be a simple dance: knife out, knife in. Drop 'em.

Line the sights and deal extinction. Walk like a ghost until the battering ram announces there's death coming.

It takes him a while to understand where the sorcery lies.

It's in the senses. She's sensuous.

"Simon–"

He hears her in the shaded crevice of rocks, catches phantom notes of vanilla from the dry desert air that tries to push through the filthy fabric of his mask. She’s with him just before the hatch opens, and for the first time in his life, he hesitates before the jump.

She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm, cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.

She's a soft blooming to the senses. And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.

He has to learn how to come back to his senses. It's a joke that makes him wish he could shed tears. Luckily, she's the best teacher he could ever have.

"Fuck, Simon…"

He tries to quit smoking just to be able to taste her better. A scorched tongue is a curse when a man can't get enough of cream and silk.

"I need you. Need you so much. You don't even know..."

He knows. He knows that the depth of his need surpasses hers; it always has and always will.

The last time he saw her wasn't at the base; it was when he woke up to the sight of her foraging for orange juice from the fridge with his sweatshirt on. She combined sultry lace and bare, smooth skin with an old, black hoodie.

And it swallowed her. All his darkness. She only looked sleepy and content while being smothered by all that dark cotton.

"I'm gonna make some breakfast," she announces upon seeing he's awake. "You like bacon and eggs?"

What the fuck did I do to deserve you.

She knows full well she could offer him a chest filled with gold, and it wouldn't be half as tempting as her little American breakfast.

"That'll do."

He was supposed to go to the shower but instead, his feet take him right back to her. She gives him a pleasant hum when his hands fall on her shoulders and start to rub some stress away. He knows it will make her moan, as it does now. She leans a little into him, surrenders to his treatment.

"Simon… Do you come here just for sex?"

The hiss of cooking bacon almost drowns the question. Just one syllable less, and the question would be as she originally meant it to be.

Does he come to her just for sex.

"No."

She turns to look at him with a shy little smile. It makes him want to crush her against that counter until those lips part with a helpless sound.

"I like your cooking."

"You…ass," she laughs, shoves him lightly.

He treats every day like it’s his last with her, waits patiently for her to realize he is not the man she thinks he is. Under the bones he wears there’s only more bones, nothing more. She can feed him all she wants, but it will only make him more hungry; and a day will come when she sees he’s not actually a man at all but a yawning, six feet grave.

The black cotton hugs her and makes it falsely look like this woman belongs to him. It’s another round of torture to see how she takes his shirt, takes his cock, plays with the only things he can give her for a while or two.

She has the sweater on as she gives him the softest farewell smile. She adds a few words, some more detail to her request. In truth, it's his new protocol.

"Promise to come back to me."

He doesn't ask for the sweatshirt back.

She's left with it and his promise.

. . .

"Poor lass's always sulking when you're on those solo missions."

He knows that Price might know about them by now. But if Soap knows, everyone knows.

He doesn't care: after all, the woman doesn't even try to conceal the seductive looks and dreamy smiles she gives him whether there are other people present or not. They're not a secret anymore. Perhaps that's the way she wants it to be.

But the information Soap gives him is new.

"She is?"

He goes straight to her after the plane lands. Doesn't give a single fuck about that smug look the boy gives him.

She looks slightly surprised as he simply walks in: she can see he's filthy. He has grime on his hands, on the fingerless gloves that make it easier to operate a gun when there's no threat of sweating. He smells of smoke and ruin, gasoline and tobacco – a lousy compensation for her, a ridiculous substitute to calming his nerves when he knows the mission is going to be tricky. It already pisses him off that her cream will be mixed with smoke and disease again. He knows his weaknesses, which aren't many. But with her, he has learned it's not about the quantity.

The sorrow is briefly disguised from him. It's admirable: the way she tries to hide even the plainest of things. He knows her by now, knows that the sun casts shadows too. She should know he's the one she can cast them safely with.

The throat between the shoulders burdened by work and worries looks fragile in his hands. A bird's neck he could wrench without breaking a sweat.

"Mmh. I love your hands."

"Just my hands?"

He shouldn't be touching her with his filth, but he can't help it anymore. If she loves it, who is he to argue back?

Love your hands too.

Fuck, I love your smile. Your tits, your lips. That little pout you got when you don't get what you want right away.

I love–

She sighs. Then she cranes that beautiful neck, clings to him with one, tiny hand. "Why are you here, Simon?"

"Heard you were sulking," he mutters in her hair.

"What…?" She laughs. She laughs, but she's not happy. "What on earth are you talking about?"

She's shy. Reserved. Hiding behind a wall of humor and sunshine and smiles. His darkness penetrates it all.

"Heard you're devastated when I'm gone," he tries even more softly.

She could take it as arrogance. One of his lousy jokes. But she knows better than that.

"I am," she finally says, angel-soft. When she turns, there's finally sorrow in her eyes. She looks up at him, up, up, again with that stare that says I am yours to command. On the brink of tears; tears he wants to battle to the abyss. But his muscles are no use here.

Her lip trembles, just a little, when he brushes his knuckles over her cheek.

"We can't have that."

"We can't?"

"No."

"Well what are you going to do about it?"

Her voice is soft, pleading. It's not a demanding question: the woman's simply out of it. She wants assistance, assurance.

What are your orders, sir?

She worries too much. Up until this point, he thought it’s just because she's dutiful, responsible, one of the best employees there is. But she's not tense from work.

It's not just the missed you's she whispers when his skin is at its most thin.

She fears losing him.

Stone-cold realism is required in his field of work; no sleight of hand magic can help him when he's facing the unavoidable. If the mission is impossible, he doesn’t take it. Because he can't change the unchangeable; he can't fight the inevitable. They both know he can't promise anything.

They both know he will do his best to come back. There was a time he would’ve considered it a blessing if he didn’t. Death used to be his only ticket to some peace.

She gives him an impossible mission, and he can't say no. Leadership is about taking care of people. His people. And she's more than just a subordinate.

He grabs her by the waist and raises her to the counter, relishes the way she gasps. She weighs nothing in his hands after cold, hefty cannons. It’s almost like she gains wings and flits to the tabletop designed for him to take her. It’s the perfect height for him to simply open his pants and alleviate her pain.

"Gonna fuck you until you cry."

She sighs. "You can't solve every problem with a gun or a cock, Riley."

The woman knows how to penetrate him, too. The stabbing doesn’t stop even when her thighs part slowly - she knows, just as much as he, that this is the best way to remind her just how alive he is. This is the only thing he can give her, and he is damn right going to deliver. His hand covers half of her thigh as he brushes a thumb over the sensitive inner side.

"You sure about that?"

That look of desperation makes him hard already. Her hands go about his neck in a perfect paradox with what she whispers next.

"Honey… Not here."

She calls him honey. As if this tar-black madness is only golden nectar to her.

"No?"

It’s not only sorcery, but necromancy: how she’s brought him back from the grave. No wonder such arts are considered dangerous. This is forbidden, and still, he cannot stop.

"Ya want me to stop?"

"...No."

He leaves most of her uniform on because he is in too much of a hurry to get between her legs. The woman molds herself against him the second his tip meets her folds.

"God, you feel good," she sighs as he slides in. It's like a prayer: both her words and his return back to the base. Alive.

"So fucking good…"

Fuckin' tell me about it.

She whimpers and clutches him like a little leech. Almost cries already.

"That's it. You just hold onto me."

If someone heard the way he's cooing in her ear, they would deem him soft in the head. He doesn't give a fuck.

Her moans chime inside his head like the softest, most beautiful opera. He has never been a man of high culture. The whole civilization could go to hell for all he cared. But she sings to him so beautifully that even a man like him can finally see the appeal. Legs wrap around him even tighter than those small hands until he doesn't know who's holding who here.

"That feel good..?"

"Yes… Don't stop, just don't stop."

She's almost limp in his arms. Good. He's managed to relieve that tension already.

He goes deeper, deeper, and a tiny hand that saves people instead of slaughtering them grabs him by the shirt, probably in an instinct to try and catch some skin. He can't see her face but the body against him trembles and shakes as he spreads her wide and pours love in her.

"No need to sulk, sweetheart. I got you."

She's crying, or laughing, or both. Of course she likes pet names paired with support. He adds it to the list of things the woman loves, the things he can give her. He hopes, half expects that she will shed some tears after shattering around his cock. She needs a good cry as much as she needs him. And nothing feels as good as this: being needed by her.

When she comes with an arched back and a scream he fears and hopes will reach every other officer here, he knows he can let go too. He's done his duty: now it's time to collect the reward. It's not transactional, she's not work, but she's still his responsibility. The woman's paycheck is fatter than anything he could ever get from his employer. He's inside her, but that doesn't mean she isn't inside him too. She's embedded in him in ways that threaten to swallow him and leave him on the shore like bleach-white bones on a beach. He stays inside her long after the waves have passed. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he doesn't dare to move.

"I still have your sweatshirt," she sighs while holding him.

"Good. Looks better on you."

"I sleep with it sometimes," she whispers and wraps herself around him so tight that he wishes he could be there every night to send her to sleep. Now she only has his memory as a company, some darkness far too big for her. "Sleep in it, actually."

His mind is like a wheel that turns around nothingness. There's nothing to hold on to; he's falling through starless space.

The eerie sound of gunshot echoes in his head, he thinks about the splatter of brain matter on the armchair; how there's at least one person in this world who would cry from hearing the news.

And not just any person, but her; a whole summer in one woman. A midsummer sun, missing some forgotten, weatherbeaten bones on a beach when there's plenty of flora and fauna to shine on.

"If you ever break your promise…"

She sniffs in his neck, and his embrace tightens instantly.

"Would rather die than break it."

His promise doesn't make any sense. Or perhaps it makes every sense. She finally cries like she's supposed to.

"Shh. I'm here now."

I'm not dead.

I'm not dead.

[five-rivers]

Prompt: Danny’s birth was an accident.

A lab accident, to be precise.

The problem with researching something as esoteric as ghosts was that you had to source all your own materials. If you wanted to know how high ectoplasm concentrations affected human cells, you either had to buy from ethically dubious medical supply companies or use your own.

Maddie used her own. Or Jack's. They worked together, and he was fine with it, so it was essentially the same thing, ethically, if not biologically.

Either way, they kept a whole variety of tissue samples, sourced from themselves. Cheek swabs, bone marrow samples, skin, hair, a tooth Jack had to get pulled, blood, serum and whole, a couple biopsies from different organs, spinal fluid, sperm, a collection of egg cells.

If they were going to market their inventions as family friendly and safe, they needed to know it wasn't going to render anyone sterile. They had Jazz already, and one child was quite enough, but other people might want more. Or assurances it wasn't going to mutate their children, before or after birth. Although in Maddie's opinion, that was quite ridiculous. Ectoradiation was quite different from electromagnetic radiation, or alpha radiation, or other traditional types.

So, that was what Maddie was researching now. Eggs and sperm. She wasn't about to do anything fertilized, of course. Too many ethical problems. But she would put a different concentration of ectoplasm in each test tube for one set, then duplicate those concentrations for the second set, then set up some eggs in one set of vessels, and a sample of sperm in the other, then run them for the same amount of time. Fourteen with eggs, fourteen with sperm. A bit of an odd number, but that's what happened in independent labs. Test tubes broke, and then if you wanted to control your experiments, and keep everything the same, you had to do things in odd numbers. Or buy new test tubes. But the more time you spent shopping, the less time you spent experimenting.

She started with the eggs. One by one, putting them into the the test tubes. One... two... three... four... bottom of the column... five... six... seven... eight... bottom of the column... nine... ten... eleven... twel--

"Maddie! I'm taking Jazz out to see you know who for you know what!"

"Dad!" said Jazz, her two-year-old voice squeaky with outrage. "I know we're going to the doctor!"

"Oh, right!" she called back. "That was today, thanks you for remembering, hun!" Usually, she was the one of them to remember important dates, but Jack was really on top of things for Jazz. It was nice.

"No problem, Mads! Good luck with the mutation experiment!"

"Thanks!" She turned back to the rack of test tubes. Now, where was she? She'd just finished that row... She had sorted them by row, hadn't she? Of course she had. So, she should start with the sperm. Right

She picked up the pipette and started from the top of the column. One.. two... three... four... She kept going, until she hit fourteen, and still had two test tubes left.

Well. That wasn't good. She must have-- Had she overlapped? Or had she just not finished filling the egg test tubes? If the latter, she could just put the last two eggs in the last two test tubes. And label them a little more carefully. She rearranged her worktable and peered into the container she'd carried the thawed eggs over in.

One. One unopened egg.

Hands shaking slightly, Maddie counted back to the thirteenth test tube. The one with the second-highest concentration of ectoplasm. The one that she had almost certainly put both an egg cell and sperm into. She pulled it out of the rack and set it in an empty one, then sat and stared.

This was a serious mistake.

