I'm probably going to sound deranged, but cut me some slack, it's 5am and I am being held in a chokehold by this thought and I need to inflict on others and sibling isn't awake because again, 5am, so now I must inflict this on unsuspecting Good Omens fans on tumblr dot com.

So we all know how Nanny Ashtoreth is Crowley's interpretation of how to be a nanny, with a demonic twist, and is based on Mary Poppins, right?

And we all know that Crowley is, um, efficient with plants, I suppose, and while I do think it made sense for Crowley to be the nanny because imagining how Aziraphale might react if a young Warlock put sticky toddler hands on a book it's probably for the best.

But

And you have to hear me out here

What if...

What if Aziraphale, taking on the nanny position, decided to base the vibes on Nanny McPhee?

Technically timings work out for his interpretation of a nanny to be based on the movie since Warlock would have been born in 2008 and the movie came out in 2005, but I don't really think of Aziraphale as the type to watch tv shows/movies.

However, hope is not lost, as, when looking the movie up I found out it's based on a book series that came out in the 1960's-70's called Nurse Matilda.

Now I don't know like anything about the books, but from what I remember about the movie, Nanny McPhee does seem like a good model to base behaviour off of when trying to be the nanny to the (incorrectly assumed) Antichrist since her whole thing is teaching unruly children to behave with a little bit of magic thrown in there.

Anyway, I needed to inflict this on others so if you read all this, thank you, I'm going to bed now goodnight

WAITING FOR YOU

pairing: bsfljames potter x fem!reader

summary: loving James Potter has become the biggest mistake of your life

warnings: hanahaki au, pure angst, no happy ending (sorry), english is not my first language

word count: 1.4k

a/n: feel like i'm in my angst era, but i rly love this oneshot with all my heart. so, hope you'll enjoy it <3

You're in pain. You feel white roses growing inside you and breaking all the bones. You can feel their thorns painfully piercing your already crippled heart. It beats rapidly in your chest, begging for help, bleeding. But you don't hear its pleadings, coughing up white petals with an admixture of blood over and over again, lying on the floor of your dorm room. You're crying.

You're crying because you're a fool for falling in love with your best friend, crying because you might die soon, crying because you're worthless.

You're in pain. You are awake at night again, completely exhausting your body, because in dreams you see him again and again and again... You see how his eyes are looking lovingly not at you. You see how his lips are kissing not yours. You see how his arms tenderly encircle not your waist. And you cough over and over again, choking on your blood and leaving white petals on the floor.

You're still in pain. As soon as you step over the threshold of the great hall, James Potter comes up to you again, excited about the upcoming date with the perfect Lily Evans, your friend and former roommate. You listen to him with half an ear, looking at how his eyes light up at every mention of Lily. You always dreamt of him looking at you with the same sparks in his chocolate eyes.

James thanks you a hundred times for bringing them together after so many years of his unsuccessful pinning. He says that he will never have a better friend than you, and that he loves you immensely. He loves you. But only like a sister. And you feel a lump rise in your throat and the thorns pierce your heart again, from the realization that you have made the biggest mistake of your life. You signed your own death warrant.

Feeling everything inside you break down, as tears come to your eyes, and a lump rises in your throat, you quickly run away. You excuse yourself, saying that you have a lesson soon, that you don't want to be late, leaving James Potter alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of Lily Evans. Which clouds his mind, preventing him from noticing how you, his closest person, are suffering because of him.

You don't go to the first lesson and the next either. You go to an old abandoned toilet, which everyone has long forgotten about, and sit down on the cold tiled loor, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks, and the bones break again under the onslaught of the stems. Your heart screams again from the pain in your chest as the spikes hit deeper than before. You're in pain, crazy and fucking painful. The only thing thundering in your head is the thought of imminent death. After all, people like you don't live long. And you cough and cough and cough, scattering white rose petals with red spots on the dirty tiles.

You're scared. You don't want to die before you're twenty-one. You don't want to die without attending your graduation and becoming an aurora, as you always dreamed of with James. You don't want to die without getting married and having a perfect family like your parents. You don't want to die without going with Dorcas on fake IDs to one of these Muggle clubs in secret from your parents.

You're scared because you don't want to die at such an early age. Who the hell wants to die at seventeen anyway?

You hate yourself for falling in love with your best friend. For plunging into the sea called "James Potter" with your head and getting sick of what you always warned your friends against. You hate yourself for the fact that your death will hurt everyone you love so much, and you can't do anything about it. It's too late. The disease decided everything for you.

You didn't go to class. Instead, you slowly took all your things and returned to the dorm. Throwing the bag somewhere at the entrance, you took out an old photo album and carefully began to review page after page. Tears were rolling down your cheeks when you looked at the photos where you, James, Sirius and Remus were so happy standing waist-deep in a black lake. Where Dorcas, Lily, Marlene and you are sitting in Three Broomstick and drinking butterbeer for the first time. Where you and James are lying on the grass in his backyard, looking up at the blue sky. Back then, no one even suspected that this would happen sometime in the future. No one could even suspect it will happen to you.

After all, you and James have been best friends since early childhood. You played in the sandbox together when you were two, went to your favorite ice cream cafe together when you were four, went to Hogwarts together when you turned eleven, and spent your whole life together. You were like a younger sister to James, whom he loved more than life. And you thought of him as your brother, too... until six months ago you realized that you were head over heels in love with him.

You knew from the very beginning that this was a losing game for you in advance. And that was the end of it.

You've been lying in your bed all day, not letting anyone into your private dorm room, which Dumbledore allocated to you when he found out about 'the problem'. You didn't want your friends to see how you were dying, and how your whole floor was strewn with white and red petals. At the same time, you didn't like to say goodbye and didn't want to see Lily's tears, who would blame herself, or the tears of Sirius, who was always strong next to you, but this time he would cry like a little child.

But most of all, you didn't want to see James, who knocked on your door several times all day, which you didn't open to him, hearing his soft muffled voice. You knew that once he saw you, he would understand everything. And you weren't ready to look at his confused look, and then listen to his pleas not to leave him, that he would find that guy who did this to you and make him love you, not even suspecting that 'that guy' was him. And you couldn't tell him that harsh truth.

You couldn't break his heart like that.

Still, James Potter's feelings have always meant more to you than your own.

And you'd hate yourself even more if you did it. Although it seemed to you that it was simply impossible to hate yourself more than now. How could you have made such a mistake? How could you fall in love with your best friend and pick up hanahaki? Another batch of petals fell on the blanket.

You were dying. You felt the stalks reach your lungs, how slowly and painfully they knocked out the last air, and the thorns pierced the thin membrane of your lungs. You felt the bones shatter under the onslaught of the growing flowers. You felt your heart bleed when the thorns pierced it deeper. You could never describe the pain you were feeling right now. The pain was everywhere. You coughed over and over, spitting out bloody white petals on the bed. Tears flowed from your eyes like a river, with every second you wanted to live more and more. You wanted to go shopping with Lily, Dorcas and Marlene, you wanted to spend more time with your parents, you wanted to have more pranks with Sirius and Remus, you wanted to graduate from Hogwarts and get married. But you were dying.

You were dying out of love for your best friend, who never found out how much you loved him.

You died. Alone. Surrounded by the bloody petals of white roses. The first flowers that James gave you for your seventeenth birthday six months ago. You died with a smile on your face because when you closed your eyes, you saw him.

James Potter, who was standing in the back yard of his house with a smile on his face, was waiting here for you.

He's always been waiting only for you.

tried for the first time to use 2nd narration... kinda liked it but at the same time kinda not. but i think it's a matter of habit... idk

but, nevertheless, thankx for reading <3

- your santi ✨

Oooh No. 28 "It's not just in your head" made me think of Na'brina

Ah thanks so much for suggesting this one! I thought about waiting until day 28 but then decided it would be too long so here it is already hahah. Hope you like it!!

As always many apologies for any language mistakes.

From the whumptober prompts

No. 28 - IT’S NOT JUST IN YOUR HEAD

“Good. You’re finally awake.” | nightmares | panic

Words: +-1800

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The scene morphed again, as it had many times. This time she stood in a fighting stance, lightsaber in her hand and eyes on the figure in front of her.

Somehow Na’brina knew she was ready for this fight, whoever stood at the other end of the lane was no match for her. But grief was still weighing down heavily on her and she couldn’t lift her arms in time to block the blazing red saber of her opponent when it came crashing down with a sharp buzz. It didn’t slice through her but knocked her back on the ground, her own lightsaber lost in the mist. She tried to get up to grab the wrist of his saber arm, use of the Force completely forgotten, but the earth seemed to have swallowed her hands. With a panic she hadn’t felt in a long time she tried to tug them loose, the person now looming above her as she was stuck on the ground. His saber ignited again and his eyes sparked red. The face underneath the hood was one from the past, one that reminded of pain and fear and humiliation. The air seemed to shake as the man laughed.

Then he struck.

Na’brina’s eyes shot open and a gasp escaped her lips. Immediately she noticed the figure stalking through the dimly lit bedroom. Fear gripped her already racing heart and she reached for the lightsaber on the nightstand, but then she recognized the figure as Kalatosh Zavros’s ghost dragging his opaque feet across the carpet as he was pacing back and forth.

Right. She tried to quell her panic, it was just a nightmare. The images were starting to fade already but the grief, the despair and the paralysing fear of being brought down to her knees again still clung to her.

Darth Andru laughed in her head, taunting her with words she couldn’t make out. Na’brina tried to ignore both him and the burning eyes of Zavros that were now staring right at her. Those kriffing Force-ghosts were always louder when she had just had a nightmare. As if they sensed her weakness.

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed, the cold floor against her feet calming in some way. At least this time she hadn’t woken Andronikos up. She looked back at the man still sleeping next to her, his face peaceful in a way that made Na’brina’s heart ache. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. He had died in her dream. It wasn’t the first time she had dreamt of that either, but each time it shook her to her core. She couldn’t imagine losing the only one who truly seemed to understand her. The thought of it being just her against the rest of the galaxy again was almost too much to bear. She stood quietly and shook away the images from the dream. It was just a dream, that’s all. Sometimes she was glad she didn’t seem to have the gift of precognition like some other Force users. Terrifying as these dreams were, at least she didn’t have to deal with the possibility of them becoming the future.

She made her way through the door of the bedroom and to the living room of their apartment on Dromund Kaas. Normally the apartment was quiet if she was still up and about at this time of hour, with only the sound of constant rain against the windows keeping her company. It was her favourite time of day. But now the ghosts were screeching and singing and talking and she would kill for a moment of quiet. She snatched a datapad from where it had been dumped on a cupboard and sat down with it at the large wooden table. Engrossing herself in work often helped calm her down, although right now there wasn’t a lot of work available to distract her.

Scrolling through the list of old messages, she listened to Darth Andru whispering about traitors hidden in the shadows. His words hardly ever got to her but there was something about the way he was saying it now that made Na’brina still her hand hovering over the datapad and glance at the dark corners of the room. The rain and grey clouds made the shadows dance across the walls and she suddenly felt vulnerable in her nightclothes. She swallowed and forced her eyes back to the datapad. This place had always been safe, she had taken multiple measures herself to protect the apartment from unwanted guests. Her heart was still racing from the nightmare, that’s all, and her four companions knew how to use that against her. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself down again.

The most interesting thing going on right now was a search for a relic on Voss that she had send Talos and Ashara to try and find. She would have gone herself if the blasted dark council hadn’t needed her. She was waiting on an update from them now, but maybe she could send them a message.

“A storm’s coming, a storm’s coming, there are whispers in the wind.” Na’brina waved a hand in the direction of whichever ghost was talking so loudly, as if she could whisk them away like smoke. She opened a new mail.

“Whispers about a crazed-” The rest of the sentence was lost over the booming voice of someone else. “You locked us here like mad dogs, release us now or regret it later.”

“We will make you regret this. Wait and see when you let your guard down.”

When after 10 minutes she had managed to type exactly two words she stood up, resisted the urge to kick against a chair, and moved to the kitchen area. Of course the voices followed her.

At times like this she was tempted to allow them to move on, to set them free. It had been the plan from the beginning to be honest. But they gave her power, strength. If she gave that up, where would that leave her? The mere thought of becoming weaker, even if just by a little bit, made her antsy beyond reason. It reminded her of her dream, of being powerless and small. Na’brina shuddered in the cold of the night. It would not do. She would not give her power up, no matter how much they got to her at times like these.

She sat down in a chair at the kitchen table that was looking out over the dark city, a few lights still flickering behind windows. The datapad landed on the table a bit louder than really necessary and she began typing quickly, forcing herself to focus on just the sentences she was writing instead of the words being yelled and whispered around her. The message was bit more curt than her usual style, but she didn’t take the time to read it over and pressed send anyway. Talos would read through the tone and she really didn’t have the focus to give it more thought.

Okay. Done. What’s next? A report she needed to write for the dark council. Great. Well, no not great at all actually. Na’brina groaned, these reports were so boring to write and she honestly didn’t see why the council wanted them. Really, as far as she could tell they only served to discourage other Sith to try for a spot on the council because it meant you’d have to write these. Maybe that actually was the explanation. She should’ve read the job description before killing Thanatos.

Na’brina opened a blank file and stared at it while the ghosts started arguing with each other. It wasn’t long before they found a middle ground in taunting her again though. And still she hadn’t thought of what to write. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, the tightness in her chest still hadn’t left and at this point she didn’t know if it ever would. This is exactly why she was keen to always have a project ready to delve back into.

One of the Force ghosts touched her shoulder and she batted a hand to get rid of them, only for her heart to jump in her chest when she actually hit something solid. She twisted around in the chair and saw Andronikos looking at her. His dark eyes were still a bit sleepy, but his brows were knitted together.

“You okay? Did Talos and Ashara send a message?”

Na’brina exhaled and grabbed his hand. She gave it a small pat as a silent apology for batting it away earlier. No one would have to know if it was also an excuse to just hold onto him.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.” She explained. He would know what it meant, this wasn’t the first time he had found her up after a bad nightmare.

“Oh.” He squeezed her hand gently and sat down on a chair next to her. How come she was one of the most powerful Sith walking the galaxy but felt so much safer when this one pirate was here beside her?

“So no word from them yet?”

She glanced back at the datapad with the open file she had been staring at. “No, I send them a message just now, I expect to receive an answer by the end of the day. Talos often checks his mail regularly.” She tapped the screen and sighed. “I was trying to work on some council reports.”

“So powerful she can’t even write a bit of text” That elicited a chorus of laughter from the others. Na’brina just pressed her lips together.

Andronikos planted his elbows on the table and grimaced. “Sounds boring.”

The Sith shot him a resigned look. “It is.” But it was better than listening to some ghosts yap about, even if it wasn’t by far interesting enough to totally block them out. If she could actually manage to get started that is.

The datapad was snatched out from underneath her hands and Andronikos clicked the file away and opened a new screen. “I might know something more interesting.”

“Really?” Na’brina tried not to think too long about the hint of hope that she heard in her own voice.

Her husband just shrugged. “Heh, don’t get too excited, it’s nothing mystical. Look here.” He turned the datapad towards her to show a complicated design for a rifle.

“See this,” Andronikos pointed to a part that was glowing red, “this is an new power source, some type of mineral from Giarran. Right now it still needs to be charged at a special port, but you should see the power this thing holds.” The traces of sleep had disappeared from his eyes, making way for enthusiasm as he showed her a video of the thing in action. He was right, it was pretty impressive.

It was easy to focus on his voice instead of that of the ghosts when he was talking about the things he was interested in, and Na’brina finally felt herself calm down in earnest. She grabbed one of his hands again and listened to her husband ramble about gear, weapons, and old pirate stories until the sun rose.

Hello! Let's go for classics this time. How about MC having a bad nightmare and they go seeking comfort from the demon boys? There can never be enough fluff in your life. (love your blog btw it's the best)

Thank u!!! Hope you enjoy UwU

Lucifer

It was well past midnight and you were starting to regret coming to Lucifer’s room after your nightmare. Out of all his brothers he was certainly the most intimidating which made you question if it was the right decision to come to him for comfort. You were about to turn around and head back to your room when you heard the door creak open. 

“Just what are you doing outside your room this late? If this another one of your poor attempts to take a picture of me sleeping I’ll-” His words trailed off as noticed you shivering, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes. 

He sighed, took a quick look around, then let you into his room. Letting a human into his room this late could easily be mistaken for something else but he couldn’t just ignore you. He let you explain your nightmare and was set on sending you back to your room afterwards but you still looked shaken up so he allowed you to stay with him for the night. As long as you went back to your room before the others woke up there wouldn’t be any problems. 

You leaned your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and held you close hoping to help you fall asleep. Even after your nightmare you were able to get a good night’s rest with Lucifer’s arms snuggly wrapped around you knowing that anything that tried to come after you wouldn’t stand a chance while he was by your side.

Mammon

Mammon was the first demon you made a pact with and even though he wasn’t always the brightest you felt that you could come to him after waking up from your nightmare. You could hear him snoring through the door of his room and although you hated to wake him up you needed him now more than ever. 

“Ughh...what time is it?? Wha- you...what do you need this late at night? Even the GREAT Mammon needs sleep, human...” His eyes were barely open but he was sure he was looking at you. When you explained that you had a nightmare he laughed a bit at first but quickly dropped it once you turned to go back to your room. 

He pulled you into his room and let you talk about it as you sat at the edge of his bed. His eyes may have wavered but he listened intently at whatever you had to say and when you finished he ruffled your hair a bit. 

“Well it’s a good thing you came to me. No one will hurt a hair on your head with Mammon here to protect ya!” His words were confident but once you curled up beside him reality started to set in. He was sharing his BED with YOU and while you might be safe and sound he felt like his heart was going to explode at any minute. The next morning you felt refreshed having forgotten all about your nightmare. Mammon on the other hand....well… not so much. 

Leviathan

It must have been 2 AM when you knocked on Levi’s door. You didn’t expect a response since it was so late but it didn’t take long for him to open the door. He was in the middle of binging an anime he’s been putting off for weeks and by the looks of it he didn’t intend to stop any time soon. He wasn’t all too happy having to put the episode on hold but still let you into his room. 

He sat down in front of the TV and you took a seat next to him. As he rubbed his eyes he casually asked you why you were up so late. When you explained that you had a nightmare he seemed a bit more understanding. He can’t remember the number of times he’s dreamt of accidentally breaking one of his figures or erasing his game data. 

“If you want...you could stay up with me. We aren’t watching any normie stuff though!” Once you agreed he hit the play button and let the episode resume. He didn’t say much after that since he was quietly trying to process the fact that you came to him for comfort out of all people. 

As episode after episode played you started to doze off and ended up leaning against Levi’s shoulder. It took awhile for him to notice but when he did his body froze completely. He’s seen this happen far too many times in anime but now that it was happening to him he had no idea what to do. He was glad you were asleep otherwise you would have seen him slowly blushing to match the shade of a tomato. He tried to keep watching but could no longer focus on the anime. Somewhere along the line Levi also fell asleep, blissfully unaware that he was resting his head against yours. Waking up the next morning was...interesting to say the least.   

Satan

You weren’t sure if waking up the Avatar of Wrath was a good idea but here you were knocking on his door in the middle of the night. You could only cross your fingers and hope that he was somehow in a decent mood. 

When he opened the door his face was scrunched up in a scowl. Even though he always seemed to be in a good mood he didn’t take lightly to being woken up in the dead of night. To say that he was mad was an understatement however when he saw your frightened face his expression softened. 

He’d hate to keep you cold in the hallway so he let you in and made you a cup of tea to help you calm down. He was still a bit annoyed at being woken up but listened to you as you explained your nightmare. 

“I admit it was rather bold of you to try and wake me up knowing how my temper can sometimes get but I have to say I’m… flattered that you felt you could trust me...” He let you sleep next to him but faced the other way. He didn’t want to invade your space but when he felt your hand brush up against his... he made one small exception. 

