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aphroditelovesu · 10 months

Note

would you be interested in writing a jake peralta angsts kinda like jake saves reader form something maybe??? if not possibly a yandere? please and thank youuuu

❝👮‍♂️— lady l: it took a while but it came out! I don't have much practice with angst, but I tried it and I hope you like it. Forgive me for mistakes!

❝tw: anxiety, panic attacks, mention of murder, my poor attempt at angst.

❝👮‍♂️pairing: yandere!jake peralta x female!reader

❝—👮‍♂️word count: +1,6k ❝👮‍♂️tag: @flowercrowns-goodvibes

You were in danger. You were in danger. You were in danger.

Jake's mind was just that, you were in danger and it scared the shit out of him. What had gone wrong? It was supposed to be just a simple undercover mission to catch a powerful drug dealer, but it all ended up going wrong.

What had happened to you?

Jake nearly passed out in panic when Captain Holt told him he'd lost communication with you, a big sign of trouble. You were supposed to be in contact with them all the time, but you stopped communicating and… Now none of them knew what happened to you. Were you alive? Hurt? By God, Jake will kill whoever hurt you, he was sure of it.

''Jakey'' Boyle's voice called to him, Jake looked at his friend and saw the concern on Charles's face. ''We will find her.'' He tried to reassure him, but even Boyle wasn't sure. The chances that you were murdered were high, although you were a well trained detective, there was always the chance, but he would never say that to his best friend. No one would say, everyone knew how obsessed Peralta was with you and knew how he reacted when it came to you.

''We will.'' Jake's voice was serious and full of hate. He was going to find you and he was going to punish the damned criminal who dared to try to hurt you.

Charles nodded and hugged Jake gently who returned the hug, but soon pulled away. ''Holt is trying to locate her and so is Terry. Soon (Y/N) will be with us again.''

Jake nodded calmly and something about that calmness startled Boyle. Why was Jake so calm? He knew his friend and he was scared to ask. Charles was never afraid of his friend, he revered and adored him, but something in Jake's eyes made him afraid. Almost like he was planning something and it wasn't something good.

''I will continue to work on the case. I'm going to visit the crime scene where she disappeared. I need to focus on finding her, because if I don't I am going to freak out.'' Jake finally said more than three words and sat down at his desk, the desk he shared with you. He mumbled something and smiled as he looked at the picture of the two of you together that he had placed next to his computer. You looked so happy.

He tried, he really tried, but he couldn't concentrate. Worry and fear seemed to eat him alive, his heart racing in panic and his mind conjuring up images of what could have happened to you or what you could be having to put up with right now.

Jake cringed as he remembered the gunshots that had echoed through the microphone you had in your ear to keep in touch with the 99.

[..]

You had to come back soon.

Everyone had agreed to that. Jake was freaking out and everyone around him. Nothing seemed to calm him down and the entire police station seemed to be affected by it, hampering the searches.

They all loved you. They were a family and you were a part of it and everyone was worried too.

Captain Holt and Rosa were the calmest ones, or at least they tried to remain calm, but he was also out of their mind with worry. Amy, Terry and Boyle just didn't freak out because they knew it wouldn't help anything, but Jake… Jake looked so distraught that he couldn't eat, drink and couldn't take his face away from the evidence they had found.

After searching the crime scene, they were able to find a few things that could lead to you. Or at least that's what they hoped, but Jake wasn't going to sit around waiting for the lab results.

Time was crucial and he wasn't going to waste it. Not when your life was in danger.

So he made a decision. A decision he knew he could regret for the rest of his life, but it wouldn't matter, not when he had you safe and sound in his arms again.

Jake sighed at the thought of the phone call he had received an hour ago and he felt trapped. The deal he had accepted was dangerous, but that was all for you.

''Jake was sitting at his desk, hunched over it, repeatedly reading the files on the drug dealer who had you. His name was Maximus Rodriguez, a notorious drug lord who had his petty dealers act for him and he had you. Jake clenched his fist in anger at the thought. Fuck.

Maximus was dead and so was his entire operation.

He grabbed his cell phone when it started to ring, an unknown number popping up on the screen. He frowned but accepted the call and a high pitched voice began to speak.

''Detective Peralta. What a pleasure.'' The voice said bored. ''Looking for your sweetheart?''

''Who is it?'' Jake asked irritably.

''You don't need to know my name. Yet. But you can call me Maury. I have information that I believe may be of interest to you.''

''Information?'' Jake was attentive. It was obvious this was about you and he was so desperate he would do anything to get you back.

''I know where your precious (Y/N) is being held and I know who her captors are.'' Maury said and Jake was sure the man was smiling.

''… What do you want in return?''

''Straight to the point? I liked. No big deal, I want you to agree to do a simple job for me in exchange for getting your (Y/N) back. Sounds fair to me.''

''What kind of work?'' Jake questioned suspiciously.

''You'll find out when the time comes. Do you accept?'' Jake mumbled a drawling ''yes''. ''Very good. Now pay attention…''

Jake knew where you were and had informed Holt that he had started to prepare to break in. He was asked how he got to know where you were, but Jake lied saying that the drug dealer's criminal record had hidden and useful information.

Nobody questioned him. They didn't believe it, of course, but Jake's look of despair and hatred was so great that they didn't dare question it further.

The focus was on bringing (Y/N) back. All that mattered now was her and he was willing to do anything to get her back.

[…]

The cops were in place and the SWAT team was preparing to break into the warehouse where (Y/N) was apparently being held. They were preparing for an ambush. It's always good to be prepared for anything and Holt had his detectives ready in case something goes wrong. It was a dangerous rescue mission, but everyone would do their best to retrieve (Y/N).

''We're going to count to 10 and go inside. Get ready.'' Holt said, getting into position.

''Right. Let's get on with it.'' Rosa grumbled and grabbed her gun, bracing herself for the chaos that could ensue.

''1, 2, 3…'' Holt started counting and everyone got into their agreed positions. Jake was by the door with one of the SWAT guys and he was shaking with anxiety and rage. ''…9, 10!''

The door was broken down and the police entered the warehouse. They were prepared for a firefight or something, but none of it came. They looked around and Jake sobbed when he saw you. You were tied to a chair, gagged and looking at them in fear and relief.

''Take a look around.'' Holt commanded and the others obeyed. Jake and he came running to you, pulling the ropes and gag out of your mouth.

As soon as you were released, you found yourself hugged tightly by Jake, who began to shed tears of relief onto your shoulder. ''You're alive…'' He sobbed and looked at your bruised face. Yours lip was a little swollen and there were small cuts on your cheek. Jake kissed your cheek gently, not wanting to aggravate any injuries.

Jake didn't let go of you for the next few minutes, clinging to you and whimpering. You didn't let go either. Finally relieved to see him again. Not when you feared you might never see him again and just the thought of it made you grip tighter.

A team of paramedics arrived to assess you and you were taken to the ambulance, where they treated you. Jake, of course, didn't leave your side, eyeing the paramedics suspiciously. You squeezed his hand gently and he kissed your head.

''I was so scared…'' Jake muttered, squeezing her hand tightly.

''Me too…'' You said, lightly stroking Jake's hand with your loose fingers.

''I'm never going to let you out of my sight again, understand?'' He was scared, very afraid that something like that would happen again and he wouldn't let it. He would hunt down your captors and kill them one by one. You would never be taken from him again.

''I love you.'' He uttered and you smiled, he bent down and placed a light kiss on your lips, very carefully to not hurt you.

''I love you too, you idiot.'' You laughed and laid your head against his shoulder as Jake sat down next to you.

Jake finally felt calm, you were where you belonged, beside him. He would find the bastards who hurt you and they would regret ever being born. He kissed your forehead gently. You were everything to him.

He knew he had to keep his end of the bargain, but he'd think about that later. You were more important and he would deal with the consequences later.

''I won't let anyone hurt you again.'' Jake swore, looking into your eyes deeply and you knew he wasn't lying.

It was a promise. An oath.

#yandere brooklyn nine nine #yandere b99 #yandere brooklyn nine-nine #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #yandere jake peralta #yandere jake peralta x reader #imagine #imagine angst #i mean i have tried

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 1 year

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DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #9

(An idea I had late last night when I should have been sleeping)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas

✦

Lost Children Saved by the Lost

After being rejected by his parents and almost captured for experimentation, Danny escapes into the Ghost Zone. He wanders listlessly for nobody knows how long. It could have been days, months, years, but he wouldn't know how much time had actually passed.

He missed his friends, his sister, hell even his bully. However, the longer he wandered, the more he began to forget their voices, their facial features. Everything. He couldn't even remember what his obsession was. He wandered so long that the only thing he remembered was the aching and devastating feeling of his parents rejection of half of himself.

Eventually growing bored of the neverending expanse of the Ghost Zone, he takes a random portal and winds up in the DC Universe. Although, not in modern times. He finds himself hundreds of years in the past but couldn't find it in himself to care.

At least until he hears the cries of a child in distress. He goes searching and finds a little boy, weeping while curled up on the filthy ground, begging for his parents. The boy was emaciated, clearly not having had food in a very long time. His core jolted and ached at the pitiful cries. Was this his obsession? What was he supposed to do?

He only hesitates for a moment before he approaches the crying boy.(1) The boy flinches at the movement of shadows before looking up to meet the aurora green eyes of a man made of starlight.

"Hello, little one." He greets softly, automatically speaking the boy's language he heard only moments before. (2) "What's wrong?"

The boy is quiet as he wearily examines the man before him. Long hair the color of snow illuminated by moonlight. Olive skin that seemed to have a blue tint to it. The pointed ears and the loose, black clothes that seemed to have the cosmos playing across them. The most striking of all the man's features, however, were the rays of blue-green light flowing from his back like the tails of comets racing across the night sky. Despite the light they exuded, the wings seemed to absorb the heat from the air, letting off a cool but pleasant temperature. (3) The boy gazed cautiously into the man’s eyes, looking past his odd features, and found only kindness as well as a strange, deep-seated sadness. No matter how his mind said no one can be trusted, his gut said the man meant no harm. He decided to respond to the strange man's question.

"My parents," he began, stopping to wet his painfully dry lips. "They don't have money for food. They left me here because I am too much of a burden to keep."

The boy looked down, avoiding the man's eyes as if ashamed. His words made the man's core ache even more than before, vague and foggy memories flashing briefly behind his eyes. His core pulsed in his chest, urging him to do something. He didn't know what exactly, so he simply said the first thing that came to mind.

"Now that won't do. How about we look for others who would take care of you instead?" He said as he gently picked up the small boy and carried him cradled in his arms. The boy stares up at him as the man walked with his head held high and looking forward.

"Who are you, mister?"

The man's eyes became clouded as he mulled over the question before answering, carefully measuring his words.

"I've long forgotten what my name was. It's been so long since anyone's called me by it." He said, with sadness coloring his tone. They walked in silence for a couple of seconds before the man seemed to brightened a little. He looked at the little boy with soft, green eyes and a smile. "Why don't you choose a name for me, little one?"

The boy gained a look of concentration as he took the request seriously. The man continued walking in silence as he let the boy think, eyes forward as he searched for a family to take the boy in. His core was tugging him towards one particular house, practically singing as he came to a stop in front of the door. (4) He leaned down to gently set the boy on his feet before he himself kneeled to the boy's level.

Hands on either side of the boy's face, he kissed the child's forehead. Silently, he placed a blessing on the boy, a faint glow that went unseen to mortal eyes. He wished for the boy to know true love and happiness. For his parent's abandonment to leave no scars on his mind or in his heart. With that, he stood up once again and knocked on the door.

"Goodbye, little one. I've done what I can." He said as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" The boy called out. The man stopped and looked back with a curious light in his eyes, the stars on his clothes seeming to briefly brighten as well. Once the boy saw he had his attention again, he continued.

"I thought of a name for you. If you'd like to hear it?" He askes hopefully.

The starlit man smiled, before nodding. "I'd be happy to hear what you've come up with."

The boy brightened up before opening his mouth to speak once more, hurrying as he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door.

"What do you think of..." (5)

✦

Whelp. That was interesting.

Notes:

(1) Should the boy be an actual character that's established in the DC Universe or just a random child?

(2) When I thought of this, I was thinking Danny wound up somewhere in Ancient Rome. So, I think he'd be speaking Latin here.

(3) Comets are made of stardust and ice, which means they are also cold instead of hot. At least until they're warmed by the sun. I thought it was quite fitting, honestly. They also are often seen to give off a blue-green color! How cool it that? Ha!

(4) Danny's obsession is so ragged and starved after wandering for so long that it latches onto the first thing it could to give it a jumpstart. Protecting lost children (lost in one way or another) and leading them to families who would actually care for them. He is the one who urged Martha and Johnathan Kent to adopt Clark. He helps Billy Batson eventually find a forever home. This even plays a role in how Bruce meets each of the Robins. Jason will be the first and only child Danny ever fails to give a permanent home to because of Jason's feelings towards Bruce over his death. Danny adopt Jason?

(5) When I was thinking of what the boy would name him, I immediately gravitated to the names of stars, which seems pretty obvious considering how I described Danny here. Anyway, what I chose was Regulus because it's a blue-white star and the brightest one in the constellation Leo, also called the Lion's Heart. Not only that, but the Latin meaning of Regulus translates to "little king" or "prince". Not to mention it's also a common name among Saints. You don't have to use the name Regulus tho! Come up with anything you want to call him!

(*) Should Danny just be an immortal patron saint of orphans and lost children, or should he be upgraded to a patron God?

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znitsamluv · 7 months

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Hiii if ur not busy can you do this?

Soulmate AU Chifuyu x fem reader (who is a valhalla captain). Its the one where if your soulmate gets injured you get the same injuries too. So during the time when chifuyu got hit by the first punch by baji in the valhalla arcade, reader quickly realizes and basically runs out bc obviously she can't risk seeing being soulmates with a rivalling gang member.

The rest is up to you on how it goes. But if you don't want to do this its fine!

Fate !

Note: had some much writing this and I hope you liked it too anon since I am not really good with writing oneshots , anyway have fun.

Chifuyu x FEM!reader

Warnings: Kisaki, mentions of Bruises and fighting but not overly detailed just mentioned a few times.

" you are late ... Again "

I glanced at kisaki for a second and shrugged my shoulders not really feeling intimated

" My bad "

I walked away but didn't fail to hear kisaki scoffing, even though he is younger and weaker than most of us he wasn't a person to be taken lightly which makes me patient around his bratty attitude and lack of respect to those around him.

I walked further in the hideout and saw hanma grinning widely as two blonde boys wearing the toman uniform stood in the hideout, my eyes widened for a second they are really asking for death !

It all happened so quickly, I made eye contact with one of them and I felt an electric shock that lasted for a second leaving me with goosebumps.

'Huh?!' I couldn't even have time to process as Baji started beating up the blonde one which I heard his name was chifuyu, every blow and punch I felt it deep in my guts , I can feel my lungs struggle to breathe just like chifuyu must be feeling , I could feel my head spinning, he is going to pass out if I didn't do something.

I quickly pushed Baji away and looked at Hanma and kisaki.

" that's is enough we don't want to kill someone and cause problems"

My breath was shaky but I managed to hide it well , I was a higher rank member in Valhalla and my orders were as important as kisaki and hanma so other members started clearing the way.

" I will take care of that boy before toman realize he is missing "

I didn't wait to hear an answer as I bent down taking a hold of chifuyu's arm and pushing him to stand then making him lean on me as I dragged his half conscious body outside the hideout.

His pain was mine , I could feel how his jaw aches from Baji's earlier punches and how his left eye kept twitching in pain and I could only imagine the ugly bruise that will form later.