Oh, she knew she could just dump it out in the sink or in the biological waste box, or any number of other things. Even moving at their fastest, sperm took a while to get into an egg. It might not have gotten there yet. And even if it had... Few people would consider a single cell a human being. But... Maddie had been raised Irish Catholic. She couldn't...

She sighed. Before she got carried away, she needed to check to see if it had even... taken, she supposed she should call it. If there was any life there. The ectoplasm could very well have acted as an inhibitor.

She licked her lips and reached for a microscope. First, find out what had happened, then talk to Jack, and then... then they would decide what to do. Together.

[akutasoda]

bloody confessions

synopsis - in a sudden realisation they may never see you again, they have something to say

includes - diluc, kaeya, xiao, sara, cyno, wriothesley

warnings - gn!reader, angst to comfort in some, angst, mentions of blood, reader is fighter in kaeya's and sara's, reader dies in kaeya's(sorry), wriothesely may be occ, enemies to lovers, wc - 2.1k

diluc ragnvindr ★↷

mistakes. diluc has made alot of those in his life, some of them worse than others. but the worse one to date is letting you end up in this condition.

you were one of diluc's most trusted friends since his childhood, someone that stuck through him thick and thin. but someone along that line of friendship you had started to wish that it was something slightly more than a strong friendship. but you had no idea if diluc felt the same and not wanting to make things awkward you kept quiet about your growing feelings.

but little did you know diluc felt the same way. but both of you were scared that the other may not feel the same way. but passers-by could see that both of you were struggling with your feelings. more specifically diluc's brother kaeya. who practically couldn't help but cringe at the awkwardness knowing his brother was hopelessly in love with you but couldn't bring himself to confess.

but eventually with a little prodding from kaeya, diluc starrted to plan his way to confess. even eventually asking adeline for help, who couldn't help but smile at the idea of diluc finally confessing. but it seemed the archon's weren't in his favour.

on the day if his confession diluc went out to meet you in his wineyard. as the previous day he asked you to meet him there. but after 10 - 15 minutes of waiting passed the time agreed, you hadnt shown up. he tried to tell himself you were just running late that you would be here any minute but that was doing little to his hopes of confessing. eventually he heard someone approaching. thinking it was you he started mentally preparing himself, until ge saw adeline round the corner wearing a concerned look. 'master diluc I'm afraid I've come bearing bad news' this sent his mind into a spiral. 'what kind of bad news?' he was hoping to the archons it wasn't to do with you but seeing as adeline told him presumably right away it was serious. 'im afraid your going to have postpone your confession, they are currently being tended after a serious accident'.

this sent his heart racing, and his mind clouded with worry and anger. adeline explained how some fatui skirmishers had ambushed you and left you in a critical state, dead had not the knights of favonius stepped in. as diluc approached where you were recovering, he had ran into a medic and asked how you were and after confirming you were fine and just needed to rest but he could go see you, he couldn't help but grimace at your bloodied state. matted hair, bandage's, archons he wished he was there to save you. he knelt beside you taking your slightly cold but warming hand in his he pressed it to his lips and in a moment of weakness spilled out all his confessions, knowing you were unconscious and probably wouldnt hear him, but it made him feel better.

kaeya alberich ★↷

you two were known as an unstoppable duo in the knights of favonius. his stragetic thinking paired with your power in combat, you two were a package deal. but recently that had been concerns with more abyss mage's showing up near mondstadt's border. needing only you to go out and sort out the arising problem.

this concerned kaeya more than it should've. to most it seemed like he was worried because you were working partners and this was the first mission in a while you would be separated. and he thought so too. he tried to think rationally but the longer he tried to deny his budding feelings for you, the stronger they became. and he could only hope you returned safely and maybe he could get over his denial and confess.

so on the day you were meant to return, exactly 3 days you were set to be gone - he kept track, kaeya couldn't focus in his work and instead promted to wait for you. he waited until he saw a figure in the distance thinking it was you he got up excitedly, until he saw more people with the figure and the closer they came he noticed you. but you weren't looking like your normal self. you laid unconscious in another knights arm's as they rushed passed him hoping to get you the urgent treatment you needed. he was frozen in place for a while until he realised he needed to check how you were.

he paced outside where you were being treated waiting for the medic's to let him in as he was told it wasn't wise for him to be in there while you were being treated. until the noises of the medics near your bed went silent as tine seemed to stop. panic-stricken, he barged into where you were to see the grimaces on everyone's faces as they didnt stop him from teaching out to grab your hand. your hand that felt colder than anything he had ever felt before.

adeptus xiao ★↷

xiao was reluctant to let you, a mortal, into his life. he was scared his karmic debt would affect you aswell as his past comrade's. but you were insistent on becoming the yaksha's friend. and eventually you earned a spot in his heart.

eventually after being close to the yaksha for a while he started feeling a new feeling he had never felt before. whenever you dragged him to do things he felt a flutter in his stomach that made him feel weird. he didn't know what to do. everytime you smiled at him or did something with or for him he felt this way and he was at loss of what to do about it. maybe it would just go away.

that was until one day he returned to the wangshu inn and verr goldet immediately called for him to tell him 'just to be clear, they should be fine-', that set him up in alarm. there was only one person that verr goldet would know that he had a bond with. you. he immediately went to your room in the wangshu inn, after listening to verr goldet explain the whole story to him.

he looked upon you bandaged body that hid your worst wounds from him. why didn't you call for him? he knelt beside you and with no explanation looked ahead and started spewing out confessions about how you made him feel. 'you are the only person to make me feel these things, stay and help me understand them.'

kujou sara ★↷

you were an upcoming soilder in the tenryou commission. you had alot of potential and that attracted even the general herself. she never really was that intrested in her fellow soilders, she got along with them sure that's what any good general would do but you seemed different.

originally she thought it was your quick rise in the ranks, or something similar. but it seemed different when she had a small twinge of jealousy stir within her when a soilder became overly friendly with you. she also found intrest in how when sparring, you wanted to spar with her and surprisingly managed to keep up pretty well.

but eventually you were placed on a patrol with some other similar ranking commission members a fair way away from the camp. she had made decisions like this for a while but this one felt different and more personal for her. she pushed those feelings back and insisted to herself that they would pass. although she still counted down the days till you returned not that she would admit.

but when you returned you were beaten, bruised and completely bloody, the only one to return. you passed out before you even stepped into the camp and had to be rushed back into inazuma for urgent treatment. turns out your camp was ambushed and destroyed within seconds. Sara felt an indescribable amount of fear at the thought of losing you so she felt compelled to finish the mission as quickly as possible and check up on you and maybe get revenge. this was a shock to other soilders but no one spoke about it, they wouldn't dare. but sara was more aware of her feelings now and as much as she hated to think of it but maybe confessing to you wasn't that bad when you recovered.

cyno ★↷

you had met the general mahamatra through your friend tighnari. you were a nature researcher who had moved to sumeru to learn more about avidya forest and its close by equivalents. and your old friend tighnari was the forest watcher at avidya. however soon introduced you to cyno.

you had originally only planned to spend 6 months in sumeru but the bountiful enviroments and the people you met meant you stayed longer than intended. and eventually you were offered a job in looking at nature in the desert of hadramaveth. it was a way away but you had high hopes for it. however cyno felt slightly differently. over the past months cyno had started developing what tighnari had to point out to him, a crush.

on the day you were to depart, you bid farewells and cyno watched you feeling uneasy at knowing you would be a long way away for a month. he wanted to go with you to ensure your safety (totally not to spend time with you) but he had his duties to attend to and you're expedition team was sure to make a safe trip there and back. however one day, a week before your expected return, there was an uproar in one of the akademiya's medical bay's. cyno thought nothing of it until he saw tighnari rushing over there and stopped him just to find out your expedition had been ultimately destroyed by a setekh wenut, which you had accidentally stumbled across.

cyno was furious that your safety was widely disregarded and the akademiya hadn't provided enough protection, but was ultimately relieved that you had survived. sure you were a bit worse for wear but you were alive, unlike a few expedition members. and in those moments that cyno visited you until you recovered he realised that if you were to die he would've been distraught he never confessed to you. but maybe soon he would.

wriothesley ★↷

you and wriothesley had a complicated relationship some might say. but to each other you were rival's. no doubt about you hated each other. you two would constantly try to one up the other or never fail to make a snarky remark if spotted in the same room. but sometimes the lines between rivalry and something else blurred as wriothesley sometimes couldn't help but find how adorable you looked when you were angry and to him that was just something to tease you with more.

sometimes the people of fontaine, especially older folks, would find your petty rivalries exhausting to witness. sometimes one of you would stoop to the lowest of the lows and find a way to 'prank the other' but that sometimes ends up looking like a children's squabble. a petty, ridiculous and downright tiring squabble.

however at the end of the day you both had jobs. very respectable jobs at that. and sometimes that did mean working with each other which meant that it would come to a unspoken agreement to not continue your rivalry in the workplace. but after a particular day of hardwork wriothesley had overheard a particular conversation from two fontaine citizens about how you had encountered a fatal accident with some fatui members. that made his blood run colder than his cryo vision. there's no way you would lose to some fatui members.. right? probably just gossip roaming the streets of fontaine. yeah that's it.

well it wasn't. he kept hearing about it more and more until he decided to go and see to these 'rumors' himself. so he went over to the medic's himself and asked if you were here and to his fear, you were. the rumors were true. in a moment of panic he demanded to see you but was told that you were still under observation and he could come back tomorrow and visit. so thats what he did.

as soon as he was allowed he went straight to see you, for reasons that escaped him. he gazed down at your bloody, slight frostbitten body and let out a sigh he didint know he was holding and preceded to let out all the unspoken feelings he had that were hidden behind snark comments and teasing actions. he knew you hadn't heard him but it felt good to get it out. he slowly raised your hand to his lips, and left.

[kykyonthemoon]

Hello! Could I please request a Zayne x reader where Zayne helps the reader study for her med school exams?? Thank you <3

Dear valyvinny,

I didn't get the chance to finish this request during the summer, so here it is now, for back-to-school season. I hope you enjoy this little piece <3

I'm not sure if you had an exam by the time you sent me this request? But if you did, I hope it was well.

Thank you so much for entrust this idea in my hands. Take care~

Revision

── .✦ Zayne x MC (F.Reader)

── .✦ Tags: childhood friends, fluff, sweet, short fic, late night study session

── .✦ Word count: over 800w

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

The silver moon hovered in the pure sky. The crickets had stopped chirping, and the cats were casually wandering on the roof. The entire neighborhood was in a peaceful sleep. Only the light from the half-closed window in your room remained brilliant.

You covered your mouth and yawned deeply. Documents, paper, and pencils were scattered about your desk, along with sweets and pastry wrappers. You were in your jammies, absolutely comfortable, with your hair a little unkempt. You should have fallen asleep a long time ago. But you sat there, with a remarkably strict "teacher" by your side.

Doctor Zayne was checking the assignment you had just completed. You wonder why it was so late, but he still seemed attentive. He was always neat, from the clothes he had not even changed out of when he showed up at your house right after work, to the very concentrated, serious expression on his face. As expected of a brilliant young doctor. A moment later, he returned the paper with a bunch of red circles on it.

"Do it again." Zayne spoke, and you sighed heavily. But you did not dare tell him to go home because he was there for you. There was just one month till your long-awaited medical school admission exam. You must work harder than your best.

Ever since you met Zayne as children, you had admired his family. His father and mother were also renowned doctors. Zayne eventually enrolled in medical school and became a doctor at a very young age. You must admit that your decision to pursue medicine was primarily due to his efforts. Zayne and his family inspired you, and you wanted to one day stand by them.

So, starting in the tenth grade, you focused on studying medicine-related subjects. Fortunately, Zayne agreed to become your tutor. He studied with you for hours after school. There was just one month remaining until you could reap the fruits of your efforts. But the closer the exam date got, the more nervous you became and the longer the hours Zayne stayed at your house.

Doctor Zayne arrived at your house as soon as he finished his duties that day. After a light supper prepared by Grandma, he and you spent hours reviewing. You would occasionally stop for treats. Sweets kept you awake. Even though Zayne warned you that you would get cavities, he enjoyed these sweets too and shared them with you.

It was past midnight and you were quite sleepy. But Zayne would not let you rest until you finished solving all these exercises. You reflected about it and were unable to figure out what went wrong. Obviously, you followed his directions. You scratched your head for a moment before realizing where the problem was.

“Doctor Zayne! It's not because I was careless that I made a mistake here. It's because your handwriting is so hard to read!” 

Zayne's eyes widened as he looked at your notebook where he had written the solution to the assignment on it. He seemed offended. 

“Are you making excuses for your mistakes again?”

“No! Clearly this word..." You pushed the notebook close to his face. “Here! I'm not sure what these words are anymore… Are those helminths?”

Zayne grabbed your wrist to pull the notebook out. His brow furrowed when he looked at you. 

“Will they teach me how to read a doctor's handwriting in medical school?”

Zayne lightly tapped your forehead. 

“Ouch!” 