Asmodeus

Asmodeus loved his beauty sleep so you were a bit reluctant to come to him for comfort. Either way it was too late to turn back now as you had already knocked on his door. It took him a while to respond and when he did he was not happy. 

“Solomon I swear if you ask me to seduce your clothes into folding themselves for you again I’m going to-...oh it’s you!” He still wasn’t thrilled at the sudden wake up but seeing you certainly changed his mood. 

Half of him wanted to scold you for waking him up so late and messing up his sleep routine while the other half wanted to flirt with you out of habit. He ended up doing neither of those though as he saw the anxious look in your eyes. 

He let you into his room and listened to you talk about your nightmare while keeping his arm wrapped around you. Seeing you so worried made him worried so he let you stay in his room to help you feel a bit more safe. Asmo embraced you and let you curl up against him until you both drifted back to sleep. 

Beelzebub

You were on your way to Beelzebub’s room after waking up from your nightmare but ended up bumping into him in the middle of the hall. It turns out he was just going out for a midnight snack before he stumbled into you so he took you to the kitchen with him. 

As he rummaged through the fridge you told him all about your nightmare. When you finished Beel handed you something from the fridge along with a spoon. It was a small custard cup with a note that read “Property of Beel. You eat it, you die.” You gulped silently and looked up at him.

“This flavor is my favorite but right now I think you need it more than me.” He smiled and patted your head for a bit before leading you back to his room along with the rest of the food from the fridge. 

As you ate together, Beel tried to cheer you up a bit by telling you some funny stories he remembered about his brothers. Since you still had trouble sleeping he stayed awake with you until you started getting drowsy then when you finally shut your eyes he slowly rubbed circles on your back to help you relax. He used to do the same for Belphie when he was little so seeing you sleep so peacefully really warmed his heart more than anything. 

Belphegor

You didn’t think the Avatar of Sloth was all too keen on being woken up and in the dead of night for that matter, but you still had to try. You knocked on his door hopeful for any response. 

After a couple minutes he finally opened the door, yawning and half awake but still conscious enough to let you in. He was too sleepy to be upset at you for waking him up so he just lead you back to his bed and let you talk about your nightmare there. 

Belphegor sleeps a lot and he’s had his fair share of nightmares every now and then so he understood why you didn’t want to be left alone. 

Placing his arm around you he pulled you close and planted a kiss on your forehead. “It’s a charm to help you sleep” he smiled softly before placing another kiss on your cheek while stroking the back of your head until you fell asleep beside him.

Ingenium Fracta

Chapter three: Fear and pain

Tw: funerals, doctors, suffocation, nightmares.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Iida Tenya; honoured friend, beloved son and brother. He was a good young man, taken from us too soon. Tenya was a model student and a perfect future hero, who was taken from us by an event none could see happen. It's safe to say that he's in a better place now, he's-"

There had been a funeral, the entire class had shown up. No one really spoke, it was nice catching up with Tensei he supposed, but the fact that it was at a funeral for the poor man's brother really put a damper on things. Aizawa had never felt more guilty for anything in his life, he couldn't believe he'd let a student die like that, how could he be a teacher now?

They never even found the body, Aizawa figured it was because Iida had been fighting Shigaraki at the time. That poor boy, Aizawa couldn't imagine what his family was going through. Class 1-A had completely refused to vote in a new class president, seeming offended at the very idea. Aizawa couldn't blame them at all and he managed to get Nezu to agree that the class would be fine with only a vice president. It was going to be a bit difficult for poor Momo but she was adamant she could manage, replacing Iida would be an insult.

Recently, Aizawa had found himself having regular nightmares about losing more students. It was one of those nights where Hizashi found him, he didn't know where Hizashi had been but he didn't really care. All that mattered to Aizawa was that his loving husband was now holding him gently, "Sho? What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" He nodded in response and was suddenly lifted up and placed onto Hizashi's lap, a hand combing through his hair, "it's ok babe, it wasn't real, it's just a nightmare."

"I dreamt I lost more students…"

"Oh Shouta…" Hizashi kissed the top of his head, "it isn't your fault, it never was. You couldn't have known the villains would be there, no one could."

"But…" he was crying now, "I'm supposed to be their teacher, Hizashi, I'm supposed to be a hero!"

"You are a hero! You're EraserHead! Those kids adore you Sho! And they don't hold a single thing against you, please don't hold it against yourself." He was brushing Aizawa's hair now, making sure to be careful of all the knots and tangles. Aizawa had no idea where he found such a perfect husband, he certainly didn't deserve someone so loving. "You did everything you could, but you had to watch the whole class, it's understandable that one slipped through the cracks."

It was silent for a bit after that, Aizawa just sat there trying to process Hizashi's words as the husband in question continued to brush his hair- he was braiding it now. It was very bad when Aizawa couldn't sleep, he usually slept through everything, his thoughts had to be incredibly bad if they were keeping him awake. The guilt that followed losing a student was more than enough though, not only that but it had been the class president, it had been Tenya Iida, Aizawa used to be in the same class as Tensei; the guy was the sweetest, most caring hero they had in their class. It really showed when he saw how Tenya behaved with class 1-A, everything he did reminded Aizawa of Tensei, but now seeing Tensei's face at the funeral, Aizawa had only seen Tenya. What a horrific way for the tables to turn.

The Iida's were a proud family, with a long and incredible lineage; they'd been doing good for people before quirks even evolved. Aizawa had always known them to be a little stuck up in their attitudes, Tensei being the clear outlier- the more he'd seen of Tenya, the more he realised both the Iida brothers were outliers. The funeral had been the first time he'd ever seen any of the Iida's cry- well except from Tenya, who had cried when the hero killer had hurt Tensei and was now unable to cry at all, or even feel emotions. Aizawa couldn't blame Iida's parents for crying; their baby had just died after all. They'd had one hell of a year, first Tensei's legs and now their youngest son.

A child had died. That was the hardest part for Aizawa to cope with; the fact that a child, barely 16, had died due to his failings as both a teacher and a hero. The civilians that had been on the same floor had praised Iida, commenting that they had felt safe around the next Ingenium. They told everyone about how cool and composed he had been when instructing them to evacuate and then one even mentioned him running in to disarm the villain. Aizawa honestly couldn't have been prouder of the kid, Iida had been the perfect picture of a model hero. That's what it was all about, saving and protecting the public. That was why Aizawa was a failure; he couldn't even save one child.

Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do now. It was too late to save him. So all Aizawa and everyone else could hope to do was move on and grow from it, he had argued with Nezu for the fourth time about getting his class a specialist councillor and he'd finally agreed to it, saying he'd look for one. His kids really needed it, Aizawa could well imagine how the death of a classmate felt to them, and it wasn't any classmate either; it was their beloved class president. When the news was broken to them, Aizawa had even seen Mineta and Bakugou shedding tears, and neither of them were even friends with Iida.

It was safe to say that everyone would miss the boy greatly, Aizawa didn't even like calling him a boy; Tenya Iida had proven himself more of a man then Aizawa was. The hero course favoured the flashy and the violent, but true heroes like Iida were really overlooked. Aizawa would make sure to praise the model students he had in the future, he shouldn't waste so.much time with the problem children. There should be a balance; heroes are supposed to be the protectors, but who protects the heroes? Aizawa would've liked to say it was him, but clearly he was lacking in that department.

-

Black smoke, filling his lungs, stealing his air. He was choking, he was on the floor. He'd been asked to revv his engines, to show what they could do, now he was choking on his own exhaust fumes. He was on the floor, when did he fall to the floor? There was yelling all around him and he wasn't sure what was going on in the slightest. He felt his consciousness slipping away from him as he gasped for air, his eyes were shut tight but he could feel the tears running down his face. He finally lost consciousness as he heard one of the men yelling, "get both! Just in case!"

When he came to, he was laying in a bed. Judging by the room it was probably Toga's bed, the mattress was so soft and the aching feeling in his legs didn't feel so bad when he lay there. He was surrounded by Toga, the burnt man and three men Tenya hadn't met yet. One man was wearing a full body suit, in blacks and greys, the second man was clearly just a mechanic, the third being a doctor, both the two regular men were clearly being held at gunpoint. Tenya had the vague idea that this was illegal, but he was too tired to think much of it.

"Are you alright kid?" The burnt man asked, putting a hand on the bed frame, "apparently part of your engine got disconnected and we had to get a doctor and a mechanic to fix it for you."

"Oh," Tenya paused, he hadn't considered the fact that bring trapped under rubble would affect his engines, although to be fair, he didn't really understand how his engines worked- or at least he'd forgotten, "well they do kind of ache…"

The doctor nodded, "that'd be the stitches, they'll ache for a little while but they should degrade on their own… can I go home now?" The mechanic looked just as desperate to leave as the doctor, and both men were led downstairs by the man in the catsuit.

Toga sat on the bed next to him, "normally I like seeing boys all injured like that, but that was really scary- there wasn't even any blood!" She frowned at him, "are you sure you're alright? I don't want my new friend dying on me!"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I'm from very hardy stock."

The burnt man raised an eyebrow at that, "do you remember what stock? Recall any family members?"

"Hmm…" unfortunately Tenya still couldn't remember anything about his family outside of his last name, "still no, my apologies."

"Don't apologize kid, they abandoned you too didn't they? Didn't even care that their kid 'died', only about those poor, defenseless heroes."

"Yeah!" Toga added, frowning, "those meanie heros left you to die! You shouldn't care about them!"

Tenya nodded, that made sense to him. The thought of people calling themselves heroes leaving someone to die in a wreckage made his blood boil- he hoped that didn't translate to his engine, he didn't want to put any strain on it at the moment. Instead he just watched them leave the room, and he settled down for a nap; he may as well use Toga's bed whilst he had it.

Dispite Kurogiri's concern, Tenya had ended up moving into Toga's room anyway; they were the only ones close enough in age and since Tenya was gay and Toga already had a crush, the adults figured it would be fine. Tenya had been happy to help the burnt man, who Tenya later found out was named Dabi, set up his bed. Kurogiri even bought him an Ingenium poster, which Tenya found off because he could have sworn that *he* was Ingenium… but nevertheless, Tenya found it very nice of him, he hadn't been expecting that. The man known as Twice somehow managed to get him a new pair of glasses as his last pair had been broken, he'd also bought Tenya some bedsheets and pillow covers, as well as many books to help Tenya keep up with his studies.

In fact, Tenya was studying when Toga looked over at his book, "whatcha doin'?"

"I'm reading about algebra, see?" He showed her the notebook he was trying the questions in, "it's like maths but there's letters! It's rather fun!"

"Why would there be letters in maths? That doesn't make any sense!"

He chuckled at that, shuffling to the side so she could get on the bed with him, "oh it's easy when you think about it, come on; I'll show you." He put his bookmark in the book and flipped back a few chapters, understanding that Toga would probably need something a little easier.

"Let's try something simple, okay?" He smiled at her, beginning to write the question down when she nodded. "So let's say that A means one, and B means two, what would A plus B make?" He wrote the question down as he said it, making sure it was clear.

She nodded slowly, taking the pen from Tenya as she slowly wrote down the answer, at least she understood basic maths- although her handwriting was terrible. "Is it three? Or do I have to write down another number?"

"Well technically you're right, unfortunately the rules of algebra dictate that the answer would be AB."

Toga proceeded to look at Tenya like he was a moron, "so it's not even numbers? Why is it still maths?"

He sighed, unsure of how to explain it to her, "well you've got to figure out how to shorten the question I suppose, it doesn't entirely make sense- but that's what makes it so fun!" He smiled, knowing there was no point in explain it to her, she hadn't finished middle school so there wasn't much of a chance of her grasping algebra.

"You're so weird Ten-chan! Stick to liking murder like the rest of us!" She giggled, they both knew there was no malice behind that, her genuine smile showed that. Toga got off of the bed and went back to her own, toying with her knife. "Do you want to talk about Izuku?"

"Who?" Tenya didn't think he'd ever heard that name before, but he had a funny feeling of deja vu from it.

"Huh?" Toga was once again looking at Tenya like he was stupid, "you know? Green hair, freckles? Sometimes goes by Deku? Izuku Midoriya?"

A gasp, "Midoriya?" Tenya knew Midoriya, he loved Midoriya! Midoriya was his best friend, was Izuku his first name? Tenya felt a little guilty that he didn't know his best friend's full name, or even how he looked. To be fair though, he did have memory issues, so he couldn't be blamed really.

"Yeah! That's Izuku's last name! You wanna talk about him?"

"Of course I want to talk about Midoriya! He's my best friend!"

Toga giggled, taking out her phone and beginning to show him the photos she'd taken. They were photos of Midoriya, Tenya instantly recognized him, despite not remembering his face. The fear on his face in every photo was particularly familiar, and Tenya found himself having flashes of an image in his head, of nothing but pure worry and stress on Midoriya's face. Toga snapped him back to reality, beaming happily, "isn't he cute??"

Tenya had to nod at that, "his hair is very fluffy, and I like his freckles." He did agree with Toga, Midoriya was a lot more adorable than Tenya had expected. This was his best friend? Oh Tenya must be the best at making friends then, to befriend someone so pretty.

"I know, right? I like him best when he's covered in blood!"

"Why?"

A moment of silence and Toga paused, "I don't know, just think he's attractive," she shrugged, clearly not having a real answer. Tenya didn't really mind, he was just curious, he didn't actually care either way.

Debt of Life (Geralt x Reader) - Pt. 01

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Words: 1721

Warnings: Language. I can’t help it. Geralt swears a lot. It’s like his default setting.

Summary:

Geralt is rescued by a mysterious woman with a past.

———

“Witcher...” a disembodied voice whispered across his consciousness. It was featherlight as a caress, simply sifting through his mind as if taking a stroll through the meadows on a sunny day. So he had to wonder...Was it even real?

Maybe he was finally dead. How disappointing? After a lifetime of escaping death on a regular basis and fighting mighty monsters all over the continent, his death came from something so insignificant he could barely even remember it now. How ironic.

Then again, maybe he had it coming. How long has it really been anyway? Maybe he was finally slowing down and death had caught up to him once and for all. The ultimate retirement. He wondered if he was ready to actually lay it all to rest. He’s been fighting for as long as he could remember. It was all he had known in his life. His aching body could use a good rest, couldn’t it? Wait. If he could feel pain, could he actually be dead?

“Geralt...”

There it was again. The voice that distracted him from his own morbid thoughts. It was female. And somehow, though he couldn’t explain why, it felt strangely familiar.

He tried to open his eyes and found out that he actually could. His gaze slowly focused through a haze to find piercing blue eyes staring back at him. Unnaturally blue, and set on a face that was completely unfamiliar.

Fuck. She was beautiful… he thought in delirium. Maybe it is a dream. People did see strange things in their deathbeds, did they not?

“You are awake,” she said to him, her voice melodic. In his fever ridden mind, it seemed ethereal.

He slowly looked around to see that they were in the middle of a clearing within the woods, camped. Roach was close by, grazing on something. It all looked far too normal to be a dreamy figment of his imagination.

He tried to rise but a small hand rested on his bare chest halting him. He looked down to find that he was naked from the waist up. Though the fur blanket covered his modesty, he could feel he was just as naked further down as well.

Where the fuck were his clothes? He couldn’t help the glare that overtook his face. It just came too naturally to him.

“I had to remove them to heal you properly,” she told him. Seeing his suspicious gaze she elaborated, “And no, I didn’t read your mind.”

“Who are you?” He asked, with an intimidating growl.

Except she didn’t seem fazed by it at all. “You don’t know?” She asked, her brow furrowing slightly. Instead, she seemed sort of disappointed by his apparent lack of recognition, though Geralt couldn’t fathom as to why.

He really looked at her and took his time about it.

Her hair was so red that it reminded him of liquid fire. He wondered, deliriously, if it would burn his hands if he dared to run them through the cascading waves. It framed a perfect heart shaped face, unblemished in anyway. Her eyes, in contrast to her hair, were pure ice. So blue it was almost unnatural and definitely unfamiliar. But the lips… Strangely, her lips reminded him of something long forgotten, just as her voice had.

It was undeniable. She was surely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his unnaturally long godforsaken life. Had he met this woman before, he would have never been able to forget her.

“You are a sorceress,” he surmised, without a single doubt in his mind.

“How did you know?”

“Your beauty lies on the border of perfection,” he grunted. “What can you be but that?”

She laughed. It was graceful and yet at the same time, unrefined. Raw, like she hadn’t had a real laugh in a while.

“Careful,” she warned, still grinning. “My already overly inflated ego might become truly unmanageable with the way you’re complimenting me.”

He couldn’t help the smirk that twisted his lips. It nagged at him though, how familiar she was with him. The way she spoke to him was as if they were long lost friends and not mere strangers who chanced upon each other.

“Who are you?” He repeated the question.

She avoided it completely and asked him one instead. “Do you remember what happened?”

All he gave her was a blank look. His memory was slightly vague. He blamed the fever that had probably set in. The last thing he remembered was…

“You were swarmed by a horde of the undead,” she continued. “One had gotten a bite in while you were distracted by something. The toxic was setting in and you were slowing down, unable to fight with them.”

“And you found me while you were strolling through the woods in the dead of night,” he said casually, even though they both knew it was the furthest from the truth.

“Quite.”

“Hmm...” he grunted. She was not telling him the whole story, that much was certain. Right now, he was in too much pain to delve into it anyway. His shoulder hurt like fucking hell. It seemed to be seeping into his bones.

He pressed on to the neatly wrapped bandage. “Fuck,” he swore underneath his breath. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew it was deep. If not for her finding him at the opportune moment, he could have actually died. “You healed me.”

“Magic,” she said in way of explanation, smiling.

All mystery and confusion of who she was and how she had found him aside, he owed her his life. “Thank you. Is there anyway I could repay you?”

For a brief moment, her eyes roamed over him, head to toe, lingering on his bare chest, and resting on his lips until slowly meeting his gaze. Delicious things left unsaid but certainly implied.

He was used to such appraisals. Witchers were curiosities most women couldn’t resist but explore. Yet, she had an effect on him without even really touching him. Suddenly, his skin felt like it was on fire, and he didn’t know if it was from the fever or the heat in her eyes.

Then just as quickly, the tension was diffused as she said cryptically, with a gentle smile, “Consider it a debt repaid.”

Her lips… they were both innocent and sensuous at the same time. Her smile tugged something within him, poking at his desire to somehow just keep her safe, while another part of him wanted something far more darker.

A debt repaid… the words reverberated in his mind, and suddenly, he remembered exactly who she was.

“Avyanna...” he whispered, unable to reconcile the past with what was right before him.

“Geralt,” she smiled at him.

He took a good look at her. Gone were her scars from the fire that had burnt down her home taking her whole family with it. Gone was the mousy mop of short brown curls that, combined with her slight body, had made her resemble more of a young boy.

When their paths had first crossed, she had barely been eighteen years old. But that was over twenty five years ago, and she had not aged a day since then it seemed.

Back then, they had called her a monster for the monstrosities she had had no control over in the first place. She had harnessed all that into something more. Something powerful. He sensed it even if it was seemingly well under a tight reign.

Now, she looked like someone who could devour the world if she willed it.

“You changed everything.”

“Not everything,” she smiled, once more letting his attention focus on her lips.

Even back then, despite how young she had been, he had been drawn to those lips, though he had not dared to act upon it. Not then. His honor had not let him inflict his own desires upon her when he had just saved her from the darkness of someone else’s.

When he looked back up at her, he noticed how her eyes lingered upon his lips, and her tongue darted out swiftly to just wet hers. A simple action, and yet, it did something to him.

“No...” he grunted in agreement. “Not everything.”

That was the last thing he could mumble before his tired body overtook his mind, pushing him into a deep sleep.

When he awoke the next day, he felt like all his ailments had disappeared. He felt deeply rested and his mind was sharp. He was more than ready to delve into the parts of Avyanna’s story that still nagged at him.

Yet, all that greeted him in the morn was Roach.

Avyanna was gone, without a trace. If not for the bandage on his shoulder, he would have thought he had dreamt her up in his state of deliriousness.