I couldn't walk really far with how heavy he was but I know that we were far enough to be out of sight , I gently placed him on a public bench in the park , looking at him from a closer angle made me realize he was quite handsome despite his visibly swollen face .

I continued to stare at him for a minute, a part of me telling me I should leave already as I saved him enough, and the other begging me to stay to make sure he was ok .

I sighed and messed with my hair in frustration seeing how no matter I tried to leave him like this it felt like a force was holding me back, if I can't leave then I should at least treat his face wounds since I could feel them as well .

I opened my backpack and took out my first aid kit , I took a deep breath as I held his chin softly wiping the dried blood before I use any treatment, my eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

'i'm doing this for me'

Even though my mind thought like this my soul knew otherwise, if it was another person I could have let Baji killed him and I wouldn't care , I wouldn't be standing here cleaning his wounds like I have known him for years .

I could feel Chifuyu stir awake and once he opened his eyes fully I was met with a push making me stumble back a little.

" What the hell?"

I looked at him with confused and irritated expression not really expecting this type of reaction, I saw how his eyes scanned me until it Landed on my Valhalla uniform and how visibly tensed he was.

" Where is Baji ?!"

" huh ?!"

I looked at him in disbelief, he must have hit his head hard to be thinking of someone else let alone the one who beat him like this when he was in this condition.

" I said where is Baji ?"

I can see how he tried to be intimidating but I couldn't help but let out a chuckle in amusement.

Chifuyu didn't know what was wrong but just hearing her chuckle made butterflies swim in his stomach.

" I think you should be caring about something else"

I touched the bruise on his cheek making him hiss in pain .

" look , I am not here to hurt you, just let me finish helping you and I will leave"

I looked at his eyes as I talked trying not to lose focus, Chifuyu knew he couldn't move after what happened not long ago and he wouldn't mind staying here .... You felt oddly comfortable to be around , his heart beating faster once he noticed the string tattoo on your arm which just looks like his , he always heard how soulmates have matching indicators and for him it was the tattoo.

" You- "

The words got stuck in his throat, seeing how close you were to his face , feeling your breathe fan at his face , the string tattoo starting to get tighter making him hiss slightly.

" just stay still, I will be quick"

The ability to talk was taken out of chifuyu, he just nodded in a dazed state , maybe because he was tired and couldn't think straight but he felt like he could stay here all day, under your gaze seeing how much you tried to look like you don't care and you hate him , but your expressions betrayed you as your eyes softened everytime chifuyu would groan in pain or jump slightly from the stinging feeling of the cotton pad brushing softly against the ugly bruise on his cheek .

Seeing how you stood just close enough to see the details of your face , the way your eyes sparkled in concentration, the way the orange sky of the sunset kissed your skin as you looked at him. He could look at you forever if he could.

And of course I didn't miss the way chifuyu looked at me , the way he blushed at the slightest touch on his skin , the way he avoided eye contact, i couldn't help but feel warm inside. It felt peaceful for once .

Once I finished treating his wounds I moved a few steps back, seeing his pretty face all covered in plasters and patches made me feel some kind of rage inside of me , not knowing exactly who I was mad at but it felt right to feel like that when you see the one the universe chose for you in this state .

I sighed and sat beside him on the bench massaging my temples as I felt a headache coming.

" If I knew I was going to meet my soulmate today I would have at least tried to look cooler and fight back "

Chifuyu mumbled loud enough making me giggle slightly as I looked at him noticing his embarrassed red cheeks.

We stayed in silence watching the last stream of light go down before exchanging places with the moon , neither of us wanted to move nor talk , just stay close like this in silence.

" i think I will be taking my leave"

I stood up only to halt when chifuyu's hand wrapped around my wrist gently making me stay still in my place , his eyes saying million words a second and yet nothing seemed to get out .

" you don't have to"

We both stared at each other , the universe made us for each other but the pathes and choices we took in life making a repulsive reaction whenever we thought of staying . It feels ridiculous to be in a situation I always laughed about, to be torn between two choices you want to chose both of them .

" we can work this together slowly... Just the two of us "

It felt like a magic spell putting me in haze , I think I know which choice I am going with this time .

I took out a small piece of paper writing something on it and placing it in chifuyu's hand , before starting to walk away.

" wait ! "

Chifuyu sighed in defeat seeing you walk away , noticing the paper in his hand he unfolded it and couldn't help but smile widely and feel his ears getting warmer reading your note .

' Here is my number.... Call me when you need to get your wounds cleaned '

Chifuyu chuckled and shook his head in amusement thinking to himself.

' I think I will need my wounds cleaned up every hour '

#tr🎴#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #chifuyu imagines #chifuyu headcanons #chifuyu fluff #chifuyu #chifuyu x reader #tokyo revengers chifuyu #matsuno chifuyu #tokyo revengers oneshot #tokyo rev x reader

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theetherealbloom · 2 months

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NOTRE DAME - CH. 6

Chapter 6: What Is Worth Suffering For?

Summary: In the rafters of Clinton Church, a mysterious reader with the power of illusion manipulation silently watches over Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante known as Daredevil. As danger engulfs Hell's Kitchen, their unlikely friendship blossoms into a bond of trust and longing, intertwining their fates in a battle against darkness that tests their resolve. Will their connection illuminate a path to salvation in a city of darkness or lead them deeper into the abyss?

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt to Comfort, ANGST, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Religion, Fluff, Anxiety, PSTD, Nightmares, Catholic Guilt, Amnesia, Violence, Blood, Dark Undertones, Eventual SMUT, Shy Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Criminal Activities, Mobsters/Mafia, Character Death, Slowish Burn, Disassociation,

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Wow??!!? A short chapter… who am I??? No, for real, I missed writing for Matt and I felt like I hit a brick wall while writing this chapter. Hopefully the words will come to me easily next chapter where exciting events take place :D

Song: 100 Years by Florence and the Machine

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

dividers @/saradika-graphics

MATT’S APARTMENT, 6A – SUNRISE

As Claire arrived, you were barely hanging on, your energy draining rapidly from the desperate need to keep Matt alive and stabilize him, staunching the flow of blood as best as you could.

In your exhausted state, everything seemed like a blur. You hardly noticed how Claire and Foggy gently coaxed you away from Matt, their intention to keep you from completely wearing yourself down. When you finally reopened your eyes, you found yourself seated in one of Matt's plush chairs, in clean clothes, and utterly dazed. Claire diligently stitched up the deeper cuts you had acquired, her focus unwavering.

Slowly turning your head to the left, you beheld Matt peacefully asleep on the leather couch, cocooned in a cozy blanket that provided him warmth. Shifting your gaze to the right, you found Claire's expression filled with concentration and concern. In a weak voice, you inquired, "Will he be okay?"

Meeting your tired gaze, Claire sadly smiled and replied, "He'll be fine. He needs plenty of rest and fluids. But other than that, you practically saved his ass."

A feeble sound of acknowledgment escaped your lips as you contemplated, "I think there's a pattern beginning to form."

Amused, Claire snorted, "Let me know if you ever get a day off. I feel like I missed a few episodes since last we talked." You weakly nodded, your eyelids drooping once more from sheer exhaustion. Concern crept onto Claire's face as she tilted her head to the side, prompting her to ask, "Have you told Matt yet? Or any of them?"

Before you could respond, Foggy emerged from the bathroom, his voice filled with frustration, "She hasn't. She hasn't told any of us shit, and I thought we were good friends. Hell, even best friends!" He sputtered out his words in exasperation.

Your gaze shifted downward, fixating on the blood-stained carpet of the apartment, a wave of shame washing over you. "Foggy..." you started, but he swiftly cut you off, his voice filled with a mix of anger and betrayal. "You knew? All this time, you knew it was him? And you didn't even bother saying anything?"

Your mouth opened, ready to explain, but Foggy's words pierced through, not leaving room for interruption. "The fact that you possess these... bizarre mystical art magic abilities and didn't even bother to tell us! You've been lying to all of us since the very beginning... me, Karen, and even Matt..."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you mustered the strength to speak. "No one was supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to know about my powers, Foggy. Matt doesn't even know it's been me all along." Foggy's eyes narrowed, his confusion and frustration evident. "What the hell does that mean? He… he doesn’t know it’s you?"

You shook your head gently, and Claire interjected, her voice soft and soothing. "Matt doesn't know that she's been the one assisting him in his... nighttime activities. Her abilities allow her to create illusions and glamour. It was pure coincidence that brought her to Matt."

Your gaze drifted aimlessly, lost in the depths of your turmoil, as you choked back sobs. "It's as if something… brought me to him," you managed to say, your voice filled with a mixture of uncertainty and self-doubt. You scoffed at your own words, aware of how improbable they sounded. "It's stupid, I know. But considering that aliens have fallen from the sky, how far-fetched is any of this?"

Your eyes blinked lazily, heavy with fatigue, as you spoke in a somber and vulnerable tone. "Not many people have seen this side of me. I never wanted anyone to know about my abilities, about the battles I've fought, and the horrors I've witnessed. It's incredibly dangerous, Foggy.”

Frustration and weariness etched across Foggy's face as he rubbed his hand over his tired eyes and through his hair. “But don't we have the right to make that decision for ourselves? Why won’t you let us in? Let us, me, understand?” he questioned, his voice tinged with exasperation.

A sniffle escaped you as tears welled up in your eyes. "The most difficult part of anything self-destructive is its familiarity," you admitted, your voice filled with raw emotion. "I've always known pain, and leaving it behind seems like losing a part of myself that taught me to survive.”

Tears streamed down your face as Foggy uttered your name in a sad and sympathetic tone. Your quiet sobs filled the room as you pleaded, your voice trembling, "You can't tell Matt, please. Not yet, at least, not like this."

His own eyes welled up with tears, reflecting the pain he felt. "He's my best friend," Foggy choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, trying to compose yourself amidst the overwhelming flood of emotions. "I know. I know it's incredibly cruel and selfish of me to ask this of you. But, Foggy..." Your voice cracked, and you struggled to steady your breathing. "I can't let him know it's me. I can't fulfill my duty to protect him and the people of Hell's Kitchen if he ever found out what I've been doing, the risks I've been taking. He'd blame himself if I ever got hurt."

Foggy shook his head, unable to fully grasp the weight of your words. "But you two could work together and–"

"You know how protective Matt can be," you interrupted, your voice filled with a mix of fondness and exasperation. "He cares for everyone's well-being except his own. For once in his life, I have the chance to take care of him."

"Even if he doesn't know it's you?" Foggy questioned, his voice laced with concern and confusion.

"It's better this way," you whispered, your gaze dropping. "To remain anonymous... for now."

Foggy fell into a contemplative silence, grappling with the weight of the situation. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he relented. "Okay. Okay, fine. Condition one: I won't tell Matt... yet. But you have to promise me that you'll tell him soon. I don't know how long I can keep this from him."

Sniffling, you nodded in agreement. Foggy continued, "Condition two: You and I need to have a long chat about all this voodoo magic stuff at some point, after I kick Matt's ass for lying to me."

A weak laugh escaped your lips. "Okay, Foggy. I swear."

Extending your pinky, you intertwined it with Foggy's, solidifying your promise. When you let go, you sniffled and apologized, "I'm sorry, Fog. For all of this. For everything."

Foggy recognized the sincerity in your words and gave you a weak smile. "Okay, no more. Enough with the sad eyes and the pouting. C'mere."

You weakly laughed as Foggy pulled you into a gentle hug, filled with warmth and hope. It was a comforting reminder of the friendship and support he offered. In that moment, you were grateful to have him by your side.

After the embrace, you glanced out of Matt's window, noticing the first rays of sunlight peeking through. It wouldn't be long before he woke up.

"I know you have countless angry questions about Matt," you said to Foggy, a hint of weariness in your voice. "Thank you for not asking them on his behalf. He deserves the chance to tell you his story."

Foggy pursed his lips, clearly still upset and annoyed with Matt, but he understood the importance of allowing him to speak for himself.

"Foggy... I have one last favor to ask of you," you said, gripping his shoulder lightly.

He looked at you with concern, and you squeezed his shoulder gently. "Be gentle with him. Please, just be gentle."

Foggy nodded in response, silently acknowledging your request. You exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment lift slightly from your shoulders. It was as if you had been holding your breath all this time.

Claire's voice called out your name from the kitchen, breaking the silence. "We need to go before Matt wakes up and notices you were here."

You nodded and began to push yourself off the chair, with Foggy's support by your side. Gritting your teeth against the pain, you wobbled over to Claire, completely fatigued and drained. She packed the rest of her belongings and offered her arm to support you.

But just as you were about to leave, a realization struck you. "Wait, I need to make sure every trace of me here is gone."

Foggy looked at you in confusion, his voice filled with curiosity. "What?"

Without hesitation, you quickly performed a spell, your weak hand moving through the necessary motions. A surge of gold and silver energy filled the room, erasing every trace of your presence. It scrubbed the apartment clean as if you had never set foot inside.

"Holy shit," Foggy breathed, his eyes widening in astonishment.

You let out a weak laugh, a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "See you later, Foggy," you whispered, bidding him farewell.

As you left the apartment, supported by Claire's presence, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bittersweetness. An unfamiliar path was ahead, and the weight of your secret had been revealed. But for now, it was time to face the day and the challenges that awaited you and Matt, leaving behind the remnants of your presence and the memories that lingered in the room.

CLINTON CHURCH – AFTERNOON

As you slowly regained consciousness, the room appeared hazy and disoriented. The soft sunlight peeked through the windows, casting a warm glow on the worn wooden furniture. Father Lantom's concerned face came into focus, his gentle voice soothing your weary mind.

Supported by his steady arm, you were carefully guided toward your room. Fatigue enveloped your body, making each step feel like an arduous journey. Finally reaching your bed, you collapsed onto the mattress, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in your bones.

Hours passed in a blur, the sound of distant footsteps and muffled voices occasionally reaching your ears. When you eventually stirred awake, the grogginess lingered, clouding your thoughts like a thick fog. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you surveyed your surroundings.

On the bedside table, a glass of water shimmered invitingly, beads of condensation sliding down its cool surface. Next to it, a small bottle of painkillers stood, their label promising relief from the lingering ache that gnawed at your body. Besides the medication lay a sleek, unfamiliar phone, its screen dark and waiting.

A pang of gratitude warmed your heart as you realized that Father Lantom had anticipated your needs. He had seen the toll the night had taken on you, comprehending the reason behind your unavailability. The thoughtfulness behind his actions touched you deeply, a testament to the bond you shared with him.

With a shaky hand, you reached for the glass of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. The painkillers provided relief, dulling the persistent throbbing in your muscles. Though fatigued, a spark of curiosity flickered within you as you picked up the new phone, its presence holding both intrigue and uncertainty.

These humble offerings delivered Father Lantom's unspoken support and understanding. It was a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggles and that there were those who stood by your side.

Sitting there with the weight of lies and hidden truths, your determination grew stronger. The previous night's events had etched themselves into your memory, leaving an indelible mark. Yet, you knew that you couldn't let fear or doubt consume you. There was no turning back now.

With a resolute breath, you opened the newly acquired phone and dialed Karen's number. The familiar sound of her voice filled your ears as she picked up on the first ring, her concern palpable even through the phone.

"Hey! I was trying to call you last night to check if you got home safe. Is everything okay?" Karen's words echoed with genuine worry.

You exhaled, mustering up a semblance of composure as you crafted a plausible lie. "Yeah... no, uh, everything is fine. My phone broke, the glass shattered and everything after I dropped it by accident. Big oops on my part."

