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unknownmusing · 1 year

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The Witcher Fanstory - Ioroche Fic: 'Will Always be there to Save One no Matter What Happens' - (Part 1 of ?)

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Notes:

A 'what if' fic where Vernon is captured before getting back to the Kaer Morhen Keep by Imlerith and taken back to Tir ná Lia (Aen Elle homeworld)

Vernon is a half-elf from the Royal Bloodline of Half-Elves

Iorveth/Roche relationship

CW: Slight dark themes in this with some mild references to gore and violence (Eredin forces Geralt to drink Unicorn blood), recovering from injuries ascertained and unwanted advances

For @chamotea, @apastandfuturenerd, @altebar and other Ioroche shippers out there

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PART 1 - 'Captured and in the Enemy's Grasp'

The clashing of steel against steel, the constant stream of the soldiers of the Wild Hunt attacking the keep of Kaer Morhen seems relentless as Vernon, scrambles his way through half-destroyed walls, broken crates and tears in the earth due to just the sheer power of the King of the Wild Hunt's powers, nearly reaching the gate of the fort when out of nowhere something slams into the side of him.

He goes flying hitting going through a gap in a stone-wall to hit another one where his head harshly smacks against it that slides down into crumpled heap to one side, heavily dazed by the impact with every sound around him muffling to a faint din.

Trying to lift himself, his elbows shake in the effort, Vernon collapses back down with vision fading in and out focus fast that the last sight he sees is off a large armoured elf bearing a mace approaching before sinks into unconcious state. Remembering nothing thereafter.

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It's a strange sense he's not in Kaer Morhen that makes Vernon flutter his eyes open weakly groaning in agony at the pain radiating still from the head-wound he ascertained - fragments of what happened come in, but quickly dissolve away like sand through one's fingertips before he can grasp and fully make sense of them.

He remembers running to the gate of the fort, but afterwards it was all a blurred jumble mess which he cannot make sense of then a large booming noise startles him into awareness with his vision fully clearing to reveal he's in large bedchamber placed on large bed with soft see-through drapes hanging down from the cieling over the bed. More booming, followed by orders being shouted in Elvish that his all body shudders immediatly - just the tone of it was overwhelming - that he finds himself letting out deep mewling noise - something he cannot stop from happening - rubbing himself into the sheets of the bed where a scent of....an Alpha.....Elf.....begins to make him move them with the pillows to create a Nest.

His rational human side is screaming at him to stop and realising what is doing goes to stop himself when a presance behind him makes him turn to look over his shoulder straight at one of the Wild Hunt, but their name he doesn't know just that the pheromones coming off them are so much he sways slightly because of them. "Little Omega..." they purr out to him, indicating with their gauntled hand for him to approach and gulping down saliva which has built up Vernon pads over to edge of the Nest he created using the large bed's sheets and pillows plus fur blankets to outline it. Vernon keeps his head lowered down not wanting to look up at the large elf - Imlerith - he had found out when the memory of being knocked out by large mace had come flooding back, who stands near the edge of the bed sipping some wine, before places the goblet down on small circular table. "I see your confused." Imlerith says to Vernon, who flinches when gauntled hand reaches out for him - he can see it has specks of crimson flowers are still on it - that scrambles out of the makeshift Nest, grabbing a dagger placed on the table to hold it in front of him indicating to the large elf not come towards him.

"What do you want with me?!!!" He stammers out - his voice breaking with fear and horror, because he heard from Geralt the worst of the Wild Hunt was Eredin's Second-in-Command Imlerith, Slayer of Tulic - a Great Unicorn and the oldest of the Unicorn Clan who fought in vain to save his people only to be slain during the Battle of Frost and Horn as it was called in tales referring to how the unicorns gored the ranks of Eredin's Army and Eredin's Army used Frost against them. The large elf says nothing, just in few steps comes over to him to grab hold of his hand holding the dagger by the wrist tightening the gauntled hand around to make Vernon drop it then indicates to his other gauntled hand, forcing Vernon to look fearfully at it - Was he being asked to do what he think the large elf was asking him? - then shuddering leans forward to begin cleaning the gauntled hand of the crimson splatters and god knows what else.

"It's his blood you know. Manage to get me good for being a Leader of the Scoia'tael, but let's just say....he underestimated me. He will not be coming back, Vernon, my sweet little Omega." Imlerith smirks down at him, taking hold of Vernon's chin when he pulls back with widened eyes - the large elf had to be lying to him about Iorveth, there was no way he would go down like that.

"You're lying to me!!!? Iorveth would never.....!!!?" Vernon begins to argue back, only to cut himself off, trembling so much that he nearly revealed to the enemy how close he was to Iorveth beginning to mutter. "Iorveth.....would....he...."