His heart felt heavy somehow, as if he had lost something he didn’t realize he had. Something he wasn’t yet ready to lose. Even in pain, he had felt peace in her presence, though he couldn’t understand why. And he wasn’t going to question it either. Peace was rare for him in his line of work. It always has been. Pain was eternal. It was just how it was. So he would take peace wherever he could find it, no questions asked.

Except maybe some questions. Questions to which answers eluded him, just as she had.

Still, he shook his head and got up to find his clothes. It would have been far more preferable to get dressed in the morning under much, much different circumstances.

He approached Roach to check in on him. “Hm…” he sighed. “She took off in the dead of night like a little thief. She is clearly hiding something, isn’t she, Roach?”

Of course, as usual, he didn’t get an answer from his horse.

So he got on with his day. After all, there was coin to earn and more monsters to kill. Those undead bastards needed to be finished off before they could prey on any who are unlucky enough to head through that part of the woods.

Besides, he had a feeling. Somehow he knew...this wasn’t the last time he would see Avyanna. Their paths would cross once more.

Sometimes, somethings were inescapable. No matter how hard they tried.

— — —

...to be continued.

A/N:

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My name is Chelsea and I’m a ITU Nurse.

I’m also a newly qualified nurse - I literally left Uni last year and began my job in the September.

My background - I didn’t always want to be a nurse. I wasn’t cut out for that sort of compassion or care. I dreamt of being a PT, an athlete, anything that was sports driven.

Until my boyfriend had a bike accident, that then left him in ITU. He later succumb to his injuries and passed away. The nurses looking after him, changed my life. Shining light kind of moment - I want to be just like them kind of thing.

Granted it took me 4 years to build up the courage, battling my PTSD, severe depression and anxiety to even apply to uni. But I did it - and Sept 2019 I got my Pin as a registered nurse.

Now, if you 1) think covid19 was made up, a conspiracy or the numbers have been made up as a scare tactic or 2) you actually believe wearing a face covering will cause ‘respiratory arrests’ ‘acidosis’ blah... stop reading. Because this isn’t for you. Or even 3) you have the view of ‘its their job’ - back away from your screen.

You’ve seen in the news about the public sector pay rise? That nurses aren’t included, nor the junior doctors, physio’s etc (I use etc as there are so many people being forgotten in all this and it is used lovingly and not to cause offence)? Honestly, Im so glad that others are being recognised for their input and help during this - the teachers who put in extra work for children of key workers, who sacrificed their home life to entertain little ones every day and try give them the education they need and deserve, to the police, military - anyone receiving this recognition. Honestly you deserve it. And the NHS will not shadow that or take it away from you.

We agree’d to a 3 year pay deal, that had the options of being reconsidered earlier than the final date if there was a change in circumstances. Covid19 should really be considered as a change in circumstances. I mean being told that you’re already ‘unskilled’ and watching people clap to STOP pay rises... was hard enough. But to have everyone else recognised for their vital contributions and lay something that was agreed in 2018 - is inexcusable.

You realise that most nurses didn’t get to see your claps on a Thursday? That’s handover time. And due to covid19 if their handover time was earlier - they were usually late because of how busy it was and still missed it.

I saw one. Because it so happened I had come off of nights the night prior.

So! My life during covid19 starts off with the busiest winter that my hospital has seen in ITU. We have 10 beds. We are funded for 7/8? We had to open an escalation centre that we stole from our day surgery unit to give us a further 3 beds.

Which in itself is hard - looking after seriously sick patients away from your actual designated and designed ward and without the continuous presence of doctors.

That wasn’t enough.

We had to then stole half of the recovery room, which usually houses patients post surgery whilst they wake up.

Going up to 16 patients. Remember - at this point. I’m THREE MONTHS qualified.

Learning is hard, steep, and in-depth. You’re suppose to be trained over the course of a year as a newly qualified, with study days and help from mentors etc. I couldn’t attend some of those days because we didn’t have the staff to look after the most patients our ITU had ever seen.

Now I know ITU is hard. I picked it.

I knew what it entailed, well partly.

I have to maintain my patients artificial airway. They either have a tube in their mouth or in their throat.

They’re then connected to a ventilator.

Every single setting on that machine, every button - changes something drastically.

From the fio2, PEEP, PS, PC, TV, MVE, PEAK, RR, PF ratio, ... one button, one alteration or mistake... literally can stop this person breathing. Cause respiratory distress, arrest.. trauma? anything.

Did you know I have to move that tube in their mouth every hour to stop pressure sores developing in their mouth? And I still have to brush their teeth and give oral care?

I have to suction down their throat and clear their lungs? Or suction their actual mouth for extra secretions?

And record all this data hourly.

To ensure that this patient is comfortable with this tube... I have to medicate this patient.

I have to keep them in an artificial coma.

Titrating the drugs to their optimum levels.

Some are measured mg/hr, mcg/hr, mcg/kg/min..

some have limits on maximum dose per hour you can use.

Some have really severe side effects.

Such as noradrenaline. Which can literally cause your fingers and toes to become necrotic.

I have to monitor someone’s glucose - whether you’re diabetic or not, and correct it if needed with insulin or dextrose.

I have to give diuretics but not allow your body to become too negative, I have to give fluid challenges to ensure you’re not vascular depleted.

I can help your kidneys with the use of a dialysis machine. Literally filter your blood of toxins your body can no longer remove without help of a machine. This requires constant blood tests to ensure that you aren’t collecting dangerous toxins or you need additional support from the machine.

I can use a machine to check your cardiac output and interpret it to make sure that you have enough fluid vs a drug that’ll help squeeze your heart instead.

I can read an ECG and tell if you need additional supplements such as potassium. Do further tests for magnesium, phosphates etc. And deliver those.

I can feed you through a tube down your nose, and ensure you absorb it. But it’s okay I can give you medication to also help that - these require me to do daily ECGs though, and interpret the data of your QTC to make sure it’s not affecting your heart.

Now. If that’s not enough. Covid happens.

Now remember our record was 16 patients?

Try doubling that.

We worked in our ITU,

Escalation centre

Recovery - we took the whole thing.

Next - we took over operating theatres.

3 patients in theatre 6

3 in 5

3 in 4

2 in 3

We stole theatre staff, recovery nurses, ODPS, ward nurses, retired nurses, health visitor nurses, anyone we could relocate to help us.

March - I’m 6 months qualified.

I’m now the most qualified ITU nurse in my theatre.

I have people who have never looked after a ventilated patients before asking me for help. Please don’t silence my alarm if you don’t know why it’s alarming. I know it’s loud and annoying but it’s telling me everything I need to know with enough time before I need to panic.

Now - covid patients weren’t just sick. Weren’t just needing help to breathe. These patients were all sorts of ‘new’. Nothing made sense!

These patients COULDNT be ventilated. We needed to paralyse them to literally be able to take over their breathing properly! No amount of sedation worked! Their lungs were fibrous and acting like elastic under tension.

Side note - if your patient wasn’t sedated enough compared to paralysis - they could be silently awake, but completely paralysed. Knowing everything happening to them. But unable to do anything - not even breathe. Every time you start rocuronium you need to remember that. If you’re withdrawing treatment - TURN THE ROC OFF FIRST. And wait before you do anything else.

Back to it. They were so unstable that you try roll them, which we usually do 4 hourly to prevent pressure sores - they desaturated to numbers so low that you would usually see some hypoxia brain injury after.

We couldn’t roll these patients without risking that. So you know what. You don’t roll.

So we couldn’t protect their skin integrity. You just watch them, and feel guilty.

Nursing school 101 - pressure sores are PREVENTABLE. Roll your patient. Skin care and hygiene is your best friend.

Now covid went against everything a nurse knows and holds dear.

Our ITU never had pressure sores. Until covid. Some had grade 4’s.

Maggot therapy.

Vacuum dressings.

These patients were also clotting, and sending off clots to their kidneys, liver, heart, brain. Covid made your blood super sticky!!!!

People were having strokes whilst being sedated, going from fit to multi organ failure in days. I’m trying to save these people, knowing they could possibly wake up with complete left side paralysis? Never talk again? Never be them again?

Now you know about these past medical histories etc?

You realise what that is?

that it could be Type 2 diabetes?

Hypertension?

That was it for some.

None of this thinking they were super sick, with lists longer than my arm, and that’s why they didn’t make it. No.

Literally things that happen with age. Poor diet? That 120/80 you’re happy you got - THATS PREHYPERTENSION.

I was probably hypertensive the entire time with anxiety.

Did you know We had to use the old anaesthetic ventilators. None of us had used those before. Those big bellows you see in films going up and down rhythmically. Those.

That was scary.

I’m use to a single touch screen button (hello modern technology) to deliver 100% o2 if my patient needs it. This has a switch to a bag, a button, dials to titrate o2 with normal air. And if I didn’t monitor the crystals in the bottom my patient would retain their own co2 and I wouldn’t know why.

New found love for anaesthetists and ODPS - these machines are NOT designed for prolonged use. But they helped us keep our patients alive. By literally guiding us and helping us look after the machines so we could do our job.

Now. All of this is made worse by PPE.

I’m hot.

It’s hot.

And intense and I’m working hard because tonight, I have 3 ventilated patients. By myself.

I have a gown on.

2 sets of gloves

An apron

An FFP3 mask

A hat

A visor

And no air con.

But I’ve got this. I can’t do my hourly checks because I am one person.

My super sick patients now have 2 hourly because it is physically impossible.

Where are the other staff?

Sick.

You’re watching these people struggle to breathe on machines and then being told your close friends at work, your mentors, your seniors are spiking temperatures. Some being admitted to hospital. Some not being able to come back to work for weeks.

Some ending up on your ventilators. It’s okay. I’ve got this.

I’m an ITU nurse right?

CPR wearing that get up. Is TOUGH. 27mins. I cried that day.

We lost 3 patients in 12 hours.

I held the hand of so many people as I turned off their ventilators because their families couldn’t be with them and no one should die alone. No one. I tried my best.. and then once my day had finished, I had to come home to my dad who is immunosuppressed. Who doesn’t understand boundaries. “Kevin stay in the other part of the house!”

*knocks on bedroom door with dinner*.

Proning. What an experience that is. And doing it Daily. The complications of that were scary before you even approach the patient.

So I’m going to flip my patient - who has a tube down their mouth to help breath, who is on medication for sedation, paralysis, to keep their blood pressure up.. from laying on their back - to laying on their front.

Seems easy?

Well it’s not. And requires like 8 people.

8 people.

We don’t have enough people as it is. So we now develop a proning team made up of everyone.

There are consultants, there are experts in their fields, there are physios and then I don’t know who else.

Honestly I couldn’t thank these people enough. More people would have died if we didn’t have a proning team. But now, people spent 23 hours laying on their front. Pressure sores on their faces. Potential of going blind? New complications of not being able to breathe we never expected.

We are finally back into one unit now. I’m still less than a year qualified. And I’m still running on adrenaline expecting this second wave. Those still reading, I know you’re thinking that she picked this job.

She knew what it meant.

And you’re right! Give me those complex drug calculations and ventilators. Oh and the scrubs!

But a pandemic? I didn’t pick that. The world didn’t pick that.

Honestly thank you, to the ward nurses - your lives got flipped upside down.

The physios who became best friends.

Consultants who literally got down and dirty with us.

To the domestics who cleaned furiously for us.

OT’s To literally orientate our patients when they’re waking up like 70 days later.

Every

Single

Person

Who

Helped.

Oh communication team made up of medical students, who updated the families because... I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave my patient. Not like this!

Matron who literally had to facilitate all this, with people who knew nothing about ITU. Being in ITU. Looking after ITU patients. Whilst her own ITU staff were sick, in hospital, or newly qualified, or working to the point they broke.

To the countless companies sending food, goodies, moral support !! Oh my god that was incredible to come to after not having a break for 6+ hours ... mmm... food!!

Did you know they’re offering support for the nurses to stop PTSD, or anxiety or just to help up digest what we saw? Psychological support for just doing your job?

But it’s okay.

We got a deal in 2018 for the pay.

We got clapped thursdays.

We all know that’s not enough, but we will still turn up for work.

We can’t leave our patients.

We can’t strike.

They’ll always mean more to us than pay. And the government knows that. Abuses that.

540 NHS staff lost their life doing ‘just their job’ - today the NHS staff walked through London protesting, to be heard. To be listened to. To be acknowledged. To be paid fair.

Sign the petition for us. Because we aren’t just here for covid. We’re here for life.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/316307

And just put your mask on - please - for that hour you go shopping.

I’ve been wearing mine since March 6th. 13+ hour days. Developed a nice grade one on my nose, my friends faces bleeding from using a rubber respirator....

And We’ll be like this for the foreseeable future.

Now that we have the stocks to do so anyways.

Oh and I’m pissed my graduation was cancelled! All that and I don’t get to wear the hat and gown. Bastard virus. (I understand there was more lost but humour me).

Signed, your registered ITU nurse. We will always continue to monitor.

Soonyoung: Fear The Grim Reaper

Characters: Soonyoung x reader (gender neutral)

Genre/warnings: grim reaper au, angst, a little bit of fluff, death, mentions of drugs

Word count: 2,532

Summary: You have to erase the memories of me. I’m poison. I know I can’t take it no more. Please baby, you need to step away from me. The way I love, the way I love.

Tag list: @exo-chan-kai @purpleseleva @mntax @squishy-yamdumplings @linophobia @fullsun-donghyuck @greenmetalroof @svtbitch​

Fear Masterlist

You first saw him when you were in a car crash. Of course it was a drunk driver that hit you. Your car flipped however many times -- you think the person who called the paramedics said five -- and everybody told you that you weren’t supposed to be alive. The crash should’ve killed you like it killed your friend in the driver’s seat.

Your eyes had peeled open just in time to see somebody leaning in through the driver’s side window. The glass was shattered completely with shards even in your lap, but you were focused on the boy with the sharp eyes and the black hair that was leaning in. His brown eyes flashed up to meet yours, noticing that you were surprisingly conscious -- at least for now.

“Somebody’s coming for you,” he promised.

“W-who…?” was all you managed to croak out, wanting to know who he was.

“I’m just here for him,” he replied nonchalantly before he leaned in and pressed his lips to your friend’s. You weren’t sure why he did it or who he even was, but you were about to black out.

“You were close,” he noted, “but not today.”

Just before your eyes closed, you swore you saw your friend walking away with him, but nobody else seemed to notice either of them.

You had always thought he was just something you made up. It was some sort of dream you had and you never really woke up after the car crash -- at least, not until you were in the hospital. That had to have been it. 

But then you saw him again when you were older.

It was cancer. They said it would take a miracle for you to get better after a certain point. You were in the hospital all the time, you didn’t have hair anymore, and even just trying to walk to the bathroom was a process. And since you were told it would only get worse from here, he showed up again.

He was sitting in the corner of your room when you woke up. You had collapsed in your house so they brought you to the hospital. The doctors told your parents that you probably weren’t ever leaving the hospital again, and that was his cue.

When your eyes opened, he was already staring at you like he knew you were awake. At first, you thought you were half-asleep or something. You’d dreamt of him a few times before so it wouldn’t have been anything new.

He saw the recognition in your eyes and chuckled, “I didn’t think you’d remember me. You hit your head pretty hard in that crash, _____.”

Now you were sure you were dreaming because he even knew your name.

“Who are you?” you mumbled groggily.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He folded his hands together as he looked down at the floor.

“Unfortunately for you,” he began with a pause in the sentence, “I’m The Grim Reaper.”

You didn’t like hearing that, even if it was a dream. Your brain was still making up that The Grim Reaper was coming for you, and that was like giving up.

But at the same time, it would make sense for you to see him like that. You saw him kiss your friend before leaving with him even though you swore he was still in the seat beside you. 

You were just confused.

“No you’re not,” you said, your voice still soft. “You’re not even real.”

He gave you a shrug that basically said ‘suit yourself’. He didn’t say anything else as a nurse came into the room, walking straight past him like he wasn’t even there. She said it was good to see you awake, explain the situation, and asked how you were feeling. She checked your vitals and wrote them down on your clipboard, so you knew you were awake. That meant you weren’t imagining the boy in your room.

When you reassured her that you felt as good as you had been lately, and she had finished your vitals, she turned and went to leave the room.

“Um, excuse me?” you called after her as she opened the door.

She paused and turned to you, replying in a soft hum.

Your eyes drifted over to the boy dressed in all black, his head shaking like he was telling you to leave it alone. But if the nurse had come in, you were absolutely awake which meant he wasn’t made up. There was some stranger in your room and you wanted him out.

“Who is that?” you asked her, pointing over to him with a slightly shaky hand.

You saw her eyes flicker down to the chair where he sat, but then give you an awkward smile. She’d had patients see people that weren’t there when they were doing bad, so she wasn’t surprised you were seeing somebody, too.

“There isn’t anybody there,” she said slowly.

Fear set on your features as she closed the door. You slowly looked back at him as he raised his eyebrows, as if he was saying ‘I told you so’. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just stared at him.

Finally he stood up and walked toward you, his combat boots hitting the linoleum floor until he was standing right next to your bed.

“But you can call me Soonyoung.”

-

Soonyoung always hung around you. He said there were other Grim Reapers around so he could stay with you until it was time for him to take you. But whenever you asked when that would be and how it would work, he just said you’d find out when it was time.

He was always in your room. He stuck around wherever you were unless you needed privacy for whatever reason. He was there when you fell asleep and when you woke up. He watched TV with you, and he sometimes even sang as you were trying to sleep. He didn’t intentionally start singing you to sleep, but he was singing softly to himself one night out of pure boredom, and you told him you liked his voice the next morning. So he sung now when you went to sleep.

But then there was the night that you had a nightmare. Of course it was about death because you knew it was coming and it scared you. You knew it was pointless to fear death, but it was something you couldn’t help. You gasped as your eyes flew open to see Soonyoung staring back at you from the chair he usually sat in.

“Nightmare?” he guessed.

You nodded as tears welled in your eyes and slid down your cheeks.

He frowned, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Was it that bad?”

You nodded again.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Maybe it was weird to have The Grim Reaper comfort you when you had cried over a dream about dying. But you had almost forgotten that was what he hung around for. For the most part, he was just Soonyoung to you. He was more than willing to keep a conversation with you, he kept you company when other people couldn’t, and he was around more than anybody else. Soonyoung was actually comforting to have around.

“Can you...lay beside me?” you wondered quickly with a soft sniffle. “At least until I fall asleep, and then--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighed as he pushed himself to stand up and walked over to the side of your bed that had less monitors near it. “It’s not a problem.”

He managed to get himself settled into the bed despite the IVs going into your arm. He put one arm behind you, letting you rest your head on his chest. His other wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, so you snuggled into his body and closed your eyes. He started softly singing some song that you’d never even heard of. It sounded old, though. You knew he’d been around for a while, so you figured he knew older songs from other centuries.

Both him and yourself were surprised as how quickly you fell asleep that night. And you slept more soundly than you had since being in the hospital. You didn’t even roll over once.

-

Things were getting much, much worse. Your eyes hadn’t opened in a couple days, and you couldn’t communicate with anybody. Your family and friends would come in and sit with you, but they mostly spoke to each other rather than you. They did still speak to you, but you couldn’t reply or engage in the conversation. It just made you more and more depressed. You knew the end was coming.

Soonyoung could talk to you, though. He could hear you even though you weren’t sure why. You were sure you would’ve died long before all of this had Soonyoung not been around. Despite what he was there for, his companionship made you feel less alone so you didn’t give up quite as easily.

He was well aware of that, and he knew it was bad. Soonyoung knew you were getting attached to him, which was something that had never happened before. And he knew he was also getting attached because you were so close with him now, and that wasn’t good for either of you. But his job was to stay by you until death, so he couldn’t leave you yet.

But then something happened: a miracle. Your vitals suddenly were better, and nobody could explain why other than a miracle. Even Soonyoung had only seen things like this a handful of times. He figured somebody must’ve really been looking out for you and pulled quite a few strings. The cancer was gone, and you would regain your strength soon.