There was a hint of skepticism in Karen's tone as she responded, "Well, I'm glad you're safe. But Foggy told me Matt got into an accident, and I'm really worried."

Keeping up the charade, you nodded to yourself before speaking, feigning ignorance. "Wow, God. Is he okay?" Concern laced your words as if you were just learning of the incident. Karen's reply was filled with a mix of relief and lingering anxiety.

"Foggy said he was fine... but I'm really worried."

Your heart ached at the thought of Karen's genuine concern for Matt, but you had to continue the facade. "I'll try and see if I can stop by, maybe bring some soup."

Karen's sigh carried a weight of unease as she switched topics. "Have you heard from Ben?"

Confusion flickered across your face as you responded, "No? What happened?"

"They didn't give him his extension," Karen revealed, her tone tinged with disappointment.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, the frustration evident in your voice.

"Yeah. Also, he's here, by the way, at the office. He's thinking of giving up on the Fisk piece," Karen shared her concern for the seasoned journalist evident.

Tell him I say hi," you replied, a touch of warmth in your voice. "Also, uh, tell him about Saint Bénézet Retirement Care… y’know with the person of interest I had found. Maybe it might help him change his mind. Oh, and please give him my new number, I’ll be sure to help out in any way I can with Doris."

The call concluded with Karen promising to forward the message. As you considered the fine line between keeping your personal secrets hidden and safeguarding the people you cared about, the weight of deceit weighed heavy in the air.

A FEW DAYS LATER…

CLINTON CHURCH - AFTERNOON Despite Sister Maggie's admonitions to take it easy and allow yourself time to heal, you couldn't shake off the restlessness that plagued your mind. Sitting idly only fueled your worries and overthinking, so you threw yourself into various tasks and responsibilities, seeking solace in productivity.

The atmosphere of the church was solemn. As you sorted through paperwork, filed documents, and organized phone calls, you couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose in aiding those in need. Each task completed was a small victory, a reminder that you were making a difference in the lives of others.

Yet, beneath the surface of your efficiency, a gnawing worry persisted. The thought of Matt's recovery weighed heavily on your mind, and you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your gut. The bond between him and Foggy, once unbreakable, now seemed fragile and uncertain. Doubts crept in, whispering concerns about the state of their friendship.

As you meticulously organized donations for the parish, your mind wandered, replaying memories of their camaraderie, their shared laughter and unspoken understanding. You yearned for the reassurance that they would find their way back to each other, that their bond would emerge stronger from the trials they faced.

The work itself offered a temporary respite, a distraction from the anxieties that threatened to consume you. But deep down, you knew that until you had answers about Matt's condition and the state of his friendship with Foggy, a cloud of unease would linger over your every task, casting a shadow on your otherwise productive morning.

Feeling the strain in your back from hours of sitting, you stretched your tired muscles, arching your spine and letting out a sigh of relief. The laptop before you, its screen filled with countless lines of text and data, had been your companion throughout the day, aiding you in your tasks and contributing to your weariness.

With a flick of your wrist, you shut down the laptop and folded it closed, the soft click resonating in the quiet room. Rubbing your eyes gently, you tried to alleviate the fatigue that had settled in from staring at the screen for so long. The gentle pressure of your fingertips against your eyelids offered a brief moment of respite.

Pushing yourself away from the desk, you stood up, the creaking of the chair echoing in the room. Your body yearned for movement, a break from the confines of the office space. Your destination was the kitchen, where a simple glass of water awaited to quench your parched throat.

As you walked through the familiar corridors of the building, your thoughts drifted to the message Claire had sent you. Her imminent departure from the city brought a mixture of gratitude and a hint of sadness. You knew her absence would be felt, but her reassurance of being there for you and Matt medically provided a comforting solace.

Reaching the kitchen, you poured yourself a glass of cool water, the clear liquid cascading into the glass with a gentle hiss. The refreshing sensation as you took a sip helped ease the weariness that had settled upon you. Pocketing your phone after sending a message of appreciation to Claire, you allowed yourself a moment of quiet reflection, grateful for the support you had in your life, even in times of uncertainty.

You turned your head towards the gentle voice of Sister Catherine, acknowledging her presence with a warm smile. Her concern for your well-being was evident in her words, as she expressed understanding of your need to rest.

With a reassuring tone, you responded to her, "Yes, sister?" Your voice carried a sense of gratitude for her consideration.

Sister Catherine's request came next, presenting you with a task that required physical effort. She mentioned your need for rest, offering you an out, but your determination to stay active and contribute prevailed.

You maintained your smile, a genuine reflection of your willingness to help. "It's no problem at all," you assured her, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of enthusiasm. "I'd be more than happy to fix the pamphlets.”

The commitment to your responsibilities and the desire to contribute to the tasks at hand outweighed any personal fatigue you might have been feeling. With Sister Catherine's approval and gratitude, you prepared yourself to embark on the simple yet meaningful task of caring for the sacred space of the church.

But when you stumbled out of the steps of the kitchen, to the side of the entryway, you didn’t expect Matt to be sitting there in the middle row, quietly there and contemplating. You stand there frozen, and you believe he already knew you were on your way out there.

Before you could even take a step, you caught sight of Father Lantom walking purposefully down the aisle toward Matt. The urgency in their interaction was evident, and you surmised that they needed a private conversation. With that realization, you swiftly pivoted on your heel and discreetly exited the area, granting them the space they required.

To occupy your time and distract yourself from the situation, you decided to attend to the remaining dishes in the sink. Methodically, you washed and rinsed each item, placing them back in their designated spots. The rhythmic sound of water running and the clinking of porcelain against the sink provided a momentary respite.

Amidst the task, you heard Father Lantom's voice calling your name. Intrigued, you paused and turned to face him, the dampness from your hands transferring to the towel you wiped them on. The seriousness in his expression indicated that something significant was at play.

"I think you should go talk to him," Father Lantom suggested, his voice filled with concern.

Your brows furrowed as you considered his words. Doubt and apprehension crept in, causing you to hesitate. "I don't think he'd want to see me—"

"He's falling apart," Father Lantom interrupted, his statement carrying a weight that resonated within you.

You sighed softly, the towel still in your grasp, and lowered your gaze. "Is Matt still there?"

Father Lantom nodded, confirming your suspicions. "I believe he's waiting for you."

A shiver ran down your spine at the dual meaning of his words. Pushing aside your uncertainties, you set the towel aside and made your way out of the kitchen, navigating towards the entryway on the side.

As Father Lantom had indicated, there he sat, still and seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You approached him cautiously, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. Taking a deep breath, you positioned yourself in front of him and cleared your throat, breaking the silence that enveloped you both.

"Hey Matt, um, how... how are you feeling?" you asked, your voice laced with genuine concern.

His response was simple yet laden with a hint of melancholy. "Could be better."

A heaviness settled over you, the weight of his pain palpable. Words failed you in moments like these when you wished you possessed the perfect solace to offer. He shifted slightly in his seat, creating a small space beside him. Taking the cue, you gingerly seated yourself, the area shrouded in gentle darkness, untouched by the cascading light from the stained glass windows.

Silence stretched between you, the world continuing its relentless march forward. In the background, the distant tolling of a bell mingled with the sweet melodies of birdsong. Your fingers fidgeted nervously, a visual representation of the thoughts swirling within you.

You looked at Matt as if trying to make a connection. You said, trying to get beyond the boundaries and get a look into the depths of his soul, "If you were guaranteed the truth from someone, who and what would you ask?"

His response hung in the air, a palpable weight of introspection. His eyes, shielded by the red-tinted lenses, revealed a glimpse of the torment he carried within. The silence stretched, pregnant with the weight of unspoken thoughts and emotions, as you waited with bated breath for his answer.

"I'd ask God why... why did he put the Devil inside of me," Matt's voice broke through the stillness, filled with a mixture of anguish and curiosity. "This anger that I have for... all the injustice. All of this... it feels like I'm losing everything. What is worth suffering for?"

His words struck a chord within you, resonating with the depths of your own struggles and uncertainties. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, exhaling softly as you prepared to respond. With a gentle resolve, you reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. The sight of bruises and redness on his knuckles did not escape your notice, prompting a tender gesture as you rubbed his hand with your thumb.

“This is your life, and it will move and confuse you in every way possible. Everything can be difficult in some way,” you began, your voice filled with empathy and understanding.

"Being in the wrong relationship is difficult. Being in the correct one is challenging. It's hard to be broke and miserable, it's hard to achieve your dreams. It's hard to be stuck in the middle, not feeling anything. You are going to be hurt, and you are going to hurt. Sometimes you will be the bad person. Sometimes you will be the one who makes the mistake. You will occasionally need to provide yourself with your own closure. Sometimes you will have to let go. Everything is hard, but you choose your hard. You decide what is worthwhile.”

“You don't choose whether or not you'll suffer, but you do choose what you want to suffer for. Yes, this is your life, and though it can be unpredictable and messy, though it can break you down-you are going to survive it. You will always survive it. "

Matt's grip on your hand tightened, an acknowledgment of the profound truth resonating in your words. At that moment, you felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a shared understanding that transcended words alone.

And then, as if guided by an unspoken connection, Matt maneuvered the both of you. His arms enveloped your body in a protective embrace, and a profound sense of calm washed over you both. In that embrace, the burning pain that plagued his body faded into the background, replaced by a fleeting moment of respite and peace.

"Just... thank you. I needed that," Matt said, his words touching your heart and causing it to flutter with warmth. You couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for him.

"Yeah, uh, if you ever need a hug or something... I'm around," you replied, though a bit awkwardly, but he laughed, his smile genuine and contagious. At that moment, you both knew that your connection had deepened.

Pushing yourself up from your seat, you offered him some soup before he left. He nodded appreciatively, and together, you made your way to the kitchenette area. Guiding him to a folding chair, you poured steaming soup into two bowls, taking care to ensure he was comfortable.

As you sat across from him, sharing the meal, you noticed how he slowly removed his red-tinted glasses. The vulnerability in his unsteady eyes resonated with you, and you felt an unspoken understanding pass between the two of you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, taking in every detail. He was beautiful in his openness, and you couldn't help but be drawn to him, feeling a connection that seemed to transcend words.

In that moment, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you. The clatter of your spoon, the soft slurping of soup, and the sound of your heart fluttering were the only things that mattered.

Friendship, you thought, was indeed a miracle. It was the discovery of someone who made the vast and lonely world feel a little less daunting. As you sat there with Matt, the bond between you grew stronger, and you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had found a true friend in each other.

THE LOFT, RAFTERS

CLINTON CHURCH – MIDNIGHT

As you phoned Karen's number over and again, worry bit the corners of your mind, only to hear the robotic voice of her voicemail on each call. You thought that was strange because Karen was usually the one to answer right away and the late hour shouldn't have been an issue for her.

There was something disturbing about the situation, even as the logical portion of your mind tried to calm the increasing anxiety. Maybe it was that persistent gut instinct, that unsettling sense that things isn't quite right. You were unable to escape the concern, conjuring up images that intensified your mounting anxiety.

The stillness on the other end of the line became louder with every missed call, as the seconds turned into minutes. Even though your logical self attempted to comfort you that everyone had varied sleep habits, the worry lingered in your thoughts like a never-ending itch.

Your wavering gaze betrayed the intensity of your anxiety as you acted, concerned about Karen's safety. The atmosphere in the room reflected your inner anguish as you nervously pulled the dead skin from your lips, a habit that became apparent when your fear became more and more intense.

You walked the wooden floors back and forth, unable to control the restless energy. You felt uneasy thinking about Karen's recent research endeavors with Ben. The two had been working hard to gather information that would expose Fisk, and that very investigation could have put Karen in danger.

The old rosary drew your attention as you stood by your bedside table, glowing softly from the little bulb resting on it. The familiar item was surrounded by a warm glow that gave it a reassuring atmosphere. The unrelenting ticking of the clock served as a constant reminder of the necessity of your decision with every second that passed.

You looked at the clock again, the hands uncontrollably ticking away as resolve welled up within of you. You quickly went for your jacket, the familiar fabric feeling familiar under your fingertips, following your gut feeling and your worry for Karen's safety. After making up your minds, you decided to go into the night with the unwavering friendship and feeling of responsibility guiding you.

TAGLIST:

@scoliobean @thychuvaluswife @pantrashtic @ofmusesandsecrets

#matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matthew murdock x fem!reader #matthew murdock #daredevil x reader #daredevil #notre dame series #notre dame matt murdock #notre dame ethereal #ethereal writes

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wandafiction · 3 months

Text

In Every Universe - Part 5

Warnings: Brief mentions of death, angst, hurt

You groan at the incessant beeping you hear as you start to wake up, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel the burn of bright lights above. You attempt to move your hands to rub your eyes, hoping to soothe the pain, only to find them stiff and sore but also locked in place. Your ears pick up in the sound of metal hitting metal and you can only assume you are back in handcuffs.

Attempting to draw from your powers, you feel nothing but pain causing you to writhe in the bed as energy pulses through you but has nowhere to go. You gasp as your powers settle down, choosing not to attempt to use them again, and you can only assume they are power dampening.

Oh how you hate the power dampening cuffs, or anything of that matter, as your body needs to constantly release and take in energy to remain stable. The Hydra scientists had explained how normal human homeostasis works and how your body is no different but with the additional energy your body's homeostasis is harder to maintain.

You try to even out your breathing, trying to slow your heart, when your ears concentrate back on the beeping that has increased in rhythm. You swallow slowly, your throat extremely dry and sore, wetting your lips with your tongue. You know you're I'm a hospital bed, or at the very least a medical bay, and with the additions of handcuffs you know you are still in the avengers compound.

"Fucking hell." You turn your head to the side, trying to hide most of your face in the pillow as you slowly open one eye. "This is worse than a hangover."

"I'm not surprised, you've been out for nearly a week and you pretty much drained yourself of energy." You startle slightly at the male's voice, looking over to see a smaller man looking at his clipboard.

"You must be Doctor Banner, also known as Bruce or the hulk. So to whom am I speaking to out of the three of you?" You smirk as the man looks at you over the rim of his glasses.

"Dr Banner. And may I ask how you know such information about us. Reviewing the footage with Agent Romanoff we could see small tells and little actions you did when looking at the people who entered the room. Almost as if you recognised them." You hum shrugging.

"Well I mean Hydra's not dumb, they taught us about you guys. They have a profile on each and everyone of you, and I made sure to learn them off by heart. For example Mr, sorry, Dr Banner. You did have a very lovely lady friend that you fell in love with, the hulk saved her once but she was the daughter of the guy who was trying to kill you. So I can only assume that didn't work out, so with that in the past you've decided to concentrate on your studies trying to get the other guy out of you so you can live your life. Without fear of, what's it called -ah yes - hulk smashing the people you love to death." You chuckle as he shuffles uneasily on his feet clearing his throat.

"Well -uhm- you will be cleared to go back down to the cell soon. Just got to do some final tests and we will get you back down there." You pout as he avoids your gaze.

"You're no fun. You're all I'm Mr Serious just here to do my job, get paid, and not kill people. How boring." Bruce doesn't give you any sign that your little quips are bothering him, instead he just continues to check your monitors and write things down.

"Just so you know, your mind might get more flashes than it has already had." Your eyes move to look at him as he looks at you before quickly diverting them and looking at the hospital standard painting in your room.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Neither do the others since I haven't told them. But when I have tech that can give me accurate brain scans and I see passive activity that a normal brain does not hold, I can only assume you are having flashbacks. Am I correct in assuming you've had one or two but kept it to yourself?"