"You should focus on your studying and yet, you keep thinking nonsense." Zayne said. He then took the notebook and crossed out the notes with a pen. After that, he meticulously wrote down each new word. “Is this easier to read now?”

“Sure.” Zayne returned the notebook to you, which you gladly accepted. “While I study hard, shouldn't Doctor Zayne also brush up on his handwriting?”

“You should worry about yourself first.” 

Despite his apparent displeasure at having his handwriting ridiculed, Zayne meticulously rewrote each line of previous notes for you. While working on your assignment, you secretly looked at him and smiled to yourself.

Doctor Zayne was so concentrated on what he was doing that he failed to notice his little student had fallen asleep on the desk. He gently shook your shoulders awake. But you brushed his hand away while dreaming.

“Helminths… Go away…”

Zayne grinned slightly. Perhaps all you needed was a good night's sleep to refuel your spirit. You had been studying really hard, not only in the last few days, but for many years. He believed you to pass the exam for the school you sought and become his colleague.

Gently, Zayne lifted you into his arms. He put you on the bed and helped you cover yourself with the blanket. You turned slightly but did not wake up completely. He remained on the side of the bed, watching you for a little longer. His fingers softly pulled away the strand of hair that was obscuring your face.

You once made a bet that if you could get into medical school, Zayne would date you. Even though he did not answer you at that time, he had been waiting for your great news. Before leaving, Zayne leaned down, gently kissed your forehead and whispered:

“Sleep well. I'm still waiting for the day you win the bet."

[megpricephotography]

Flynn's become such a good, helpful boy! **Long read beneath the cut & Trigger Warning for cancer, choking, health problems... but Flynn himself is totally, 100% fine (just being helpful!) & I am OK too, nothing graphic!**

I don't talk about health on here but I had an aggressive cancer when I was younger - a few years before I got Flynn. My old lad Barney helped me through diagnosis & treatment, he was a star, bless him. Thankfully I've now been in remission a long time but do have long term side-effects. I had to relearn how to drink/eat & speak & it all remains rather hard to this day. One problem I have - especially when tired (& I am often tired!) - is that I am much more prone to choking now. Usually, so long as I don't panic, I can sort myself out very quickly & it's more emotionally distressing, than a serious danger to my life but every now & again, I do have a genuinely alarming moment, when it's worse than normal & I don't know if I might need immediate outside help. Flynn has gradually picked up on the fact that I am prone to choking while eating. He's also learned to recognise certain foods, which are more likely to cause me problems. Plus, he's worked out that he can summon assistance to me, by barking his head off if I seem to be struggling.

When I am eating food I'm usually OK with, Flynn goes to his bed & ignores me, unless there's a problem. However, whenever I sit down with a type food which he knows I find trickier to manage, Flynn has taken to standing in front of me the entire time I am eating (& I am soooo slow!) & watching me very intensely. He's not begging & he does not move from his spot, or take his gaze off me, until I make it clear I'm done.

Being under Flynn's hard-eyed stare while I am trying to eat a meal, is mildly unnerving but undeniably helpful. The thing is, despite this not being a new problem anymore… I did spend my 1st two decades of my life eating normally, so when I am tired &/or hungry, it's easy to stop taking so much care about what I'm doing - & that's when I run into problems… However, when I've got a border collie standing right there, "supervising", with an expression on his face that is similar to a particularly stern nurse, making sure their patient takes the correct medication, I find it's much easier to remain alert, remember I still need to pay attention to what I'm doing & to slow down - even more than usual... Having Flynn there regularly prevents issues even starting.

Of course, I do sometimes still start to choke & Flynn's got amazingly good at recognising when I am having difficulties & he's so fast to respond. He immediately turns his back to me, in order to watch the doorway & begins doing a very distinctive, agitated, loud, repetitive bark. He will not stop, until the relative who we live with appears to check on me. (Interestingly, when we're home alone, Flynn still takes up his vigil while I eat but he generally won't bark, or is slower to start woofing, if I run into problems). Thankfully the vast majority of the time, I am fine within a few worrying seconds but obviously, it's reassuring having someone nearby, just in case. This behaviour is just something Flynn began doing by himself…. We've slowly begun offering rewards for it though, because it's obviously, it's a nifty trick!! A very Good Boy!!

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you��ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

[portgasdwrld]

Hiii <3

Could you maybe write the monster trio + ace reacting to when their s/o is sick and has a fever? I’ve been pretty sick this week and I think this would be a cute idea T-T

Tysm<3

Hiii, you are my first ask and yes no problem! I hope you will feel better soon 🤍 Sending you much strength 🫶🏻

I Hope you will like it somehow. I didn’t know truly what direction I wanted to go but I would like to think it still satisfied your demand💕it’s 2am here so sorry for any mistakes, I will correct later 🤷🏻‍♀️

📂Op men + sick s/o reader

Featuring: Monster trio + Ace

Warning: Pure fluff so none, F!reader

Note: I got carried away. I wrote sm oml 💀

Luffy

Your name was being screamed across the ship by none other than the captain himself. He was excited to show you a new goofy trick that Chopper and him had come up with. But when he didn’t receive any response from you, he turned to the small reindeer with a confused expression.

-Oi, where is y/n ?

-She said she felt dizzy so she went to lie down in her room.

Nami answered him while putting down her magazine. She furrowed her eyebrows now also worried about your silent behaviour. It’s been now around three hours since you had left. You weren’t one to be overly loud like your boyfriend, but having you completely out of sight was worrisome.

-Aahh?! Nami! You should’ve told me she was feeling unwell!

Chopper screamed worried as he ran across the ship to grab his medical bag. He ran to your room, soon followed by Luffy and Nami.

As they opened the door, they watched your frame all curled up in the sheets as if it was cold outside. Luffy ran to you and touched your warm forehead.

-Chopper ! She’s burning hot! Do something!

-Yes!

Your eyes slightly opened from all the noises suddenly filled in your room.

-Everyone…what are y’all doing here…

-Y/N! ARE YOU OKAY?!

Luffy screamed happy to see you awake.

-DON’T SCREAM LIKE THAT! ITS NOT GONNA HELP HER HEADACHE AND FEVER!

-You are one to talk…, he mumbled under his breath after being yelled at by Nami.

-I think you simply caught a cold. I will ask Sanji to make you something warm and you will eat some medicine to help your fever go down.

Chopper concluded as he looked at you with his big eyes, reassuring you that you will be okay. You weakly smiled.

-Thank you, Choppy

-Y/N! I will keep you company until you feel better !

He announced suddenly determined. He caressed your hair softly and his eyes filled with worries. Nami shook her head and gave you a sorry smile.

-You don’t have to… I’m fine…

-No, you’re not. I will stay here with you until you are yourself again. I won’t leave you alone.

He retorted suddenly full of seriousness. It wasn’t like him to be so serious about things in general, but seeing him like that with you made your heart warm.

He indeed stayed the whole day and the day after too. He kept you company until you started feeling better.

He tried to make you laugh by telling you stupid stories about his childhood and doing goofy ass shit. He would ask Sanji to make you the best nutritive food he could so you will heal faster. He cuddled with you at night even though Chopper told him he could catch your cold. He tried his best to brush your hair, but he let that to Nami after failing miserably 💀.

He tried his best to make you forget you were suffering even though it could be just for a second. If he was able to make you smile, he considered you were slowly getting better. He loves you so much. So for him, you needed to stay by his side until you both achieved your goals and more, and he was gonna make sure of it.

Zoro

-Zoro, I think we’re lost.

-No we are not.

He said convinced of himself. You rolled your eyes well aware of the direction skills of your boyfriend. Y’all stopped for a second trying to figure your position (mostly you) in this jungle. You leaned against a tree and let your body slide down until you were sat on the ground. Your head leaned on the tree as you searched for the map you found on the ground yesterday.

-Aren’t you a bit too exhausted for a little walk in the forest?

Zoro teased unaware with a slight chuckle as he watched your frame completely relying on the tree to hold your body. You have been sweating a lot more than you are used to and fatigue waves were hitting your body since y’all slept in this jungle. You didn’t say anything not wanting to worry your boyfriend or the crew, but it was starting to take a toll on you.

-Yeah, I don’t know…

You replied without much interest to bicker with him. You pulled the map out of your bag and started to try to localize y’all position.

-Hey, are you okay?

You feel your boyfriend tower over you, creating a much needed shade. You blinked at him as you felt your vision getting weak and nodded. He shook his head and leaned towards you and placed his hand on your forehead.

-You are burning. We need to get you to Chopper.

-No don’t bother, I’m alright. It’s probably the heat from this place.

-Y/n, you’re obviously not feeling your best. You’re sweating and your body is barely keeping you conscious at this rate.

-I’m fine seriously.

You insisted with now tears in your eyes because of a sudden sharp pain you felt in your head. You had a bad headache in the morning but it seemed to have left, but now it came back even worse. Zoro eyes filled with worries seeing your eyes get teary. He picked up your body in a bridal style and pecked your forehead.

-Okay let’s try to find the others as quick as we can.

You chuckled knowing it would probably take hours with his poor direction skills. You let your head rest on his chest and closed your eyes. You trusted him no matter what anyway.

-Okay

It was the last word you said before you fell asleep in his arms. Sanji and Chopper had randomly fell on the both of you as Zoro was walking with you in his arms and yelling the crews name to grab their attention. He explained shortly the situation to the doctor. They decided it would be better to head back to the ship.

After some time you opened your eyes and saw y’all were still walking in this warm jungle, but with now Sanji at the front followed by Chopper.

-You’re awake? How do you feel?

Zoro deep voice asked you softly, but his eyes were still following the cooks figure.

-I’m okay, thank you for carrying me.

He didn’t reply but simply smiled and nodded. His eyes looked down at you with a rare grin.

-Let’s just heal you already so we can go back to our explorations.

-More like finding our way out of being lost, you mumble weakly with a weak smirk.

-Yeah yeah whatever.

Sanji

-What a beautiful day, especially when I’m accompanied by my beautiful lady~

Sanji exclaimed while lightening up the cigarette at the edge of his lips. He tightened slightly his grip of your hand as he gave you a sweet look. You chuckled and rested your head for few seconds on his shoulders.

-Of course, how could I say no to a grocery shopping with my beloved man.

He blushed like crazy at the nickname and left a quick kiss on your cheek.

-AHHHH, Im so lucky to have you~ Look! The vegetables look fresh which is perfect when we have to sail for a long time.

He excitedly walked to the few standing shops to see the quality of the vegetables and you followed behind him, your hands still intertwined in his.

You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying due to a little fever you caught this morning. You didn’t know the cause but you were still able to function, it was just giving you a harder time to do simple task. Like walking around the new island and spending time with your boyfriend, it was surprisingly more demanding than you would’ve thought.

-Did I lost you, ma jolie ?

He asked worried that he got carried away with his excitement to try new ingredients and buy fresh food for everyone. You used your other hand to caress his arm and reassure him.

-Of course not, I’m sorry. I think the heat is getting to me, it’s making me feel a little dizzy.

-Would you like to sit somewhere in the shade until you feel better ? We can go back to the ship if you want? I will make you something refreshing.

-I think sitting in the shade for a moment could help.

-Alright my love.

He kissed you once again and you two walked to a cafe and sat on one of the table on the terrasse. He ordered a cold drink for each of you. You closed your eyes and let your body lean over the back of the chair. You felt nauseous on top of the fever, it wasn’t your day.

-You look pale, darling.

Sanji expressed in a soft and worried tone.

-I think I’m sick, you retorted plainly, accepting your fate. You hated being sick but you knew not to push yourself too hard to heal faster.

-Should we head back to the Sunny ?

-I will. You still have to shop for the food. It’s important.

-You are important too. It won’t kill anyone if I do it tomorrow or later.

-Sanji, we can’t afford staying somewhere too long. Robin stayed on the ship, I’m sure we will figure something out until Chopper comes back.

-Are you sure darling? Let me at least walk you to ship and make sure you are okay before I go. Please?

You sighed and a smile curved your lips.

-I cant say no to you, can’t I ?

He smirked satisfied. After drinking your refreshers and paying, you both started to walk to the Sunny.

-Do you want me to carry you?

Sanji asked looking down at you. You were walking a little slow and you seemed out of breath. Your sweaty hand was tightly holding into your boyfriends one. He pushed your hair behind your ear and you blushed a little.

-I think I can do it…

-Like I’m gonna let my lady walk all the way to the ship in a sickness state.

He retorted determined after you turned him down. You secretly smiled to yourself. You loved how much of gentleman he was. He carried you all the way to the Sunny and asked Robin to take care of you until the doctor was back from his exploration.

He made sure she would run to any doctor if your state got worse. You reassured him it was simply a little fever and you were fine. He reluctantly left after making sure you were all comfortable in your sheets, that you had your favourite snacks, a big water bottle, your favorite books, etc.

-You are sure, you don’t want me to stay?

-Sanji, I swear to god if you don’t go I will kick your ass out of the boat.