But that meant it was Soonyoung’s time to go.

By the time your eyes were open, you didn’t see him anymore. Moments in the hospital without your friends or family were mostly spent watching TV or asleep. You didn’t have much to do without him there. No jokes, no conversation, no nothing. It was just boring, and you missed him.

Even after you were discharged from the hospital, you missed Soonyoung. You knew it was supposed to be good that he wasn’t around, but you still wanted him around. So much so that you felt like it was driving you insane. It was like your need to see him and your love that had grown for him was all you could focus on. It was like he planted some kind of virus in your brain that took over. And it made you reckless.

You knew he only came around when somebody would die, so you did little things to test it. You’d walk out into the street when a car was coming, hoping to see a little glimpse of him. You’d hold your breath until you passed out, hoping to maybe see him just before your eyes closed. You once even leapedt off a bridge into the river, hoping you’d see Soonyoung after you hit the water.

It wasn’t like you were trying to actually kill yourself, you just wanted to get kind of close to it. It was definitely a dangerous game, but there was something inside you that was addicted to Soonyoung.

He was well aware of this. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t keeping tabs on you, but he’d also heard rumors about you. The crazy person who was trying to get every near death experience they could, and nobody knew why. But Soonyoung knew exactly why. He observed you without you knowing, and he knew what it was you wanted.

-

You had never tried hard drugs, and you never planned to. However, you had friends who had used this stuff. They were safe, so you figured this one time wouldn’t hurt. They had told you what to do, anyway. You just wanted enough of it to hopefully see Soonyoung, even for a second.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

The familiar voice made your heart skip a beat. You dropped everything in favor of turning toward Soonyoung’s voice. You could see him standing by the door of your room, an angry look on his face as he stared at you. He hadn’t changed at all.

“Soonyoung!” you grinned as you jumped up from your bed.

He gently pushed you away when you tried to embrace him, his eyes narrowed. He knew making himself seen to a human who was perfectly healthy was frowned upon, but confronting you about this was necessary.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Are you even thinking anymore, _____? You literally almost fucking died, and now that you’re better, you’re trying to kill yourself?”

“No! I just wanted to see you!” you tried to explain.

“You don’t want to see me,” he spat. “Do you know what seeing me means? It means death! It means there’s no hope for you left!”

He sighed deeply, running his hands over his face. When he looked at you again, his expression was softer.

“You have to forget about me and move on with your life, _____,” he said quietly. “You have a long life to live, and you should be living it. You shouldn’t be hung up on me.”

“But I can’t forget about you,” you insisted. “I’m in love with you, Soonyoung. You were there for me through all of that. Do you know how much that means to me?”

“Because my job is to be around when you’re going to die.”

“But you didn’t have to do everything you did! You can’t tell me that you don’t love me back.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you dead!”

You frowned, “But I want to be with you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning his head back against the door as he stared up at your ceiling, “I know, ______. Listen...if I could be around you all the time, I would be, but I--”

That was enough for you. You closed the space between you and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pressing your lips to his. But Soonyoung didn’t melt into the kiss. His eyes widened as he shoved your body away, hoping maybe nothing happened.

But he knew it would happen. A kiss from him was the kiss of death, no matter what.

Your body fell lifelessly to the floor, almost in slow motion. He dropped to his knees beside it, lifting up your head with one hand.

“______!” he called, hoping somehow you might wake up even though he knew you absolutely wouldn’t.

“Soonyoung?”

At the sound of your voice behind him, he sucked in a sharp breath. He stood slowly and turned around to face you, your spirit standing by the door where he once stood. He knew when you realized what had happened, you would be happy to be with him. But you were so consumed by your want to be with him that you didn’t even realize the cost or the consequences of what you had done.

Nightmare | John Marston x Abigail Roberts Marston | Angst

Characters/Relationships:  John Marston/Abigail Roberts Marston 

Summery: John has one of those nightmares that you can’t quite shake once you wake up. He turns to Abigail for comfort.

Words: 2016

Author Notes: I dreamt last night that I found a secret ending during RDR where Abigail was the one that died and through his heartbreak, John was dealing with a lot of regret for how he treated her through life. I woke up and immediately wrote this fic. 

Apologies for any mistakes, I only read it through once.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Ghost/Character Death, Nightmares

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John stared out at the distant mountains. The wind rustling the long, dry grass that scratched at his waist.

His hair fluttered lightly in the breeze. Tickling his cheeks as he looked around to try and get his bearings.

The sun was just above setting in the sky and he wasn’t sure where the hell he was. Much less how he got there.

There was a strange dull ache in his chest and couldn’t remember why. The weird sensation seemed to permeate his bones. His body felt feeble as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

That was when he saw her.

She was standing in front of him. Only a few meters away. He frowned, wondering how he hadn’t seen her earlier. It was if she had just appeared out of thin air.

Abigail smiled at him, her hair long and flowing framed her face in a way he rarely got to see. Her dress was white lace. Similar to a wedding gown and for a second he wondered if he had forgotten an important date.

She was gorgeous.

But something was wrong. He realized as she moved closer. Her body was shimmering in the sunlight and he could see the grass move through her as if she wasn’t really there.

It was then that he remembered.

Flashes of a gun fight. Her cry as she was shot. The hole in her chest. The look in her eyes as they lost their shine.

His entire body shivered at the memory. Sickness rising in him as she tried to shake it from his mind.

Abigail came towards him, looking concerned as she began to shake.

Her wound was missing. She was whole again. But he knew she was not real.

She reached for him as she drew near. Eyes glinting again as if they had never stopped as she held out her hand for him to take.

He shook his head, knowing this wasn’t real. It was a trick of the mind.

She was dead.

Abigail gestured once more for him to take her hand and he winced at the disappointment in her eyes.

His hand quivered as he held it out tentatively, their fingertips touching momentarily before his hand fell through hers and he yanked it back in surprise, holding it against his chest as if he’d been burned.

Abigail smiled at him sadly, taking a step towards him and forcing him to step backwards out of her reach.

She stopped in her tracks, sighing at his reluctance.

It was appropriate, he thought. He was as reluctant to get close to her in death as he was in life. But for different reasons.

He watched, unable to comprehend what was happening as she tried once more. Taking another step towards him, this time reaching for his face.

He let her touch him, screwing his eyes shut as she pressed her hand against his face and he was surprised to find it warm. He opened his eyes, trying to take her hand in his but his palm sat flat against his cheek and his brows furrowed as she leaned it. Lips ghosting over his before she suddenly disappeared, making him jump.

He looked around wildly, still holding his cheek as he called for her.

“Abi?” He asked quietly, pulling his hand back to his chest and turning to search all around him.

“Abi?” He shouted, voice uneven as his heart began to race.

“Abigail!” He screamed, body trembling, heart feeling as if it was about to explode through his chest.

John opened his eyes with a jolt, whole body lurching as his vision came back to him and he realized where he was. He blinked at the cracked ceiling. Gasping for breath as he registered his room at Shady Belle.

“Jesus…” He whispered through uneven breaths. “Fuck.” He grumbled, bring a hand to wipe his face and realizing he was crying.

He pulled his hand away, staring at the wetness and feeling something akin to guilt stab in his chest.

He turned to look at the leg of the bed next to him. Unable to see much of Abigail from his position on the floor.

She had been sleeping in the bed alone since they arrived. He didn’t feel it was right to force her to share despite his recent change of heart towards her and the boy.

John grit his teeth, looking back to the moldy ceiling and wishing the tightness in his chest would leave him. Begging the unusual fog that seemed to cloud the room to leave so he could rise and go on with his day like normal.

He knew he’d suffered nightmares as a child but only due to the recounting of other Gang members. He never actually remembered them in the morning and he was always embarrassed by his unconscious reaction.

This was different. He felt it wasn’t just a nightmare but a warning. A threat to stop taking Abigail for granted or he would lose her.

The thought made bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it down automatically, standing quickly and moving beside Abigail’s bed. Careful not to tread on Jack who was sleeping peacefully on his bedroll next to her.

He watched her for a minute. Unsure what exactly his plan had been when he’d stood.

Not wanting to wake her he gently sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at her stunning face as she slept serenely.

His whole body felt heavy. His stomach sick and his head faint. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beside her but there wasn’t enough room.

He leaned over her, placing a hand on either side of her body and slowly climbing up and over. The bed creaked under his weight and Abigail stirred as he accidentally brushed her body with his.

She didn’t open her eyes, knowing already that it was him without having to look. The way the bed shifted told her the person was too large to be Jack and no one else would dare lie beside her while she slept. She would skin them alive and they knew it.

“What are you doin’?” She mumbled as John settled in beside her. Eyes still closed, tone annoyed.

It wasn’t like him to ever wake her unless it was completely necessary. In fact she usually rose on her own well before him. It was strange for him to be awake first.

John didn’t answer, unsure what to say. His heart was in his throat and his eyes were burning. He felt strange.

Weak.

Scared.

His hand trembled as he reached for her. Wrapping it around her waist and pulling himself flush against her side. Resting on is elbow, watching her for a reaction.

Waiting to be pushed away.

Abigail cracked an eye open, questioning him with her gaze. He stared at her sadly, hand tightening and jaw tensing.

She frowned at the forlorn look on his face. She opened her other eye and inspected him closer. A small gasp leaving her as she registered his red eyes and the tear streaks on his cheeks.

She was unsure what this was but understanding all the same that he was in distress. She felt her heart skip a beat. Fear taking hold as she whipped her head around to check on Jack. He was sound asleep on the bedroll next to her. She sighed in relief, turning back to John and reaching out a hand.

“What happened?” She asked softly, placing her hand on his shoulder and watching him crumple under her touch.

He curled over her. Placing his head on her chest and pressing himself against her tightly. He felt desperate for her, like no matter how close he was to her there still wasn’t enough contact.

He clung to her, lip trembling against her breast as he inhaled a stuttered breath. His heart was racing, his chest aching. Tears began to fall again before he could stop them. Soaking into the fabric of her shirt and giving him away.

“John…” Abigail said softly, unable to hide her surprise. She pressed a hand to his back, petting softly while the other moved to his head. She ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and making him shiver. “It’s alright.” She whispered, uncertain of herself. She still had no idea what was going on. Only that this usually stoic, distant, man she had come to love was seemingly falling apart in her arms.

John cried quietly, rubbing his face against her chest as he sobbed into her blouse. His heart was well and truly on his sleeve and he was scared. Terrified of what this meant for him. But more than anything frightened of rejection.

He had been horrid to her lately. His only saving grace the fact that he had worked so hard to get Jack back from Bronte. He knew he didn’t deserve her love but in this moment he wanted it badly. Desperately.

“Don’t go.” He choked, unable to say more than that as Abigail furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Go where?” She asked incredulously, her tone light-hearted.

John didn’t respond, burying his face deeper into her chest and pursing his lips to keep himself from openly sobbing. His shoulders shaking from the effort as he tried frantically to prevent himself falling apart completely.

“Just…” He managed. A long pause between words as Abigail shifted to wrap her arms around him fully and pull him to her tightly. “Don’t.” He said finally, the pain in his chest starting to ease with her embrace.

Abigail smiled sadly, staring down at the dirty mop of hair on her torso and humming lightly in response.

John slackened slightly at the sound, pressing his ear against her so he could hear her heartbeat. Abigail petted him gently, her maternal instincts taking over automatically. She hummed to herself again in the same way she would to calm Jack. Unconsciously rocking them both as she did so.

John felt content in her arms. The tight feeling finally starting to loosen as his eyes began to feel heavy.

It was late already. He would be expected downstairs soon to start the day but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Enjoying this tender moment far too much to let is slip through his fingers.

He swallowed at the thought. Remembering the way his hand had fallen through hers in his dream. The feeling of absolute terror and helplessness as he had called for her. Knowing deep down that she was gone.

That he would never see her again.

He inhaled sharply, eyes flying open to try and shock his system into forgetting.

Abigail felt his sudden shift. Shushing him softly and encouraging him to relax with soft strokes up and down his back.

He eased back into her embrace, calming his breathing and letting his eyes fall closed once more.

“We can stay here as long as you like.” Abigail whispered suddenly, catching him off guard. He tightened his grip on her waist, curling into her further. Wanting nothing more than to stay here forever. “Ain’t no one gonna miss us if we’re late to breakfast.” Abigail cooed, as if reading his mind.

His lips quirked and he found himself smiling. Tears still falling from his eyes as relief began to flood his chest, overtaking the painful tightness.

Relief at the fact that she didn’t mind. But not only did she not mind, she seemed to actually want to be here with him as well. She wasn’t rejecting him even though he knew he deserved that and more.

He sighed contentedly, deciding she was right. They could lie in a little longer and no one would mind.

His thoughts began to cloud as he started to drift off. The feeling of her fingers dancing along his spine turning him to jelly.

Abigail felt him begin to relax and stopped her ministrations. Concentrating on holding him tight as he fell back into slumber. Staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell she had done to deserve this change of heart.

End.

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I hope you guys liked this impromptu fic. Please let me know if you did! Reblogs and comments keep me motivated! ❤

Coward

Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley (AKA: Ineffable Husbands)

Summary: Crowley is going crazy over his feelings for Aziraphale. He ends up talking to Anathema about it ans she talks some sense into him. This was purely inspired by David Tennant in Casanova.

"Do you love him?"

"That's ridiculous......yes."

"Then love him....coward."

----

Crowley didn’t know why he had driven to Tadfield, but nonetheless, he had. Somehow, whenever he was in a rut, he ended up one of two places - a cozy warm book shop in Soho, or a certain base used by a group of school children in the middle of the forest in Tadfield. Whenever he felt not-so-himself, he came to realize that the only cures could be found in either his best friend of 6000 years, or four children who always happily involved him in what ever game their leader had dreamt up for them that day.

But this evening, the Bentley did not sit outside a book shop, nor the edge of the woods. It sat in front of a cottage. The cottage of a witch. Well, occultist, really. 

Crowley sighed deeply. Sure, Anathema had been a significant help in averting the end of the world, but it was more Aziraphale’s scene to be arriving on her doorstep unannounced. He didn’t even know why he had driven here. He had simply planned on going for a drive to clear his head. Maybe he cleared it a little too much.

 The door to the cottage opened and Crowley, knowing he’d soon be discovered anyways, stepped out of his car and began towards the gate. Anathema headed towards her mail box and jumped slightly when she saw him, not expecting a visitor, but smiled warmly once she realized who it was.

“Well, Mr. Crowley,” her words rolled softly from her lips as her smile widened. “What a pleasant surprise.” She paused,grabbing the envelopes and waiting for Crowley to respond. But he didn’t. Not for lack of trying, a fact which the young girl could clearly see. “Would you care for some tea?” she offered, waving her hand towards the front door.

Crowley simply nodded and passed through the gate, shutting it behind him. Tea sounded nice, though he had to admit, he wanted something stronger. The two of them walked up the garden and into the cottage. It was warm, the young girl had just lit the fire place and was already planning on a cup of tea for herself. She did find, however, that a cup of tea is always best with a friend. And that’s what she saw Crowley as - a friend. And she believed that’s how he saw her as well. And in secret, he did.

Cups of tea were poured into mugs and the two relaxed in chairs before the fire. They sat a few moments in silence before Anathema finally spoke. “What’s bothering you?”

Crowley lowered the cup from his lips, holding it in his lap. “To be completely honest with you,” he spoke with a laugh, “I’m not entirely sure.”

Anathema nodded taking a drink and studying the demon before her. His aura was a funny shade of blue, bits of pink showed through in places. She had noticed that angels and demons did not have the same auras as humans, which made them very difficult to read. Aziraphale’s aura normally consisted of light blues and yellows, almost matching the colour scheme for his favourite attire. But sometimes it would turn a dark blue, like the night sky, when he was upset. Anathema had never seen that colour in an aura before, and it had thrown her the first time she saw it while the angel discussed an encounter with Gabriel from the past that had angered him. This blue-purple colour that Crowley was showing was a new one .Which meant that she didn’t know what was wrong or how to help.

They began to just talk. About everything and nothing. They hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk alone since the not-pocolyps. Minutes bled into hours, and soon the stars shined brightly outside the sitting room window. As they talked, Anathema realized something. No matter where the conversation led, Azriaphale was always brought into it. She smiled at this as she listened to a story she had already heard before from Aziraphale, but this was different. This was another side to it. 

“So I’m standing there, my feet burning on the floor of the church, middle of the London blitz, just saved his bloody books for him, not to mentioned just took out three Nazis, and all I can say is, ‘Lift home?’“ Crowley laughs, his smile larger than Anathema had ever seen it, even when she caught him playing witch finder with The Them. 

His smile faded a little bit as he thought about that day. More importantly, the years which led up to it. “I hadn’t seen him in years. Nearly a century. I missed him, to be completely honest.” He didn’t know why he was telling her all this.

Anathema straightened up and leaned towards the demon who was staring down at his empty cup after having just finished his third cup of tea. “How long have you two been together?” She, of course, knew the answer.

Crowley’s head snapped up. “We- we’re not. Azira- me and him are not together. What ever gave you that idea?”

 Anathema chuckled softly and finished off her tea. “Well, why aren’t you two together?”

Crowley’s face went red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She sighed. “Listen. That story you just told me, I’ve heard it before. Aziraphale told it to me. He said it is his favourite memory he shares with you. You should have seen his face when he talked about how you saved those books for him. You should have seen your face when you said the same thing. If that’s not love then-”

“Love?” Crowley interrupted with a scoff. “No one said anything about love.”

“Crowley,” she warned softly. As if to say “if you deny this one more time, I will call Aziraphale up right now and tell him myself how in love you are with him.”

The demon sighed softly and put his head back against the chair. He recalled that the very reason he had been for a drive in the first place was to clear his mind of a certain angel who always tended to sit too close to him or drunkenly rest his hand on the demon’s knee. He had taken a drive to stop thinking of Aziraphale, yet that’s all he’d done since he got to Anathema’s. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered honestly. He looked over at her helplessly. “What should I do?”

“One question,” she said softly. “Do you love him?” Her voice was serious, yet hardly above a whisper.

Crowley scoffed despite himself. “That’s ridiculous,” he breathed before catching Anathema’s knowing stare. She knew he wasn’t being honest, with her or with himself. He took a breath and swallowed hard. “Yes.”

A small smile crossed Anathema’s face. “Then love him.” She raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair. “Coward,” she dared him.

And that was all it took.

Before either of them knew it, Crowley was thanking her for the tea and riding off in the Bentley. He contemplated calling the angel but decided against it. It was nearly midnight. 

Queen blast through the speakers as Crowley drove well above the speed limit, making his way to Soho.

He soon pulled up in front of the bookshop and felt his chest begin to tighten. Crowley could see through the window that there was a light still on above Aziraphale’s desk, meaning it was likely that he was still awake. 

He was. Aziraphale sat at his desk, thumbing through the pages of a worn down copy of a murder mystery that Pepper had suggested to him. He was quite enjoying all the books that The Them had suggested and found it hard to sleep when there was a list of good books to be read. 

The bell over the door to the shop chimed and Aziraphale assumed he had forgotten to lock the door. “We’re closed, I’m afraid. He glanced up from his book to see Crowley standing before him, his hands running through his hair, looking nervous.

“Even for me, Angel?”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “No, never closed for you, dear boy.” He turned away to mark his place in the book before returning his gaze to his friend. “What brings you here at such a late hour?”

Crowley fidgeted a little, fixing his gaze on his feet. “I uhm- I just came form Anathema’s and-”

“Oh, how is she? I’ve been meaning to stop by and see her, I haven’t gotten a chance the last week or so.”

Damn the angel and his interrupting. Can’t he tell his friend was on a mission and that if Crowley didn’t say what he needed to now, he might not ever do it?

 “She’s doing well, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because-” Crowley took a deep breath and brought his eyes to meet with brilliant blue ones. “I’m in love with you, Angel.”