"I don't like doctors." You choose to say instead earning a chuckle from the man, your eyes slowly moving to look back at him.

"And I don't like the hulk all that much but we all have to deal with things we dislike and just move on from it, right?" He gives you a lopsided smile and you hum slowly nodding.

"Right." You say slowly your eyes taking in the man's features trying to gauge whether you can trust him enough.

"So if the thoughts in your mind become too loud, the pain turns from a low thumping to a stabbing like pain just press the call button on your remote and I will come to give you some meds."

"What sort of meds?" You shuffle uncomfortably in your bed, your hand brushing over the IV in the back of your hand, small flashes of how Hydra would have you hooked up to an unknown amount of concoctions whenever you were on a medical bed.

"Just painkillers and maybe some relaxants that will help you sleep easier."

"How long do I have to stay here before I'm kicked back to the cell?" Bruce closes his folder, putting it at the end of your bed, taking his glasses off as he pockets his pen.

"Until I give you the all clear."

"And how long would that take doctor?" Bruce pretends to think about it for a second before smiling with a shrug.

"Let's say until the flashbacks stop being so powerful and the mind wiping and control ease off."

His hand gently lands on your calf giving it a small squeeze. And you take in his relaxed form, he isn't afraid of you he is just helping you. You scrunch your brows as he gives you a smile, questioning why he wouldn't have you sedated or on so many meds you don't even know your own name.

"I know you don't want to believe we used to be friends, used to be the same team. That's what Hydra does, but just know that even if you don't feel like you can right now you can trust me to help you get your memories back. And the handcuffs are just for precaution, you lost control of your powers - I can only assume from a flashback - and we don't need it happening again when they start coming thick and fast." He doesn't offer any more information turning towards the door and moving to leave.

"I remember the kid." His movements stop, closing the door quietly as he turns to look back at you. "Peter, the kid, I remember him. Or I remember some bits. I had a flashback about a movie night we had, and uhm the feelings and emotions came rushing back. I know he's not my brother but I love him as one."

"Anymore?"

"And Tony when he rescued me and brought me here. But that's it really." He gives you a smile in return as you tilt your head curiously. "Why haven't you told anyone you know about the flashbacks? And I mean now I've confirmed it. Will you tell them?"

"No I won't. If they find out then they are all going to try and get you to remember things and them and it's going to be extremely overwhelming for you and your brain. It needs time to heal, not a group of loud and unruly people telling you things you don't whether are true or not. We just have to let your brain fix itself. There's no saying how long and if it will completely fix itself but you will remember them all without their intervention."

"Thank you Doctor Banner, truly. I know I'm still the enemy and to me you're just the same, but I don't have fear of you hurting me so I will happily cooperate with any medical things you require from me."

"It's appreciated. And please just call me Bruce or Banner, there is no need to be formal."

"Okay well thank you Banner."

"Of course Y/n. If you need anything or are in pain don't be afraid to press that call button and I will be here as soon as I can, if not it will be Dr Cho." You give a nod in acknowledgement. "Anything else I can do for you at all Y/n before I disappear to check on other patients?"

"Yeah how is Peter and everyone else involved in my …. Mishap."

"He is completely unharmed." Banner smiles softly looking at you. "Thanks to you and your quick thinking."

“Thank you Dr banner.” Bruce chuckles with a shake of his head.

“What have I said about calling me that? Anything would be better, even green giant would be better.” You chuckle.

“Sure. one last thing, am I allowed visitors?”

“I don’t see why not.” With that he leaves without another word leaving you slightly confused but nonetheless relieved now that you are alone and can have a moment to adjust to your new surroundings.

It’s not that you didn’t like hospitals and Doctors, well if you were being honest you didn’t like them, but it's more you had nowhere to go. Your mind kept playing the fact that you had been unconscious for a week now, and you had already been in the cell for nearly a week also. The first question to pop into your mind was why was Hydra not trying to rescue you.

You were also trying to fight off the flashes of a time before Hydra, which is hard to come to terms with since you could only ever remember being a part of Hydra. You remember Peter and you remember Tony so surely that means that they are telling the truth, but you also think maybe they are using Wanda to plant fake memories. Get you to fall into a trap, to trust them, for you to help them and then find out it was all made up.

The rational side of your brain knew that this was probably very far-fetched and from what you are feeling from the flashbacks you were sure it wouldn’t be a lie. However, if it wasn’t a lie and you have been missing for over a year then how do you even begin to get back to who you were.

“Knock, knock.” Your rambling thoughts quiet as the door to the room slowly opens as a smiling ex-assassin enters the room.

“Miss Romanoff, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She quietly closes the door making her way to the bed silently, your eyes watching her movements as she looks at the handcuffs.

“I’m just here to see how you are feeling sweetheart.” Her eyes glide up to look at you, with a soft but also sad smile as hand slowly moves to push some hair behind your ear. “My sweet child, what have they done to you?”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me to get information out of me?” You turn your head, her hand dropping to rest on your shoulder, missing the pained look on her face.

“I was really hoping you’d remember, but that's okay. I’m here to get you out of the handcuffs.” Your head whips around looking at her with scrunched brows.

“But Dr Banner, Bruce, said that they had to stay on.” You eyes watch as she unlocks the handcuffs allowing them to drop to the floor.

“Well he is right you do have to have some power dampening thing on you, just for your safety as much as everyone else. But that's why I have this.” She holds up a small, thin silver bracelet.

“I’m not really a jewellery type of girl Miss Romanoff, and anyway I thought I was meant to be in love with Wanda.” You quip earning an ‘are you serious’ look from the older woman. “Sorry, explain it to me.”

“It is less restricting than handcuffs, so you won’t have to have someone unlock them just to go to the restroom. Also it will still dampen your powers, but not to the same degree. It will allow energy to flow easily so it doesn’t build up like it did in the cell, but you won’t actually be able to use your powers because any surge in energy will just make the power damping increase.”

“So I don’t need to be allowed to go to the toilet and I won’t cause an explosion. Guess that's a fair trade.” You chuckle as Natasha holds the bracelet up and you easily lift your hand up.

“So how are you feeling honey?”

/\/\/\/\/\

You trudged into the common room, your gaze on the floor, in sweatpants and a hoodie with the hood up. You aimlessly wander into the kitchen opening up the fridge only to stare at it when nothing in there seemed to be anything you wanted. You could feel their eyes on you as you closed the door only to open it again when your eyes spotted the chocolate bar you had yet to finish hidden behind the fruit.

You easily grabbed the chocolate, putting it in the pocket of your hoodie before also grabbing some grapes and once again closing the fridge door. You turn around bumping into someone who definitely wasn’t standing there a minute ago, their hands landing on your shoulders as your eyes look up at them. Your lip trembles as you see who it is.

“Oh my sweetheart.” Are the only words muttered before arms wrap around your shoulders and pulling you against them, your head in the crook of their neck as you finally let go of the tears you’ve been holding in.

The grapes are carefully taken from your hand, hearing the whispered voices next to you but not listening to what's being said. Your arms, that have been hanging limply, slowly wrap around the torso of the person who is now slowly pressing kisses to the top of your head.

“Let's get you some water, maybe run you a bath and into some fresh clothes. Then we can go to my room and cuddle under the blanket while watching a movie. How does that sound?” All you can do is simply nod, another kiss is placed to the top of your head as you do.

The arms easily lift you off of the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around their waist, your arms moving to snake around their neck as you continue to hide your face in the crook of it. Gentle hands held your thighs, to keep you from slipping down, as they started to walk out of the kitchen.

You only let go of the person when they bent down to sit you on the edge of the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms securely around your legs. You looked up at the woman in front of you, your bottom lip trembling your eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I miss them so much. Natty, I miss him so much it hurts.” Your words are broken up by gentle sobs as Natasha crouches down in front of you, her hands cupping your face.

“Oh my sweet girl. I’m sorry I can’t take the pain away, I wish I could take this pain from you. Your brother would be proud of who you have grown to be. I mean look at who you have become, and I don’t mean an avenger but as a person, you have grown up so much this past year. He would be so proud.”

“You think so?” You sniffle using your sleeve to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“I really do.”

“I really wanted him to meet the person I love, you know. I always knew I wanted him to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, be the godfather to any children I have. He was my little brother, I was meant to protect him but instead I was the one who hurt him. Killed him.” Natasha’s thumbs rub soft circles on your cheeks as you say your piece, getting what you need to say out.

“So would he have approved of your little crush on our witchy resident?”

“Don’t know what you're talking about.” You hide a smile at the thought of Wanda, mumbling into your knee as you rest your chin on top of it, your eyes avoiding Natasha’s smug smirk at all costs.

“Sweetie, I'm a spy, you can’t hide shit from me.”

“That's a dollar in the swear jar.” You smile cheekily as Natasha rolls her eyes lightly hitting your shoulder.

“Hey, no going off topic. So when do you plan to tell Wanda about your not so subtle feelings towards her?”

“I don’t. She is my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that so I will just bury it down.” Natasha shakes her head in amusement.

“I think the little witch might surprise you if you do tell her.” Your eyes flick up at that, your heart thumping in your chest.

“What do you mean?” Natasha doesn’t answer, instead standing up and moving towards the bathroom door.

“Oh when did we get a swear jar?” You giggle with a grin, Natasha had always been good at getting you out of your emotional pit.

She used just the right amount of distraction. One where you still felt like you could allow yourself to feel what you were feeling, but it never consumed you so much that you got lost in it. Natasha had been there for you since your first day, sure she may have given you a little bit of tough love during training but you found out it was because she cared about you. Something about reminding her of her sister who she hasn’t seen in many years, so she took you under her wing.

As you follow Natasha into the bathroom, watching her fill the bath with warm water and adding the bubbles and making sure there are plenty of them by swirling her hand around in the water, you feel the sense of being safe enveloping you. The way that Natasha could so easily read you and know what you need, how she did her best to comfort you and allow you to have your independence as well as giving you some restrictions to keep you safe.

It was all you ever wanted from your own mother. Yet you never did feel like she would ever treat you like a mother should, and you knew that it was wrong the way your mother (and your father) treated you. The way people in highschool would talk about their parents, saying how they wished they had more freedom and didn’t have to deal with them just because they weren’t allowed to some party on a school night.

You knew you couldn’t tell anyone that you didn’t feel safe in your own home, too scared of your parents finding out about it, so you simply moulded your replies and answers to what seemed to be the norm. You always made similar excuses to those you heard around you, and no one ever questioned it.

So as you stand there watching Natasha be that person you had always wished a parent would be like you couldn’t help yourself.

You got Natasha’s attention by hugging her side tightly, since she was sitting on the edge of the bath it was a little awkward. Neither of you say anything and for a moment silence fills the room, only the sound of running water to be heard. You took in a deep breath having so much to say but not sure how to say it.

It had only been a few seconds since you had latched onto Natasha’s side but the moment she bent her left arm so her hand could rest on the outside of your arm everything seemed to fall into place. Her thumb rubs circles on the outside of your arm as her fingers wrap around slightly until they are resting on your bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. In that moment, with the smallest amount of affection she could show you feel the most comfort you think you ever have from someone who isn’t your brother.

“You okay honey?” Natasha reaches her other arm out to turn off the tap as she turns her head to look at you.

You bite your lips as your eyes search her features for anything that could be hiding in the facade of care you can see. Her soft eyes look to yours as you continue your search, drying her hand off on her shirt before cupping your cheek with it. The warmth you feel on your cheek radiates around your body and you feel like you can completely relax and you know you’re safe. Natasha tilts her head in silent question as you release a small breath.

“I’m okay. Just thinking.”

“And what’s got you thinking so hard?”

“A lot but mainly me and you.” Natasha brow lifts slightly as she tries to predetermine where this conversation is going.

“What about me and you?”

“Just how you’ve been more of a mother than my own mother, which is really crazy to say out loud, but you have and I just kind of see you more in that light than I ever did her.” You ramble quickly.

“What are you saying sweetie?”

“I just, well, you well. Wow, uhm. I just wish I could have had you as a mother growing up but I’m really happy I get to have the chance now. But I mean if it's weird for you then that's okay, I know it sounds kind of crazy and weird saying that but you do feel like a mom, like my mom. I’m sorry I don’t even know what I’m saying.” Both her hands now cup your cheeks as she moves her body to face you more.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, take a breath for me.” You do as she says, all while smiling and giggling embarrassingly. “Good. It's not weird Y/n, because I think of you as the daughter I never would be able to have. You’ve managed to find a home in my heart and I will gladly step up to that role if you want me too.”

“It’s not weird?” Natasha shakes her head smiling.

“Not at all.”

“Wow.” You let out a breathy chuckle, Natasha’s smile widening at the sound.

“Honey.” You hum as your eyes meet Natasha’s warm gaze. “You can say it, it's not weird.”

“Mom.” You barely whisper it but you know Natasha heard it when the tears build in her eyes and her smile stretches up even more.

“Hi sweetheart.”

/\/\/\/\

“Hey Y/n you okay?” Her voice brings you back into the room, realising you completely zoned out staring at nothing in particular.

“Yeah I’m okay.”

“You sure? You went quiet on me for a while.” You nod humming.

“I’m okay mom.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader

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ro-is-struggling · 2 years

Note

Hey!!! i love your writing, and i was wondering if it would be okay if i made a request? i was thinking Steve Harrington x reader, fluffy, reader can sing? headcanon or drabble, whichever you feel like! you’re wonderful!

Hi! Thank you so much for your lovely words! I just finished season 4 and when I read "reader can sing" this was the first thing that came to mind. This ended up being more agsty than I anticipated so I can totally write you a fluffier fic later if you want. Steve x singer!reader is a concept that lives in my mind rent free so I'd love to write more about it. Anyways, I hope you like it!!

Through the dark || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve gets attacked by Vecna but your voice guides him through the dark.

Warnings: SEASON 4 SPOILERS, angst, hurt/comfort, my take on Steve fears/insecurities, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 2300+

Notes: this is my personal take on Steve's fears and trauma since he hasn't been attacked by Vecna yet and let's hope he never is so it could be ooc/inaccurate but hey it's fanfiction so it doesn't matter

The song I use in the fic is Endless Love by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross

Steve was confused. One second he was sitting next to you, talking with the others and coming up with a plan to defeat Vecna, and the next second everyone around him was gone. He had closed his eyes for a moment trying to visualize the words coming out of Nancy's mouth, and when he opened them again he found himself alone in the room. The lights seemed to have grown dimmer and the air colder. It was then that he heard it. The sound of a clock echoing in the distance.

Tick tack

"Steve" a deep voice called his name and a shiver ran down his spine as he realized what was happening. Vecna had caught him.

"No no no no this isn't happening" he whispered in desperation, jumping up from his seat and frantically scanning the room for his attacker.

"You can't save them, Steve. You are a failure."

"No. No. This isn't happening. You are not real" exclaimed the young man, preparing to run out of there.

"Oh, but I am. I am very real" the monster stated, emerging from the shadows. "And there is nothing you can do to stop me."

"C'mon man, wake up" Steve whispered to himself, trying hard to ignore Vecna's words and concentrating all his attention on finding a way to wake up from that nightmare. However, when the monster walked toward him, he began to grow impatient. "Y/N, help! Nancy! Robin! Somebody help me!" he shouted in desperation. He knew no one could hear him, but he was running out of time and didn't know what else to do.

"They can't hear you, Steve. And they can't stop me. You can't stop me."

Steve tried to run, but the monster was faster than him, using his mental powers to throw him across the room. His body crashed against the wall with a thud that overwhelmed all his senses. He tried to move and discovered with horror that Vecna was holding him still, suspended in mid-air against the concrete wall.