He caressed your hair back and pecked the top of your head. He lifted your face by putting his finger under your chin as if he was trying to read your eyes and make sure you were truly honest with him. He gave you a long kiss on the lips and brushed your cheek with his thumb before pulling back.

-Alright! I WILL BE BACK SO REST A LOT! I WILL MAKE YOU A GOOD SOUP!

He exclaimed as he ran out of your room. Robin walked in after his departure to check up on you. You collapsed in your bed, eyes closed as sleep took over you. Robin shook lightly her head as she closed the door behind her. You stayed strong in front of him just not to worry him. Sanji made a bussing soup when he returned tho.

Ace

-So my girlfriend is sick ?

Ace spoke as he opened the door of your room. You were reading a book that you bought not too long ago at the last island y’all stopped. Your eyes looked at your freckled lover that had just bursted into your space.

-I guess I’m not so untouchable, you declared sarcastically with a smile. He scoffed and walked over to your bed. He softly grabbed your face and kissed you.

-Aren’t you scared of being sick by kissing me, you idiot.

-Like I care, I know I have my pretty girl who will take care of me.

-I ain’t no doctor Fire boy. The only nurse fantasy you will get is Marco.

-Can you not put images in my head.

You both started to laugh. He sat on your bed and stared at you.

-What

You finally ask after he stayed silent.

-You are still cute even in that state.

You lightly push his big arm as you roll your eyes. You were really self aware that your hair was a little bit a mess and you had a red nose. It wasn’t your best day, but it still made you blush to hear those words from him.

-I got you some candies. I know those are your favourite.

-Omg, I was in need of those. Thank you!

You exclaimed at the view of the candies in the small bag he had brought. Your pulled him into you and pressed your lips against his. He smiled against your lips and pulled away.

-I thought you were worried about me getting sick too.

He muttered barely few inches away from your lips. You grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck.

-Shut up and cuddle with me.

-Don’t you have a fever?

He asked conscious of his abnormal body temperature because of his DF.

-Yeah but my body feels cold. You know how getting sick just fucks up your body temperature.

He shrugged his shoulders not truly sure to understand what you meant but he kissed your lips again before pushing himself in the bed next to you.

-Sooo, what were you reading?

-A romance book- oh babe, can you grab the bottle on my desk? Marco told me to drink some this morning before he left but I got distracted.

He nodded and stood up grabbing the bottle for you on the desk. He opened it and poured some on a spoon.

-Open your mouth.

You grinned and opened your mouth. You drank the bitter medicine with a slight chill going down your spine.

-Damn that was gross

You said while sticking your tongue out.

-When it’s gross, it means it’s gonna work fast.

You perked your eyebrow at him and smiled.

-Since when are you a doctor, baby?

-Since my pretty girl is sick.

He replied after jumping in your bed and pulling you to rest on his chest. You closed your eyes to just enjoy the moment. You let your arm rest on his waist as your ear was pressed against his chest, hearing his soft heart beats.

-I think I’m already feeling a little bit better, you comment as you feel your body relax in his embrace.

A silent fell between you two. You furrowed your eyebrows.

-Ace ?

You looked up only to see he was dead asleep.

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Coffee Thank You

Part 3

Detective Stabler's Daughter

Tag list - send an ask to be added @hiireadstuff

It had been a few weeks since I started my classes and I was doing fairly well in them except for the newest assignment in Professor Reid’s class. Kathleen wasn’t really concerned with the class like I was. Re-reading over the notes I had taken I had zoned out the fact that he had ended class for the afternoon and everyone else was leaving until my sister shakes my shoulder. “Hey! Hey Y/n. Class is over.” 

“It is. Uh sorry.” I looked at her, noticing that she had her backpack on her shoulders standing in front of me. 

I glanced back down at my messy notebook. “Hey, I'll meet you later. I have some questions to ask the professor.” 

“Okay. Hopefully you won’t come off as a serious college student in your last year.”

I sent her a glare. “Kathleen.”

“I just want to have some fun with my sister.” She walked down the aisle and out the large door. 

Walking down the rows until I reached his desk he was putting his notebook away in his bag getting ready to leave. “Professor Reid, could I ask you some questions about our newest assignment?” 

“Of course.” He set his bag down back on the large desk. “What are your questions?” 

Sitting my bag down on the ground tile I scanned over the questions I had written down. “I’ve been looking over the assignment but I don’t understand how we are supposed to profile these past cases.” 

“Being a profile isn’t easy. But let’s look at the situation I gave you.” He suggested eyeing my papers. 

I nervously nodded, handing him my papers. “Okay.” 

“The situation reads : A man abducted three blonde girls and held them captive in a basement. He forced these girls to have sex with him and if they refused he held them down and he used a medication to make them go blind as punishment.” He read over the assignment description. “Tell me your thoughts on why this guy chose this punishment or what type of pattern this would fall under.” 

I clicked my tongue avoiding his gaze since I was nervous that I might be wrong. “The reason for punishment was that he wanted to be in control of the girls and if they didn’t find attraction towards him then - he used it to make them feel the pain he felt.” 

“And what do you think the trigger was?” Professor Reid asked me. 

Brushing hair out of my face I paused for a few minutes before answering him. “The trigger likely could have been that he had a girlfriend or a girl he was interested in that looked like the girls. And she rejected him, not finding him attractive.” 

“Exactly. You’re exactly right.” He smiled at me.��

I raised a brow. “Really?” 

“Yes. Now if you just write all that down and bring it on the day it’s due. You’ll get a good grade.” He cheered me on handing my notes back to me. 

I took it from his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Professor Reid.” 

“You’re welcome, Ms. Stabler.” He swings his bag over his left shoulder heading towards the doors. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Wait. Professor Reid, how can I thank you - um more properly.” 

He paused in his steps. “Oh I don’t think that is necessary.” 

“Well I think I should do something. Considering most of the professor's that I've had aren't always open to questions and have told me that I should be able to figure it out on my own.” I explained to him putting my notebook back up and shrugging my bag over my shoulders. 

My professor clicked his tongue. “Well I suppose it's okay. Just nothing too serious.” 

“How about going for coffee near campus?” I suggested with a slight smirk on my face. 

He finally agreed to that idea. “That's good.” 

We made our way across the campus just silently walking until we passed the entrance sign of the campus. His class was my last one on Thursday’s so I was done for the evening. It was a nice day when we reached the nearest shop where he held the door open for me to go in first like a gentleman. “Thank you.” 

“No problem. Ms. Stabler.” He replied following behind me where we sat down at the nearest round table. 

“One Strawberry Creme Frappuccino for you, Ms. Stabler. And a White Chocolate Mocha for me.” Spencer came back with two drinks in hand since I had told him what I wanted. He sat back down in his chair across from mine. 

I sat across from him hanging my bag on the back part, correcting him in the nicest way possible. “You should call - can call me Y/n if we go out for coffee like this again. I mean only if you want to.” 

“You’d want to go out for coffee again?” 

I sipped my coffee cup. “Maybe. Unless that’s super unprofessional in our situation.” 

“It’s more than that.” He tapped his fingers on the sides of the plastic cup. 

Taking a long sip from my coffee I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Yet I didn’t feel that nervous around him. “What do you mean?” 

“I can’t entirely understand how I feel about you. But I just - I think that I want to know more about you.”

Tilting my head to the side my curiosity came over me. “Like wanting to go on a date type of thing?” 

“Y-yeah. Only if you’re up for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hmm let’s see. Tell me something most people wouldn’t know about you just by looking at you.” 

Spencer thought briefly for a second tapping his fingers on the table before snapping his fingers at me. “I’m banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability.” 

“Woah. You really must be a genius.” 

He sent me a shy smile. “I graduated high school at the age of 12.” 

“That is incredible. And please don’t take offense to this but how do you not have a girlfriend or wife already?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, finishing the rest of his drink in his cup before sitting it down on the table avoiding my gaze waiting for my response. “Typically I haven’t been the best at talking to other people. I um - I feel like I always come off as weird or awkward talking to women  - which is way too personal when we haven’t even been on a date yet.” 

“One thing about me is that I am a Detective’s daughter.” I clasped my hands together resting my chin on the palms of my hands. 

Spencer raised a brow at me. “Can I know the detective's name? Unless that’s too invasive.” 

“Pfft it’s totally fine. My father’s name is Detective Elliot Stabler. He works for the Special Victims Unit here in the city.” 

He chuckled softly. “I already told you this in class but I do work for the FBI. Specifically the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

“That’s pretty impressive.” I smiled back at him. 

Spencer met my gaze with his brown eyes that deeply looked into mine when he asked the question that popped into his head and was making him super nervous on the inside. “At the risk of overstepping you can decline. But uh - would you maybe wanna go out with me tonight?” 

“We’d have to go off campus. But yes that sounds like fun.” I finished off my coffee throwing both of our drinks away then we headed back to the campus. 

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[dropthedemiurge]

Boys Be Brave [EP.5] // Translation notes

I'm back with my - I guess?? - already weekly analysis of something Gaga subs might've missed in this show. Because apparently, the silly show got deeper and I'm staying here until the very end :D

First of all, I was curious and checked whether there is anything about Kiseob's illness, and there is! There are two diagnoses:

상세불명의 심실중격결손 상세불명의 심방중격결손 Unspecified Ventricular Septal Defect, Unspecified Atrial Septal Defect

I am not a doctor definitely, but quick googling told me it's a heart defect (also called as 'a hole in the heart') which can have symptoms of heart malfunctioning. Which would! Explain even more! Why Kiseob has wrist watch that always measures his pulse and why on several occasions he was wondering why his heart was beating so fast next to Jinwoo (well, one for obvious reasons and another one is this).

And it's something you have since birth so he's been dealing with medication his entire life. Which would also explain further - after the scene with his sister - why the urge to be a people pleaser is so serious and so ingrained in him.

Another interesting language detail I noticed in this scene. Kiseob says "That's why I just agree to anything" but it doesn't translate well to english, because the verb 좋아/좋아해 can mean "I like" (eating medicine) and "I like (the idea)/I agree". So first he started lying that yes, he likes taking medicine, and that transferred to him saying that yes, he likes this, he agrees with this (whatever that is, anything he is proposed with)

"I cannot like anyone, right?" "Why not? You're a bastard with a lot of money"

This phrase references all the previous phrases that other people used to describe Kiseob, but Balgeum doesn't sense the real problem of his friend because the phrasing is general, it can also mean 'I have no chance of loving someone', and that's why Balegum thinks it's just Kiseob having low self-esteem or something. And also to him having money = being able to love, letting himself confess and date the one he loves, so of course, that's his answer. Kiseob has a lot of money, why wouldn't he confess to Jinwoo if he likes him?

But Kiseob can't because he doesn't even know his own feelings, and everyone around tells him he doesn't have the ability to love someone.

"Giving me (toilet paper) as if I moved to a new house"

Now, I cannot be the only one thinking years ago why the hell Koreans give each other huge packages of toilet paper when they visit someone xD But this is also a cultural thing!

When your friends move to a new house, you are supposed to come with gifts and usually with very practical ones, like toilet paper (very common gift). Rich friends can give you coffee machines or humidifiers or something like that. In my country, when you visit friends (not moving houses but still), you usually bring some desserts or food to have with tea. So for some countries, toilet paper is a norm :D

Balgeum has been living in his small apartment for a long time but it's the first time Inho visits his house so he's giving it a gesture of respect (but still an awkward one).

[Interrupting my broadcast to scream about cuteness and awkwardness of Balgeum x Inho AAAAAHHHHH Now back to the schedule]

...No, we will definitely focus on scribbling over Jung Kiseob's name for 100th time, absolutely distracted from any historical knowledge going in the background ^^

Oh! By the way! I remember being surprised that, apparently, some people on social media were uncomfortable with Kiseob seemingly 'feminizing' himself to be likeable by Jinwoo. Let me tell you that no, Kiseob doesn't do that at all!

There is nothing truly that indicated that he wants to be a ideal girl for Jinwoo (who has non-gendered perfect type list as I mentioned in my previous translation notes post!). He doesn't even use typical school-girl aegyo on Jinwoo (aka acting cute), maybe a tiny bit but it's not typical and it's not usually in his language at all. He talks gently and softly a lot! But he doesn't add typical cuteness in the way he talks (like there's no pouting, mumbling words and ending sentences with -ung).

I talked about dress = one-piece = jumper suit being the same in Korean but Kiseob literally only follows what Jinwoo wrote about a person he likes (not girl). As I described it, "he's using loopholes in Jinwoo's specific list in a true himbo way" :D He doesn't really do anything girly and doesn't pretend to be a girl as I can sense.

And I don't think I need to clarify another time, but falling in love during first snow/first sight is one of Jinwoo's list. Which Kiseob already fulfilled but he doesn't know that, and he just saw Jinwoo being with Hyejin witnessing first snow, which was the last straw for him to admit his failure and give up pursuing Jinwoo.

By the way, Koreans really think the first snowfall is a romantic event, like there are saying you'll fall in love with/be happy dating with someone you'll be with during first snow^^ It comes up in many Kdramas.