Aziraphale stopped breathing. He couldn’t remember how all of a sudden. He had no control over his body as he stood and crossed the room to stand in front of the demon he had fallen in love with steadily for 6000 years who now decided to confess his love for him in return. 

This was going to be a very interesting night.

The Kings of Paradise Guys as Dads! (FLUFF) [KOP-headcanon]

Based on Anonymous request: Whenever you have time, could you do the KOP guys as fathers/or when the MC is pregnant?

I decided to combine both these scenarios and write this headcanon, albeit a bit lengthy and kinda detailed. I've written this with the basic idea of the guys having a daughter, because it really appealed to me. Hope you like it!❤

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Taki:

When MC first told him about the pregnancy, he had been over the moon. He had dreamt of having a family with her ever since high school. He hugged her tight and the first words out of his mouth were "Thank you MC, I love you so much, I can't even express how happy I am". And he sounded choked.

He started reading a lot. If not working or pampering MC, he would read various Internet articles regarding pregnancy.

He pampered MC much much more than usual. From bringing her mindful gifts to giving her a fragrant bath or a back massage, he would go that extra mile to make sure she was happy and comfortable. It was almost daily that he brought little gifts for MC when he came home from work, much to her chagrin.

Taki is incredibly mature and that showed in his ability to handle any situation- from MC's mood swings to her cravings.

On those nights when the baby would be extra kicky and render MC sleepless, he would sing to MC's belly and rub it to soothe the baby. It was the most tender version of Taki MC had ever seen.

He had kept all the funds that they would ever require for the baby ready beforehand. He has also secretly kept money in various bank accounts for MC. Not that he'd ever mention this to her because she tends to worry, but this is his precaution to ensure that MC has enough to provide for herself and their baby god forbid something horrible ever happened to him. His biggest fear is not being able to take care of his family and watching them suffer in dangerous situations like he did when young, so he has taken every possible measure to ensure that nothing would ever separate him from them.

He has the best health insurances for himself, MC and also for their coming baby.

He has all big mergers and business deals done before the arrival of the baby so that he wouldn't miss out on the initial few years of it's life. He has everything meticulously planned, it's almost like an OCD for him.

Taki and MC decorated the nursery and baby-proofed the house together. The nursery has several momentos from their journey together from high school uptil that moment, and it is something very sentimental for both of them.

He drove MC to the hospital about 2 days prior to the due date, just to avoid any last minute stress. Whenever MC would feel stressed, he would be there to hug her and make her feel at ease.

He held her shoulders and encouraged her to push when she went into labour. It was difficult for him to see her in pain, but in order to support her, he had to remain composed.

He could barely hold his tears back when he first saw their baby daughter. Her face was more like MC, save for her eyes which were an exact copy of his. One look into her eyes, and he swore that he would do anything and everything in his power to ensure that his family would long for nothing. "MC, she's perfect" he said, looking at his wife in admiration.

The only thing MC does after coming home from the hospital is resting. Taki keeps her away from housework. He also takes care of the baby when MC is asleep. MC admonishes him at times because all that waking up late at night will definitely make him fall asleep on his desk (he did once, and he didn't tell MC this, but she knows better).

He strives to come home early so that he can play with his baby girl. MC loves to see Taki giggling and singing with the baby, and she swears she's never seen anything so adorable.

Taki is yet to get used to the diaper changing and upchucking, but he tries his best. He agrees that MC is so many times better than him at all the baby jobs.

Another reason that he comes home early is to keep the other guys away from his daughter. She doesn't need those immature problematic men with horrible gifting sense.

He's lost count of the number of times he's scolded Yosuke and the others for bringing those extravagant gifts for his daughter, but her 3 more than generous uncles refuse to listen. MC and Taki are confused as to what they are going to do with that mini-Mercedes.

Taki and MC sit together with Sydney and gently introduce her to her new baby sister. Sydney takes her role very seriously- she's even more aggressive towards Yosuke when he comes to see the baby.

Taki death-glared Shun hard when he said that he's going to be baby girl's boyfriend. His annoyance level reached maximum when his daughter giggled back in agreement. MC could barely hold back her laughter.

Taki's lockscreen is a picture of MC with their baby girl in her arms, while MC's lockscreen is a picture of a sleeping Taki with their baby girl sound asleep on his chest.

Yosuke:

Yosuke was really excited but also scared when MC told him she was pregnant. He had a less than pleasant experience with his own family, so he doubted his capabilities as a father.

Although he did not let MC in on it, he had been extremely unsure fir the first few weeks. Did he want a baby? Could he handle that responsibility? But the next moment, he thought about how enriched his life had become since MC, and another little MC wouldn't hurt at all. It was then he firmly decided, he was going to do this, by hook or by crook.

He was very excited, albeit a bit nervous about the first ultrasound. When he saw the tiny little bean- their tiny little bean on the screen, he was filled with an array of emotions all which told him that he dearly wanted this human in his life. That was the day when all of his inhibitions were put to rest.

Since the day MC revealed her pregnancy, Yosuke became extremely protective of her- he personally took care of her meals, even hired a nutritionist and a cook for her, got in the best of doctors and obstetricians and made sure he attended each gynaec visit. MC thought it was fun to see Yosuke so excited (and extra) about something.

He easily gets concerned by morning sickness and MC's mood swings. He cannot handle seeing her crying, he gets panicky and ends up doing weird things. Once when he saw MC crying watching an animal documentary, he went into a panic and came back dressed in a bunny onesie- complete with the whiskers and button nose. He was extremely embarrassed because he had no clue what to do, but that made MC smile so it was worth everything.

He's an compulsive Googler. He Googles practically everything that he is unsure about, and gets antsy when Google doesn't have an answer to his question. Honestly, the last thing he Googled was 'How to raise a baby?' If Google were a person, it would have gotten Yosuke arrested.

When the labour pains first started, he was genuinely more scared than MC herself. His hands were sweaty, and MC, through the pain, had to make sure her husband was okay. Inspite of being panicked, he refused to leave the delivery room so the doctors had to unwillingly keep him.

He watched the entire birth with fearful eyes, ready to collapse anytime with the amount of tension.

Throughout the course of her pregnancy, MC seriously wondered if Yosuke was her eldest forgotten child.

When the doctors handed him their crying daughter, there was an overflow of emotions inside him. He cried, cried a lot- his daughter, wet, kicking and wailing, was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He couldn't believe this little one was theirs. "Thank you so much MC, I love you baby"

He made sure MC was comfortable in the hospital, and that she had her favourite foods- much to the annoyance of all doctors and nurses.

He spent the first 2 nights awake, looking at his new favourite girl. She had his exact mischievous face and eyes too, but her hair and skin colour matched MC.

SPOILER ALERT: Daddy's baby girl gets whatever she wants, and she isn't even 2 days old yet. He wants to bring her up like a princess, although MC is quite adamant that she doesn't want her daughter growing up to become a spoilt, rich brat. But Yosuke also promised her that he won't let their daughter go the wrong way, and he'll make damn sure of it.

He works from home quite often, so that he can take care of MC and play a lot with the baby. He treats both his girls with utmost care, and gives them all his attention. He does not want either of them feel what he did as a child.

Compulsive photographer. Clicks innumerable baby pictures daily, and most of them look the same, but he wouldn't delete them.

The first time his daughter threw up on him, he was like "Honey, why would you do this to me?" while MC tried hard not to laugh at the scene, making Yosuke pout. She replied, "Don't worry Yosuke, I still love you, even if you're covered in baby vomit"

Yosuke cannot see baby girl crying. The first wail itself is too much for him to take, and her tear streaked little face and desperate cries bring him to his knees.

He won't let the other guys hold her until he's made sure they've had a shower and are clean enough. He won't even let them hold her for more than a minute, and ofcourse Shun or even Taki for that matter, wouldn't listen to that which makes Yosuke really sulky.

When MC once joked about their daughter growing up and getting home a boyfriend just like Yosuke, boy he freakeddddd out. No, she's his baby girl, she doesn't need any other boy in her life except him!

Kiyohito:

When MC revealed the news to him, he teared up. He isn't really an emotional person, so seeing him react that way did worry MC a little bit. But he made it clear that he was happy and those were the happy kind of tears.

For his young age, he was a bit anxious at the aspect of fatherhood. But a mini him-&-MC? He couldn't wait to see that one!

He made sure of being not only physically, but also emotionally available for MC because it was the time for the most drastic changes for her, and he didn't want her to go through that alone. He makes it a point to be more vocal towards MC and tell her how he feels.

He also makes sure he's always there to listen to what MC has to say. He pays utmost attention to all her needs. He insists that MC speak out everything on her mind and he very religiously does the same- fears and inhibitions included. Communication is the key to a healthy pregnancy and relationship and noone knows that better than Kiyo.

He tries to be home early, but if he can't, he calls from time to time to check on MC, if she's had her meals, her vitamins and medications, if she's feeling okay and stuff like that. He has tried to attend as many check-ups as he could.

He always offers MC a soothing body massage whenever she's sore or tired.

He talks to MC's belly a lot. He'll whisper sweet things and rub it affectionately wishing that his baby recognizes him.

He's honestly scared when doctors rushed MC to the delivery room. He could not bear her screams and the nurse had to push him out.

When MC urged him to finally hold their baby girl- her stared at her long and hard, not being able to believe that she was here with them. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen besides MC, and she had his exact angelic eyes.

When MC is sent home, Kiyohito usually manages the night duties, and it was then that MC realised: he had a horrible singing voice- it sounded like a constipated alien. But it soothes their daughter nonetheless (that poor baby girl), so MC has never told him that it sucks.

Kiyohito designs many cute onesies, frocks and clothes of a variety of styles for his baby girl. Even at that very tender age, she has a massive closet of her own. MC and Kiyo love dressing her up. He even tries various hairstyles on her baby hair. The other guys find it really adorable and it becomes difficult for Kiyo to get her back once he gives her to them.

He just cannot stand baby poop and vomit. The first time he smelt it, he threw up, no kidding. MC has to do all the dirty work herself.

Kiyohito has hired bodyguards for MC and the baby. He strictly keeps their daughter away from paparazzi. He also keeps her away from his social media. He wants her to have a normal private life. He is also particularly hesitant about his daughter entering into the entertainment or fashion industry because of all the bad politics involved in it.

Kiyo and MC have lost track of the number of diamond studded hairclips their daughter owns, thanks to Yosuke and Shun. And thanks to Taki for getting her that crocodile plush that she really adores. She wouldn't sleep without it and Kiyo is a bit annoyed at the fact that she won't take any of the soft toys he bought for her, to sleep.

Shun:

Shun and MC had been trying for a baby since quite sometime so when MC finally gave him the big news, he was incredibly happy.

He surprisingly cut down on his drinking without being told by anyone. Yosuke teases him a lot about it.

He meticulously tries to adjust his schedule so that he returns home on time for his wife and their new member. He also attends all ultrasound sessions and birthing classes with MC.

Takes MC on a babymoon to some exotic place so that she can relax and unwind.

Is the type to get MC a lot of treats while returning home. He picks up clothes, shoes, food for MC and toys for the baby on an impulse. If he's walking on the street, and he sees something in a shop that he likes, he's sure to bring it home.

He's really romantic towards MC because for the second time in his life, she's made him feel truly alive from the inside.

He wishes that their baby is a girl, because he wants a little girl just like MC. He regularly prays to God for that.

Shun often surprises MC with a bouquet of flowers, a shower of kisses, cuddles, a candlelight dinner or a bubble bath with her favourite bath bombs.

Shun personally gets into the baby-proofing stuff. He does not want to leave any corner of the house untouched.

Just before going to sleep, Shun spends some time on self-introspection and thinks how he can be a better husband and father. Unknown to him, MC hasn't missed the changes in his behaviour and she's thankful to have him in her life.

For all the time he spent carefully managing his schedule, the baby chose to arrive at that exact moment when he wasn't home. Taki, Yosuke and Kiyohito rushed MC to the hospital for an early delivery. Shun at that time was filming the last scene for his last film of the season in another town. So when Taki could finally reach him and tell him about the news, he drove to the hospital as fast as he could. But through the traffic and distance, it took him more than an hour to come. By the time he reached, MC had already delivered their daughter and was tiredly waiting for him.

"Look at our princess Shun, exactly like the one you wanted" MC had barely said the words when he wrapped her in a tight hug and cried to his hearts content. He was happy more than words could express, but also emotional at the aspect of not being able to witness their daughter's birth.

He held his daughter in his arms all night and thanked god for granting his wish. She has taken his dark hair and lip-shape, but the rest of her looks like MC. Once they return home, he has every plan ready to spoil the two of them.

Shun likes to soothe his daughter by playing the piano. When she's fussy, she won't settle for anyone but daddy. Since he's taken a short hiatus from filming, he is almost always at home. He doesn't want to miss anymore of his daughter's milestones.

He's surprisingly a pro at changing diapers, cleaning baby vomit and handling the teething. The other guys were surprised to see him do all the work without even scrunching his nose. They think he must have some sort of superpower.

Shun thinks that the guys are a bad influence for his daughter, and had plans to keep them away from her, but MC told him not to. The baby girl needs to have some entertainment in her life too. It still worries Shun as to what that entertainment might be. He also really hopes that Yosuke doesn't become her favourite uncle.

His daughter is his new muse, his new inspiration. He pens down poems and stories for her and she listens to him with all the attention that she can give at that age- eyes wide, saliva dribbling onto his shirt and hands in her mouth. It is an adorable sight to witness.

Shun has a really good singing voice and it moves MC to tears whenever she sees him singing to their daughter, her head on his chest and her little hand clasped in his- like a protector. His world revolves around his wife and daughter, he's proud of them, for he knows that they're his forever.

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Link to Masterpost

Ch. 1

Chapter 2 Word Count: 4,100 Can also be found here

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"I want you to be strong, like I know you can."

Dawn crested over the horizon, awakening the small animals that scurried out from beneath the thicket as birds of song flew overhead. The warmth of the sun kept away the early morning chill in the air, as a young boy began to rouse from sleep, tucked away in the midst of long, golden fields. He nuzzled his face further into the soft fur beneath his head, sighing deeply with content.

"Come, son," a deep voice spoke, as they nudged the boy's chin to keep the dreams at bay.

Squinting against the intruding sunlight, Shippou lazily opened his eyes to be greeted with the clear blue skies above. Wisps of clouds rolled lazily by and he could hear the croaking of a toad from the nearby pond. He tightened his hand into a fist and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, his mouth opening in a deep yawn. .

The wet nose retracted from his face. "Day has approached. It's time to wake."

Bright green eyes opened fully to peer up at the demon above him. Armor covered his golden fur, which shimmered in the sun, and his brown gaze held the warmth of fire.

"Father?" Shippou whispered, stretching his arms over his head.

The fox demon chuckled and waited for the boy to rouse completely. "Sleeping the day away is not a wise decision, Shippou. There is still much to learn before the Fox Demon Promotional Exams."

He nodded mutely and slowly stood, causing his shaggy auburn hair to fall into his eyes. His father uncurled his tail from around him and padded out from beneath the tree they had slept under for the night. "Of course, Father," Shippou replied sleepily, shaking his head to clear away the remaining drowsiness. He felt more tired than usual, he noted dully.

It took another few minutes before he was fully awake, and during that time excitement slowly began to build within his chest. Training had always been his favorite part of the day. He couldn't wait to become a great demon – he would grow up to be big and strong, just like his father!

Suddenly, a loud thump came from behind him, causing him to jump wildly. He cried out dramatically, quickly finding cover behind his father's hind paw, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest as fear crept over him like a winter's chill. His father gave out a big-bellied laugh as Shippou noticed the dead rodent laying at their feet. The tall grass parted, revealing a beautiful fox demon. With her humanoid features and copper-colored hair pulled back by a blue ribbon, it was obvious which parent Shippou took after. Upon recognizing her, the small fox demon visibly relaxed and sighed with relief.

"My, that is not the way for a warrior to act." His father chuckled.

"But I'm just a kid," he argued begrudgingly, puffing out his cheeks while his arms crossed over his chest.

Kind, emerald eyes flickered over him, lips pulled into a smile. "Oh dear, you sure are spirited this morning." Her laughter rang like the tinkling of bells. "Shall you eat breakfast before your training? I'm sure no warrior will fight well without a proper meal."

He grinned ear-to-ear at her words, his previous annoyance already forgotten. "Of course, Mother," he answered cheerfully.

He scampered over to her, eager and ready to satisfy the hunger gnawing at his stomach. But when he glanced up, no longer did the beautiful fox demon stand before him. Instead, she had been replaced by the image of a human girl. Obsidian hair spilled softly over her shoulders and she dressed in a strange, white and green outfit. Most of her face was shadowed, darkened, but he could see the up-turn of her lips, the grace of her smile. She waved to him, his name a whisper, "Shippou."

Perplexed, Shippou quickly shut his eyes and shook his head. He must be seeing things, and he was, for when he looked back at his mother's confused expression, the human girl had disappeared.

"Is everything all right?" the female fox prodded gently, concern evident in her voice.

He wasn't sure what to think, but decided to chalk it up as some kind of illusion. He nodded his head curtly and grinned. "Yeah, everything's great!"

As the small family sat around their morning meal, Shippou found his mind elsewhere, studying the pretty girl in his head. He couldn't remember ever meeting someone like that before, so why did she appear to him now? Furthermore, who exactly was she? The human appeared nothing like the villagers he had seen, and didn't resemble a holy person either.

However, he couldn't help but notice the longing in his heart and the sting of tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. He closed his eyes to bring forth the image of her once more, but he couldn't. It was as if she had never existed.

. . .

The rich smell of damp leaves permeated the forest as wisps of silver-gray steam curled and danced their way through the air, as if excited to escape the gentle pull of the hot springs. Water splashed quietly over tiny falls as an owl hooted nearby. Eerie noises always accompanied the night, but in the warmth of the springs, it felt like a little safe haven.

Shippou giggled with glee as he jumped off the rocky edge and into the water. A small splash sent a cascading wave over his mother and father, the latter of whom roared with laughter. In this moment, it became the most perfect memory of his family, and Shippou would cling to it for a long time. It was the way his family should always be.

In that snapshot, the undamaged personality of his family was so golden and sacred; he wanted to keep it forever.

"Calm down, Shippou," his mother chastised him from her place against the rocks, holding up her hands to defend against another splash. "There is no need to be so playful."

"Let him play," his father contended with a grin. "He will only be a boy once. He should enjoy it." He growled happily and nudged his mate's cheek with his nose.

Shippou snickered, watching as his parents loved one another.

"Yeah, Mama," he joked. "I'm just a kid."

That earned him a playful glare from his mother, whose next words quickly died on her tongue by her mate's kiss. Heat crept up Shippou's neck as he glanced away, embarrassed by his parents' show of affection.

It wasn't uncommon for them to be tender toward one another. He considered it normal for his family, but as he grew older, he found himself wondering if he would ever have those feelings. He didn't have any friends, but his father assured him he would meet plenty of other fox demons once he entered into the Fox Demon Promotional Exams. Ever since then, he only dreamt about all the other foxes he would meet.

Shippou turned on his back and floated on top of the hot springs. The water moved softly around his outstretched fingers, caressing them warmly, moving circularly in their wake. He pulled his hand back and watched the drips, both transparent and opaque from the steam.

He glanced upward, his eyes ghosting over the half-moon night, accompanied by a flurry of stars. They illuminated the darkness, bordered by tall tree branches overhead. It was another perfect evening, so innocent and full of love. His parents' mumbled conversation could be heard in the distance, but as he dunked his head into the water, their voices became muffled completely.

He closed his eyes and simply floated beneath the water, letting his mind wander to everything and nothing.

"Think of all the fun things you can do when there's two of you," he heard himself say.

"Listen kid…" a gruff voice replied with annoyance.

"Mom and dad and I always took baths together, and we had a really great time."

"Remind me to explain it to you when you're a bit bigger."

His eyes shot open in alarm and he struggled to the surface of the pond. He pushed through the water into the steamy air above, gasping for breath. He quickly glanced around the hot springs, his eyes darting between the rocky shores, but there was nobody there.