A growl comes from Imlerith, indicating for him to stop muttering under his breath, where he knows the large elf will want out of his armour so moving his hands - his other which been holding the dagger which now lays on the floor - to start slipping the armour off the large elf, even though his hands are shaking and fumble slightly in the process.

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The corridors of King Eredin's palace are wide and vast, marble polished floors, tall spiralling pillars and gardens placed in different layered tiers where right in the centre is a large lake connecting to endless waterfall tumbling over the edge to the valley down below where large expanses of forest spread in all directions, mountainscapes towered above and yet, there is the strange stillness in the air that indicated the whole area had been once a happy place. Geralt, sitting kneeling on both knees beside Eredin - who is busy sitting at a table perusing some documents and occasionally taking sips of some deep rich wine or actually Unicorn blood - something so barbaric that he hated seeing the elf slaughtering remaining herds of Unicorns in the valley below for that sake. Vernon, he had overheard the other human Slaves had been taken as slave by Imlerith due to a certain reason that only Caranthir knew - and knowing that elf, it was no doubt due to Vernon's half-elf status and bloodline - when he been brought bound and gagged into the throne-room after having been captured. He had decided while Iorveth was in coma to try and rescue Vernon. Maybe been brash and too hot-headed rushing in on his own - but Vernon was his friend. So he could not abandon him to a fate of being slave for the rest of his life.

"You seem lost in thought, my White Wolf." Eredin saying, makes Geralt come back to the present moment at hand seeing the dark elf is looking down at him - those piercing, harsh cold eyes staring his - that he knows he must say something or will face intense punishment for not saying anything.

"A fleeting memory." Geralt tells Eredin, who he knows is not convinced by this. A hand comes up to turn his chin, followed the glass goblet filled with the unicorn blood to be placed against his lips, he knows he must drink it all - this was for the sake of not being harshly punished.

Opening his mouth, he allows the substance to be poured into it, with him gulping it down struggling when too much is poured it trickles down the sides of his lips until finally only few dregs remain in the glass which is taken away from his stained lips, while he wills himself not to sick it back up.

He must endure it.

"Good, White Wolf. No sicking it up, like before, remember." Eredin states, wiping a thumb over his lips to smear the unicorn blood over them smirking at how Geralt looks.

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"Come." Imlerith commands Vernon, checking the leather collar attached to a chain around his throat making him get up from his kneeling position on the floor to be lead out the large bed-chamber, passing by other servants who stop and bow their heads low - their frightened gazes telling him that the dark elf sent wave of terror through them that no-one dare disobey him.

Vernon, sticking close to his 'Master' or 'Alpha' shudders at the coldness radiating in the hallway of the palace and also the fact that he's wearing nothing but chemise-lace Slave clothing which did nothing to keep him warm or cover him that all he can do is bear being looked at by the dark elves' Lord and Ladies, who are either standing talking amongst themselves or heading to their own sleeping qaurters or other parts of the palace.

Reaching the gardens, he notices under a large stone-carved temple-like structure sits a figure in ornate throne near a circular table with another person kneeling beside them on a pillow - the silvery-white hair shaved slightly at the temples and short ponytail, minus his beard - that Vernon, lets out a gasp of his name when Imlerith, brings him up to the two people recognising Geralt, who looks equally shocked at his appearance.

"Oh, what's this. Does your Little Lily, now, my White Wolf, Imlerith?" the other dark elf purrs out, sending shivers up and down Vernon's body he immediatly grips the nearest thing closest to him - Imlerith's arm - trying to hide himself from the gaze, which feels like could render his soul in half.

This elf was dangerous, highly dangerous that he worries if Iorveth - if he is still alive - were to fight them he might not survive at all.

Imlerith gives out chuckle, moving to sit down across from the other dark elf indicating Vernon to kneel on the pillow beside it which at first because still frightened steps backwards shaking his head from side to side which makes a large hand grab his chin forcing him to look into Imlerith's amber eyes knowing he must obey that gulping down saliva moves to the pillow to kneel down in same position Geralt is in.

"Good, little Omega." Imlerith purrs out, settling in the other throne-like ornate chair to begin talking to the other dark elf, who he overhears is called Eredin, King of the Wild Hunt and can feel is paying particularly interest in him everytime Imlerith, discusses the results Caranthir Ar-Feiniel had made of him especially the fact Vernon Roche is a Half-elf Omega from a Royal Bloodline of Royal Half-Elves.

Vernon, flicks his gaze over to Geralt, who moves to crawl over to him on his hands and knees where remembers a servant Slave had told him that Slaves could greet each-other in the presance of their Masters.

But anything further like discussing escape or even trying to escape or even speaking without their Master's presance would result in punishment - with the Witcher, nuzzling his cheek to reassure him everythings going be alright he turns to nuzzle back to hide his tears forming in his eyes.