[russellsppttemplates]

Trust me (Lance Stroll)

Lance's recovery plan after his mountain biking accident leaves you even more concerned

Note: english is not my first language. Here's another piece to help complete my mission of including Lance pieces in my masterlist!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: Lance's mountain biking accident, mentions of hospital setting and recovery

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?", Lance asked one last time, checking if he had everything they would need, "I have some stuff from work to do, and besides, mountain biking isn't really my thing", you shrugged, not feeling too bad that you were missing the activity.

"Alright then, if you need anything, just call me, okay?", your boyfriend noted, kissing your forehead before he walked out of the door, "be safe, guys!", you yelled before the door closed.

Through the wonders of remote work and your job, you found a way of spending some of Lance's time off the races with him, and when he suggested that you should join for him trip to Spain before the season began, you only had to arrange a few things around to be able to join him.

It was supposed to, despite the fact that you were still working, a relaxing time and a needed change of scenery. And was it a change of scenery indeed when you got a call saying that Lance had been injured and was being taken to the hospital by the emergency team. You packed all the documents you could think of and made your way to the hospital, thumbs fiddling with one another since you had yet to understand the extent of your boyfriend's injuries.

Sitting in the waiting room, your foot tapped o the clean grey floor, your eyes moving to the double doors everytime a health professional walked out, hoping they would come looking for you and take to see your boyfriend with an update on his health status. His trainer was with him and he had been the one to text you briefly about what had happened and the hospital he had been taken to, but once they went into the examination room, he had grown quiet and his messages had ceased, until a brief one stating that someone would be coming to bring you in as Lance had finished his medical exams.

A young doctor came to you, presenting himself and explaining to you a brief outline of what happened, as far as he was aware, and what the medical team had been doing given the concerns and problems that arised. While you were not a medical expert, Grey's Anatomy was your comfort show and the amount of exams and the words you recognised meant that your boyfriend had been way more serious than you had hoped.

Entering the room, your eyes flew immediately to Lance, seeing his bandaged up wrists and some of the same material around on his right toes, "hey, you", he said, eyes droopy from what you can imagine was a mix of medication for the pain and also from the steong lights and the fuss around him, "hello, my love", you said, looking at the nurse taking notes on her iPad in a way to ask for his permission to approach your boyfriend, "how are you feeling?", you asked, him, your hand touching his cheek softly, afraid of touching somewhere where it would cause more damage.

"I'm a bit uncomfortable from the pain, but it's manageable", he smiled a tight lipped one, looking at the doctos who were discussing some of the films and scan images, "it seems that Lance has a fracture and displacement in his right wrist, a fracture in his left wrist. We also see what looks to be a partial fracture in his left hand", the doctor said, showing the scans, "and another fracture in the big toe on his right foot", he finished.

"And is there a plan for it?", Lance asked, "the season is starting in two weeks", Lance noted.

"You said testing is next week? So from the 23 to the 25?", the doctor asked, "yes, and the first race is on the 5th", he trainer added, looking at the calendar on his phone.

The doctor was silent for a bit before he excused himself, looking at the scans and discussing a few points with his colleagues while you looked at Lance, sensing his mind was filling with negative thoughts and pressures about his recovery already, "I can only imagine how scary this is, but you'll be alright, okay? We'll do everything we can to get you better as soon as possible", you tried your best to reassure him despite the heavy feeling in your chest.

"Our opinion, and this comes from having participated in many cases where the injuries were sinilar", Dr. Javier Mir explained, "is that the timeline for testing is, unfortunately, not enough for everything to heal like we would like", he stated, "and, realistically, I would count that you miss the first few races", he finished.

After informing that they were going to have a meeting to discuss the surgical plans, Lance's trainer left to call the Aston Martin health professionals to catch them up with the situation, leaving you and Lance alone in the hospital room, "are you feeling any pain? I'm sure we can get the nurse to kick these up", you pointed to the IV bag next to you, "I'm good, I just feel a little pressure on my wrists, nothing more", he tried his best to smile, wanting to see you ease too, "I'm sorry this happened, my love", you tempted, seeing him pucker his lips and welcoming his to touch your own lips, craddling his face and taking the opportunity to scratch his cheeks, thumbs rubbing the skin.

The next day began with Lance getting ready to go up to surgery on his right wrist, "I'll be here when you wake up", you smiled, kissing his forehead before they wheeled him up, "try and get some sleep, yes, darling? I know you haven't slept all that well", he winked, "I love you".

While Lance was in surgery, you kept texting his family, trying your best to be a calming and sure figure and also answering their questions and updating them on how everything was going, "is he okay? Given everything, that is...", Chloe said during the videocall, "he's handling it, I guess. He's obviously disappointed that this has happened, and that this has happened so close to the beggining of the season", you offered, "but he's keeping to himself?", your boyfriend's sister completed, "yes, I think. You know how he is. He's shared some of his thoughts but he's trying to stay as positive as he can be, and everyone here is on the same page, too. They've been very reassuring and hopeful", you smiled, your attention caught by the surgeon you recognised from Lance's team, "I'll text you the news, okay? Dr. Mir is here", you bid Chloe goodbye, ending the call and getting up.

"Miss Y/N, we just finished your boyfriend's surgery, and I'm glad to say it was successful", he smiled, seeing your relief, "my colleagues have lifted the anesthesia and they're taking him up to his room, you can join him as soon as you like", he finished, accompanying you to the lifts to take you up as well.

Thanking Dr. Mir, you texted everyone that had kindly asked you to know when the surgical intervention had finished, reaching the room as soon as you sent the last text, knocking on the door to see a young doctor type on her iPad, "Hi, you must be Y/N, right?", she asked and you nodded, "he's still a bit loopy and sleepy from the medication, but he asked for you just now", she smiled sweetly, taking note of some of the numbers on the screen before saying, "Dr. Mir will come back once he's done with the op notes to inform you, but so far, everything is going well and like it should".

Lance moved in the bed, opening his eyes at the noise, you presumed, "hey", you whispered, brushing the hairs on his forehead, "how are you feeling, bub?", you smiled, seeing his brown orbs look back at you, "I'm tired, but otherwise good", he mumbled as he tried his best to kiss the part of your hand closest to his lips before he was interrupted by his surgeon walking in.

"Hi Lance, glad to see you're doing well. The surgery went as it was supposed to, and I think, if you work hard, you'll be back for Jeddah. Bahrain, maybe, I don't want to be too optimistic, but it would be doable", he smiled, explaining the next few steps.

"Unfortunately, the fractures in your left hand and wrist, and also your toe for thay matter, aren’t suitable for fixation, so we'll have to go about it on a more conservative approach to heal those other injuries", he explained, gathering Lance's trainer while they all discussed recovery plans, your hand sitting on his leg while they spoke.

While you were in hospital, things had been as good as they could be: the medical staff had been amazing with everything, caring for Lance and teaching you the smaller things you could do at home in terms of dressing the area and helping it heal faster, even if it was something simple as holding his hand and twisting it like you're dancing.

The first few days at home, and even though Henry was with Lance for a good part of the day for all the different approaches to improve the mobility on his hands and wrists, "I need to shower", Lance gulped, "and while it is usually different when I say this, I really need your help", he smiled shyly, getting up and approaching you so you could both head to the bathroom.

When you were back in the bedroom, with Lance already tucked into bed with his medication already taken just watching you get ready for bed yourself while you tidied the room, "Y/N", Lance called, grabbing your attention while you put the dirty clothes on the hamper, "are you okay? Do you need me to move the pillows? Do you have an itch somewhere?", you urged to his side, ready to help, "None of that, no. I'm perfectly content and comfortable, and that is because of you. Thank you", he chuckled, "I don't think that there are any words or expressions that I could use to show my appreciation and gratitude for you", he beamed, "I'm even more in awe of you. You have been here everytime I've needed you, even if it's just a mundane task that my wrists don't allow me to do. You're always there cheering me on whenever a session doesn't go well and there to congratulate me and celebrate with me whenever it goes well", he smiled.

Sitting next to him on the bed, careful of his wirst, and kissed his lips, "we always said we would be here for eachother, right? Besides, I enjoy caring for you", you cuddled him, helping him to lay on top of your chest while you put something on the TV, your hand landing on his torso.

.

While you couldn't go to Lance's appointment as you had work responsibilities, you were eager to see him arrive back home

"I was speaking to the team today, and Dr. Mir also gave his opinion, and they think I can race this weekend in Bahrain, things are really looking up", and that was enough for your nervousness to come back.

"And do you feel ready to go? I mean, you're still doing ice after every session, the bruises are still there too", you tried to reason, knowing from previous days that it was nearly to no use. It wasn't the first time his medical team had forwarded the option, and while it was a good sign that his recovery was going well, it still concerned you that it would be too painful for him.

"I'm more than ready, I miss driving. Tomorrow I'm driving on the simulator to see if I can handle it", he smiled as he took a water bottle out of the fridge, his smile fading when he saw the crease between your eyebrows, "I have everyone looking at every movement I do and how I do it, my love. I'll be fine", he attempted to soothe your worries, kissing your forehead, "do you want help with dinner?", he wondered looking at the pots, "I can stir this!", he cheerfully suggested, pointing the wooden spoon at you and managing to make a grin break on your lips, nudging his side while you joined him at the stove.

.

Seeing Lance need help to get out of the car made your fears even clearer, "I don't like this", you mumbled, feeling Claire-Anne's hand on your back, "me neither, sweetheart", she mumbled back. Sighing, you realised that you were not the only one filled with worry. While Lawrence, Lance himself and everyone on the team said he would be okay, you couldn't help but let your thoughts travel to a dangerous place. What if something went wrong? What if he crashed and he couldn't get out of the car safely? The questions plagued you to the point where you excused yourself, smiling and thanking all of the Aston Martin team members you passed until you reached Lance's driver's room, closing the door before you sat down, waiting for him to come back from the interviews.

It didn't take long before he was back, seeing Henry walk in with bags of ice on his hands, "Hi Y/N", he smiled, setting the bags on top of a box before he exited, "Lance will be here shortly". When Lance arrived, he kept talking about how it felt to finally be in the car, "it's incredible. The team back at the factory built an amazing car this year, it's a pleasure to drive! I- Hey, everything alright?", he questioned as he fastened the ice bags around his wrists, "I'm happy that you're happy, Lance, don't get me wrong. But, is it safe for you? And I'm asking genuinely and I want an honest answer", you finally let out.

Sitting next to you, Lance placed his hand on your thigh, "it's medically safe. Does it hurt? Yes, but not to the point where it will take me out of doing it", he stated, "I'm worried for you, I mean, you couldn't even turn the wheel around with both of your hands, I saw it on the onboard", you spoke your point, "I promise I'll be careful, okay? I understand your worry, and I appreciate it. I'm sorry it causes you this much distress, but I promise you I'll say it whenever it's not okay, yes?", he held his pinky out, making you nudge it slightly, "C'mon, my love, give me a real pinky promise!", he teased you, lacing his finger with yours with some applied strength.

.

The cars were on track getting ready for the formation lap when you were walking bag to the garage, bumping into Mick on the way, "Y/N! I haven't seen you in a while, how are you?", he greeted you with a kiss on each cheek, "Hi Mick!", you greeted him back, "how have you been? We've been dealing with the whole wrist situation", you shrugged your shoulders, "I've been good, change of scenery for the season, but it has been a big opportunity to learn and it's only the start. I've heard, Lance's keeping you on your toes, hm?", he giggled.

"Yes, a lot. I trust him and the team, you know? But I can't help feeling nervous. These past two weeks have been the craziest in my life, I think", you smiled, "but it's all in good efforts, I think, the car looks promising. I think Sebastian's legacy is doing some magic", you finished, "if he says he's good, trust him, yeah? I'll see you around, Y/N", the German driver smiled, patting your arm as he left the green coloured garage.

Picking up your headset, you sat next to Lance's mother, getting ready to watch the race while you crossed your fingers for everything to go well, "this is even more stressful", the older woman confessed, "if he says he's good, we should trust him", you repeated Mick's words like a mantra, earning her nod as she squeezed your hand on top of the small table like compartment.

With Fernando finishing on the podium and Lance finishing in 6th place, there were many reasons to celebrate, "above all of this", you gestured to the celebrations that were being held by the team dinner party, "is that you're safe and sound, here with me", you smiled, kissing your boyfriend's lips, "I told you to trust me, didn't I? And it was fine", he mused, "you should have seen her during the race, though. There was a time I felt she would make them stop it all just to go and give you an ice pack", Claire-Anne mentioned, smiling at her son's happy relationship.

[izvmimi]

All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter III

cw: alcohol mention. quirk use. medical scenes. bad fashion. Please see additional masterlist warnings! Masterlist

Izuku stares at your number on his phone and his stomach turns as his thumb hovers over the call button. 