"You can't save them. You'll fail, just like you always do. You are a failure, Steve Harrington, and your time is up."

In the blink of an eye Vecna was standing in front of him. His dead-looking eyes watched him closely, piercing into the depths of his thoughts. Steve struggled to free himself, but his effort was in vain. He watched in horror as the monster raised one of its large, disgusting hands over his face, extending its long, pointed fingers to cover the size of his head. Steve thought at the time that this would be it. After all he had been through, that would be the end of him. He would die at the mercy of Vecna and his hideous hand would be the last thing he would see before he left this world forever.

But then he heard a melody echoing in the distance. It sounded familiar even though he could not make out more than a vague whisper. He tried to concentrate on the music, letting the melody replace the feeling of dread inside him. He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to remember when he had heard that sound before.

My love, there's only you in my life

The only thing that's right

My first love

You're every breath that I take

You're every step that I make

When he opened them, he discovered that he was no longer in that dim and cold room, suspended in the air, but in his house. He walked through the corridors, following the sound of the music and reached the kitchen, where you were preparing breakfast. The radio was on and you were mumbling, singing under your breath as you whipped up the pancake mix. Steve recognized the memory almost instantly. How could he not? It was one of the memories he treasured the most. That morning had been the first time he had told you he loved you.

And I, I want to share

All my love with you

No one else will do

He had awakened to notice the absence of your body next to his in bed. He felt cold without your arms around his waist, so he got up to drag you back to bed. Only when he found you in the kitchen he was completely mesmerized by your figure. It was no big deal, you were just preparing breakfast, but to Steve it was the most beautiful scene he had ever witnessed. His chest exploded with love as he watched you cooking, humming softly and moving to the rhythm of the music on the radio.

And your eyes, your eyes, your eyes

They tell me how much you care

You will always be

My endless love

Steve loved the sound of your voice, whether it was when you were talking or when he found you singing. He swore that your voice was one of the most beautiful he had ever heard. You sang like an angel and he always felt lucky to hear you, even if it was just humming. Your voice had a special power over him, it always made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You had a different glow every time you sang, an aura of joy and calm that made him feel at home. Steve could listen to you sing for hours without getting bored. You were his personal muse, an angel that had come down from heaven specifically for him. However, you were somewhat shy about your voice and didn't sing as much as he would like you to. That's why he crept into the kitchen that morning, leaning against the door frame so he could hear you sing without alerting you to his presence..

Two hearts

Two hearts that beat as one

Our lives have just begun

"Steve! Jesus christ, you scared me!" You had scolded him when you discovered him there, silently watching you. "What are you doing there, you creep?"

"Just enjoying the show" he had said, giving you one of those smiles that quickened your pulse and made you blush. "You know how much I love your voice. Please keep singing to me."

His request caused more blood to pool in your cheeks. "No! Go away, I'm busy" you refused, trying to hide your embarrassment by turning your attention back to the pancakes cooking on the stove.

"Oh c'mon! Please, for me?" Steve insisted, closing the distance between you by taking a couple of long strides. He stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing your body towards him. "Please, just a little more. Pleaseee." His head rested comfortably on your right shoulder, looking at you with puppy dog eyes and pouting in the hopes that would be enough to convince you.

"No" you repeated with laughter, biting your lip in an unsuccessful attempt to contain the smile that wanted to form on your face.

Forever

I'll hold you close in my arms

I can't resist your charms

And love, oh love

I'll be a fool for you I'm sure

You know I don't mind

Steve watched you with complete adoration. You looked so beautiful like that, smiling with your cheeks dyed pink. You were adorable, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His heart exploded with joy as he held you in his arms. A part of him still didn't understand how he had managed to get your attention, but you were his and he was yours and that was all that mattered. He loved you with an intensity he had never experienced before. He had never felt anything like it for anyone before. His day got better when you were by his side and his heart raced every time he heard you laugh. He wanted to spend every second of his life with you, to share every moment with you until the day he died. If that wasn't love, he didn't know what was.

"God, I love you" he muttered without even thinking about what he was saying. He was too distracted by your beauty and the swirl of emotions that flooded his heart as he held you in his arms to realize that it was the first time he had uttered those words.

'Cause you

You mean the world to me

I know, I know

I've found, I've found in you

My endless love

"What?" you asked, slowing your movements. Steve looked at you in confusion from his place at your shoulder, until he realized what he had said.

"I..." He didn't really know how to finish the sentence. Had he scared you with his confession? Didn't you feel the same way he did? Should he lie, make up some excuse to justify his words and save your relationship? He admitted that perhaps his confession had been a bit hasty. He understood that it might have caught you off guard because he had honestly been surprised at himself as well. But at the end of the day that was the truth. He loved you and wanted you to know it. You were the light that guided him on his path, the one who gave his life meaning. You were the love of his life and it didn't feel good to hide it. On the contrary, he wanted to shout it to the whole world.

Oh and love oh love

I'll be that fool for you I'm sure

You know I don't mind

Oh you know I don't mind

"She doesn't need you, Steve" Vecna's raspy voice interrupted the moment, appearing from the shadows once again to continue his torment. "You are useless, nothing but a pathetic man who has failed everyone in his life. Why do you think mommy and daddy are never around? They are tired of you, and she will be too." Steve turned to look at Vecna for a moment, considering his words. It was hard to ignore a creature that had the ability to search his mind and repeat the words that frightened him the most, uttering out loud his greatest insecurities. But just in time, your voice echoed behind his back, returning his attention to the memory unfolding in front of him.

"I love you too, Steve."

And yes

You'll be the only one

'Cause no one can deny

This love I have inside

And I'll give it all to you

My love, my love, my love

My endless love

When he came back to reality your face was the first thing his eyes met. You were sitting in front of him, your hands caressing his cheeks as you sang the same song that played on the radio in his memory. He understood then that it was your voice and the power of that memory that had saved him from death.

"Steve! Thank god, I thought I lost you" you exclaimed in relief, wrapping your arms around him to hold him close to your body in a warm embrace.

"I'm okay, I'm okay" he whispered, hiding his face in your neck. He repeated his words a couple more times, until he was convinced that he was still alive.

After telling his friends about his encounter with Vecna, Steve excused himself to leave the room. He still felt overwhelmed by the experience and needed some peace and quiet if he was going to calm his frightened mind. He sat on the porch steps, enjoying the fresh air and the gentle breeze blowing against his face. The sun that was beginning to set lit up the sky in shades of orange and pink. It was a beautiful sunset, it was a shame that he felt so bad.

"You shouldn't be alone," you announced in a soft voice, sitting down next to him. "It's dangerous."

"I know, it's just..." Steve shrugged, too tired to finish the sentence.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He shook his head without looking away from the horizon. Steve was hurting, you could see it in his posture and his lack of words. It broke your heart to see him like that, but you didn't know what to do to help him. "You know I love you, right?"

Steve turned to look at you, admiring the sparkle in your eyes for a moment before nodding his head slightly. "It was your love that saved me. That memory of the first time we said we loved each other... How did you know it was going to work?"

"I didn't, but we didn't have any of your cassettes here so I had to improvise" you admitted. "Ever since that day I think of you whenever that song plays on the radio. I can feel the warmth of your body next to mine, I can smell the pancakes in the air and I can feel your lips against mine. I thought that maybe it could have the same effect on you. And thank god it worked."

"You know what I think it is that made it work?" Steve asked you and you shook your head, looking at him with curious eyes. "You."

"Me?"

"It was your voice guiding me through the dark. I mean, no offense to the original artists, but I think the song sounds way better when you sing it."

"Steve" you complained, hiding your face in his shoulder so he wouldn't see the blush on your cheeks. You knew he was exaggerating because there was no way you could sing better than two professional artists, but you found his words adorable.

"It's true! I don't think it would have worked with the original version. So... You know what this means, right?"

"No" you mumbled against his neck, confused.

"It means you're gonna have to sing to me all day long until this is over."

"Steve!" you exclaimed, laughing at how ridiculous that sounded as you lifted your head from his shoulder so you could look at him.

"What? It's the only way to be safe" he shrugged.

"You're an idiot" you told him affectionately, giving him an amused smile.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot" he replied before closing the distance between you. His lips collided against yours in a slow but passionate kiss, expressing through it all the love you had for each other and how relieved you were to have the opportunity to kiss one more time.

#Steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things

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anexperimentallife · 6 months

Text

Yes, this rambles. Many breathing meds are also stimulants, so I'm kinda speeding.

Apparently my (wonderful) regular doctor has some authority at the hospital where we had the ER visit from hell, so everyone who interacted with is is being required to write her a report, and in her words, "disciplinary actions will be taken."

Made sure to tell her about the very cool medical student there who seemed to be the only one listening to us, so hopefully he doesn't get caught in the splash area.

Anyway, yeah. Saw my doctor and the pulmonologist she brought in (super cool and geeky guy--one of us! I hope we become friends), and things are looking up. On a new inhaler in addition to my other meds, and rented that O2 concentrator I posted a pic of earlier, and I can feel the difference.

It was hell trying to get hold of my meds and O2, though. Friday afternoon in Baguio, so taxis were scarce. We walked to the medical supply place only to find they were out of O2 concentrators, then to the big Mercury Drug on Session to find they didn't have my new inhaler. All this with me gasping for breath. So we gave up and decided to just have the stuff delivered in an app.

(And yes, Zoey tried to make me go home and let her deal with it all on her own, but after passing out in front of her and El in the ER the night before I was having separation anxiety, and insisted on not splitting the party.)

I felt a little guilty eating at my favorite chicken place on the way home, but dude, I was ready to collapse--I HAD to eat after all that, and Eleanor and @thesurestthing were hungry, too, plus I had to sit down for a bit after the fruitless running around.

BTW, if you are ever in Baguio--Annie's Kitchen, on the bottom floor of Porta Vaga mall on Session Road in Baguio) is about the same price as McDonald's, but they serve the best grilled chicken meal I have ever had in my life. (When I say this, consider I am sixty years old, have lived on three continents, and eat a LOT of grilled chicken.)

And bc I don't remember if I posted this elsewhere, here's the medical info: I came down with a viral respiratory infection around Oct 9, eventually headed to the ER, then was supposed to follow up with my doc, but put it off bc money. Started to get better, then went downhill to the point at which it opened me up to a bacterial upper and lower respiratory infections, and when I finally went back to the ER I had fluid in my lungs and stuff. So it's officially bronchitis exacerbated by seasonal allergies and lung scarring from long covid. Yay, diagnosis! If I hadn't tried to save money by skipping the doctor I'd probably be more recovered by now.

Anyway, I slept last night with oxygen tubes up my nose, and didn't wake up gasping once! And even after just two doses of my new steroid inhaler, my lungs are feeling clearer. You can still see the prednisone puffiness in my face, and I think it's probably gonna take about three months to lose the TEN FRICKING KILOS I've gained.

(If you'd like to help us get back to the US, so I can get my other medical issues fixed, please see this post.)

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arthyritis · 5 months

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A Wonderful World (Welcome Home/Puppet Friends AU) - Chapter Seven

"Just a little lower!" Sweetie instructed Ren, who was lowering Yay into the waste paper basket by a scarf wrapped around their middle. Ren followed her words, lowering Yay until their arms could reach the papers and mess them around.

"I don't see anything, Sweetie," they said, their face morphing into a frown through the mesh of the basket. "Phoebe's writings, some missing poster drafts, a page of old homework. No Pip."

"Please. Look closer," Sweetie begged, pressing her nose to the outside of the basket. The mesh was so tight it was impossible to see anything specific.

Zero stood next to her, their hand on her back rubbing gentle circles. Besides Pip and Phoebe, Zero was Sweetie's next best friend; they were everyone's best friend. They took care of everyone in special ways. Their bigger body was perfect for cuddles, shade, and more. But their best quality was how comforting and soft they were with just their body language. Sweetie smiled at them.

"OH! I think I do see something, actually!" Yay exclaimed, twisting in the makeshift harness. Ren dropped them just a little bit lower and their hand grabbed something. "Pull me up, Ren!"

The pig puppet did as asked again, pulling Yay the entire journey up to the desk with ease. She sat down and untied the scarf, trying to see what Yay was holding, and her eyes widened when she did.

A small piece of purple plastic, as small as a broken pencil lead. Ren didn't like the look of that, but was distracted as Sweetie climbed up the wall of pegs to the desk, stumbling dizzily for a moment before crawling the rest of the way over to them.

"What is it? What is it!"

Phoebe turned over on her bed to watch, too. She was highly confused, the explanation Sweetie had given her highly condensed to just the bare details, but her interest was piqued by the shouts nonetheless. The puppets were all shielding whatever Yay had found, so, as quick as she could, she got back into her wheelchair and went over to the desk, helping Zero up along the way. "What did you find?" she asked sleepily.

Yay held their hand out, and Phoebe's brow scrunched in concentration. "That's..."

"A piece of Pip's hearing aid. He did fall into the basket. But where did he go from there?"

"So, Wally told me you're coming to the picnic this weekend, Pip," Eddie spoke, covering his mouth politely as he chewed.

He was almost finished with his second plate of macaroni and cheese, while Pip had eaten one and put the plate in the sink already. Julie was fighting herself on whether to go back for thirds or save the leftovers for later.

"Oh, yeah, I am." Pip smiled easily. "Arts and crafts and food. It sounds like fun."

"And games!" Julie shouted enthusiastically, ultimately losing the battle with herself and scooping just a little bit more food on her plate. She really liked her own cooking, though admitted she wasn't as good as Poppy's baked goods. "I help set up the games and stuff every time. New games, known games, even some really cool games from other places! Oh boy, remember last year that game we played with the water balloons?"

"When Frank got one right to the face?" Eddie shuddered. "Yeah, one thing I'll never forget is their reaction." His southern accent was deep as he talked, and Pip admired it somewhat. All of the neighbours here were so unique but at the same time...

Eddie reminded him of Yay, with their shared clumsiness and ability to chat and chat and chat, and Julie reminded him of Sweetie, both sweet as a button with seemingly unlimited amounts of energy to boot. They made him miss sitting at home and having tea parties or drawing with the two smaller puppets, but it didn't feel as bad, anymore.

"Speaking of the picnic, I've wanted to ask ya somethin', Pip." The little button eyed puppet looked over at him, but Eddie couldn't hold contact, standing to take his plate to the sink. "I was wondering if you'd wanna help out with anything. Making a banner or placemats, maybe? You're an artist, right? I saw the little doodles outside; they weren't just Julie's."

Pip flushed, nodding even though Eddie couldn't see. "I draw, occasionally. I'd love to help out."

Julie finished her plate in record time, smacking her hands on the table in her excitement. "I can help after I'm done the games list!"

"Sounds good!" Eddie said, clapping his hands. "Well, I've got to head out of town for the rest of the day, but I'll be back tomorrow. Maybe you two want to draw up some designs for that banner, or soemthin'?"

"Sure, Eddie."

"Have a good trip, don't fall!" Julie laughed, and Eddie laughed with her, tipping his hat politely. "Bye, Eddie!"

"Bye, you two!" And he was out the door.

Julie and Pip got to work on some more drawings after Julie had found some loose papers to draw on.

It was getting a little late, not quite dinnertime, when there was a knock on the door and Julie went to open it. Pip sighed, assuming it was the same puppet who'd apparently taken it upon himself to collect Pip almost every day, but then it heard a different voice and softened.

"Hello, Julie. Eddie told me Pip was here. I need to talk to him."

"Oh, hi, Frank! It is!" The door closed. "We're just drawing, if you want to join."