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#The Witcher Fanstory Collection (9 of ?) - Ioroche Fic: 'Will Always be there to Save One no Matter What Happens' (PART 1 of ?)#Set during Quest: Battle of Kaer Morhen (The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt) then diverging #iorveth/roche #geralt/regis #Emotional Angst #Emotional comfort shared between Geralt and Roche #Captured by the Enemy #Wild Hunt #Iorveth is in brief coma at the start #Vernon is a half-elf of Royal Half-Elf Bloodline #slow-burn romance #Emotional angst #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #CW: slight gore and violence referenced #Images sourced from various sources #The Witcher Fanstory Collection #the witcher

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happypeachsludgeflower · 1 year

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Merry Holiday’s to Brandon who’s still in a coma.

#my moms got issues #she just told some store clerk named Brandon merry holidays #and then as we’re driving away and she’s lamenting how she said merry holidays #she goes Brandon’s still in a coma #which is referencing the book she started writing when she was 15 where she wrote Brandon into a coma and never wrote him back out #I know nothing else about the book except that it was called SLAP and Brandon is in a coma #but merry holidays to him ig #merry christmas #happy holidays #merry holidays #Brandon’s in a coma #book writing #abandoned books #she keeps telling me every year she’s going to write him out of a coma and then she doesn’t #it’s been an on going joke for about 15 years now #writing a novel #daily writing #writing a book #talking about writing

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shibaraki · 2 months

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OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 3 months

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Eddie Munson and the Dreamboy

by pukner

Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Eddie Munson Character: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Robin Buckley Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Brotherly Steve Harrington, Dreamscapes, Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Eddie Munson is Whipped, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington's Scoops Ahoy Uniform, Siblings Eleven | Jane Hopper & Steve Harrington, Steve's Hair Obsession Is A Plot Point, Requited Love, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Robin doesn't show up much but she is his SOULMATE Words: 8,147 Chapters: 1/1

Summary

"How'd you get in here--" Steve hisses. "Your security sucks, sweetheart," says Eddie. Then, "Actually, that isn't true. It was a nightmare getting here, and the inside of your brain is a fucking labyrinth." Or, five times El and Eddie find a version of Steve Harrington while traversing his mindscape to drag him out of a coma (thanks, Vecna). And one time Steve finds Eddie.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #oneshot #5-10k #5+1 things

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crucifiedramblings · 3 months

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Fool Me Once — Dr. Gregory House x F!Reader (Part I)

Hello! This is my first Gregory House fic, I've been truly obsessed with this old man recently. No warnings for this chapter (edit: mention of pill abuse), but I will list full work warnings below.

Word Count: 789

Content Warnings: Angst, implied/referenced drug use & addiction, eventual smut, swearing, graphic depictions of medical gore

Next Part: N/A

The pills hadn’t been in House’s system for a few days— he would have to rebuild his Vicodin tolerance again. Nothing like a “V-Break” to get the same hazy punch as before— the name could use some work, though. House lazily looked at you through heavily-lidded eyes, his head dipping to the side to look at his own vitals on the small monitor to the right of his bedside.

You had only been on House’s diagnostic team for a few days when he collapsed in the middle of a briefing. His toxicity screen showed a spike in narcotic levels, and you flushed his system while he was out. He argued that it was doing more harm than good, but you replaced the chemical with comfort medications until he had clean blood. Once it ran clear, and he was no longer dying— you practically spoon-fed his Vicodin right to him.

Maybe it was the sympathy— no, empathy— of being a former addict. Maybe it was the fact that you hated seeing House detoxing. Maybe it was because you knew how sick he must have felt. Whatever it was— it triumphed over any nobility you held as a doctor as you placed three white pills into House’s shaking hands with a reassuring smile.

House looked at you with an almost frazzled gaze, dry-swallowing the pills as if you were going to snatch them away if he took too long. You sat on a stool by House’s side, holding a small styrofoam cup’s straw to his lips. He gratefully sipped, a soft whistling coming from the lid as House greedily gulped down the frigid water. He gave you a nod, as if to say ‘thank you’ without the words ever leaving his mouth. You only nodded in response.

House asked for your name, a raspy request given between sips and wheezes. You gave it to him, although skeptical he didn’t know the name of the newest hire on his team— House was a very thorough man in his decisions. He gave you a lazy grin, giggling to himself and eventually drifting off. At least the pills did what you hoped, giving House some much-needed rest. He looked so much more peaceful like that— no longer sporting a leaping forehead vein, teeth no longer bared— he looked at ease. Like he wasn’t in any pain.

After several torturous hours— the ones that bled into days, which crashed down into weeks— House was cleared to return to work . . . although he technically never left, and was sure to remind everyone of such knowledge. He walked circles around his bed with a newfound vigor, having just replenished his fix for the morning. House’s limp was barely noticeable when he first dosed, and you were consistent in tracking how his decreased mobility affected his mood by the end of the day.