Then he looks up. Shoto hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, content with finishing up the last of a sandwich and scrolling through his phone. Shoto has a bad habit of responding to every thirsty comment he gets and Izuku doesn’t bother telling him not to at this point. That’s PR’s problem and they get paid handsomely for it.

“How bad is it if I call a girl who might have a boyfriend?” Izuku says it wincingly, as if the very idea pains him.

Shoto doesn’t look up. “I mean if you’re just saying hi, it’s not illegal. Otherwise it’s harassment.”

Izuku should know better than to expect tact from him. Izuku pushes his phone away from him and replaces the emptiness of his right hand with a handful of fries to stuff into his mouth. Shoto looks up and raises his eyebrow at him, then shakes his head.

“I thought you and Ochaco broke up.”

“We DID.” Izuku insists, annoyed. “Over half a year ago?”

Shoto shrugs. “I mean it’s not like it’s obvious, the three of you still hang out all the time.”

Izuku frowns. This is true, but it’s been less so in recent times, and the media storm related to it is brewing, he feels, when the distance, now more obvious, gets spun into netizen debate but he’s hoping to shield himself from it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t bother you just for that reason alone. Especially if you have someone. You won’t have him. Not in this life, not in the next.

“It’s about ___,” he finally admits. Shoto looks slightly confused for a moment and Izuku practically growls at him before he recalls.

“Oh.”

Sighing, Izuku leans back into his chair and lets his shoulders slump. Perhaps he’s creepy to still feel this way about you, but there’s not much he can do about it. He was doing so well too until he saw you yesterday, and… 

That fucking guy. 

Izuku runs his hands through his hair. Life is too cyclical for him right now.

“How are you and Mo-?” he asks instead but Shoto shrugs, interrupting him before he can ask any other questions.

“Fine.”

Sometimes talking to Shoto is like pressing oil from a stone, but Shoto suddenly asks Izuku a follow-up question.

“You know, if you’re still pining for that long, does it really matter at this point if she has a boyfriend?”

Izuku looks shocked, but Shoto is dead serious. He blinks.

“Just tell her how you feel anyway. That way she can tell you no to your face and you’ll get over it.”

Izuku feels something in his heart rend, but Shoto’s insane advice has a shocking amount of weight to it.

As usual. He just has to work up the nerve to listen to it.

—

A couple of weeks pass. You’ve found yourself staring at Izuku’s number in your phone far more than you have in years, wondering if you should tell him what happened and knowing that it would make you sound crazy. How do you even start such a conversation?

Hey I know I haven’t spoken to you for real in years, but some kid with a quirk made clones of me that suggest you’re my soulmate? Oh by the way, I loved you back then but just never told you? Anyway, break up with your girlfriend, a literal angel, because I’m bored.

You call one of your friends, not the ones who went to UA with you and told you not to suppress your feelings, but another one who will tell you you’re ridiculous and to focus on the very available man in front of you, if you must insist on rekindling old flames.

And she tells you exactly what you want to hear.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

You sigh, absorbing the hit, but you’re thankful. “I know.”

“If he fumbled you then, he fumbles forever,” she says, unabashedly. You can see her now, painting her toenails with one hand, and petting her cat with another. It doesn’t matter to her that fate says otherwise, just the lack of effort on either part.

Don’t let us convince you how to feel, you remember an alternate version of you say.

It’s the wake-up call you need.

That evening, you meet up with Akira impromptu and he fulfills his promise of your favorite sushi and wine. Drinking more than usual to forget whatever your clones have to say, you find that Akira’s lips are somehow more comforting now that you’re older, and his hugs are tighter, and while you don’t end up sleeping together by the end of the night, the thought of laying under him in the near future brings a warmth to your chest that feels like the beginning of newly rekindled love.

—

“Are you this embarrassed to be seen with me?” Inko snickers, walking just a couple paces behind her son, whose broad shoulders are hunched over as he shrouds himself in a hoodie, a hat and sunglasses. He looks somewhat ridiculous like this, with the effect of making his already very noticeable frame stick out more, and the fact that he’s dressed head to toe in merch that doesn’t exactly match color scheme-wise (Froppy socks and Red Riot shoes, and Pinky’s iconic tie-dye pattern are not exactly easy on the eyes) doesn’t help.

“I just want to get in and out without incident,” Izuku murmurs quietly. Inko laughs and pats his back as he continues to push a shopping cart past the crowded hallways. He wishes his mother would have chosen a better day for grocery shopping because he woke up grumpier than usual today, which is really saying something, but these runs are important for her. She misses him and this is just one of the ways he can remind her that above all else, she’s still his son.

“That’s not like you.” She rubs his back gently and Izuku’s mouth twists to the side.

It isn’t, but it is him at the very moment. All he can think about is the fact that he feels like he should call you and he has no idea what to say, and the idea of you desperately finding ways to hang up on him makes him sick to his stomach. He’s tired and overworked. He’s seen at least one article speculating on his romantic life since this morning, now that Iida and Ochaco were found cavorting on a beach, and he’s starving. 

The last one is a problem he can fix. Realistically, the first one is too but all he can think of is rejection and the label of creep. 

Izuku Midoriya, current #1 Hero and absolute creep.

“I just need a break.” Polite enough to grab two cans of vegetables from the highest shelf, a couple for him and his mom, and one for the lady that seems to be reaching but too embarrassed to ask for help. She thanks him and he says not to mention it, then lets the cart speed off before she can think too hard about who he looks or sounds like. 

Deku is very popular with older middle-aged ladies.

A little further down, he stops so that Inko can catch up with him. She’s still in high spirits and he resists the urge to shudder when thinking about how well her and Toshinori’s date last night went. He’d picked her up from his apartment and that may have been a little too much for him but he’s accepted this arrangement for now.

If his mom is happy, then he is.

They chat more about everything then nothing, while Izuku keeps the conversation away from how good his mentor is as a lover, then earning a moment for himself to scroll through the news on his phone while his mother chats up the workers at the fish market. He’s too engrossed, analyzing the scathing review of property damage with Dynamight and Red Riot’s combined recent save, until he looks up and sees Inko walk in a sudden opposite direction. Curious as to where she’s going but not moving yet, his eyes follow her, but when he realizes where she’s waving to, he almost shits his pants.

This can’t be serious.

It’s you again. You look just as surprised as he is, your mouth slightly agape, a pomelo in your right hand over at the produce section. Suddenly, he is acutely aware of exactly what kind of fashion disaster he is, and looks around, calculating the chances he can hide without being noticed by anyone or being called out by his mother. It’s not like you are particularly dressed to the nines either - you’re in an oversized hoodie too (Izuku wonders if it’s yours or Akira’s for a moment), the hood drawn close around your unmade but clean face, and yoga pants, sneakers that at least match unlike his clashing shoes. Although you look slightly uncomfortable the longer Inko talks to you, he can tell it’s less about not being kind and more shyness. 

He spends more time observing you than making an escape route, and Inko finally betrays him by pointing over to him. You look like you’ve gone ashen when you see him, and it smarts; he offers you the smallest of awkward waves but Inko takes your wrist gently and pulls you over to him jovially. 

And now you’re face to face again. He swallows hard, feeling the palms of his hands get sweaty as he grips the shopping cart handles. He has no idea how it’s gotten like this, and neither do you. You’re stiff as a board, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Just why do you dislike him so much? He wonders, but he has no time to lament, lest he make this worse than it already is. 

“You know, I still have a picture of you two in my house!” Inko says, cheerfully. “I’m surprised you guys don’t still hang out often.”

Your stomach turns, and both of you don’t realize that you’re thinking the same thing -

Because they didn’t like me back, back then.

Desperate to make small talk, you say, “Oh, do you come here often?”

Izuku blinks, trying to comprehend your own ridiculous question you regret asking, but only makes it worse.

“To the grocery store? Oh yeah, haha, need to eat too!”

He laughs a little too loud, and in attempting to convince himself and you that he’s funny, slaps the handle of the shopping cart, which subsequently tips backwards which he scrambles to resettle. You and Inko both look shocked, and by the time he’s guided things back into carts, Inko is laughing nervously too. By now, Izuku has garnered more than a couple of stares from nearby customers, and quickly bumping him out of the way, she picks up on his odd behavior and rescues him.

“Ha, well it was nice to see you again, hun, I hope things have been well! Say hi to the family for me,” she waves, and quickly pulls Izuku along with her.

You remain planted watching him, wondering what trick the universe is playing on you. 

Of all the grocery stores in Japan, your search for one specific food item brought you to Izuku, no matter how badly you try to avoid him.

—

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

Camilla looks up from where she’s perusing through a rack of work blouses then looks back to you.

“None of your questions are stupid. Shoot.”

You let your hands leaf through a stack of folded jeans, then pace a little as her eyes follow you, mulling over the words to use under your breath. After all, you haven’t explained the multiverse thing yet although you’re usually open about most things, for fear that she will hit you with an ‘I told you so’, even if she’s generally very kind about it. But you do still need to know.

“Do you still have people from way-back-when that you’ve liked?” you ask. Camilla gives you a look, then walks over and takes your face dramatically in her hands.

“Once again, I am begging you to stop going on dates with that weirdo,” she says. You find yourself laughing. She wasn’t too keen on the second date, and not the third, and while she didn’t explain in detail, she’s observed Akira enough over time (since they were both in the Support class) to not be particularly fond of him at all. 

“I mean he really isn’t that bad.”

“He’s boastful and a womanizer,” she says again, now turned back to laying shirts onto her chest. “How does this look?”

“Oh, it’s cute,” you approve, noting how nicely the turquoise in semi-sheer material appears against her complexion. 

“Great,” she takes it and pushes it into your arms. “This is for you. Glad you like it!”

Camilla’s tricked you again. You came out here intending not to leave with more clothing and yet…

“Let me be fair. Akira gives the energy of an unserious person, but perhaps he’s changed over time. I could be wrong.” She softens her stance, putting her hand on her hips. You snort for a moment, but you can easily see why she thinks this way - he is a bit airheaded for your liking, and the sudden declaration of re-interest in you does seem brusque. But the truth is you’re not tied up with anyone else, so it doesn’t really matter if you allow yourself to have some fun.

On top of that, you’re not really thinking about Akira in this particular case. 

Sucking in a deep breath, and considering that you might immediately regret it, you decide to tell her what happened just weeks ago. By the time you’re done explaining, her hand is over her mouth, but then she smiles practically to the back of her teeth, and you realize you’re in trouble.

“Now that’s what romance novels are made of.”

“Camilla…” you start. She giggles and twirls a bit.

“Why are you questioning it? We saw the way he looked at you-”

You grimace. “He did not.”

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, if a man looked at me like that, I’d truly not sit here and argue with my friend about it.” She’s wandering between racks of clothing again, and you find yourself following her naturally just as you have for the past hour.

Your lips press into a thin line. “It sounds like a good story, but truly if he wanted me back then, he would have had me by now.”

As it comes out, you immediately regret it. Lead forms in your stomach as you think of what you just admitted, and Camilla is now digging through skirts that you’re not sure are for you or for herself.

“So clearly the problem is him. .That’s something we can sort out soon enough, now can’t we?”

In seconds, she’s zapped your phone right out of your pocket, flying directly into her open right hand.

“I’ll call him,” she sings.

If the panic that overcame you at that moment could revitalize a human being, you’d have resurrected an entire cemetery at once. 

“… You wouldn’t,” is the phrase that comes out of you weakly, in a hush. Camilla grins, unlocking your phone (you consider that you probably shouldn’t have given out your passcode as recently as last week’s sleepover), and scrolls through your contacts briefly before settling on his name. She considers it for a moment, truly, but the deep frown on your face and your approach to her make it sufficiently clear that you’re not above wrestling your phone out of her very hands in the middle of a department store. Twisting her mouth to the side, she decides to throw the phone back to you.

”Coward,” she murmurs.

You slip your phone in your pocket, considering changing your passcode that very second, glaring at her. 

“Stay out of my business,” you snap, but then you break out into giggles, partially out of relief. She laughs too, and pulls out another dress, glimmering in the overhead light, a soft purple chiffon number.

”You’re coming with me to the next gala and you’re wearing this.”

”I don’t think Mirio will appreciate losing his date,” you muse. She’s already off looking at the rows of pumps and stilettos, giving you a throwaway glance, but not without a sparkle in her eye.

”I think sunshine boy has enough admirers, and you’ve spent enough time hiding in the shadows.” She beams as you take it from her hands, adding to the pile of things you already have to try on.

You huff in pretend annoyance but you can never fault your friend.

“I’ll consider it.”

—

3 months since your first meeting passing faster than you know it, your most involved pediatric patient returns, and right on time.

“How’s little Kazuo doing?” 

You’re excited to see him, and he looks better than you expected, the young boy kicking his feet comfortably, his blue eyes shaded this time by a toy replica of Can’t Stop Twinkling’s iconic red shades offered to him by Junko. He takes the time to remove a lollipop from his mouth and looks at you with a big grin, and it warms you inside out. 

“Good!” he says. Mrs. Minamoto smiles at him as you ruffle his hair gently then look at her to confirm that this is true, and she does.