Frank walked around the corner into the living room, their frown replaced by an almost straight, disinterested look. They were wearing a tan coat and hat and held a net and empty container. "I don't have time for that right now. Can I talk to Pip alone please?"

Julie nodded and skipped to the kitchen while Frank set down his bug-hunting supplies and stood in front of Pip, who was watching with interest and a bit of concern.

"What's the matter, Frank?" it asked, pushing the drawing it was working on away.

It had doodled various butterflies and filled the page, but didn't feel like colouring them.

Frank sat down in a nearby armchair, pinching his nose and looking mighty tired. "You'll have to forgive me if I leave out any details; it's been a long day. But... I heard Wally and Barnaby talking earlier and thought you might find the information beneficial."

That's where Pip noticed how ragged Frank looked. His coat was buttoned up the wrong way, and his hair was pushed up under his hat messily.

He'd rushed over here just to tell Pip this information, whatever it was. Pip found that sweet.

"That doesn't sound good. Why did Julie have to leave?" Pip asked, looking toward the kitchen vaguely.

"Because I assume you haven't told them about any of this stuff with you, and I cannot handle their energy and questions right now." Still pinching their nose, Frank took a deep breath. "Wally was telling Barnaby about your chat this morning. About telling you why you're here. It's not true. Not completely, anyway."

Pip's ears rang and it stared in silence until they stopped. Odd. That had only happened this morning when it'd left the tap running.

"I had my doubts it was the full truth," it admitted, blinking to clear its head. "Did he say the actual reason?" It already wasn't that hopeful, but the twisting shake of Frank's head doused any hope it may have had.

"I think he knew I was listening."

"Oh... is that bad?"

"Well, he's not dangerous or anything, but it's not good, either." Frank left it at that. "Now, about the picnic Eddie's hosting. It'll be in Home's backyard, that's where we host all our events, just given the nature of the house. It's alive, it likes to be included."

"That makes sense, I guess," Pip mumbled, brow furrowed. "Why are you bringing this up, suddenly?"

"Because it might give us a chance to investigate." Frank's frown shifted up into a small smile.

Pip didn't peg him as a mischievous type if it was being honest, and it was just another reminder of his own friends. Ren was responsible, but ultimately she really enjoyed a bit of trickery every now and again.

The button-eyed puppet nodded, smiling, too. "Okay... but wouldn't it be good to have some help? I think Julie would be perfect for this."

Frank's hand rose to their hat, adjusting it as they peered toward the kitchen. "You're right, she'd love in on this, but as much as I love having another Lepidoptera lover in the neighbourhood, this isn't where you belong, and she wouldn't understand that. It should be our secret, at least for now."

Pip couldn't help but agree with that logic.

They said their goodbyes, and after a couple more drawings it was time for Pip to return to his house; another knock on the door signified that, Wally standing there with his hands tucked behind his back, his little black shoe tapping the ground. He stared straight into Pip's soul.

"Ready to go?"

"Bye, Julie!" Pip said with a wave, the pink puppet waving back enthusiastically with a drawn-out, "Byeeeee!"

Wally walked alongside Pip in silence, and Pip noticed that ringing again. He stopped in his steps, watching Wally walk a few more ahead before he realised they weren't together anymore.

"What's wrong, neighbour?" His voice sounded muffled, further away than he was, and almost completely overtaken by the ringing now. "Puppet?"

All at once he pulled himself back to the present. His head felt light and he was dizzy. Maybe that fall his first day was just now hitting him. Did he have a concussion? Should he see Poppy?

Wally's voice called him back again and he started walking to catch up.

"M'fine," he said, passing by and hoping Wally couldn't tell otherwise, the smart guy he played.

"If you say so, neighbour," Wally shrugged, falling back into step beside him. "So, how was drawing with Julie? She's my favourite artist in the neighbourhood, other than myself. It's why she decorated so much of your house."

Pip glanced up at Wally sideways. Part of that was news to him. "You draw?"

"I paint," Wally nodded. "Still-life portraits, things for my neighbours. But my favourite thing to paint is apples, with all of their intricate details and blemishes. They're very interesting if you look at them long enough." Pip couldn't hold in a laugh, and Wally looked surprised. "What? It's true."

"It is true, that's why I'm laughing. Phoebe has said the same thing about her drawings for art class. Though, she was a bit more sarcastic about it, you sound genuine in your love of apples."

"I am very genuine about my love of apples. They're a lifeblood." Wally's eyes were wide as he explained. "There are apple trees all around Home. One might think it's because I planted them, but they've been here a very long time, and they're important to the neighbourhood's maintenance."

This felt weird, Wally being so talkative. But then again, Pip was chatting its heart away back. Maybe this was just how Wally was like with his neighbours once they got used to being here...

Was it used to being here? This day seemed to be proving that all too quickly.

"Something on your mind?" Wally asked, but Pip just pressed its lips together and shook its head. Wally pointed to the house they were at, and Pip hadn't realised they were here already. "Good night, Pip."

"Night, Wally." Pip walked into its house and closed the door with a smile.

It made a quick dinner of pasta and sauce and then got ready for the night, walking around its bedroom and grabbing pyjamas after realising it'd been wearing the same clothes for three days and that probably wasn't normal here like it was at home. Everyone else seemed to change every time he saw them, at least, but no one had pointed it out.

The pyjamas were light blue with clouds, and actually a little bit big, but it found it liked that as it held them in front of itself in the mirror. It then took off its yellow and white shirt carefully. It hadn't seen itself like this in a long time...

The scars on its chest showed to it first and it held its breath. They weren't battle scars like its friends, not in the traditional sense, anyway, but it didn't like to dwell. It pulled the shirt up the rest of the way, revealing the heart patch also on its chest, but more upper middle than down by its ribs where the scars were.

He buttoned the short-sleeved shirt onto himself quickly, then pulled on the shorts and tied them at the waist. They were soft and comfortable, and he smiled again.

What possessed him afterwards, he didn't know, but he put the receiver of the phone back onto the base before he hopped into bed, then took his hearing aids off to lay more comfortably against the pillow. The world was immediately silenced, and he was already asleep by the time the phone rang with Wally saying good night a second time.

#welcome home fanfic #Puppet Friends #grey does writing

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imjustanasshole · 2 years

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I was just sitting here, studying, and listening to my funny little gay byler playlist when my funny little gay brain had an idea for a funny little gay scenario so I'm going to explain it because there is no way I'm gonna be thinking about this all day on my own.

So we all know that Mike wants to be a writer, right? I'm assuming that's like an established fact (no idea if it's 100% canon but idgaf, it's canon). And as a fellow writer apprentice I know for a fact that the first thing you have to learn is to write in all four literary genres (drama, fiction, nonfiction and poetry), and then when you find the one you're most comfortable with you look into the subgenres and usually find one (or two) and kind of stick with it (this is not always the case but it's the most usual).

Right, so you may be wondering why the fuck am I ranting about my special interest instead of just getting to the point but bear with me dear.

I imagine that Mike is probably more inclined to fiction, and inside that either fantasy or sci-fi (because of the whole being a DM thing, which involves A LOT of fantastic writing and plotting), but he still tried other styles because why not? It's not like he can really experiment with anything else in his life, so might as well. When El and Will moved to California my boy probably had way more free time than before, and I'm guessing he started writing more to distract himself.

So he suddenly found himself writing poetry. About nothing in particular, a few of them were about saying goodbye to the summer and welcoming autumn, in others he romanticised random moments, and there were some that he just shoved on the bottom of a drawer in embarrassment when he realised what he was doing. But he had never told anyone about them.

Writing letters to El was easy, like everything with her, they were all organised and simple to read since it was still kind hard for her. He always knew what to write to her about: how was everyone doing, the begging of the school year, his teachers, a lot of 'I miss you's... And asking about Will, he always asked about Will. He found it easier than directly writing to him, since every single time he tried to his mind went blank after "Dear Will".

One afternoon, after recklessly neglecting his best friend for weeks, he decided that enough was enough and promised himself that he wouldn't get up from his desk until he had written a letter to Will. And so he started to write. He spent hours and hours writing and erasing and scratching words, using multiple pieces of paper, saving some and throwing others away, extremely focused. So much that he didn't even hear his mother calling him at dinner time, Nancy had to go up and knock on his door, which made him snap out of his trance.

"Mike, dinner!" She yelled from the hall.

He went down and ate with his family but couldn't concentrate, he wanted to make sure the letter was good, Will deserved at least a decent letter. So as soon as he was dismissed he ran up stairs and locked himself in his room. He suddenly realised he had blacked-out completely and didn't remember essentially anything that was on the papers, so he grabbed what at the time he had considered the best draft and started reading through it. He was shocked. For a moment he thought he was accidentally reading one of his practice poems, but soon realised he had never wrote one titled "Dear Will", well, now he technically had. It was line after line of poetry, describing the feeling of missing Will with metaphors and comparisons such as how the trees miss their leafs on winter. 'You're my summer, Will' he had written on the third page 'I long for you like I do for the flowers on winter'.

What. The. Fuck.

By the time he finished reading through everything it was already past midnight. Mike was speechless. He kept staring at the letter as if hoping that it would change the content on its pages.

He couldn't understand. He had never had any trouble switching back from poetry when writing to El, why was it different with Will? Why did he write him a poem?

Then he abruptly came to a realisation.

"Oh no." He mumbled to himself getting up from the floor. "No, no, no." He staggered towards his desk, landing on his knees. He pulled out all his poems from one of his shelves and he scattered them on the floor. "Oh no."

All of them were about Will. Of fucking course.

The place were they met, their sleepovers, old campaigns, his old house in Hawkins, his drawings... Even the poetic description of an "imaginary person" was just a written portrait of Will.

Mike's whole body went numb. How could it be? Is this even a coincidence? Was Will his muse?

"No." He said, a little louder than intended, and he threw all of it to the trash. He wanted to scream and cry and burn it all.

He just decided to go to bed and never think about it again. But of course, things are never that easy for Mike Wheeler, aren't they? Through his head echoed the question 'Is Will my muse?' Over and over. He knew one thing was true, that letter was one of the best things he'd ever written. Could he even call himself a writer after throwing away his best work?

He groaned and got up from his bed, then he rescued all the crumbled pieces of paper from the trash can and hid them very deep inside of one of his drawers. All would be well if he never wrote a letter to Will ever again. Yes, that's it, that's the best solution. The only solution.

Yeah so, that's it, I didn't plan for this to be a whole ass one-shot, just a little thought, but now it's done so thanks for reading!!!!

I thought this could be a cute explanation for why Mike didn't write to Will and heard about him through El instead, but it's just an idea.

edit: I had to go through this again a day after and I changed some minor things (mostly just orthography), I think it's better written now. anyway thanks to everyone who interacted, you're all so nice :')

#byler #stranger things #st #mike wheeler #will byers #NOT A THEORY #just some scenario #byler angst #kind of #st post season 3 #st pre season 4 #byler letters #i was just listened to music #idk where this came from #im very tired #i invested 1h on this #i didn't go over this #so the orthography is probably ass

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theragamuffininitiative · 3 months

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2, 6, 10, 20 and 22 for unfinished fic asks!

hiiiii!

2. How did you get the idea to write this? [Based on the other questions, I'm gonna talk about my urban fantasy novel here] As best as I can remember, the inspiration for Cloy came from 1) the part in Bandstand where Julia says "I don't need saving!" and Donny says "yeah, well maybe I do" and 2) Needtobreathe's song "Banks" and 3) the ending of Jessica Day George's Dragon Slippers, and 4) a couple random pinterest pins including an animated gif of a human!Starscream from Transformers I guess?? and something from the first season of Nikita??, and lots of stuff I had no pre-existing context for and hodgepodged together. 😂

6. Is there any specific ship you're planning to include? Ok, I don't ship much and I definitely don't write romance for the sake of it, but this story has a very important romance between the two protagonists, River and Captain. [sudden giggling over how their names basically suggest a ship anyways] Anyways, I ship them so hard, and they're so good for each other, and I put them through so much. 😭 The dynamic can definitely be found in the NTB song from the first question.

10. If unpublished, can you show a sneak peek of what you've written?

"Why am I here?” Tyler frowned. “You don’t remember.” “No, I don’t, that’s why I’m asking –” “No, that’s what I meant. You’re here because you don’t remember. You were attacked. You lost some of your memory. You were awake when Professor Lewis brought you here… you don’t remember that either?” Tyler looked as though he were concentrating on Captain’s answer, as if it were suddenly not a casual check-up, but a report he had to give. Captain frowned, thinking hard. “I think…" Something itched at the back of his mind. “Mathen brought me here after… after the hospital?” Tyler grinned, relaxing a little. “Yeah, the hospital.” “But why was I…” Captain looked down at his arms and suddenly noticed the skin was scraped and raw. A wide bandage had been wrapped around his left forearm and horrifying purple bruises completely encircled both of his wrists. He sat down hard on the bed. “What…” Fear stabbed at his gut, twisting his insides. He thought he was going to throw up. “Where did…” He looked back up at Tyler, who was staring at the marks as well, but shook himself and met Captain’s gaze. “I don’t understand.” Tyler's brow furrowed with concern. “I’m going to call Professor Mathen and tell him you’re awake. Can I leave you here, you’re alright for a minute?” He seemed afraid Captain might do something unpredictable and insane if he left him alone. Captain shook his head slowly. “Please, go call him. Is there anyone else here?” “No, sir. Just us. I’ll be right back.” And, with that, Tyler turned and sprinted off, his hand already going to his pocket to dig out a cell phone before he was even out of view of the door, which he left cracked open. The electric light of the hall was comforting and Captain appreciated Tyler’s thoughtfulness, or perhaps absentmindedness, for leaving the door open. He looked down at his hands again, trying to comprehend what had happened and why he couldn’t remember. Panic escaped his lungs in a sharp exhale, immediately forcing him to breathe in again - a sort of desperate gasp to fill his body with oxygen again. The gasp, the intake of fresh sweet air, brought a stab of recollection to him and if he hadn’t already been sitting down he would have staggered under its blow. It wasn’t a memory exactly, but like the feeling of realizing after a long night of troubled sleep, that all the trouble had been because of a dream. There was no memory of the dream itself, just the idea of having had the dream in the first place, and whatever he had been feeling in the dream. But whatever this was, it had not been a dream. Dreams didn't leave bruises around his wrists. You were attacked, Tyler said. Again, he thought he was going to throw up. The echo of memory passed as soon as it had come and he sat on the edge of the bed in the silent room trying to catch hold of the last thing he did remember. What had happened to him?

20. Give a vague description of something that will happen without revealing too much. [I wanna say something funny and cleverly vague here but have no braincells, just gonna share the little logline/teaser/synopsis I have.] "The worlds of fae and humankind are collapsing in on themselves, as a half-fae daughter of war and the scientist assigned to test her magic must choose to save their own in the division, or lose everything together."

22. Will this fic include more angst or more fluff? Probably more angst. Bit of world-ending stuff going on. But not devoid of fluff. 😊

#thanks for the ask!#unfinished wips ask #aster friend #wip: cloy #ft. an unoriginal amnesiac scene bc that is what i scrolled to in the document lol

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holodeck-enthusiast · 2 years

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It's his 51st birthday. To be honest he didn't remember until he found a delievery at his doorstep. A small rectangular box. He opened it. There's a book, the recent bestseller from a writer he really loves. It has a note, by the way!

"Happy birthday, Mike. Hope you're doing well. Jeremy, Max and Simone are sending their good wishes for you. We're looking forward to meeting you on Christmas. Stay well and take care. -El"

Jeremy is El's husband. THIS Max is El's daughter, Simone is her husband. Michael is very much close to Jane's family. They love him. And they meet once a year at Michael's cottage. He lives in a very small town near the historical ruins of what was once their home, Hawkins.