The truth was, you were used to House— but you were not accustomed to sober House— the version of himself that he hid away until he could take time off work. The persona that House barely allowed to see the light of day if unnecessary. The facade that reminded House too much of his father in a certain light.

You didn’t blame him— you used to be the same way— although he didn’t know that much from your file. He treated you like some brown-nosing geek, saving his life to look good in front of the new boss. House didn’t understand why someone would fight so hard to save him, and then hand him the pills that almost killed him in the same breath. You didn’t quite understand it either— maybe it was the words Wilson muttered by House’s bedside when he was still in a perpetual coma.

“I can’t lose you yet— fight it.”

Maybe it was the pang of hurt you felt at the sight of him when he awoke— dripping with sweat, pale, scratching at his own intravenous drip to make himself feel something other than the pounding of his head and the bile in his belly. Whatever it was— the semblance spoke to you well enough to place his own killer into his discolored palms.

It was worth it, the way House’s gaze lit up— he angled his head to the ceiling tiles and hastily, shakily swallowed the pills without any consideration. You almost took pity on him— that was, until he commented on your bust in your top. You smacked him with his own file, grateful to have the version of House you had come to know up and running again— regardless of how annoying that version may be. Your help remained unspoken, but in the following weeks, some distant glances and singled-out tasks would bring any tension to a head.

#gregory house #gregory house x reader #slow burn #house md

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tiredwitchplant · 9 months

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Everything You Need to Know About Herbs: Rosemary

Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis, Salvia rosmarinus)

*Poisonous *Medical *Kitchen *Masculine

Folk names: Compass weed, Dew of the Sea, Elf Leaf, Guardrobe, Incensier, Libanotis, Polar Plant, Seas Dew

Planet: Sun

Element: Fire, Air

Abilities: Protection, Love, Lust, Mental Power, Exorcism, Purification, Healing, Sleep, Youth

Why Poisonous?: Their oil content. Large quantities of rosemary leaves can cause vomiting, spasms, coma and in some cases, pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs). Rosemary can cause miscarriages so it is not recommended for expecting mothers. It is also not recommended for those with high blood pressure, ulcers, Crohn’s disease or ulcerative colitis.

Do not consume rosemary oil

Characteristics: With its aromatic, needlelike leaves, the rosemary plant grows in a bush and can be quite large in the right growing conditions. Can grow two lipped, purplish-blue and white flowers.

History: Was first referenced on a stone tablet that dates back to 5000 BCE. Is native to the Mediterranean region. It was considered sacred by the Spanish due to its association with the Virgin Mary. In France, it is referred to as incensier due to its popular usage as an incense.

Growing Rosemary:

Easy to grow?: Yes.

Rating: Beginner Friendly

Seeds Accessible: Yes

How to Plant Rosemary

Video Guide

Where to Find Seeds

Magical Usage:

Stimulates memory and thought processes

If burned, adds an energy of protection and purification to a space

Sprinkling its leaves onto graves will cause the undead to be at peace

Carried in an Herbal Amulet will give one confidence and courage

Placing the leaves under your pillow will ensure good sleep and banish nightmares

Can be used in love and lust incense spells as well as healing poppets

Used to be included in bridal flowers so that the couple will stay true to their vows

The smell is supposedly very offensive to evil spirits

Smelling rosemary every day can help preserve one’s youth

Medical Usage

In oil form, can be used to relieve rashes and blemishes on the skin

Can help relieve muscle pain, improve memory, boost the immune system, and promote hair growth

In balm form, can repel insects

Sources

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itiswormtimebaby · 10 months

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Time

You're beginning to question why Bucky won't sleep with you, but you ask the wrong person

Pairing: Biker!Bucky and Bug (+Brother’s best friend Bucky, Plus sized fem reader) (Steve is reader’s adopted brother) CW: Friend’s calling each other “bitch”, references to sexual acts

“I don’t know if I should call you a stupid bitch, a dirty bitch, or a lucky bitch.” Cilla, the platonic love of your life, stares at you from the passenger seat of your car. “Straight out the gate and he’s already hitting it raw, I guess I’ll go with all three you stupid, dirty, lucky, beautiful” she tacks on the end to soften the blow, “Bitch.” Stupid was probably fair, dirty was a compliment, and lucky was factual so you let the comment ride without protest. There was one thing that was bothering you about her statement though, “I don’t think it’s fair to say he hi-”

“Bitch,” She cuts you off, “be so fucking for real.”