"Is everything all right, Son?" his mother called, worried from where she sat upon one of the rocks.

His chest heaved as he drew in breath, blinking against the water dripping from his bangs. What was that just now? The conversation felt so real… surely he had never said those things. And that gruff voice… where had it come from? Who had it belonged to?

"Son," his father said sternly, moving through the water toward him. "What's wrong?"

Shippou quickly shook his head and gave his father a shaky smile. "N-Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine."

The elder fox demon gave him a skeptical look, but finally exhaled deeply before returning to his mate's side.

His head whirling from what he had experienced below the water, Shippou couldn't help the fear creeping up his spine. That vision, those voices… it felt almost as if he was remembering something, a figment of his imagination long forgotten.

Was that truly what it was? A memory?

. . .

The adrenaline flooded his system, right into his blood. He felt like his heart would explode and his eyes were wide, letting in every ounce of the fading light. His body wanted to either run fast for the hills or work to find some kind of weapon, but instead he stayed perfectly still right where he knelt. Sometimes freezing became the best choice, and in reality, he only had three choices anyway.

Shippou fought to quell the hammering in his chest, but he knew that would never happen. He watched through the brush carefully as he hid behind a tree, his ears alert to the surrounding forest life. He didn't regret coming. It had been his mission, after all. But he wondered why he felt so scared? No other demons seemed to be. Maybe they were, he silently noted. Maybe they were scared all the time. Perhaps that was the definition of bravery.

An agonized howl reached into the darkening sky as rain fell from the heavens.

Shippou blinked away the memory, shaking his head to regain focus. Suddenly, golden light from ignited fire appeared a few paces to the east. His adrenaline surged so fast, he almost vomited. He could feel the saliva thickening in his mouth as he swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. At some point, he would have to move, but he was frozen in absolute terror.

"I'm just a kid," he whispered aloud into the night air, his voice trembling even to his own ears. "Why me?"

"Come out, little fox," a grating voice taunted through the forest. "I know you're here somewhere."

The demon drew closer. Shippou squeezed his eyes shut as he battled with himself to move. He could feel his legs shake beneath him and his hands were no better.

"Father," he cried out softly.

"It's okay to be afraid, Shippou. Without fear, there would be no courage. A strong demon knows when to run and when to fight."

"R-Right," the fox kit mumbled, opening his eyes. "I have to be strong."

With a deep breath, he ventured from his hiding spot and sped through the forest, his heart pounding as he heard his pursuer's quickening footsteps behind him. He had to think of something. His mind racked over all his fox magic and tricks, contemplating which one to use. Time was running out. He needed to make a decision fast.

Furrowing his brows, he jumped up and climbed the trunk of a tree high into its branches. From there, he could have a better vantage point of the forest floor. He rested one arm over his bent knee, waiting quietly for his opponent. His abilities were not very strong yet, and they were mostly for defensive maneuvers, but he had to try.

Blood splattered against the ground, staining it red.

"Little fox," the demon called out again, coming to stop just beneath him. His snake-like tongue flickered out of his mouth to taste the air. "I can smell your fear. You're here somewhere."

Shippou gulped, taking out a small top from an inside pocket. "Here goes nothing," he whispered. "Smashing top!"

In one fluid motion, he threw the top straight toward the green, lizard demon, which looked up with wide-eyes. The top grew in size, spinning and causing a large wind to encompass them. It landed straight on the demon's head, forcing him to crumple to the ground.

Wasting no time, Shippou threw a ball of blue fire from his hand, surrounding the spinning top with flames. It spread and spun in a dizzying fashion, setting the strong wind around them on fire. It seemed to stop the demon for the time being, but unfortunately it was only an illusion and wouldn't hold him for long.

Shippou turned and jumped along the surrounding trees, galloping across the branches to put distance between him and his opponent. When he could barely feel the rush of the wind from his attack, he dropped to the forest floor and placed a leaf upon his head. "Transform!"

In a cloud of smoke, he vanished, and in his place stood a young man who looked like any ordinary villager. He quickened his pace through the trees, praying he somehow tricked the demon in order to make his escape.

His father knelt down, clutching a body to his chest, as auburn hair spun softly over his arm, a blue ribbon shifting with the breeze.

"I have to be strong," he muttered to himself, memories of that dark day swirling through his mind. I need to protect the ones I care for. I need to—

His thoughts were cut short as a slimy claw wrapped around his body, the ground disappearing beneath him, bringing a shriek from his throat as his disguise vanished and reverted him back to his small, fox demon self.

"Let me go!"

The demon picked him up to look at him, tongue hanging out as thick saliva dripped from his mouth. "Thought you could fool me?" he sneered, eyes narrowing with rage.

"Don't eat me!" Shippou begged as he clenched his eyes shut, pushing and tugging against the claws that held him in its grasp. "I don't even taste good!"

A sudden howl of laughter reached his ears, startling the kit. He opened an eye, peering curiously at the demon. "You've done well, Shippou."

The demon suddenly began to shrink, changing back into its original form as a mere toy, and Shippou was released onto the ground. A large, fox demon appeared and picked it up, stuffing it back into the pocket of his vest. He chuckled at the boy's annoyed glare. Shippou puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That was playing dirty, Father," he grumbled.

"Nonsense," the elder fox demon claimed, setting his hands on his hips. "I told you I wasn't going to hold back."

"You didn't have to be so scary," he argued, a blush dusting the bridge of his nose. "Besides, how can I defeat that terrifying of a monster? I'm not that strong yet."

"But you will be one day. I'm simply preparing you for what to expect when the time comes."

Shippou tugged at the blue ribbon that held his hair back, letting his fingers linger on it, before pulling away and straightening out the rest of his clothes. "I'm never going to be ready at this rate."

His father scooped him up in his arms and placed him on his shoulder. "You will be," he assured as they ventured toward home. "We just need to train a little harder."

"Great job on that lizard demon, Shippou."

Emerald eyes wide, Shippou quickly scanned the forest in search of the owner of the voice. It felt so familiar, and yet the trees surrounding them were empty. Only he and his father were present, leaving the kit to wonder if he had even heard the man's voice at all.

"Yeah," he finally replied distractedly to his father's statement, looking down into his hand. He clenched and unclenched his fist, mulling over the voice before chalking it up to a figment of his imagination.

But he couldn't deny that he felt a little surer of himself.

. . .

Sun filtered through the green canopy above as fresh fallen rain dripped from the leaves. Shippou eyed the red apple in his hand curiously, twisting and turning it every angle as he pondered. Advancing in the Fox Demon Promotional Exams had been harder than he thought. It had been fairly simple at first; trick a few lowly villagers and jump three ranks no problem. But now, he had to do that to a dozen villagers to even gain a tenth of a point.

He wrinkled his nose as he took a bite of his apple, wet and crisp as it broke between his teeth with a soft crunch. His father had stayed behind at home, encouraging Shippou to return once in a while to let him know how it was going, insisting that this was a journey the young kit had to take on his own – to find his strength and independence. Which was why he had traveled away from the other competitors only hoping to find some new meat to toy with.

Suddenly, there was the sound of bells. He closed his eyes in response, the clanking of metal sounding so familiar. Of course it sounds familiar, he silently admonished. It's metal. But he couldn't figure out why the sound of the bells was accompanied by the image of a monk's staff, the rings jingling as the owner beat the path beside him.

Images came to him in rapid flashes; a male figure leaning against a golden staff - the same golden rod used as a weapon in battle - shouting over his shoulder, the gleam of the staff catching his eyes - talking to this man like an ally - all too fast to make sense of, and all too strange to be done by what he presumed was a holy man.

'Holy man? More like a ladies man.' The memory called out to him, the sound of his voice causing a sharp pain that brought him to tremble.

As if on cue, he heard a shuffling beneath him and glanced down between the leaves, catching sight of a man walking along the dirt path. Dressed in purple cloth, it appeared as if he was a holy person of some sort. A monk or priest perhaps? His heart leapt into his throat at the similarities before he quickly shook his head.

Now was not the time to have a mental break down. Training his thoughts back on the Fox Demon Promotional Exams, a sly grin slid onto Shippou's face as he finished his apple and stuffed the core into a hole in the tree.

If he was able to trick a man of the cloth, he would jump ranks in the exams.

"Come to papa," he snickered, quietly dropping down to a lower branch to catch a better look.

The dark-haired man came upon a fork in the road and glanced in both directions. He jingled the golden staff he had in his left hand before promptly letting it fall to the ground. It landed on the path veering toward the right.

"So, I should go right," he murmured, furrowing his dark brows as he glanced down the aforementioned direction.

Two traveling village men walked up behind him, conversing with each other. "Did you hear about the new woman working at the rest house up ahead?"

The monk glanced over his shoulder at them.

"They say her fair complexion and beautiful eyes are unparalleled," the second man responded. "And I understand she's unattached."

Laughing, the first guy sarcastically snipped, "I could use a bite to eat," as both men continued down the path to the left.

"Just what I was thinking."

The man watched after them for a moment, before placing his foot on the edge of the staff and turning it so it pointed toward the other path. "Divine intervention."

Emerald eyes peered closely at the man as he grabbed his staff and stood, immediately following after the villagers. He raised a brow. "I thought he was a holy man, but he sounds like a ladies' man to me," he grumbled.

An evil grin pulled at Shippou's cheeks as he narrowed his eyes. He now had an idea as to how he was going to trick the poor monk.

The sound of bells kept pulling at the back of his mind, making his head ache, but he forced himself to ignore it. Getting distracted would certainly spell failure, and he really needed to win this one.

Quickly running through the brush to get ahead of him, Shippou placed a leaf on his head, whispering, "Transform." In his place was a beautiful village woman, who apparently had fallen and twisted her ankle. He snickered, hearing the monk approach. This was going to be good.

Groaning in obvious distress, the woman rubbed her ankle gingerly. The man of the cloth waltzed up, his brows raised, as he eyed the predicament she had gotten herself into.

"Oh my," he spoke. "What do we have here?"

"Oh, Priest, I've fallen and hurt my ankle. I don't think I can walk," she beckoned, tears springing to her eyes.

He kneeled down beside her, offering her a warm smile. "There, there, now. I'll help you to the rest house ahead."

"Goodness, you are so kind, Priest," she purred, batting her eyelashes.

"I'm a monk, not a priest," he clarified, offering his hand. When she grasped it believing he would help her stand, he instead clasped his other hand over hers. "You are so beautiful. Would you grant me the honor of bearing my children?"

Is he serious?! Shippou felt heat creep up his neck and flush his cheeks. "U-Uh… O-Oh my, monk," he replied, his voice quivering. Stay in character! he mentally chastised himself, clenching his jaw as he tried to keep his transformation intact. I won't last much longer…

The monk only continued to smile, making Shippou wither under his gaze.

"Y-Yes, I will bear your children!" the woman finally agreed quickly.

His brows shot up in surprise. "You will?"

"O-Of course! For such a kind man as you, I will do anything!"

Poof!

Oh, no! Shippou inwardly groaned, feeling his tail twitch in the open air. Hopefully he didn't notice!

"Anything?" the monk questioned, violet eyes twinkling, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as if ready to pull her to her feet.

"A-Anything," she replied in earnest. Come on, stupid! Take the bait!

He cleared his throat, and quickly dropped her hand. "Then perhaps do better than a woman when trying to trick a pure man such as myself."

With that, Shippou's transformation ended, the cloud of smoke revealing his small fox demon self.

"Why you!" he called out, shooting an angry glare at the man. "How did you know?"

The monk shrugged. "I've known since I first saw you. Your demonic aura is weak, but detectable. Did you honestly think that ruse would work on me? I am a man of the cloth. Your tricks can do me no harm."

He turned away and began walking down the path once more. "Wait! I'm a demon. Aren't you going to slay me?"

Turning, the man gave him a smile and a knowing glance. "You're just a child, hardly a threat to anyone."

"Oh, I'll show you!" he grumbled, scrunching his nose and puffing out his cheeks in distaste, watching the monk walk away from him.

Inwardly, Shippou swore he would get his revenge on that monk. No matter what! He had a reputation to build, after all.

The HereAfter, Chapter 12

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, read on AO3! The HereAfter discord server!

The entire chapter under the cut

--

“IT WORKED! Yes, it worked!!” Mumbo heard a voice yell happily. The person who owned the voice was staring down at him with an expression of glee. Another person was nearby. They, however, did not look so happy. “..we got a kid.” He muttered. “A kid won’t know any redstone. Humph.” He continued. Mumbo didn’t say a word. He was confused. Where was he?

The room he was in was decorated with all sorts of buttons, levers, and some sort of glowing red sand. Mumbo, in all of his life, had never seen anything so strange before.

“We can always teach him! The clock brought him here and we got control of the clock! What difference does it make if we have gotten an old person- the clock worked for us!” The first guy smiled, the other sighed.

“Fine. Stand up, Kid,” he pointed to Mumbo. Mumbo quickly stood up. He opened his mouth to say something but was spoken over almost immediately. “Do you know redstone?” The second guy asked. Mumbo shook his head. The other hummed, disappointed. “Come, follow me, we’ll give you a tour and you can meet the others,” he gestured for Mumbo to follow.

Mumbo slowly opened his eyes. Ticking.

There was a faint soft ticking. It ticked inside his mind. He felt it, it was in unison to his own heartbeat. The ticking wasn’t loud at all. It was more like white noise, able to be forgotten about easily enough. Though his head hurt and his vision was cloudy, he could barely see anything at all. He was no longer at spawn- or at least he wasn’t sitting in the sand. He appeared to be sitting on a large pirate boat near shore.

“Oh so you’re finally awake,” a voice called over. Mumbo sat up and glanced over. It was False. “You sure have changed, huh?” She asked. Mumbo tilted his head slightly, confused.

He glanced down at himself and realized what she was talking about. His clothing has changed entirely. His suit was blue instead of black and the pockets were trimmed with yellow fabric. His dress shirt was a light cream yellow, his tie was a darker, more golden yellow. He also wore bright golden gloves- something he had never worn before.

“When did I change-?” Mumbo asked himself under his breath, though, False had heard him. She shrugged. “It’s not just a change of clothes. Your eyes changed too.” She told him.

If Mumbo were to see himself in a reflection, he would find out that his eyes had changed more notably than his clothes. His scleras were grey, darker than the usual white. His left eye’s pupil was a light grey clock, not like the clocks in the world though. The clock had no sun or moon, day or night. It only had two hands that spun around not telling the time at all, completely disregarding the right eye that told the time with his necklace. His right eye was a normal clock.

False pointed to a body on the other side of her and Mumbo. Grian laid on the deck, curled in on himself. His clothes had changed as well. A bright yellow sweater with a blue collar, a single blue glove, and his elytra- Mumbo squinted his eye’s to get a better look. He wasn’t sure of it- but Grian’s elytra appeared to not be strapped onto him at all, though it was clearly on. The colors had changed as well, it was closer to the regular elytras that everyone else wore, though bluer and had light blue flight feathers.

“He hasn’t woken up yet. Cleo and I have been watching you two for the past few weeks. All the hermits were scared you weren’t even going to wake up- and Grian only recently stopped shaking.” False went on. Mumbo glanced back over at her. “Weeks? How long was I unconscious for?” He asked. False hummed, thinking. “Possibly three weeks or so? Joe has stopped by to keep track of things though, he should know.”

Mumbo nodded. False glanced down at the ship’s wooden boards, feeling very saudade. “A lot has happened in those three weeks. Hermits had vanished..” She spoke quietly as if she didn’t want to hear herself say it. “First it was Wels, then Stress.. a week later it was Python, then Jessassin- and finally Biffa just a few days ago. People have been leaving the world so quickly-“ she frowned. Mumbo glanced down.

“And I don’t know what’s causing it- I don’t know how to stop it either. No one does..” she paused. “I fear all of us will vanish one day and they’ll be no one left,” she chuckled softly at the end, not a happy chuckle, but a hollow laugh, like she realized the reality of how possible that was- and how scary it was.

False suddenly shook her head. “Sorry for laying that all on you so soon. These past few months have definitely been something else,”

Before Mumbo had the time to respond, he heard Grian stir next to him. Grian stretched and yawned before sitting up and opening his eyes. “Mornin’ sleepyhead,” False greeted.

Grian glanced over. His eyes weren’t his regular blue and red color. The whites of his eyes were now dark grey and light blue. His left eye was an average clock, his right eye was a crescent moon.

“Grian you’re-“ Mumbo went to tell him but Grian was already inspected his own outfit. “What happened?” He asked quietly, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “You two passed out after some sort of explosion at spawn… some Hermits left the world too,” False explained. Grian frowned slightly and glanced over at Mumbo, a strange look in his eyes.

“I had a dream-“ he said. “No, not a dream- a memory. I was woken up from reliving a memory. My last few moments in my world.” His face showed grief. Mumbo glanced at the ground. He also had a dream, though, it was just a dream- surely it was. He struggled to remember it. The ticking interrupted his mind each time he tried to remember what he dreamt about.

‘People.. other people.. not hermits. Where?’ He thought. Grian and False went on to talk. Grian explained what had happened in his memory. Mumbo sat recalling his dream.

He remembered being in some sort of cave-like room. The walls had different redstone related stuff all over the place. There were two people.. one appeared to be happy with him, the other seemed not so happy.

“Him. I remember him. He taught me... who was he? -And what clock? My clock?” Mumbo questioned quietly, the others didn’t seem to hear him. The ticking was making it even more difficult to think now. It was constantly increasing and decreasing in volume. He heard two different types of ticking. Though, he didn’t know what the other one was.

Mumbo tried covering his ears, the ticking didn’t stop. It didn’t even get muffled a bit at all. It really was inside his head. It was coming from him.

“Mumbo?” Grian’s voice cut off the ticking. It wasn’t loud anymore, it was back to being soft and quiet. Mumbo lowered his hands and looked over. “Are you alright?” Grian asked.

“Yeah- yeah fine.” He answered. “I’m okay.” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “I better get back to my island..” he stood up. “Right, yeah, of course.” False nodded. Grian didn’t say anything, he glanced out off into the ocean and nodded once. Mumbo smiled slightly and waved goodbye before heading off to find a way off the ship and onto the main island.

Grian stared at the water, watching the waves crash together. “The blue clock is gone..” he spoke, barely audible at all. “For good.” He felt it. He knew it. “What was that, Grian?” False looked over at him. He stammered, “oh- nothing, just talking to myself.”

False looked at him as though she didn’t believe it and stood up. “Alrighty, well, I have to tell Joe that you two woke up now. Talk to you soon,” she smiled sadly. Grian nodded and waved goodbye. False jumped off of the boat and soared off using her elytras. Grian stayed on the boat, watching the waves. The beach always made him sad. It reminded him of plans that he was going to do with friends at his old home. Grian sighed. Now with the blue clock truly gone, how was he going to get home now?

Our Son (Part 1)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!Reader

Words: 1730

Summary: Michael and the reader previously were together before the nuclear attacks, though separated before after losing touch. During that time, the reader was pregnant and gave birth to their son, only to be reunited post-apocalyptic with Michael.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of pregnancy, FLUFF, short time jump (***)

REQUESTED BY: @thatoneweirdgirl17 

Tags: @del-rcys , @msjamesmarch , @chelsealaur , @m-i-a-m-c-d-e-e , @suzumebailey , @fandoms-allovertheplace , @crownofrowan , @gracethegeek9902 @kellysimagines , @minnesota-loser

A/N - Hope you all enjoy this! It will become a series in future, so TAGLIST IS OPEN! ❤️

The life as a single mother had proven to be difficult, though you managed. Adam Langdon, your beautiful baby boy was a miracle and it simply was too unbearable to think of life without him: he was your only family. His father, Michael, was out of the picture just days before you’d realised you were pregnant... You loved him, and he loved you. But that was it, you knew that Michael wasn’t the type to just dwell on the past and for that, you made the sole decision of raising the child yourself, without him having the slightest idea that he was a father. Initially, the breakup and the news of being your pregnancy was overwhelming: and many times you’d contemplated on surprising Michael with your growing bump until you’d recall your tragic break up. He’d grown to become distant, you felt he’d grown cold and began to resent you, for reasons still unknown. You felt helpless and unwanted, until you had finally gained the courage to instigate the discussion of breaking up, hoping to see that this misunderstanding would spark something in Michael, hoping it would make him realise how neglectful he’d been towards you...Though to your misery, it had all backfired. He merely agreed to the idea and seemed unstirred by the ordeal he’d caused: carrying on with his life, unconcerned about yours.