Michael smiles a bit. Put the book on his desk. He's a professional self-employed book critic and still working efficiently. In fact quite popular among the younger generations. He never started a family. All those years in the late 80s, 90s...seem so blurry now. Like a book he had read for a project long long ago. He can't remember properly who died when...he just remembers Argyle shouting "Get in the van for fuck's sake Mike! GET IN! IT'S OVER. It's fucking over! We need to run!".

That night, as far as the media knows, 22 people managed to get out of the town. Mike, Argyle, Lucas and Dustin were among these 22 unlucky people who lived and some of them are still living. A gift of life that felt like a curse every second for decades. El contacted them years later in 1992. Her storyline was completely different and not mine to tell. I as a writer, am glad that they all found each other.

Dusting lives in Canada. Lucas and Argyle both live in New York. Their families are close. All of them are virtually connected, thankfully.

Mike never even thought of starting a family of his own. He had a really busy work life and only recently came to this new town near old Hawkins a couple of years back. He has a young assistant who lives nearby, and a humanoid robot, a very efficient AI that gets all the necessary chores done.

Michael drinks a glass of hot water from his bedside table. Put it down calmly. Crossed the cottage door threshold and came outside into the balcony.

"Happy birthday, Mike". A young boy exclaimed with a smile brighter than any star in our Milky Way. He's sitting on the balcony stairs. Mike went closer to sit by his side.

"Thanks! You had your breakfast already!"

"Yeah, had to finish this greetings card I made for you!"

"Really! Where's it!?"

"Ah you have to wait a bit! It needs to be dried. I have kept it on the floor back there".

"Cool"

Will looks away. Turns his head. Mike continues to look at him. It's a pretty windy morning. Will's dumb hair is blowing in the wind. He's sitting with his arms crossed. His cheeks are shining slightly under the sun. Is that a new zit! Mike hadn't noticed yesterday.

Will pulls out a tiny notebook and starts writing.

"What's that, Will?"

"Just making some campaign lists..one of which we'll play on Christmas. I am just really worried that it'll be dumb and nobody will want to play!" He lifts his face up, looking at Mike. Again lowers his head and concentrates upon his tiny notebook.

Mike is dying to put his hand on Will's shoulder and say...It's gonna be alright Will. You'll write a cool campaign with all the great monsters and crazy NPCs.

What shoulder?

The shoulder he saw that night making out cracking sounds from up in the air.

What body?

The body he was grabbing and never wanted to let go until Argyle pulls him out!

What Will?

The Will he saw sacrificing himself to save El so that she can save the whole town?

Every single day for the last 35 years, Mike sees Will. His own version of Will. The Will he loved and still loves. The Will his heart bleeds for each day.

Mike could not look away and jump into the day. Allison, his assistant, will come within half and hour. He decides stay a bit more under sun. Near his Sun.

Will turns back his head, looks at Mike to find that he's looking at him.

"What?" Will says awkwardly with a smile.

"Nothing" Mike smiles back. With the saddest smile on this planet, with all his new growing age-lines, teary eyes..

Another April morning lazily approaches the noon. A late middle aged man stand up on the lovely stairs of his lonely cottage. Reluctantly goes inside, activates his AI. And then goes into the kitchen to get himself a bowl of cereal.

#stranger things #will byers #byler fandom #upside down #vecna #mike wheeler #the duffer brothers #netflix #byler fanfic #will the wise #will x mike #byler fanfiction #mikewheeler #mike wheeler x will byers #willbyers #will byers x mike wheeler #mile wheeler

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 2 years

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hi! :] for the weird questions for writers: 1, 10, 32, 40

Sparrow!! hi!! Ty for the ask, this'll be long XD

Weird Asks

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

Alegreya, 12 pt, single spaced! Sometimes, when I feel spicy, 11 pt 1.15 spaced. I've written in this font since middle school so now it's just My Writing Font and I find it easiest to write in. I've been forever ruined for other fonts.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

YES. SO MUCH WRITING HAUNTS ME. MY OWN WRITING HAUNTS ME CONSTANTLY.

When it comes to the writing of others haunting me, that means that it just quietly lives in the back of my head and appears occasionally. A lot of oneliner quotes from books I haven't even read haunt me, and sometimes they sit in the foyer of my brain, demanding to be written about. Some books have quite literally changed the course of my life; Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human comes to mind. I am perpetually haunted by themes and narratives and I wouldn't have it any other way.

My own writing haunts me in a different way. It's more that I'll look at some of my old concepts and ask myself why my current concepts seem so lackluster, why I remember being genuinely excited for most of my old ones but can't bring that same enthusiasm for my current works. I know for a fact that I'm a better writer now--I've reread my old work and winced at some of the dialogue, the pacing, the fight choreo and scene descriptions--but concepts that grab me by the throat these days are few and far between. It's my BSD fic era that haunts me the most.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

Here, I'll give you two.

The opening lines of Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese" saved my life. I found it off of tumblr :)

Without getting too personal, it was a revolutionary idea for me that I didn't have to spend my life desperately trying to reach some unattainable ideal of a "good person." Not a "good partner" or a "good friend" or a "good child" or a "good writer." I could just exist and try to be kind.

The other line that haunts me is Asagiri Kafka's writing process, because it's influenced how I simplify my characterizations. I don't remember the exact line, but in the wake of Mori's stage actor's passing, he talked about how he explores characterization and keeps it consistent: he bases a character on three "vectors," or personality traits, and sticks to them. Here's the TL I read, and here's the lines that haunt me in particular.

Ahhhh, Asagiri-sensei. Never change.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

HA okay this is my favorite poem that's about writing. It's extremely weird and I love it a lot. It's "Purity," by Billy Colllins.

My favourite time to write is in the late afternoon, weekdays, particularly Wednesdays. This is how I go about it: I take a fresh pot of tea into my study and close the door. Then I remove my clothes and leave them in a pile as if I had melted to death and my legacy consisted of only a white shirt, a pair of pants and a pot of cold tea.

Then I remove my flesh and hang it over a chair. I slide it off my bones like a silken garment. I do this so that what I write will be pure, completely rinsed of the carnal, uncontaminated by the preoccupations of the body.

Finally I remove each of my organs and arrange them on a small table near the window. I do not want to hear their ancient rhythms when I am trying to tap out my own drumbeat.

Now I sit down at the desk, ready to begin. I am entirely pure: nothing but a skeleton at a typewriter.

I should mention that sometimes I leave my penis on. I find it difficult to ignore the temptation. Then I am a skeleton with a penis at a typewriter.

In this condition I write extraordinary love poems, mostly of them exploiting the connection between sex and death.

I am concentration itself: I exist in a universe where there is nothing but sex, death, and typewriting.

After a spell of this I remove my penis too. Then I am all skull and bones typing into the afternoon. Just the absolute essentials, no flounces. Now I write only about death, most classical of themes, in language light as the air between my ribs.

Afterward, I reward myself by going for a drive at sunset. I replace my organs and slip back into my flesh and clothes. Then I back the car out of the garage and speed through woods on winding country roads, passing stone walls, farmhouses, and frozen ponds, all perfectly arranged like words in a famous sonnet.

#ty again!#weird asks

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acre-of-wheat · 1 year

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32, 33, 37, and 39 here's hoping I didn't transpose any of those numbers

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

In college I wrote some pretty extensive papers about gay Christian writers (because that's what I was at the time and I was feeling some type of way about it!) and one of them was the poet W.H. Auden. I can still recite this poem of his by heart.

Dear, though the night is gone,

Its dream still haunts today,

That brought us to a room

Cavernous, lofty as

A railway terminus,

And crowded in that gloom

Were beds, and we in one

In a far corner lay.

Our whisper woke no clocks,

We kissed and I was glad

At everything you did,

Indifferent to those

Who sat with hostile eyes

In pairs on every bed,

Arms round each other's neck,

Inert and vaguely sad.

O but what worm of guilt

Or what malignant doubt

Am I the victim of?

That you then, unabashed,

Did what I never wished,

Confessed another love;

And I, submissive, felt

Unwanted and went out.

He and others like him (Forster, Wilde, many, many others) had this palpable suffering and longing you could feel in their work. There was a time when I thought that was as good as it could get– dreams and gay novel drafts that you only pass around to your friend group while alive– and I'm so grateful that I've found another way to be.

The sense of longing, and the pain, remains in my work though.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

I paint, mostly watercolor and game miniatures, which are very different styles of concentration! I play the piano and the guitar. I like to write about characters who are artistic in some way– I feel like there are some impulses that artists of all kinds relate to, so tapping into that is helpful. Also I can't write without music. Even as a kid I wrote my best with music on.

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

Wow, this guy had some fucked up fantasies but he was really poetic about describing them! Also all his early writing was about secretly being incredibly queer, how did he not get the memo for so long?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

I don't think I've ever felt like "giving up." I've had a hard time writing, or felt like I can't, but it's never something I've ever felt like is possible to entirely give up. Something that saves me during the drought periods is every now and again a scene or line will come to me with such clarity and a sense of perfection that I can't help but write it down.

#writing ask

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ivyruins · 2 years

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I've seen a lot of artists post their beautiful drawings here. As an artist myself and for other artists too, can we perhaps get an LIs reacting to seeing a sketch of themselves in MC's sketchbook? I think it would be such a. Cute little scenario <33333

a/n: this was really sweet!! I myself am an artist as well, so this was very fun to write :)) made it different for each boy because I know people react differently to someone else seeing their drawings + accommodates a few different types of art. enjoy!

+ really restraining myself here because I love writing it intimate and emotional, but xyx would definitely pull a "okay I like it picasso"

Li's reacting to seeing a drawing of them

Nightowl (sketch/doodle)

your current sketchbook had been nightowl's notebook. he had only used a little bit of it before he didn't need it anymore, so you had stole took it for your own sketches.

he had found it laying down on the bed once. (you hadn't scribbled out his name at the front, instead added a '+ y/n!' right after his name. he beamed). he had picked it up to see some of his old notes, skimming through his old (dreadful) handwriting from back when he was still in school, until he stopped at a page.

his eyes widened when he sees himself in your artstyle. he knew you were into drawing, but he didn't know you drew anything else besides doodles of the bloomic characters, but here it was. a sketch of him, with his eyes closed and mouth opened in a smile you told him how much you loved, and a little speech bubble beside him that read "cutie <3 "

nightowl literally takes a picture so he could have it saved in his phone. he doesn't even tell you he saw it, but the next time you opened the book to continue drawing, you'd find a little sticky note on the page you drew him.

saw your drawing, you're so talented! I love you so much <33!!

Quest (digital art)

you sneak glances at quest, who was busy typing away at an email from his laptop. working from home had worked in your favor. you had been trying to draw quest for a while now, and this proved to be a perfect opportunity to do so. unfortunately, your boyfriend had superhuman peripheral vision, and he starts to become suspicious of you sneaking glances at him.

to be fair, you weren't even being subtle about it. you'd look up at him, look back down to fix a tiny detail, then look back up. it didn't take a genius to know what you were doing, but quest pretends not to know. at least until you were finished. it was easier this way. he could concentrate, and you could work with it.

he fights the urge to chuckle at your concentration, though. he finds your annoyed huffs and scrunches of your nose to get the detail down just right absolutely adorable.

you didn't show him afterwards, and he let it go. he didn't want to force you to show him what you made, but it did make him deflate a little, thinking you had given up on it.

the next day he opened his laptop, he finds a print with your unmistakable signature in the corner, and a little heart next to it. a smile made its way to his face, as he sticks the print on the wall where his work was.

he calls you afterwards, and you could tell how much he loved it from the affection in his voice.

NakedToaster (traditional art)

"you can't not show me, you drew me didn't you?" toast asks, voice gentle with an edge. you could tell his curiosity was getting to him, "I've seen your art before, and i love it."

you sigh lightly, slowly giving in, "art is subjective,"

"I have good taste, then." he replies, as if that doesn't dismiss the meaning of subjective, and gently pries your book from your hands because they knew you wouldn't give it yourself. he did it slowly, though, as if he was giving you a chance to pull it away from him if you really didn't want to. you let him.

he takes a look at your drawing; pencil smudged to shade, sharp strokes blending with duller ones, his hair was unkempt, his glasses askew. you didn't draw him like a portrait to be hung, but more of a photograph for yourself. it was him; your toast. the one only you get to see, with his bed hair during gaming and his cheeks dusted red from small compliments. it felt personal, and he could read your admiration just by looking at it.

"you don't have to pretend," you say, rubbing your forearm when he was silent for a beat too long, taking it negatively, "its okay if you don't-,"

"its- its beautiful." he blurts, wanting to immediately dismiss your bad thoughts. his eyes remain on the drawing, sheepish at his sudden admission, but it was evident that he was being honest. you knew him, and you knew he doesn't lie, "i love it. I love you. so stop thinking so low and start giving yourself more credit,"

you sigh earnestly, feeling a heavy weight lifted off your shoulders as you lean into him.

Xyx (painting)

the paining of xyx and cat sat on top of the easel. you had spent a good amount of time on it, and now, stepping back to examine the final product, you smiles, satisfied.

it was absolutely perfect. there were a few bumps during it, but you had managed to cover them with little decorations. you had turned wrong brush of color beside cat into a leaf, and now you had decorated the background with different types of plants you had in your home. it was like a family portrait, you, xyx, cat and your beloved plants.

you hear the door open from behind you. you didn't have to look back to see who it was. the soft murmur of "jesus," followed by the feeling of his palm on your shoulder confirmed it was none other than your lover.

you hadn't realized it yet, but cat had slipped in just as the door closed, and once you noticed the little feline, it had already stepped on the splattered paint on the floor, paws on your canvas.

"you little troublemaker!" you laughed, pulling cat away before the whole easel was ripped to shreds, "look at you, taking all the credit," you chuckled, looking at the small paw in blue paint at the corner of your canvas that cat left, right over where your signature was.

"looks like I got cat's approval," you grinned up to your boyfriend who was still admiring the painting from afar, "did I get yours?"

"you're fucking amazing," he mused, walking over to place a kiss on your forehead. you got your answer.