“He turned you into his own twinkie- cream filled.” The voice comes from the backseat where McKenna, the third member of your friendship trio is devouring a nerds filled grape slush. Cilla groans in disgust at the bad joke while you pull a face in the rearview mirror, refusing to break eye contact with the man until he cracks first, slowly lowering his plastic spoon back into the sticky purple treat; “I, uh, I really regret saying that.” “Good! That was fucking weird, and now we all have to live with it. Sit in your shame.” Despite your admonishing tone there’s no real upset behind you words as you carry on;

“But as I was SAYING, it was just the tip so I don’t- like it doesn’t feel like that counts. Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing, I just…” The silence sits heavy in your ears but you can’t find it in yourself to continue, suddenly embarrassed despite being in the presence of the two people you’ve trusted with damn near every dirty little secret you possess; why hadn’t it progressed past that?

“Fuck it! Who wants to lose their virginity on a Monday, anyway?” McKenna’s outburst breaks the silence and blessedly removes the spotlight from you, “Yeah,” you acquiescent with a half-hearted chuckle, “you’re probably right.” The conversation moves on quickly enough, though the thought is persistent in your mind- why hadn’t it progressed past that?

Hours later, McKenna returned home to his husband, sun dropped beyond the horizon, you pull to a stop outside of Cilla’s house, the dark-haired woman making no move to exit the vehicle; “How are you actually feeling about it?” There’s clearly only one situation she could be referencing but in truth you’re not sure how to answer. She was the first call you’d made after coming down from your chocolate-brownie-hell-high, after Bucky finally showed back up in the aftermath, after dates one through four, and especially after five, she’d heard details even McKenna hadn’t, every salacious little tidbit. But you hesitate now, a bond forged in college deadlines, all nighters, stress induced coffee comas, movie marathons and evening walks had blossomed into a beautiful friendship with two main tenets; you burn I burn, and no bullshit. You knew she would listen and take it all in without judgment, but part of you hesitated, worried that her honest take, because she would be incredibly honest, wasn’t something you were ready to hear.

“I’m confused,” You finally settle on. She doesn’t offer acknowledgement besides a small hum, no pushing, no rushing. “Everything has felt so good.” At that Cilla does let out a little snort, raising her eyebrows suggestively, though makes no other move to interrupt; “I wasn’t actually talking about that, though he does make me feel amazing. I just mean…Bucky’s been in my life since I was pre-pubescent, he may actually be what jump started puberty for me,” Cilla’s eyes roll at your joke as you pause again to gather your thoughts. “He was this larger-than-life presence, cocksure, the muscle to Steve’s mouth and I just- oh my god I was so in love with him. I’m sure there’s still notebooks floating around where I waxed poetic about his eyes, wrote Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes over and over again in the margins…”

You peter off before taking a steadying breath, suddenly thirteen again and trailing along behind Steve and Bucky, the latter of which was the epicenter of every girlish daydream you had. “He had this girlfriend when we were in High School, Dot? I was so fucking jealous of her, she had everything I wanted because she had him. I know Bucky cared about me, in some way, but it wasn’t the same as he cared about her and it broke my heart.” You can still picture her; pretty red curls, shy smile, hand wrapped in Bucky’s anytime he was within arms reach.

“Once he enlisted, once there was some space between us, I realized there was a lot of naivety I needed to tear through-” You hesitate, fearing the explanation will be muddy but push on anyway, “like, the love I felt was real- but I also built it up a lot in my head? In a way I think it was probably unfair to him, projections from a kid who was newly navigating the difference between romantic and platonic love, but everything just felt so big and all encompassing.”

“He was your first love.”

“He was,” You nod in agreement, picturing Bucky at fifteen, knuckles bloody, Steve behind him with a bruised eye and busted lip, the body of your latest would-be-bully crumpled on the floor, “but that’s not- that’s not how he felt about me.The romantic love, or infatuation, or whatever- it was one sided, very obviously so. I used to wish it was different, dream of a day where he’d drop Dot’s hand and reach for mine but then I realized-” You squeeze your eyes shut, thankful for Cilla allowing you to set the pace of the conversation as you ruminate over the relationship, “I realized after he’d left how shitty that was, just because he wasn’t in love with me didn’t mean he didn’t care, what we did have wasn’t a consolation prize.”

Your friend rests her hand gently on your forearm, nodding her understanding; “Life went on, he and Steve were deployed, I was in school, they came home, they joined the club, he dated other girls, I dated…But I never really got over that feeling of first love, it just- deepened?” You nodded your head at that, happy enough with the explanation, “It sprouted new roots, more substantial ones, I fell in love with him all over again, a different version of him in a way.”

You were getting to the part you didn’t want to say, the part that worried you most, “Like I said what we had wasn’t a consolation prize, Bucky’s always been one of the best people in my life, even when I probably annoyed the hell out of him. I’d made peace with knowing that how we felt about each other didn’t line up and then, well…”

“Then he showed up on your doorstep with flowers begging for a date?”

“He showed up with flowers after I accosted him with my feelings.”