Your pregnancy also wasn’t one of the most greatest experiences, in fact, it wasn’t at all what you were expecting... Many of the symptoms you contracted were different to those you’d read previously in books and from the medical consultations you’d receive. Throughout your bizarre pregnancy you’d dreamt of the most surreal things, your cravings sometimes were most disturbing, wanting pieces of raw meat, not to mention your contractions were beyond painful… You constantly anticipated the worst, your anxiety becoming heightened, particularly during Adam’s birth. Despite it being amongst the most excruciating experiences you’d ever faced: if it meant being able to hold what was now your healthy, pure son today, it was definitely worth reliving.

That was until the apocalypse struck the world... Nation-wide coverage of the missile attacks occurring around the world left you tragically in desperate need for help, even if it meant risking your own life for the sake of Adam. Hence, when the decision came to travel with these secret service agents, who’d randomly stormed their way into your apartment, only to have briefly informed you that they’d be your only chance of survival, you took it without any hesitation. He was your sole purpose in life, and that was simply that.

And now Outpost 3 was Adam’s new home and yours...

After 18 months of the repeated schedule that you’d grown accustomed to, the sudden breach into the post disturbed everyone, especially you. With hardly any line of defence in place, no evacuation plans to enact, nor was it wise to escape beyond the walls, if need be, the threat of your life and Adam’s seemed imminent. God knew what had managed to breach the walls of the facility, and you were in no rush to find out.

“All questions will be answered in due course, Miss Y/L/N. Now for the sake of that child of yours, make your way down towards the living room. Our guest wants to have a talk.” She sternly retorted, her cane hitting against the wooden boards of the floor, only to awake Adam out of his serene sleep. Thankfully, he hardly cried nor had he ever proven to be a loud child compared to the adults, who did most of the whining...Gently embracing his tiny body in your arms, the only thing that had been keeping you grounded this entire time was the little boy you’d been cradling. He had much of his father in him, particularly his eyes: both have those mesmirising, piercing blue eyes. He was a constant reminder of Michael and that pained you, though it never not once interfered for the love you have for him. Adam was all you had.

***

Hastily finding a seat on the couch, adjusting your purple dress to suit your comfort, with Adam nestled on your lap, the suspense of breach was evident in the air. It felt tense, especially since hardly anyone talked during dinner, which was a first: not even a single complaint left Coco’s mouth. Once everyone had made their way into the room, and all were present silence fell bellowed again, and your anticipation for answers was as crisp as ever. Your complete focus diverted towards Miss Venable, awaiting for her to break the void. Although, the only sound that could be heard were the faint footsteps being made, each step louder than before as it edged closer. For some strange reason, you felt that these footsteps felt familiar, they felt so reassuring... Instinctively, your head snapped towards the entrance of the room, only to be shocked senseless that the visitor was Michael, in the flesh.

Immediately upon entering the room, his gaze remained on you, only to in turn fall upon Adam: a small yet genuine smirk emerged against his face. You remained speechless, as he made his way towards where Miss Venable had been standing, only to be excused. Yet Michael still made effort to address you either, nor did he seem rattles by the sight of you holding a baby, that resembled him in so many ways. Instead, he’d introduced himself to the rest: completely immersed in his unexpected arrival, unaware that he’d even survives the attack, you’d completely forgotten about everyone else in the room.

“I’ve been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us in the sanctuary, which I’m certain many of you will be” he exclaimed, his full attention prevailing upon you at that exact moment.

“I’ll be conducting interviews throughout these few, coming days.”

“I volunteer to go first!” Gallant shouted, the sheer excitement in his tone causing Adam to jump.

“And so you shall... But, unfortunately these interviews are entirely dependent my discretion, and therefore I get to choose who gets to be interviewed first. And it just so happens to be the mother and the child.” He firmly retorted: trepidation beginning to arise within you, your grip pulling Adam closer to your chest for reassurance.

“Is it because she already has a head start with the procreation bullshit, cause if so that’s totally uncalled for-“

“Enough!” Michael roared, causing Coco to halt in her tracks, shocked by the sudden outburst.

“Miss Venable, if you would be so kind as to lead Miss Y/n and myself to your office” He pleaded, moving aside as his hand gestured her to lead the way. In compliance, nodding against his wishes, she began to direct you both out: you walking behind her as Michael politely insisted on tagging behind, it was a silent yet short journey to her office. Walking towards a seat near the fireplace, Adam tightly adjusted in your arms, his eyes fixated on his father, your chest began to tighten.

Peering over towards Michael who still remained beside the door, began to gradually make his way over, seating himself opposite of you. The silence was endearing and you finally could no longer bear it: your questions needed to be answered for it was still too overwhelming to believe that Michael was there.

“How-how on Earth did you manage to survive? D-Did you have access to this sanctuary?” You bellowed, your face drenched in concern.

“I knew some people... All answers will be addressed once us three make our way back to the sanctuary. Can’t risk you both staying here for another minute.”

“You knew about us? You knew about us this entire time, didn’t you?! And you never thought for a split second, of wanting to meet him up until now, when the entire world has just been desecrated?” You began to shout, your grip tightening as to protect Adam from the unpredictability of his own father.

“Of course I did Y/n. But I had to keep my distance...In fact, I find that there’s no reason for you to pinpoint me as the fault here, when it was I who had those agents escort you to safety. It was I that assured the survival of you both, so that one day we could reunite and restore ourselves as a new family... That is if you still wish for that.”

Your mind blank, it being most difficult to understand Michael’s logic, which had always been far-fetched though always with good intentions. It was too much to digest, though since hearing the news of the other outposts, your motherly instincts of keeping Adam alive and well was all that mattered. And just as you had initially decided to trust the words of strangers, you knew that Michael was no different. A part of you always envisioned a future with him, and there was no denying that he too had mutual feelings. Yet he seemed most persistent in hiding them...

“Why’d you leave? In the first place. Why couldn’t you just have stayed when I needed you most?” You began to cry, trying most difficult to remain composed. Typically, Michael wasn’t an emotional type, and you’d always believed that crying indicated to him how weak of a person you were. Though during times that you found it most relieving to do so, he had always been mindful of your tendencies: he respected your needs, until he’d grown to part from you. The sheer sight of you in pain, as you remembered during the early moments of your relationship, triggered him to comfort you. Embracing you in his broad arms, the gentle kisses he’d give reassuring that you were deeply loved, remaining close to you until you’d managed to overcome the situation. And not once had he ever doubted your resilience to persevere. These flashbacks instantly fading, your thoughts returned to reality, only to find Michael sitting beside you, his arm draped around you ever so tightly, his free hand stroking the identical gold-blonde locks of his son.

“His an angel” you whispered, a smile brewing on your face instantly, as your eyes met Adam’s before returning to Michael’s. Too distracted by the overdue reunion, you’d merely wanted nothing more than to forget the past. Both Michael and you shared the same vision for the future, for Adam’s future.

“Indeed he is” he chuckled.

“But for now my love... I want you both with me always. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Morning

Part 2 

(Warning: M rated)

(This part 2 of the ‘Doubts’ serie, find part 1 under the ‘CrispypotatooWrites’ tag)

Description: “Annabeth fears for her relationship with Percy now they're both changing. But how can she bring this stuff up, and to what will it lead?” 

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11543360/2/Doubts

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She woke up to the smell of the sea and the sound of deep breathing near her ear. She felt something heavy around her shoulder, and wondered what it was. But she wasn’t curious enough to open her eyes and to be pulled away from her sweet dreams.

Something moved on her left side and the air was sucked out of her. She opened her eyes as she gasped for air.

She was lying on her belly with her head turned towards the right, but she could sworn she was lying on her side not a moment ago. Her head was pressed into the pillow, so inhaling air, what she desperately wanted, was a bit hard. Apart from that, was she lying on something positioned around her lungs preventing them to expand.

She felt an even heavier object than before pressed upon her and she looked sideways to find out what had ended her sweet dreams so abruptly.

It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the light shining through the room, but after a couple of seconds she saw a mop of messy black hair lying on her shoulder.

She knew immediately to who that belonged to.

She tried to call out, but her sounds were muffled by the pillow.

The object moved again, rolling more on her and wrapping her in an even tighter embrace. More air was pressed out of her, but the movement did give her a change to lift her head up as it moved more towards her lower back putting less pressure on her shoulder.

She tried again. “Percy!”

She felt him spasm as her voice ripped through his sleep. And as if hit by lightning he lifted himself up by his arms and trashed with the blankets, all the while yelling: “What?! What?!” 

He stumbled over her, what earned her another breathless moment, and fell out of bed, pulling half of the blankets with him. Apparently the bed still wasn’t big enough to turn around in without falling off.

The blankets were wrapped around his upper body and head, preventing him to see. He desperately fought against them trying to free himself, now pulling all the blankets with him and leaving Annabeth naked in bed.

She lifted herself up, happy to finally be able to breath normally. She looked over the side of the bed and saw Percy stumbling around before he finally got himself on his feet, grabbed his pen from his nightstand, uncapped it and took in a fighting positon.

He looked like a Greek politician from ancient times ready to fight a bed monster, with a blanket wrapped around him like a toga, his hair standing out in all directions and Riptide fully extended now in his hand... With a little bit of drool on his cheek.

He turned around franticly, whilst keep yelling ‘Fight me!’ before turning back to Annabeth.

After a few seconds he dropped the fighter’s stance and with confused look on his face pointed at Annabeth with the sword. “Why are you naked?” He asked, clearly already forgotten every non-existing enemy in the room.

She was initially speechless because of his unusual ‘waking up routine’, but his remark on her nakedness left her completely dumb struck.

Her absence of speak gave him a few seconds to adjust to his surroundings. He felt a cold drift between his legs and looked down at his new outfit. “And why am I naked?”

He looked at Annabeth and the night before flashed before his eyes. He let his sword drop to his side, got in an awkward standing position and mastered a huge grin on his face. “Right…”

This brought Annabeth back to earth and she snatched the blanket away. “Give me that!”

The unexpected tug from Annabeth pulled Percy of his feet and he landed face first back into bed on top of Annabeth. “Get off.”

She rolled him off her so they laid next to each other. Both kept quiet for a moment.

A ray of light coming through the creak of the curtains showed dust particles in the air, they still had a twirling motion, making it look like the particles were just as confused and startled as Annabeth was.

She followed them with her eyes, seeing them settle down on the bed as her thoughts wandered to last night. Thinking about what happened led to thinking about his smile, his hands, his hair, his voice, him. Just that was enough to give her a warm and happy feeling. She grabbed the blankets around her tighter and bit her bottom lip, preventing it curl into a big grin, as she felt her cheeks getting hotter.

She looked over at Percy, who was still lying naked beside her with his arms spread out. Which earned her another flash of pink. “Well…” He started, noticing her looking. “That was not the ‘morning after’ I expected.” He turned his head and gave her a lopsided grin.

It was that grin that she’d started to love and also this time if filled her with butterflies. She grunted and pulled the blanket up, covering up her red face.

He laughed and rolled onto his side. “I’m kidding,” He said as he poked her side, trying to get her out of her hiding place.

But she wouldn’t budge. “It couldn’t have been better.” He whispered near her ear.

She smiled, but still didn’t move. “Are you ready to come out now?” He asked.

Her face was still red and her idiotic smile wouldn’t go away, besides she probably looked even worse that Percy’s hair did, so she shook her head under the blankets.

“Well alright then. Drastic times!” He yelled.

And before she had time to respond, the blankets were thrown up. A cold gust rippled over her body giving her goose bumps and she wrapped her arms around herself.  

She looked up and hovering over her was a very amused Percy. He smiled from ear to ear and his sea green eyes shone bright.

He gave her a kiss on her lips, pulled the blanket back up and laid his head down on her chest. Percy’s warm body replaced the cold she felt a moment ago. She waved her hands through his hair and looked up at the ceiling with a warm smile on her face. Percy let out a content sigh and caressed her stomach with his fingers, focusing on her breathing.

Her soft fingers in his hair, the heat of her body and the slow rising and falling of her chest had made him sleepy.

He slowly drifted off into a dream. It was vague and rosy but he did remember Annabeth being in it. The dream itself was nothing special, Annabeth wasn’t floating or something, she didn’t have any wings, or a machinegun, what would have been awesome. No, she was reading one of her books. The same way he dreamt her before. And just seeing her sit there, being happy with her book, no demigod problems, no monsters, no trauma, not having a care in the world… those were the best dreams. He heard her calling him softly and looked at her. Her grey eyes shone bright and he felt the happiest man alive.

She called another time, and Percy felt a warm hand on his cheek. He woke up to the soothing voice of Annabeth calling his name. He opened his eyes and, strangely, was looking at a pillow.

              “Don’t jump! No monsters.”

He turned his head and saw her nose not a centimetre away. He looked down and saw that he was half lying on her, half lying under her, with his arms wrapped tight around her back, one of his legs thrown over her side and his head buried in her shoulder.

He looked up again, confused.   “Yeah, you moved a bit.” She said sarcastically, as if reading his mind. “This is the second time this morning you almost killed me. I think you have a problem.”

“Killed you? Come on, I’m not that heavy.”

“Percy. You hug in your sleep, now, you may not know it, but that’s like being compressed into a tiny version of yourself”

“I don’t hug in my sleep.”

With one free hand, as the other one still laid trapped under Percy’s body, she gestured at their lying position. “It’s almost as if you want to be inside me.”

The moment she said it she knew she was going to regret it.

              “Maybe I do.” He said with a big grin as he complemented himself with that remark.

She covered her eyes with her free hand, mentally kicked herself and grunted. “Well that’s great for you, but please get of me now. I’m kind of running out of oxygen.”

He rolled of her but pulled her along and kissed her on her lips. “I’m truly sorry for almost killing you. Twice. This morning.”  

She smiled at him.

“That’s okay. It’s actually kinda sweet. When I started humming to you, you pulled yourself up and hugged me. At first I thought-”

“Wait, you hum to me?” He asked.

Her cheeks got a bit red. “Well sometimes you get uneasy in bed, like, you trash and start sweating and mumbling. And I found out that my humming calms you down a bit… so yeah.”

He felt a fire in his stomach awaking. “Can I hear it?” “No! I can’t hum. I mean, not good. I think it’s just my voice that calms you down.

“Your voice always calms me down.” He said, trying to sound romantic.

“Don’t be so cheesy!” She called out while she pushed herself up.

“Sorry.” He said as he pulled her down again and kissed her on the lips.

He kept them so close together her hands were trapped between them. He, on the other hand, had no restrictions what so ever. He softly let his fingers scrape over her naked back what made her hair stand up as she went crazy. She pushed her lips more into his and opened them. She tried something new and clasped her lips over his lower lip while softly pulling. He let out a deep groan and she smiled, not believing what kind of power she had over him even though she was trapped in his embrace.

He couldn’t hold it any longer and turned them over pulling the blankets over their heads.

He hang over her with his arms on either side of her shoulder as the blanket covered the two of them, creating a little tent. Light shone through the blanket giving the whole scene a soft and heavenly look. Annabeth couldn’t stop laughing at Percy’s expression:

He looked at her like a kid on Christmas morning. Not being able to hold in the exciting of unwrapping the present. And that present was her.  

He started just below her ear and took his time kissing her. She laughed and kept saying that he was tickling her, while she half heartily tried to push him away. She felt him smiling at her neck as he kept going, letting one of his hands slide along her waist down towards her inner tight.

Her breath hitched and she closed her legs trapping his hand between them. He laughed and looked up. “Am I not allowed?”

“No…” She said as she let her hands slide along his chest.

She tried for the sexy approach. She wanted to see how crazy she could get him. And by the look on his face it was working.

“What?” His eyes widened.

“You’re closing me out? You can’t! I’m addicted now!”

“Addicted? To sex?” She asked laughing.

“Addicted to you!”

She laughed ever louder while covering her mouth. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny!”

He looked as if someone had punched him in the face. “Yes it is!” She pinched his sides and made him jump.

He looked offended, as if abstaining him from sex was the worst thing that’d ever happened to him. But of course she wasn’t about to abstain him, she was as addicted to it as he was. Not that she was going to tell him: he looked so cute when worried.

He buried himself in her hair. “Nooo…”

She pinched his side again and he twisted away, but he kept his head in her hair. As a response, this time, he pinched her sides what earned him a little scream from her.

She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her. Unfortunately he twisted his and grabbed both of her hands. She had been so distracted she wasn’t fast enough to respond and before she knew it, her hands were locked in place above her head.

His other hand started poking her sides. “Stop that!” She said laughing.

He used this opportunity to kiss her on her lips, but all that she could do was laugh as she tried to wiggle free. Annabeth started making weird sounds that she didn’t knew she could make as she tried to turn over or escape in any another way from Percy’s hand.

Percy also started laughing and his grip on her hands slacked. She knew this was her moment: she pulled her hands free, placed her forearm on his throat, used the other one to lift herself up and wrapped one leg around his waist as she turned them both over. All in a blink of an eye.

He was so surprised he didn’t know what to say, so he just opened his mouth and closed it again like a fish. She erupted in laughter and leaned forward to kiss him.

“You know, you look adorable when surprised.” She stated, removing her arm from his throat and supporting herself with it on his chest. 

“We’re home!”

Annabeth jumped up hitting Percy in his stomach with her knee. He doubled forwarded and let out groan.

Annabeth turned towards the door, hoping that what she heard was a monster and not what she thought it was.

“Percy? Annabeth?”

Unfortunately her fear was confirmed and no monster thirsting for their blood and death was yelling from the living room: It was Sally.

Annabeth looked down and saw that she was still naked…of course. She looked over at Percy, who had turned around and was now cursing in the pillow, and saw the curve of his naked butt. Her eyes widened as she thought of all the possible outcomes of this situation, none of them good.

“Percy. Clothes now.” She hissed to him.

He still had his head buried in the pillow. She turned him around and grabbed his cheeks, squishing them, as she got his attention. “Percy. Parents. Naked.” She said to him.

After a second or so his eyes widened and she saw pure panic rising up in them.

“Percy?! Annabeth?!” She heard Sally call again.

“Percy you need to answer them” She hissed.

“Yeah. Clothes!” He yelled in panic to the door.

“Percy, no!”

“What? Are you guys still in bed? Its 11 am, get out already!” Paul yelled.

His voice already sounded way to close.

She didn’t know what to do so she pushed Percy down, pulled the covers up and hoped her face wasn’t too red. Not a moment later the bedroom door opened and Sally and Paul appeared. Their faces burned from their weekend away on the beach.

“Hey sleepy heads!” Paul said.

“Hey… Hey Paul and Sally! Back already? Whau, that’s ahh... That’s early!”

She tried to get that sentence out as normal as she could all the while hoping her face didn’t betray anything.

“Yeah, we got a bus earlier. We thought to surprise you!” Sally said with a smile.

“Well you did surprise us! Haha” She tried for a laugh but it came out as an awkward cough.

Sally looked at Percy. He was completely covered with the blankets, except for his head. A head with red ears and big eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asked concerned.

“Yeah, he… he’s alright. He just woke up, you know. Still sleepy!” Annabeth answered for him while she messed up his hair, even though she probably made it look nicer.

She crawled even further under the blankets, but couldn’t shake the feeling that the blankets were see-through.

“Well alright then. If you guys get up, we’ll make some lunch. Sally and I are starving.

“Okay, we’ll be right there!” she answered.