#blooming panic #nightowl #xyx #quest #nakedtoaster #I started off writing this as a reaction... and it gradually got longer ehe #this is pretty self indulgent. I'm probably toast's mc in this #toast would grab the nearest metal pipe and smash your small self esteem because he Loves You (trademarked) and he'd never lie #I feel like something is off with this one so I'm posting it before I stare at it too long #I hope it's okay :'))!#blooming panic x reader

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moririki · 3 years

Text

⤷ A BLOODSTAINED CONFESSION

RENGOKU KYOJURO X READER -> 3.6K you patch up your fellow hashira after the hardest fight of your lives

REQUEST -> ✰ CONTAINS -> MUGEN TRAIN SPOILERS like before the cut and everything, mentions of blood + gore, so kinda angsty but definitely a fluffy ass ending, reader is a hashira but it's left ambiguous as to what element you are👍, i watched the movie two months ago so my recollection of dialogue and plot may be *slightly* off, near-death experience, idk how to write combat so i just... didn’t, reader lowkey thirsts over rengoku's back muscles and shit because why tf not, idk how injuries work aaaa MORI'S THOUGHTS -> rengoku my beloved,,, he deserves the world,, i think i should have made this less angsty im SORRY (i rlly heard "extra fluffy" and it just went 👩🏻➡️ straight through my head huh) also i bet you guys missed me and my late-ass posting <3 but here i am!! for now!! yeahhhh!! i feel like the writing in this got a little repetitive so i apologise for that

APPARENTLY, THE DESTRUCTION OF AN ENTIRE TRAIN wasn't enough to end this mission. even with one lower six demon defeated, another much stronger one had replaced it. the arrival of akaza was a significant turning point in the battle, and one that you cursed yourself for missing.

you should have known that this mission would he more dangerous than expected when both you and rengoku had been deployed to the train, alongside three rookies. you should have known better than to let rengoku convince you to stay back and help evacuate rather than let him handle it alone.

he had been so full of confidence- squeezing your hand firmly before rushing off, leaving you feeling slightly lightheaded from the brief contact of his warm palm. you should have wished him luck, told him to be careful, anything, but he was gone before you had the chance.

you made quick work of evacuating the passengers of the derailed train, making sure that they were all confirmed to be outside of the carriages before entrusting their safety to zenitsu and nezuko. it was around when you had carried out the last passenger that you felt the ground rumble beneath your feet, coming from the other side of the embankment that you were currently placed at.

before you gave yourself time to really think things through, you were shouting instructions to the pair of demon slayers and dashing off towards the source of the noise, hand readily placed on your sword. that was the direction that rengoku ran is all that went through your mind.

the scene that you found yourself facing did little to quell your fears. you reached two bodies first, recognising them as the hapless figures of inosuke and tanjiro. from a glance you could see the extent of their injuries, with the latter laying on the ground barely conscious. the boar-headed one could only stare at the fight happening several metres away, his shoulders slumped in defeat and swords hanging by his sides.

“there’s no opening,” he only whispered, barely audible. that much was true. even you had difficulty keeping up with the movements of rengoku and the demon that he was fighting. the fact that it had already been several minutes and that there was no clear advantage concerned you, and you unsheathed your sword.

“you two stay put, and learn what it means to be a hashira, alright?” you tried offering a brilliant smile, much like you had seen the flame hashira do so many times, but you hoped that yours didn't fall flat. from the slight relief shown on tanjiro’s worn face, though, you took that as a good sign.

without wasting another second, you rushed towards rengoku and the demon, assessing their movements. inosuke wasn’t joking when he said there wasn’t any opening, their movements equally matched. you took the chance and struck when rengoku managed to get the demon to stumble back. bringing your sword down in a vertical strike, you severed one of its arms, before taking a cursory glance back at rengoku to make sure that he was alright.

your wound did little to hinder the demon, as it simply chuckled before regrowing its limb.

“oh? another hashira? don’t tell me you think that this is a fair match,” the demon sneered as you held your sword in front of you, still nervously eyeing the blood that was beginning to drip at rengoku’s feet. it amazed you as to how he was still standing, let alone also ready to keep fighting, but you weren’t going to stop him with that amount of determination in his eyes.

“i wouldn’t say that you appearing after we had to fight an entire train was fair either, but here we are,” you glared at the demon, adjusting the grip on your sword.

“think you can hold on a little longer?” you asked rengoku, still facing the demon.

“always.” you could picture the steadfast smile on his face, lending you his strength whenever you needed it. you took a deep breath, starting your total concentration breathing and launching off of your foot, propelling yourself forwards.

you heard rengoku's footsteps right behind you, dependable as ever. when you swung your sword and sliced through, you knew that the flame hashira was there to follow through with a co-ordinated attack.

despite your best efforts, the upper six demon lived up to its status and provided to be more than a challenge for even both you and rengoku fighting him simultaneously. in fact, akaza had even managed to gain the upper hand a few times, leaving you with a cracked rib that was making it more difficult to focus and control your breathing.

but you and rengoku's big break arrived in the form of a rising sun that leeched itself into your surroundings. the glow was nothing but welcomed by you, though your demon opponent let fear flicker across its face for the first time this night as it turned foot and fled. the invisible adrenaline-fuelled strings that held you up snapped, and you felt the strength from your body sap, too spent to gove chase to akaza.

the bitter taste of defeat crushed you, numbing your senses as you barely heard the cries of tanjiro as he yelled at the retreating figure of akaza. you turned to your fellow yashira, eyes widening and senses returning as you took in the way he had slumped to the floor, head bowed as he kneeled.

"no, don't you dare," you mumbled, dropping to your knees too in front of him. panic gave your limbs a new purpose as your hands stretched out in front of you, seeking out the warmth rengoku still emitted even when mortally wounded.

the most pressing matter was the dark stain of blood that gave his uniform an unnatural sheen that was still spreading. you pressed a hand to the source of it, a large gash across his stomach that was much too deep for your liking. your other hand came to rest on his face, tilting his head up to look at you for any sort of good sign to cling onto.

"you better stay alive!" your voice was shrill, harsher than you wanted it to be, but those were factors you could hardly control more than the blood oozing from rengoku's stomach. you could see how unfocused his eyes were, and how heavy his head was when only being propped up by the waning strength in your hand. your own injuries had been forgotten, cast aside in favour for you to fear for the flame hashira's life.

and still, despite everything, the man still smiled. the blood covering half his face did little to mar its radiance. rengoku raised a shaking, bloody hand of his own, letting it fall heavy against your own as you felt your hold begin to slip.

"you're hurt too, you know." his words were more of a shaky exhale, though you heard it all the same. you felt a smile slip onto yours too as rengoku proved to still be so vigilant in the wellbeing of others.

"you don't need to remind me, shut up and save your energy," you whispered back. you didn't trust yourself to speak any louder in fear of your voice cracking.

"but.. i have to tell you something." the insistence in his eyes was back, burning into you so mich that you couldn't help but lean closer, trying to ease his burden of being audible.

"quit talking like you're dying." you were practically whispering into his ear, close enough to feel the rasp of his breath as he laughed, holding your hand tighter. his other hand came up to your own face, rough thumb brushing against the skin underneath your eye, wiping away a tear you never realised had tracked its way there.

"let me bandage you up." your voice may not have shook, but your hands definitely did as you disentangled them from rengoku's hold, urging him to put pressure on his wound while your fingers found purchase on the hem of your uniform and ripped off a strip of it. it was barely enough to cover his injury but you managed to wrap the severed cloth around his middle a few times, tying it tight and hoping that it was enough to stop the bleeding.

"just.. stay with me until backup comes, alright? you've got tell me something once we get out of here, remember?" rengoku nodded into your palm, smiling at your words as his eyelids fluttered shut. but you were close enough to still feel that he was warm, to feel the slight rise and fall of his chest as he managed to still breathe, and that gave you some comfort.

minutes felt like hours when you had to talk to fill the gap. whether it was to give rengoku something that tethered him to this mortal realm, or a way for you to distract yourself from your own pain, you onew that you would both have to tough it out a little longer, just until the others arrived.

"you know, i've always admired you." you were surprised at both his words and how clear rengoku's voice sounded. your grip on his hand tightened a little, and you leaned towards him so that your forehead pressed against his.

"this is hardly the time to say something like that, kyojuro." you tried not to laugh, the pain of your ribs starting to edge back in as the adrenaline left your body as the sun soaked your bodies.

"i just wanted you to know." you would have responded to the man if it weren't for the shouts that became all too clear. help was here, and everything was going to be okay now.

you didn't want to let rengoku out of your sight, but many insistent hands prised his body from your grip, and with barely the strength to speak there was little that you could do about it except succumb to the pain of your wounds and finally fall unconscious.

recovery was never an aspect of fighting that you looked forward to. when you finally came to, there were a few gripping moments of panic when you asked a nurse if rengoku was here, if he was alive. you had been assured that he was before the pain and medication kicked in again for a fitful sleep as your body healed.

but no matter how you were pressed back into bed, into the constraints of sleep, you never really felt like you were at rest. your mind was still racing to places your body couldn't as it pieced together the events just before you got hospitalised.

when you could finally get up without keeling over, you were stumboing your way through the hallways as stealthily as possible, leaning on walls for support and peering into rooms as you walked past, in search of your fellow hashira. your cards of luck had lined up when you stumbled upon his sleeping figure less than three rooms down from yours.

he looked a lot cleaner, still donning a serene smile even when unconscious and you felt the panic gripping your body loosen its hold. the throb of your most likely broken ribs was enough of an edge to keep you awake, and you made your way over to rengoku's bedside.

there was a convenient chair placed next to him, and you tried not to grunt in pain as you sat down in it. rengoku didn't even stir at your approach, and you resigned yourself to sitting there, studying his figure and resisting the urge to check whether he was actually breathing or not. if you focused enough, you saw the subtlest rise and fall of his chest, just enough to qualm your fears.

your concentration was broken as you heard the sliding door open again, and the hesitant voice of a nurse breaking your intense silence.

"ah, i'm sorry to interrupt but i need to change rengoku's bandages." to prove her point, the nurse raised her arm to emphasise the strips of fabric held by them. you stood up hastily, sending a cursory glance back at the still-sleeping form of rengoku.

like all matters regarding the flame hashira, you found your mouth and body working a little faster than your brain.

"it's alright, i can change them for you. i'm sure that you have plenty of other patients to tend to." the nurse nodded, though she still looked hesitant to hand you the bandages. you gave her a reassuring smile, stretching out your hand to take them. "i've had plenty of experience with this, don't worry."

the nurse appeared relieved, giving you a quick thanks before exiting and letting the door click shut behind her.

you turned your attention back to rengoku's sleeping figure only to watch him crack a single amber eye open and give you an almost sheepish smile. you couldn't help the flooding sensation of relief that drenched your bones, and you returned his gesture.

"i'm glad to see that you're alright." rengoku's eyes never left yours, and you felt yourself grow hot underneath his gaze.

"glad to see you too." you offered a hand, helping rengoku shuffle further up the bed with minimal effort on your side. despite the bandages covering a large expanse of his upper body, his grip on your hand was still stable and you bit back the fond smile threatening to bloom on your face.

luckily for you, rengoku seemed to get the message that he needed to get shirtless without you asking him, which saved you a whole lot of embarrassment. you weren't confident in your ability to look him in the eye and ask him to strip without blushing, though you did exactly that as your eyes raked over his bare skin.

littered with scars and covering taut muscle, it was hard not to let your eyes wander down his form. from the look on rengoku's face, he looked well aware of the effect that he had on you and fixing you with a practically imperceptible smirk. you were quick to ask him to turn around, and he obliged as quickly as someone with broken and bruised bones could manage.

his back was the same story, with broad shoulders and defined shoulderblades that had muscle twitching without you touching it. you sucked in a breath, way too audible for your liking, and tried not to let your hand stretch out to run your fingers down the expanse of his back. you were here to help treat him, not indulge in some fantasy of yours.

your mindset snapped back to professionalism as you grabbed hold of the fresh bandages, opting to put them on after you removed the old ones. while there was no sign of infection, you still grimaced at the bloody sight of rengoku's major wound. you tried not to show how much it had upset you, both now and in the moment, and your attention turned to your slightly trembling fingers.

you were careful to avoid where his skin was obviously discoloured from bruising, not wanting to cause him any unnecessary pain. he was warm to the touch, enough to invite you in with some false sense of confort before burning you alive. the way his back muscles jumped at your touch did little to help your concentration, but you shouldered on.

your mingld escaped you, insisting on recounting those painful minutes where rengoku was vpeeding out on the battlefield. there was a particular focus on his insistence to tell you something, and you bit your lip. surely, he would ask you at some point from now.

"how are your ribs?" rengoku's voice cut through the silence, its rasping edge acting as evidence of hiw soundly he had been sleeping earlier. while it wasn't the question you wanted him to ask you, you were never one to turn down conversation. especially from him.

"worry about yourself, kyojuro. i'm fine." your appliance of the fresh bandage meant that you would now have to be stood in front of him, a development that had your face flaming from the close proximity. silence set in, and all that distracted you from the rise and fall of his stomach was his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. your eyes flickered towards the ceiling, relying on your hands to guide yourself instead.

you dared to glance down and saw rengoku’s eyes fixed on your face already. there was something about his softened features and the look in his eyes that had you scrambling to stare at the blank ceiling again. as much as you would like to retreat at every first sign if danger or confrontation, you knew that you woukd have to talk to him soon, whether it was you or him who brought up the conversation topic from that day.

taking a deep breath, you perched yourself on the edge of rengoku's bed, still maintaining a professional amount of distance from him. still close enough to spot how his smile brightens when you choose to stay. you glanced down at your fingers, twisting knots into themselves as they were placed in your lap. you almost cursed and placed them underneath you to stop that, but instead you fixed your gaze on the flame hashira's ever-present smile.

"do you remember when you said you had to tell me something? right after akaza?" rengoku straightened up a little, nodding. you gave a cursory glance to the bandages safely wrapped around him, and winced as you remembered how much blood had left him that day.

as if he could tell what you were thinking, rengoku reached forward and took your hand in his. you sucked in a breath at the sensation of his calloused hands, wincing as your ribs ached in protest. you couldn’t bring yourself to break his stare as your fingers intertwined, and rengoku brought you slightly closer to him. the tension was palpable, and you squeezed his hand in an attempt to alleviate some of it.

“what did you want to tell me, kyojuro?” you were still closing the distance between the two of you, voice barely above a whisper because there was no need to talk any louder for him to hear you. everything about him drew you closer, and the thought of pulling away never crossed your mind. you finally stopped, inches away, staring at him expectantly.

“well, there was a chance that i was going to die that day, so i was going to be selfish and tell you that i love you."

it amazed you how he could say that with such confidence when that statement had effectively swept you off of your feet. you were well aware that you looked more than caught off guard- your eyes had widened, and your mouth probably hung open from shock. that was nothing to stop rengoku’s words, though. if anything, it only encouraged him to keep going.

"and when i said that i admire you, i meant it. i admire your strength and how willing you are to help others. i admire you when it's sunset and you're laughing and i admire the way your hands feel, especially here." he guided your hand to his face, letting it cradle his cheek as he rested his own hand at your wrist, not willing to let go. you were sinking into the warmth of his body, letting his borrowed strength keep you upright.

“and most of all, i admire you because i find your beauty striking in everything that you do.” you were silent as rengoku’s eyes searched your own, watching as his lips split as he laughed. “you’re crying again.” you raised your other hand to your cheekbone, feeling the liquid there that began its trek down the planes of your face. you wiped them away with the back of your hand, keeping yourself anchored to rengoku as you curled your fingers around his own.

you felt so light that you could float away, and you couldn’t help but laugh and grin as you fully processed the confession of the man lying underneath you. tears still rolled down your cheeks, and you couldn’t help the bittersweet pang as you remembered exactly why he was here recovering.

“you really scared me back there, you know?”

“it wasn’t my intention.” you laughed through your sniffle, feeling his warm hand trace patterns on the back of yours. you shuffled forwards and, as best as your shared injuries allowed it, you gave rengoku a hug. while your arms were around his neck, his rested squarely on your lower back, and it was better than anything else you could imagine.

you pulled away, relinquishing the comfort of his arms in favour of looking him in the eye as you prepared what to say next. admittedly, it was a lot easier when you knew how the other person felt about you.

“you know i admire you too, rengoku, and i love you. so much.” joy rewrote itself within his eyes, and they almost glowed with how intense his emotions were after you uttered those words.

“you do?”

your yes came out as a barely audible breath before you were being snagged forwards by him again. you practically crashed against his lips, but you welcomed the sensation, pulling yourself closer to him and settling on his lap.

you sighed into the searing kiss, only truly appreciating his warmth now as you felt it spread through you. you kissed him back intensely, ignoring the dull ache of your ribs to chase the addictive feeling that you only got around him.

around the person who loved you back.

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