“Don’t forget the FINALLY.” She prods you pointedly at that, having been driven half mad over your analytical obsession with the word, when I FINALLY fuck you, “he clearly had thought about it, and he even said that’s not all he wanted, don’t go where I think you’re about to go.”

“Where am I about to go?” You ask her.

“Questioning his intentions, whether he really likes you, wants to be with you…HE asked YOU out, that means something. Just because y'all aren’t having sex doesn’t take away from everything else.”

Everything else. Cilla was right of course, it’s not like Bucky was running around acting disinterested; he brought you flowers, took you on dates, kept you fed, ran errands with you just for some extra time together, gave you mind blowing orgasms, made you laugh. But then why…

“But then why won’t he sleep with me? He clearly cares about me, thinks about me, but why not- his body count is high, why not one more?” You deliver the last line like a joke, but no part of it feels funny. “I know he cares about me, truly I do. But I guess I just worry- like he’s cared about me since we were kids, so maybe he doesn’t want to sleep with me because he’s figuring out that romance isn’t what he really wants between us and that’d be harder to walk back having-”

“Don’t,” Cilla cuts you off, “do that.” You look at her a bit helplessly as she pushes on, “Has he actually given you any indication he doesn’t want to date you? Aside from not sticking it in?”

It was crude but she had a point, and you knew Bucky, knew he wasn’t one to string people along.

“No.”

“Exactly, it’s just dick, don’t let it ruin something special.”

“I just- I’m all in, so why is he holding back?”

“It’s still a new relationship-”

“I’ve known him forever-”

“But not like this. This is new. He may not be exactly where you’re at but clearly he has feelings for you. My advice would be to hop out of your head and just enjoy things as they progress.”

You nod once in acknowledgement, still not quite ready to move on from the topic; “Should I just ask him why?”

Cilla mulls it over for a minute, “I… wouldn’t, not yet. Give it some time.”

Time, right.

But you couldn't help the worry that persisted, what would Bucky be figuring out in that time?

All things Bucky and Bug found here: to be loved Main masterlist: here

#bucky and bug #biker!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #plus sized reader

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loudcheesecakefan · 23 days

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Guys, I just realized that the "coma" Monty keeps referencing to is the fact that he was Esther's familiar!

#monty the crow #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective netflix #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki

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quitealotofsodapop · 3 months

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Century Egg Macaque is very confused and bitey

referencing this Century Egg au post (Macaque bit a bunch of gods to protect Wukong when the king's health crashed after the Egg's delivery).

Macaque was at Wukong's bedside, newborn Xiaotian wrapped snuggly in his scarf asleep, when the doors to the former Attendant's bedroom opened.

The black-furred monkey's fur is immediately standing on end like a frightened cat - he rarely would miss the sounds of approaching footsteps, but his mind must be far too occupied to notice.

The appearance of the Queen Mother herself does little to calm Macaque's nerves, especially upon seeing the large monkey-claw-shaped gashes on her forearms.

At the sight of his guilt and possibly fear, the Queen lets out a sighing laugh.

Queen Mother: "Do not worry Liu'er Mihou. I know what it is like to worry so much for someone that you lash out at all that separates you. You but up a fair fight, even with so much magic sedative in your bloodstream. " Macaque, quietly: "M'sorry about the arm ... it just when... when Wukong's eyes closed and he lost his strength I felt...?" Queen Mother, knowing: "Hopeless." Macaque: "Yeah." Queen Mother: (*kneels to get a better look at the baby*) Queen Mother: "They're truly beautiful. To think such a tiny thing could bring the entire Court of Heaven to a standstill amazes me." Macaque: "We're calling them Xiaotian. Wukong picked it." Queen Mother, her voice fond: "It's a fine name. One that all of big Heaven and the Realms beyond will know soon enough." Macaque, nervous: "What do you mean?" Queen Mother: "You trial was successful in a way. King Yama has agreed to acquit your unlawful resurrection in light of the circumstances. Preparations are being made to charge the White Bone Spirit with conspiracy to commit treason." Macaque: "But there's a catch isn't there?" Queen Mother, nods: "You will be required to face her in a secodary trial, and protect yourself against her own defence." Macaque, shuddering: "Ugh..." Xiaotian: (*grumpy squeak! at the sudden movement*) Macaque, quickly checking the baby: "Sorry bud." (*kisses face*) Xiaotian: (*satisfied grumble*) Macaque, eye locked on the baby's face: "If... if it means they and Wukong stay safe from her, I'll do it." Queen Mother: "I knew you would. I must warn you though... Erlang awaits a rematch." Macaque, surprised: "You're joking me..." Queen Mother, amused smile: "It is true! In your fury to protect your mate, you gave him quite the injury. I've never seen him with such bruises!" Macaque: (*smiling proudly to himself*)

Erlang has like a huge bruise covering his face, and his eye is swollen shut for weeks after the Egg's arrival. Word quickly spreads (via Nezha being annoyed that Macaque "practically ignored him" during the frenzy) about the general's injury, and celestials are shocked to learn that it was cause by no other than the Great Sage's mate! And by accident no less! Erlang is taciturn about the matter, though that could be because his lip has swollen over too.