The quirk stabilizers have been working wonders, she says, and you decline testing his quirk currently, not because you really don’t want to see another legion of Deku wives/girlfriends tell you that you’re making a wrong decision with your life, but because the child looks like he’ll do best undisturbed today.

“Any breakthroughs?” you ask. 

“No incidents,” she affirms. “No strangers, doppelgangers or weird unexplained objects, thank goodness,” she adds, and she appears genuinely relieved which makes you glad for her.

“Good!” You take a few notes down on your legal pad then clasp your hands together.. “Do you think you’d be comfortable with a spacing regimen?” 

She looks resistant immediately, which is understandable, and you quickly recant your suggestion. Rolling back in your wheeled stool to your computer where you’re documenting, you click a few buttons to renew the child’s prescription for another 3 months.

“We can give it time. So far we haven’t found anyone in the database reports with a quirk remotely similar to this, as you already know from our written communication, but if you’d like we can take some time to let him experiment with his abilities at small intervals, or we can continue the stabilizers until we can set you up with the appropriate coaching program.”

She picks the latter, as you expect.

“I… I just think he’s too young to be twisting and turning the universe like this,” she says. With this, she pulls her son closer to her, who looks comfortable yet concerned with his mother’s reaction.

“Absolutely.”

You mean to be compassionate. After all, her son has already messed with your life as you know it, so perhaps a bit more time for things to normalize is warranted.

Mrs. Minamoto lets out a sigh, then taps her heels on the ground. You look back at her after signing a few electronic documents to approve medications and next time visits. 

“Is it wrong for me to stop him from using his ability?” she asks. “I don’t want to stunt him… I just…” she trails off and you shake your head.

“All you’re doing is giving him time to adjust safely. We’ll work on this together, okay? It’s a huge amount of power for such a tiny person, so let’s give him a little bit more time to grow into it.”

Mrs. Minamoto looks teary-eyed and you offer her a reassuring handhold. 

“It doesn’t hurt to give a little more time to reflect and plan. After all, what’s destined to happen will happen regardless.”

Kazuo’s sea-green eyes focus right on you at this moment, and for a moment you wonder if he’s challenging how much you believe in the words you so easily say.

—

“Oi, we’re heading out.”

Katsuki’s speech is partially slurred, and Ochaco giggles politely as she waves him and his date out, her own naturally pink cheeks red herself, just as quite a few others in this private room. She nudges Iida who is staring off very slightly into space, his own look somewhat dazed even though he looks like he’d be much less of a lightweight, and Izuku notices how quickly Iida returns to reality from her touch, then waves in turn. 

“Make sure to text when you get home!” Iida and Ochaco both practically say in unison.

Perhaps they are made for each other, he thinks for a moment. By now, the two are official with the group of Heroes they frequent in and no one bothers to ask him any more questions, and he’s thankful for it, but it’s still awkward to be invited to these group outings that feel more like dates these days, particularly since the girl who’s seated next to him has long since given up on conversation and is now blatantly swiping right on a dating app, hoping to get lucky somewhere else before the night is over. He’s not bothering paying her any mind more than is polite; after all his mind is elsewhere. Izuku watches Katsuki whisper something into Runa’s ear as he adjusts her jacket onto her shoulders, and she laughs and taps his shoulder back.

Izuku wishes he could broach the subject of you, one of her best friends, but Runa has been preoccupied for most of the night with talking to Katsuki, and he knows better than to interfere with Katsuki getting the attention he craves. A smaller part of him wonders if he could just ask her to bring you with her next time, but that’s an insane request, and while Runa once was partial to teasing both him and you more than a little often in high school, she does her best not to bring you up whenever he has the chance to speak to her. 

Almost as if you’ve told her explicitly not to. 

It’s nearing midnight, and Izuku calls over their waiter to foot the bill this time, having made arrangements early on with the group to manage the table. His ‘date’ orders another drink without looking up which Izuku doesn’t even bother to be annoyed about, while Shoto and his girlfriend, nicknamed Mochi, also look to be getting ready to leave, him sticking so close he’s practically wrapping her in his peacoat. It dawns on him that he might actually be stuck as the last person in the room with the most uninterested person in the world but thankfully Ochaco and Iida seem to remain steadfast in keeping him company.

“Thanks for paying, Izuku,” Ochaco says a little bit later, rubbing gentle circles on Iida’s back. Iida is now practically facedown, but still gesturing something with his hands in agreement. 

He smiles.

“Of course.”

“Thank you for coming out too,” she says again later, when Texter has found a match and makes her way out and Izuku is once again the third wheel to his two best friends. Iida has stepped out to use the bathroom before leaving, and he and Ochaco stand outside in the frigid night under the moonlight. It’s the first time they’ve stood like this together in months, but the silence between them was less uncomfortable than it was pensive then.

Izuku again continues to pretend that he hasn’t had a terrible night, but he knows Ochaco can tell. After all, Ochaco is one of the few people that knows him better than anyone, when his mind is preoccupied with something else, when he’s uncomfortable, when things are wrong. Just because she chose to ignore that feeling of being in the wrong place when the right person was standing next to her the whole time, does not mean she doesn’t know his heart intimately.

“Has everything been okay?” she asks.

Izuku offers a nervous laugh. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’m not sad or heartbroken or anything,” he replies. He’s assumed incorrectly that he knows what she means, and when he turns to look at her, she’s frowning.

“I didn’t mean it in that way,” she murmurs. 

Izuku knows she’s being honest.

“I know whatever is making you feel less you has nothing to do with me, or rather…-” she looks away for a moment, back towards the entrance of the restaurant - “us, but I just want you to be happy, okay?”

Izuku nods, his throat suddenly dry.

Iida arrives soon and with hugs, the two set off, and Izuku walks home alone, checking his phone the entire way, looking twice at the text he considered sending you just to say hello, liquid courage in his veins still not enough to press send.

…

“What are you looking at?” Akira asks. He’s grinning, gold eyes as  bright as the candles flickering on your dining table, and you turn off your phone, flipping it over and pushing it out of sight as you reach for the breadbasket.

“Runa’s out with friends and wanted to show me a pic.” The pic in question shows the group of your classmates at UA, including a couple of unidentified characters, and it looks like a group date. You take in the features of the girl who sits next to Izuku, beach-blonde and bright-eyed, staring a little too long, then focus back on Runa who is taking the selfie, Katsuki taking up far more of the picture than you wish he would but expect him to.

“Ah, your friend that hangs out with all the top Heroes, right?” he asks. You twist your mouth to the side, as you look up at him then click your screen off.

“Yeah. I mean, she too is a top hero…”

He shrugs, then returns to his cut of steak. Without looking up, he adds, “I’m surprised you distanced yourself from them after all this time, but can’t say I’m not thankful for it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Akira looks up at you, as though surprised that you’re even challenging him on that notion. You’ve had many a discussion on how detrimental heroes are to society, even after the meta war had almost ended Japan as you knew it, but you couldn’t imagine he still held those views all this time. Hero Society has settled, although it has morphed and changed. Heroes remain celebrities but they’re no longer gods among men in the way All Might was.

Well, at least most aren’t.

“I just think for regular people like us, it’s better not to stay so entangled with that archetype, you know,” Akira adds. You’ve been through this train of conversation before, and your lips press into a thin line but you hold your tongue for now. Regular people like us. Like you and him.

“I mean, think of that asshole Deku,” he starts. 

There it is.

“Akira, can you pass me the butter, actually?” You won’t let another night be ruined by the mere mention of his name. He passes it, but you can tell he’s annoyed by your interjection.

“As usual, you immediately defend Midoriya,” he presumes. You try to remain polite enough not to roll your eyes, but you’re really being tested, and are suddenly no longer able to hold it in.

“It’s been over a decade,” you remind him. “Will you get over whatever your preoccupation with him is? He hasn’t mattered to me in so long, but if you want to speak to him and talk through whatever feelings you have harbored all this time, hopefully I can find a way to hook the two of you up.” 

As the words come out, you start to regret your overreaction, but it’s just a couple months into this budding relationship and the thought of a repeat of Akira’s high school insecurity while you’re on your way to your 30s is unbearable.

Especially knowing that perhaps this time, there’s a good reason to.

Akira gives you a meaningful look, then takes a bite of his steak, chews and swallows, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You take a sip of your sparkling water, keeping eye contact as well. It’s not meant to be a challenge but you want to convey that this particular conflict is over and not to be revisited. The message is clear.

“As long as it stays that way.”

[datesinredink]

Yan turtles (rottmnt) with an m/c that’s allergic to reptiles/turtles? Idk I just think it would be funny (not Donnie trying to get m/c into getting injections to help the allergy-)

ANON I AM SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BCIRBIFUNUIEH

Super duper sorry i ended up procrastinating really hard and i guess god took issue with that because he struck me down with multiple QAs and a Feelings crisis but the tests are over and I finally managed to sit down and finish Raph's part- seriously i struggled with him and mikey a lot but i guess it was kinda worth it in the end because Raph has an entire 110 more words to his part than the other three- hopefully it makes up for my lack of knowledge of his character. Enjoy!

Donnie

“My inspiration for this device was simplicity-”

Yeah you’re getting a hazmat suit until your allergies either magically disappear or he figures out some other solution

You’ll probably have to do a lot of tests, including possibly a blood draw but I’m no medical expert- since I headcanon Leo to be the medic he’ll probably end up helping too

After he finally puts the pieces together, he’ll start working with Leo to engineer a medicine to help suppress your allergic reaction, and maybe even be able to get rid of it entirely

Also anon you’re very right, you may be subjected to becoming the human pincushion of allergy shots while he figures it out. It’s safe. No it won’t kill you. Yes he made sure. Just, uh, maybe don’t ask your best friend their opinion on needles for a while….

In the meantime, he completely hates the current situation. He finally meets someone that he’s (mostly) fine with touching him, and they CAN’T TOUCH HIM without a HAZMAT SUIT. Just the worst. Awful times.

Normally, he’d have you around almost always, but, unfortunately, that’s currently not ideal.

Starts trying to keep things extra clean around the lair for you. Also everything that can be sanitized is sanitized. Good luck in the cleanliness prison after you get kidnapped later on.

The best about keeping distance, since he already wasn't super touchy before this whole situation. While he might tap you on the arm or something once or twice, it's nothing serious and you won't have a problem with him on that front.

Going back to the hazmat suit real quick, while it does do its job well, it's definitely not the most comfortable thing to wear, and you'll probably end up getting too hot pretty quick, so chances are you won't willingly be wearing it all too often. Donnie may occasionally force you to wear it, but otherwise you (usually) just... don't have to.

Leo

He’s the one who finds out you’re allergic. It was an accident he SWEARS. He only wanted to give you a pat on the arm when April first introduced you to them! How could he have known you’d get hives where he touched you?

At least he knows how to treat it. He managed to guide April through treating it, after which he sulked while rereading some Jupiter Jim comics.

Has a personal grudge against your immune system for daring to make you allergic to him. How dare your cells get mad about him.

When Donnie tells him that he might have “a fix, bro”, Leo jumps at the opportunity- oh thank god, he can finally hug you!

…Doesn’t mean he’s not super bad at focusing on actually working on it. Don’t worry, he’ll fix it eventually, just have a little patience.

Honestly, this is your chance to BOOK IT away from them, because none of them are as clingy as they will be after your allergies are cured/suppressed, which gives you more time to leave New York before things go from bad to worse.

Anyway, Leo’s about as clingy as he can be without physically clinging onto you for hours on end. Constantly hanging around you, like a ghost haunting their killer, except you’re not the one who kills people.

He might end up using your allergy to try and manipulate you away from his brothers. Mikey keeps forgetting to keep distance, Donnie’s suffocating and makes you wear a hazmat suit, and Raph almost treats you like a sopping wet cat that he has to take care of, so why not just stay with him? 

As much as he likes to criticize Mikey for forgetting, sometimes, particularly early on, he gets a little too close, and your allergies flare up, and while he does genuinely feel kinda bad, he will exaggerate his remorse for sympathy from you. He genuinely does try and apologize for it later, and he probably portals you two somewhere nice and gets you a couple of trinkets you like or find useful.

Mikey

Absolutely heartbroken!

His love is allergic to him! This is awful!

2nd most panicked when they first find out. Is their new friend ok? Did they mess up?

If you have a low tolerance for pain/allergic reaction symptoms and cry a little he probably will too. High empathy, man…

He’s really understanding after everything’s resolved and they figure out you’re allergic to them. He tries his best to keep a fair amount of distance between you and him, but he tends to naturally be physically affectionate, so there may be a slight adjustment period. He really doesn’t mean harm though.

He occasionally tries to bring you something from the mystic city that he thinks would be safe- a small figurine, maybe a sketchbook if you also like doing art, if he manages to bargain for/steal a piece of jewelry, he’ll also give that to you.