Sally gave Percy one more confused look, but before she could ask another thing, Paul closed the door.

Annabeth let out a deep breath and released the blankets. She covered her eyes with her hands and thanked the gods for this outcome.

“Percy.” She started, still her hands on her eyes.

“Yeah?” He responded in a small voice.

“You are truly a seaweedbrain.” She meant it as an insult, but he burst out into laughter.

She couldn’t help herself and also cracked a smile, not believing what just happened.

After a few seconds of laughter they slowly quieted down. Then Percy suddenly sat up, let out a yawn, shook his hair and stretched himself out before slacking again. Annabeth focusing on his shoulder blades and back muscles as he did so. “Right! Breakfast.”

He crawled over her and almost fell out of bed again before stabilizing himself.

He sauntered towards his closet, what gave Annabeth a beautiful view on his well-formed body. She concluded that, even though she’d never really paid attention to it, his butt looked pretty good.

She managed to tear her eyes away from his body and focused on his eyes. “Really… Breakfast?” She asked him.

“Yeah! I’m starving. You’re not?” He said to her as he put on some boxers, what didn’t hide his curves.

“What?”

“Breakfast.” He looked at her as if this was the clearest case ever.

“I’m mean, after last night… pfoe”

A big grin appeared on his face.

“I used some… some real energy there…”

She threw her pillow at him, trying to whip that smile of his face, but he dodged it easily.

“And I need to charge myself up for round 2.”

“Percy!”

He got out some shorts and a shirt and put them on.  “Breakfast!”

“Percy!”

He sprinted towards the bed and jumped on her. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder. “Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast.” He kept repeating, tickling her neck.

She tried to push him away but he kept his grip tight.

“Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast.”

“Alright! Alright!” She said laughing.

“Fine, we’ll have breakfast.”

“Yeah!” He yelled in her shoulder.

He got up and pulled her along. She let the blanket fall to the ground, feeling completely comfortable being naked in front of Percy.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

“I. love. You” He said in between kisses.

“And breakfast.”

“And breakfast.” He confirmed.

She unwrapped herself from his hands, what was difficult, until she explained that she needed to get dressed in order to get breakfast. He quickly let her go and sat down on the bed.

She got some clothes out their closet and pulled on some panties and shorts. She was closing her bra when she felt his eyes burning on her back. She turned her head and saw him watching her with a big eyes, she could only guess what was going on in the seaweedbrain of his.

He didn’t notice her looking so with a smile she focused her attention back on the drawer. She pulled out a green hoodie from Percy and threw it over head when she felt two warms hands help her from behind.

She smiled and lifted her arms up in the air, letting him do all the work.

He let if fall down and lifted her hair up, pulling it free from the hoodie. “I like it when you wear my clothes.” He whisper in her neck.

She smiled and turned around placing her hands on his chest while he grabbed her waist.

“Aha, so sex.”

“What?” He asked confused.

“I wondered which basic instinct would take control of you first. Food or sex?” She explained. “And according to your voice, posture, and dilated eyes: it’s sex.”

“Ha, ha” He said and he pulled the hood over her head, covering her eyes. He yelled ‘breakfast’ one more time before sprinting towards the door.

Annabeth left the hood over her head, breathing in Percy’s scent and feeling his warmth.

She smiled as she exited the room that had given her one of her best memories, memories only Percy and she shared.

Oak and Ash

PART ONE    PART TWO   If there was one thing Lucien Vanserra learned young, it was to control himself.  But control in the world of Autumn had always been more than half deception- and Lucien was lying more and more each day. That he really was a Spring Lord in all but birth. That Feyre was fine and Tamlin was just. That the rot that had began under Amarantha was being cleansed, not grown right into the soul of a stagnant season.  Burning inside him every day, it became harder.  Without fail, he woke with magic kindling in his veins, sweating out his pores in raging heat. It made no sense to him. Elain was human. He could practically hear the mortal beat of her heart if he focused hard, soft as spring rain falling over Tamlins estate.  But still, Lucien dreamt.  Of Elain dancing, spinning through the figures of Autumn Court dances. The Hunters Moon high in sky, his beautiful savage home a safe place- Elain Archeron wild with joy and framed by bonfires, all dimples and clever eyes. Maddeningly impossible, with faery bright skin. Her curls unbound and soft to the touch- his touch.  There was no world in which those forests might call Lucien home, no story where he would ever be crowned again in rowan and bone, no life where it wasn’t a land ruled by a murderous tyrant.  Lucien spent long night hours staring at the sky, slowing his heart, the fire in his blood, the longing trying to burn him up inside. In some ways, he decided, it was even worse than the death wish he’d carried in the time of Amarantha. Something inside him was waking up, the embers stoked for the first time in centuries.  Something a human girl who wanted only to be his friend had brought to life.  It was as though he’d been half awake for decades. Now his eyes were open, and Lucien couldn’t stop looking. If he’d been asleep, his power had been half dead. It would have been easy to write off on the long imprisonment of Prythian, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true.  No fox worth a forest den lied to himself too.  Lucien thought perhaps he hadn’t felt even a spark of it’s full strength since the day Jesminda had burned. Hadn’t wanted it- not really, not to live or to feel- and that truest, most intrinsic part had listened.  Until he’d stumbled into a rose garden. Winnowed straight over the Wall armed to the teeth.  And every day he rose, the ostentatious costume of a spring noble never more false. It reminded him so much a of her laugh; this girl who he’d known less than a heartbeat, seeing the truth that easily. If his tiredness showed, Tam didn’t comment. Maybe he didn’t notice, too busy celebrating a victory even Lucien was tired of lauding. Too busy seeking ways to kill Rhysand, for all that his fell bargaining had likely saved them all.  It took bitter, constant focus not to melt the gold all around him.  Lucien understood saving face, but he knew sacrifice much more. Hated that he understood the pallor that dulled even Feyre’s glowing immortal skin.  He hated it- hated as he went through every motion, thoughts buried deep. His duties filled his day, but they meant nothing. Emptiness, Lucien learned, only brought the flames higher. He was helpless, had been for a long time, he was realizing. Facing that he hated this fetid court. That Lucien had no home to return to, couldn’t fathom a place in this damned whole land he could safely call his own, with his mother’s fire so bright gold spiked and burned in his gaze.  With Elain Archeron’s smoke and dew flower scent living in his lungs like a haunting.  So Lucien did what he was best at, and didn’t return. No matter that the Wall buzzed like a beacon in the back of his mind every day he spent in too bright, too frozen forests, he didn’t turn toward human lands. Refusing the siren song of his name on the wind, no matter how it hurt. Instead, Lucien winnowed to the furthest of the rebuilding villages and built until he was made to leave.  To return to stand at Tamlin’s side- more and more, to stand and not speak.   He knew how to run, how to fight, turning those gifts inward was nothing at all.  Nothing at all, until the High Lord of Night rescued Feyre from her own wedding, and Lucien was relieved. — Elain would never be so rude as to hide from her own guests.  She was naturally- as she’d explained to the simpering lord who’d escorted her outside- simply overwhelmed by the heat of the ball room, and could he be so kind as to escort her and oh, perhaps fetch some lemonade she’d forgotten inside?  Alone, Elain sank down on the balcony, this years frothy skirts poofing against the cold stone.  They had standing in the community again- riches and place, prospects and respect. Nesta, unable to hide how much she hated the false cheer, had retreated hours ago. But Elain had smiled- danced on and on, familiar burn beneath her ribs writhing.  She wanted- she wanted out of this gods damned corset, wanted to throw every idiot vying for her hand, for her wealth, out of the house. To know her baby sister was safe, to know her older sister would be okay.  The music, audible from the ballroom, shifted into a faster reel, and Elain pressed her face into her hands.  Unbidden- and she would blame the frustration later- the thought of dark ink on golden skin came to her. Careful lines to make a tangle of plants, true and perfect. At this point, Elain could have traced the shapes in her sleep.  She wanted Lucien to come back.  Which was madness. But she’d thought- hoped, assumed- that they were something like friends. The specter of that fascination twisted hotly in her chest, but here, alone, she let it come. Lucien was her beautiful, impossible faery friend.  Who’d never again answered her summons.  Elain knew it was what she should have expected. Could even, perhaps, be so simple as a difference of species. What were a few long months to a man- creature - who’d live forever? A solid piece of her young life, but to Lucien? An eye blink, an afternoon.  But just as truly she couldn’t shake the image of him striding in from the storm, wild and burning. He’d come for her, to make sure Elain was alright. Savage and protective, but he’d taken her offer to stay and drunk hot chocolate out of dainty china cups like it was a wonder.  The soft slide of one of the glass doors opening had Elain jumping to her feet, excuses on her lips before she saw the shine of her older sisters skirts.  Silently, Nesta walked down the balcony to Elain and sank down onto the cold stone herself. In the moonlight, her pale grey dress and tired face were much the same luminous color. Elain thought, not for the first time, that her older sister might have been better off if she were the one dragged to faery. Stillness- the lack of real answers- to be backed into a corner was what always ruined Nesta in the end.  “I thought you went to bed,” Elain murmured, sinking down until their shoulders touched.  Nesta sighed and Elain felt the moment her straight spine curved. “Lord Macon arrived,” Nesta said, colder than the night air. Elain knew well enough none of that sharpness was for her. “We have to indulge him, at least until father returns.”  They both knew their father was never coming home. But even alone here, neither would say those vulnerable words with their house full of gentry.  The Acherons were rich again- safe again. But how safe could two heiresses be in the wild human country that bordered the Wall? The second they’d had the funds to secure ships their father had disappeared back to the sea. Only the noble blood in their veins and the fair lines of their cheeks remained of the long dead Lady Asteria Acheron.  The sisters were on their own, as they always had been.  So Elain became a darling- she hosted balls and gave to noble women’s charities. Established committees and revelries, provided them every cover gentility could allow.  Tonight’s smiles had made her face ache. “That fucking prick,” Elain sighed, lips twitching as Nesta choked on a laugh.  Her sister’s cost had been far higher these long months. She played the part of a very long, very slow traditional courtship to a lord two decades her senior- and hadn’t stabbed him yet.  Elain had contemplated poison.  Because she knew- better than anyone else could, that Nesta Archeron truly believed in love. That deep in unbending heart of her cold, impossibly strong sister lived a woman who was all fire. And she’d burn herself out for the people she loved- would keep on giving pieces of herself away if it kept Elain safe.  She leaned harder against her sister’s side, pleased and horrified at the press of metal from beneath Nesta’s skirts.  The faery daggers were shared between them, and Nesta was wearing them strapped to her thighs.  The morning Elain confessed to Nesta about Lucien- about tea and poison, danger and beauty- her razor edged sister had wept. Not for Elain, but with the knowledge that somehow, Feyre was alive out there in ageless lands.  And then refused to speak to Elain for days in horrified fury, but that was something else entirely. Neither of them could imagine Feyre’s life now- or a sure way to keep themselves safe if fae continued to come over the Wall- but they couldn’t throw away the connection either. Lucien. Inside, the orchestra shifted to a spring reel, frantically fast. Nesta sighed a second time and let her eyes fall shut, tilting her head back to rest on the stone wall.  Echoing the motion, both sisters sat face to face with where the Wall lay. In the day it was a solid line of disturbance- like looking at the sun a second too long, or trying to read a completely foreign language.  Tonight, in the full light of a red tinged moon, it was invisible.  This was the part they never, ever admitted aloud to each other. Not even on the late nights they gathered in Nesta’s rooms, long after the house was asleep, to speak of faeries. To guess at Feyre’s whereabouts, for Nesta to share the illicit and entirely illegal research she was doing- to wonder and worry, to plan.  What neither sister would admit- but knew, both, buried between them- was something close to envy. They were safe. Worried for Feyre and scared for her, but safe in human lands.  Feyre was free. — Lucien seen it on Feyre’s face, in the weight she somehow kept shedding, in the frozen fear he could taste on the sweet Spring breeze. There was no world in which Tam, with his hunters senses, hadn’t smelled it too. Could feel it, see it.  But then Feyre was gone, and the world was red. Red wedding roses shredded on the lawn, poisoned Spring twisting garden vines into thorns and bleeding flowers. Tamlin, roaring out that rage that had a voice in Luciens head whispered to snarl back. He’d survived centuries with his head down, but suddenly all at once the required submission turned his bones molten.  Lucien wanted to defend himself against the pain he knew was coming. He wanted to defend Feyre, not a possession to be stolen from Tamlin.  He fought it, locking joints and face to the ground. Not placating Tamlin, but trying to tame the flames that had licked their way up into his eyes, magic settled in seething gold. Lucien had his eyes squeezed shut, counting the beats of his heart. It was a second- it was a moment- but it was enough for him to miss the first death.  He didn’t miss of sound of the body hitting the ground.  He didn’t throw himself forward fast enough to stop the second, to pull his friend- not his High Lord, his friend- back from mindlessly tearing through Feyre’s guard detail. But it wasn’t his friend who looked back, who roared anew as Lucien’s shoulder slammed into him, who fought his unrelenting grip.  They went down hard, Tamlin’s beast aspect a muddle of gold and blood as claws dug into Lucien’s forearms.  Dug and cut, the wetness of blood the only physical anchor Lucien had as his entire left arm went numb, Tamlins claws too deep. He had to get him away, had to push Tamlin away from the soldiers that would die too fast in this conflict.  Faerie dominance was a fickle and instinctual thing. Deadlier than the weapons they forged, stronger than the magic that defined their endless centuries of life. Lucien had learned it young and learned it well, the too bright, too magical youngest son of Prythian’s bloodiest court. Knew the feel of it like breathing, could pick out noble heirs and sense mate bonds a mile off, knew other faeries magical gifts with an instinct so strong it might have been some magic itself.  He knew it all, but somewhere, he’d made a mistake.  Tamlin was stronger than Lucien like this, half transformed and more than half mad with rage. But he’d always been faster than his friend. Like breathing- like he’d always stupidly done- Lucien let himself be hurt to twist in Tamlin’s grip and pull him further from the ruined wedding.  Bleeding- his arm was bleeding too damn much- Lucien kneeded Tamlin in the side, the crunch of breaking bone as much a surprise as a balm to the instincts screaming at him to fight for real.  But Tamlin still didn’t flinch, come to the surface. Instead he snarled, the roar of a creature neither human or fae, teeth dangerously close.  Distantly, Lucien had the horrible thought that the High Lord of Spring had never been this crazed when Amarantha was still alive. This unhinged.  True fear, cold even through the fire, slide down his spine.  It was the last thing Lucien thought, before claws slid up under his ribs. Like a handle of bone, crushing horrible pain as his skin parted- but he didn’t feel it. Lucien didn’t feel anything at all. He wasn’t in his body.  He was- red blood, green blood, her blood- broken ribs screaming as he was ground down into a polished marble floor. He was bleeding- how can there be so much blood from burning? Willow sap blood, autumn’s cost, his brother’s blood staining his skin. He was in the air- Eris had him against the wall by his throat. He could take him in an even fight- he could- but not like this, not with her- He was flying- transformed into an owl, into a wolf, at Tamlin’s behest- red blood, green grass, the world was blurring past his eyes- Elain’s laugh-  He was burning.  Lucien came to the beat after impact- head ringing, body ringing, the riven trunk of the tree Tamlin had thrown him into- thrown him through- catching fire at the touch of his skin. Teeth bared, vision blurred, but it wasn’t a Spring Lord who sat up and looked for Tamlin.  But the High Lord had transformed and vanished, the sound him running through the forest unnaturally loud in Lucien’s ears.  Leaving him, gasping and bleeding, responsible for the bodies of two soldiers he’d trained since their youth.  No. Tamlin was responsible.  Lucien could still feel his friend’s empty eyes. The gaze of the High Lord of Spring, where madness and becoming lived. Where something might have been broken for a long, long time. Lucien had fought with Tamlin before, interceded in years past, but Tam had never looked at him like a true opponent. Like Lucien was an equal, a challenger, and he was going to rip off his fucking head.  Had torn through Cian and Oisin like they were nothing at all.  Lucien knew , without a doubt, Tamlin had felt that magic fighting to be free in his oldest advisor and dearest friend. Had met it head on and decided in that bloody instant, that he was fighting a real enemy.  He couldn’t stay here, dazed and lost in the growing dark. Couldn’t help these males he’d trained, finish the village rebuilding, stay to talk Tamlin out of declaring war on the Night Court.  Because even when Tamlin found his reason his again, Lucien wouldn’t be safe.  The second he’d fought back he’d sealed his fate- not an adviser, a challenger. There was nothing of his friend left right now- and perhaps there hadn’t been for a long, long time. Lucien couldn’t help these faeries, but there was someone left he could.  Someone Lucien was sure Tamlin knew about, and wouldn’t hesitate for a second to use somehow to get Feyre back.  Sky bright, blood trailing after him, Lucien followed the roaring into the woods.  He could feel it now- the Hunters moon as it rose in his veins. The ease of it, to bleed wicked spring blood into old spring soil, like hunting any wild beast. Lucien was the son of forests far older than these. Once he’d earned his crown of bone, under the power of the dying year, the hate of a high lord watching over him. Flooded with fear and adrenaline, the old magic of violence danced beneath his skin.  Lucien shook off the crushing pain. He was a survivor, and after all these miserable years, he burned still. Even among Spring green trees, he could have slaughtered Tamlin.  The absolute fact of that knowledge took whatever breathe had remained in his screaming lungs, made him stand straight in the blood loss haze.  Through the ringing in his ears,  Tamlins rampage could be heard, the only thing dividing the sound of a fae lord from the animals he killed roaring volume. Killing, because even after all these centuries, Tam couldn’t channel the rage. Lucien had always known it, like knowing that he was cornered in Spring, that Tamlin resented the power in his blood instead of bending it to his will.  But it was that power that had saved Lucien, once upon a time ago. Power that had made him stay- and made him think he was weak. He owed Tamlin his life for that day, when Lucien really had been weak, been determined to die after the worst loss of his life. But now?  Now Lucien, blood covered and listening to the leader he’d followed howl like a beast, had to face that the old debt between them was more than repaid. He’d crossed the gods damned wall for Tamlin, ready to give his life. So miserable and grateful, so cut off from himself, to sacrifice every endless year of an immortal life just so that the broken faerie that saved him might break a curse.  For what? Lucien’s vision blurred around the edges, darkness as tempting as a caress. Pain pounded in the same tempo of his heartbeat. But he made himself walk, pulled forth the the strength to run. Not after Tamlin, but toward the Wall. He’d wanted to die, been ready to die for his friend again and again, and what had he gotten in return?  The opportunity to be a good servant? Not an ally. To have Feyre waste away before them, unable to help, unable to make the faerie he’d thought to be his closest friend listen to him even for a minute. Betrayal that twisted in his gut, churning with the concussed nausea that would take hours to heal. He was glad Rhysand had Feyre with him, glad his oldest of enemies could keep her safe from the lord who loved her.  He had to slow, staggering to boundary oaks that marked Spring Court land. If he passed out in these woods, he wasn’t sure he’d ever wake up. Were Tamlin to find him, it was easy to assume he’d kill before he thought. If Lucien didn’t get away, if he stopped holding back, he was going to kill his friend. Fire in his veins and confusion in his heart, fracture lines on every surface. Lucien knew he would do it- if Tamlin beyond reach of logic came at him, Lucien would kill him rather than take the pain ever again.  Dizziness pulling at him hard, Lucien didn’t notice when his footsteps began to leave smoldering prints in their wake. In his ringing ears, he could just feel the pressure of the Spring boundary, taut against him. Teeth gritted, he bore it, bearing down until it couldn’t hold him, until even the poison of the Wall before him faded.  He was too incoherent to think about it, but later, much later, he’d return to find immortal oaks ash, their enchantments cleaved to nothing.  So bleeding and burning, lost and found, Lucien Vanserra staggered into human lands, and found he wanted to live. @breath-of-sindragosa @flxwer-petals @ladyvanserra @missanniewhimsy @tntwme @illyrianinterrasen