Macaque gets challenged to a lot of duels over the coming weeks - most he ignores or shadow-portal's away. This is where he learns that his silly Brotherhood-era nickname is apparently his legal title in Heaven. He cringes each time an official unironically refers to him as "Great Sage Informing Wind", Tieshan giving him a cheeky sibling-esque smile all the while.

The day that Wukong finally awakes from his medical coma; Macaque had been asleep at his side, clealry run down by the (still awake) Xiaotian excitedly running his tiny hands through either parent's fur.

Wukong makes a joyous gasp at the sight of his baby - healthy and here. It takes a moment for Macaque to stir awake before he realises that his King and Mate (!!!) has finally awoken! Kisses and hugs abound before Macaque thinks to alert anyone else of Wukong's return to the conscious world.

Bonus: Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, and the Ao-Longs have been running around the Celestial Realm as often as possible during this time (tho Tang worried at first if the time dilation myth was true) and the whole realm is super confused but just accepting that the Monkey King's pilgrim brothers are just Here now.

#century stone egg au #pregnancy tw #shadowpeach #lmk aus #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk xiwangmu #lmk queen mother of the west #lmk erlang #lmk nezha #lmk #lego monkie kid

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atomicradiogirl · 4 months

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Son of a Coma Guy: Unconditional Love is Cutting Your Heart Out

Son of a Coma Guy is leading up to the climax of the Tritter arc of House season 3, only two episodes before Finding Judas, where Wilson betrays House and makes a deal with Tritter, an action that ultimately dissolves their relationship until Season 4. The episode starts with a unique structure, with no patient cold open. Just House having lunch with two patients in comas. Wilson barges in and yells at House for “forcing him to lie to the police” that House didn't steal Wilson’s prescription pad and forge his Vicodin prescriptions. This is all in the first minute of the episode, setting up the intricacies of House and Wilson’s relationship that will soon get pushed in the later events of the season.

Wilson is characterized as a person who is selfless, giving, loves to be needed, and will do anything in his power to help people he cares about, especially House. House does something that should rightfully break this friendship: put Wilson’s career on the line and possibly send himself to prison. Wilson is mad at House for only thinking about himself and putting himself in jeopardy. Wilson isn’t mad at House for using him and his kindness. House always does this. Wilson likes being used. In reality, Wilson is scared for House, not himself. He lied to Tritter to protect House. House didn't force Wilson to lie for him. Wilson did it anyway. The ultimate act of loyalty and care, the ultimate sacrifice. This is all read between the lines, of course, and this important revelation in the opening of the episode sets up the actions and importance of Son of a Coma Guy.

We are then introduced to the titular Son of a Coma Guy, Kyle Wozniak, who has a seizure when House induces one. Kyle discusses his medical history and his family history. He says that his dad never liked his mother’s side of the family, and he was raised by a guardian. He only visits his father, who is in a coma. House wakes up his comatose father, Gabriel Wozniak. The last thing he remembers is the fire that killed his wife, something that is revealed to have been caused by Kyle later in the episode. House and Wilson discuss Gabriel. House argues, “Maybe he just doesn’t like his son. The delusion that fathering a child installs a permanent geyser of unconditional love.” Wilson interjects with, “Maybe your father’s feelings were conditional. Not everyone-” House cuts him off, “Yes, of course, that would play into your romantic vision of-” Wilson says, “In terms you would understand, we have an evolutionary incentive to sacrifice for our offspring. Our tribe, our friends. Keep them safe.” To which House replies, “Except for all the people who don’t. Everything is conditional. You just can’t always anticipate the conditions.” Wilson’s argument here mirrors his actions at the start of the episode, sacrificing himself and keeping House safe from the consequences of his actions, even if he deserves them. House says that maybe Gabriel’s relationship with Kyle is conditional, that love and sacrifice can never be unconditional. Referencing his abusive relationship with his father and his perception of love. That it always has to have a catch. This is really important in understand House and Wilson as characters, and especially in their relationship. Wilson views love as being programmed, an innate thing you’re evolutionarily destined to have. House views love as something you earn, something you get, something that has conditions. Wilson might have a romantic vision of love, but his love life is just as unhealthy as House’s. Constantly putting people’s needs in front of his own, sacrificing himself for House, which is left unnoticed and unappreciated by House. Someone who views this sacrifice as conditional when, in reality, it isn’t. This is the dichotomy of House and Wilson.