As I mentioned before, Mikey’s pretty big on physical touch, but since that’s off limits (for now) he’ll try to show you affection in any other way he can think of

Mostly quality time. He likes to take you with him when he explores through the sewers/city to spraypaint a couple of blank walls, and he’ll probably get you to try it too, and regardless of your skill level he’ll tell you it’s great

After Donnie and Leo finish making the cure, Mikey squeezes the LIFE out of you- he doesn’t mean to practically strangle you, but he’s fairly strong and he got excited, so he does feel a little bad afterwards.

Will decorate the hazmat suit Donnie gave you if you let him. He'll put stickers on it that match his and draw fun patterns that may or may not relate to him in some way. Maybe the spots he has, or the face on his knee pads. It's pretty endearing, even if his brothers may occasionally glare at him. In Mikey's opinion, if they're really that jealous, they should add something themselves.

Raph

And the award for most paranoid goes to….

Ok but really, he’s the most overbearing about it. This probably isn’t a surprise, but it’s still something I've gotta mention.

You don’t really have to worry about Donnie making you wear the hazmat suit- he gets it, not a fun sensory experience- other than a couple stand-out occasions, but you will have to convince Raph fairly often that you’ll be fine without it.

To be fair, it’s partially because he also forgets not to touch you sometimes, and while he’s better about it than Mikey and most of the time Leo, he’s also self-aware and protective enough that he’d rather be safe than sorry.

If you’re having an allergic reaction, he’ll either get Leo/Donnie/April to help you, or go find the hazmat suit Donnie made him a while ago when Splinter got sick and then help you himself

There’s a chance he might not do great though, as he’s not always the best under pressure and tends to panic when the people he loves are hurt or in some sort of extreme situation, especially when it comes to you (seriously, he treats you like a porcelain doll), but you can be reassured that he’ll do his absolute best to make you safe and comfortable.

Feels terrible after, pampers you a lot after the ordeal. Every time, not just the first few.

If he wasn’t the one who caused it, then he’s definitely pissed at whichever of his brothers made your allergies flare up. He won’t kill them, and he won’t lose it and drop kick them into tomorrow (yet. If they ever intentionally trigger your allergies he might snap some bones) but there will be a noticeable irritation and tension for at least the next few weeks between him and them.

He’s super excited after Donnie and Leo finish the allergy shots! I personally headcanon him to be the second touchiest of the brothers (Mikey being the most touchy, of course) so there’ll be a lot more casual touch between you two after. Hugs, headpats, you get the idea. If you try to tell him to stop, he’ll be very upset, though doing his best to understand, he will try to respect your wishes.. Before going right back to it after a week tops. Sometimes he genuinely does forget, after all, he does have a fair amount on his plate, but sometimes he does intentionally wait until he thinks he can get away with it again before jumping right back to how things were before. He’ll vehemently deny it, but no matter what happens, you’ll likely never really get him to stop for an extended period of time.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I hope you are well, can you do a Wednesday x fem reader

The reader is injured but but she hides it and doesn't tell Wednesday. The injury is pretty serious and when Wednesday finds out she's angry that the reader didn't tell her (basically because she's worried), angst with a happy ending :)

A/n: this is quite heavily divergent of the request but still I hope you like it. 🦦

You cursed as you stumbled out of the woods, taking the chance to gauge the cause of your incessant throbs of excruciating pain. The dread that encapsulated you as three rather large and quite deep gash marks that took up your entire left side stared back at you, bleeding periodically with your breathing. Earlier that day you had caught sight of Eugene being bullied by a werewolf named Brad; You course came to the poor boys rescue but in turn your row with the werewolf somehow lead you to the outskirts of Nevermore and into the neighbouring forest, where you gotten yourself grievously wounded by his claws.

You didn’t regret sticking your neck out for your little hummer buddy but you knew that Wednesday shouldn’t hear about this. Ever. Primarily for the reason that she would hunt Brad down, skin him and then use him as a pelt to be put outside her dormitory as a cautionary warning. Afterwards she would then proceed to scold you for your active stupidity and recklessness concerning your own health and well-being before dragging you off to the School’s medical facility. Instead of doing the most logical thing that was demanded of you in this sort of situation, you had decided in your delusional state that it would be best to keep your deadly encounter with Brad a secret until you were fully healed.

However due to having everything within your body hurt so badly to the point that walking even an inch more started to became a problem; On top of that you were so beyond the point of exhaustion and your perception of reality having became blurred as a result, your mind had yet to catch up to the fact that you had been slumped against some random shed for the past five minutes. You had even started to believe that you were on the precipice of death when a silhouette appeared before you, calling out your name, panicked. Unfortunately the rest of their words only came across as muffled or incoherent to you.

Making it near enough impossible to understand who it was speaking to you and what they were trying to say. Your breathing were ragged as though you had just completed a marathon and your situation was only made worse as your subconscious was fighting a loosing battle in remaining conscious and falling unconscious; However in the end your subconscious gave out and as your vision faded to black the only thing that left your lips before your eyes closed was, “don’t tell Wednesday.”

Xavier was having a late night in his shed when he heard something hit one of the walls of the shed outside. Curious, he wiped his hands clean of paint before venturing out in following where the sound came from only to come across your slumped figure. “Y/n?” He called but got no response, as he got closer to you and the clearer you became in his vision did he see that you were clutching your side, murmuring gibberish into the air. “Y/n.” Xavier called again though this time a little sharper but still received no response from you whatsoever which only made the pit in his stomach grow three times the size; Your eyes were distant as they stared off elsewhere whilst your breathing was ragged and raspy with exhaustion.

Seeing as how nothing was progressing, Xavier moved so that he was knelt in front of you when his breath hitched at the reason why your hand was clutched so adamantly to your side. Blood was seeping out from between your fingers, staining your clothes and your hands in an deep crimson colouring. “Y/n, what happened to you?” He asked, scared as all logical thinking was thrown out in favour of anxiety riddled panic; You were too far gone to answer him and given how sickly and ghastly you started to look with every passing second didn’t exactly help in making matters better for him either.

“Don’t tell Wednesday.” Was all you manage to said before being rendered unconscious, your hand slipping away from your side, resting limply on your lap to reveal the massive gash marks. Xavier felt sick and swore that if he were to look into a mirror, he’d probably looked pale on top of that. His mind was still running rampant on the what, when, who and how you got into this type of predicament to begin with and why you were so adamant in not telling Wednesday. She deserved to know but even if he did tell her, how was he meant to explain how you got those wounds without raising suspicion within her?

Xavier knew you were stubborn in reaching for help but this was borderline stupid of you. He was lucky enough to have been able to have found you when he had because had you been elsewhere, you most possibly would’ve been proclaimed dead by the next morning. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Xavier cautiously brought you into his arms before carrying you off to the nurses office in hopes for help and that he wasn’t too late.

When you came round it was already further within the day that there was no point in attending any classes you had scheduled. The school nurse had strictly told you the moment you regained consciousness that you were to remain in bed until you were fully rested as to prevent opening up your stitches. “Your extremely lucky to have been alive,” she said as she finished changing your bandages, making sure they weren’t too tight nor too loose for maximising your healing progression. “How did I get here?” You asked, voice rough with dryness, the nurse sighed, “Your friend, he carried you in his arms but he looked haunted whilst doing so, almost as though you had already died.”

You tried recalling events of the night before but nothing of value to the conversation came up when all you were met by was a dark canvas. Plus it hurt to think of anything about now without having a headache soon after; The last thing you remembered was the feeling of your back being pressed up against as hard, wooden structure. So it was safe for you to assume that Xavier was the one to have found you bleeding out, seeing as the only thing that laid beyond the school grounds besides the woods was the old abandoned shed. You hadn’t realised that Xavier had renovated the thing for his one usage but you thanked god that he did or else you still would’ve been slumped there right now. Dead.

Once the nurse had finished up her work you cautiously sneaked out of the bed of which you hand been occupying and out of the door, though not before taking the pain medication and stuffing it within your back pocket. It still hurt to move as your side would flare up but not as badly as it did last night; With your first course of action being to go visit Xavier and thank him for not letting you die because Wednesday would most certainly kill you for picking a fight with a werewolf had Eugene not already informed her of what happened. Seeing as the boy didn’t seem the type to being able to hold his tongue during torturous interrogations.

However it seemed as though life had other plans for you as you saw Wednesday down the desolate hall, watching as she stopped in her footsteps and looked in your direction before changing course and started walking towards you with intent, that you desperately hope wasn’t murderous, as you meekly smiled at her as she approached. “Hey Wednesday, I wasn’t feeling too well so I decided to pay the nurse a visit-“ your words were cut off in your throat when Wednesday pulled you back into the nurse office - which by now was empty- before uncharacteristically pulling you int her arms. She unfortunately made the mistake of brushing against your bandaged side as you immediately winced and sharply inhaled which didn’t go unnoticed by someone as observant as her.

“What’s wrong.” She asked monotone but with a slight hint of worry within her voice as her eyes began to scan your face for any crack within your expression. “What’s wrong? Nothings wrong, I’m just…surprised that you’d hug me somewhere that someone might walk in and catch us.” You replied, hoping that she would buy your silly lie but when you thought she did, she counter argued, “you flinched when I hugged you. You never flinch when I hug you. So tell me truthfully y/n, what’s wrong.” You winced again this time but this wasn’t pertaining to your wound but more so at the fact of being caught in your own white lie.

You hated spewing falsities to Wednesday but it was better then to look at her when she’d inevitably finds out that you were on death’s doorstep last night. “You’re right,” you sighed, “I don’t normally flinch when we hug but that’s when we’re in your dorm after school when Enid’s off doing whatever with Yoko and or Ajax.” You brought your hands to her shoulders, smiling at her softly through the pain when her hands pressed against your sides, trying your hardest not to wince away again. “I just don’t want be viewed as a weakness to you should someone should someone start spreading shit.” Wednesday seemed to still be a tad suspicious as she noticed the subtle changes in your expression whenever her hands came to your sides, more specifically your left side.

Testing this theory, she applied only the smallest of pressure and watched as you practically scampered out of her hold to grasp at your left side. “Fuck that hurts.” You cursed under your breath, peering down the head of your shirt to see if any stitches were out of place. Thankfully they weren’t but you’d be sure to double check with the nurse when she came back from the break room to be certain. “Your hurt, how?” Wednesday said matter of factly but you swore you could detect a hint of worry or hurt within her voice. You sighed and lifted your shirt to show her your heavily bandaged side, watching the shift of emotions within her eyes as she found herself almost transfixed and her jaw clenched with silent fury.

“I got into a fight with a werewolf last night, he caught me off guard and I payed the price in defending a friends honour.” You admitted, dropping the shirt as you moved to sit down on the lukewarm bed you awoke in this morning; intentionally skipping out the part where Xavier found you almost half dead outside his shed and how he had to carry your deadweight to the nurse. You looked down at the ground as you clasped your hands on your lap, “go ahead. Yell at me for lying to you.” You uttered softly, knowing that you were justified in being reprimanded for your actions.

“Lying to me is one thing but to lie to me about your injuries, thinking I wouldn’t find out sooner or later is delusional of you.” Wednesday snapped, feeling her eyes water at the fact that you could’ve possibly been in an even worse state then you were right now; You had gotten lucky but on her eyes parts of you might’ve already died that night. “How do you think you would feel had I pulled the same shit?” She asked rhetorically as she stepped closer to you, lifting your head by your chin so you could see her every reaction. You shrugged, feeling even shittier at the fact that all this could’ve been avoided had you placed an ounce of faith in her like she did you; However you weren’t certain that her faith in you will stay intact after an event like this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, barely above a whisper and in a way that made your heart clench at how badly you must’ve scared her. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak at first with how your throat seemed to have clamped itself shut, making it difficult for you the swallow the guilt that ate away at you but in the end you managed. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. You already have enough on your plate with the monster lurking within the woods and the mystery behind you visions that I didn’t want to be another burden on your shoulders.” You told her, feeling tears well up in your own eyes as you looked at her. Your hands finding home at her waist, pulling her closer to you as you rested your head against her collarbone.

“I’m so fucking sorry for lying to you, Wednesday.” You whispered, not trusting your voice as it brims with even more emotion. “I understand if you never want to see me again nor speak to me again. I deserve it for betraying your trust. After all I’m a fuck up right? An idiot who can’t do anything right without hurting the people I love in the process. In my attempt to protect you…I was hurting you just as badly simultaneously.” You felt her sigh as she pulled herself away from you but before you could pull her back into you, she already had her arms thrown over your shoulders as she held you tightly against her whilst her head rested against your own. “Don’t ever do that again.” Wednesday said as tears streaked down her cheeks for the first time in a long time that they came flowing like an never ending river. “I can’t loose you. Never. I refuse to you leaving me.”

You didn’t felt the need to say anything as you held her just as tightly, closing your eyes as you basked in her embrace; uncaring of the fact that Xavier and Eugene were watching from the doorway with soft smiles, glad to see that you were alive and healthy, and content with the reassurance they felt in knowing that yours and Wednesday’s bond was still strong as ever.