House fulfills Gabriel’s last-day request of getting a sandwich and needs Wilson’s car for a road trip to Atlantic City. Wilson of course, lets him have it but decides to come with them. House keeps questioning Gabriel so Gabriel makes a deal with him that for every question House asks, Gabriel asks him one too. Gabriel asks House if he’s ever been in love, House says yes. Says that they met when she shot him in paintball, talking about Stacy. Gabriel asks if House has ever loved anyone else and House deflects saying, “no more questions” but Wilson is of course in the car with them. House doesn’t want to admit that he 1. Either loves Wilson or 2. Is capable of loving Wilson since this would prove his conditional love theory, that he loves Wilson only because he selflessly gives House what he needs.

In the hotel in Atlantic City, Wilson asks House why he used his pad, not Cameron’s Foreman's or Chase’s. Wilson says that it’s because his association with House is voluntary. That he chooses to be close to him. “Any relationship that involves choice you have to see how far you can push before it breaks. And one day our friendship will break and that’ll just prove your theory that relationships are conditional and you don’t need human connection or deserve it or whatever goes on in that rat maze of your brain.” House deflects this, of course. Incapable of being truly honest about his feelings at this stage. House, throughout the show has a deep insecurity about deserving love, deserving to live, and deserving to be happy. Wilson’s unconditional loyalty to him pushes against this. Yes, there are moments when their relationship wavers but it never truly fully breaks. He always comes back to House and in the end, he relies on House. House is all Wilson has, and Wilson is all House has. Son of a Coma Guy is the first proof that House can bend Wilson and his relationship and Wilson will bend with him. Their social contract of push and pull. Bending but never fully breaking.

House questions Gabriel about his family history, eventually determining the illness that is inherited throughout their family. Gabriel asks House why he became a doctor, and he decides to be honest with him. Saying that when his father was stationed in Japan he went to one of the hospitals as a kid and he was inspired by a doctor, a buraku, one of Japan’s untouchables. Someone whose ancestors were slaughterers and gravediggers, he wasn’t accepted by his staff, but they needed him because he was right so nothing else mattered. Gabriel is asked about the fire that killed his wife, and he explains that Kyle when he was 12, knocked over the kindling which started the fire. He didn’t blame him because he was just a child and it was an accident. Gabriel isn’t with him because he blames himself for failing to keep his family safe. He couldn’t stop the fire and save his wife. He doesn’t want to see his son die too. This goes into Wilson’s evolutionary love argument. Gabriel loves his family so much that he can’t bear to lose them, to fail to protect them.

Gabriel decides to perform the ultimate sacrifice, to give Kyle his heart to save him. House decides to go along with it, telling Gabriel how to kill himself so that the heart can be saved, by hanging. Before he aids Gabriel, he asks Wilson to leave the room. Wilson says no, but House says, “You’ve lied to the cops enough for me. Maybe I don’t want to push this until it breaks.” To which Wilson leaves, accepting that House appreciates his sacrifice and is willing to put himself on the line for someone else. Something that House rarely does. Gabriel asks House if he could hear one thing from his father what would it be? To which House says “I’d want him to say You were right. You did the right thing.” What this is truly about we don’t know and never really find out but House’s abusive relationship with his father isn’t truly revealed until One Day One Room a few episodes later, which puts new context to this line. House has to kill a father who loves his son so much, even though he accidentally caused the death of his wife, that he is willing to sacrifice his heart for him. Gabriel unconditionally loves his son, but House’s father’s love was conditional. This is what Wilson argued previously. Gabriel is willing to sacrifice his heart, (do I have to mention Wilson’s Heart) also mirrors Wilson’s sacrifice at the beginning of the episode. Both Gabriel and Wilson prove their unconditional love. Wilson wordlessly sets up House’s alibi for him and they wait together for Gabriel to die. When Gabriel’s heart saves Kyle, Kyle asks House for any message from his father, something to give him closure. House tells him what he wishes his father would have told him. “Right about what? What does that mean?” Kyle asks. “How would I know? He’s your dad,” House tells him and leaves.

“You know what I learned about this case?” House asks Wilson at the end of the episode. “That it proved that people can love unconditionally and you can tell yourself it’s not true, but you’ll just end up in a hotel room in Atlantic City asking someone to cut your heart out?” Wilson says.

Son of a Coma Guy is an episode about unconditional love and sacrifice. Gabriel and Wilson are the givers, those who sacrifice their hearts (literally and not literally) for the people they love. Kyle and House are the takers. Those who don’t think they deserve the love they receive but are forced to take it. Kyle, to live, House for growth. I adore this episode and it is a prime highlight of House and Wilson’s relationship and the peak of House’s writing.

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afreakingdork · 3 months

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Weak Spot - Chapter 60

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

This week's chapter art by @garbagemilkshake lights up the night

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

STOP! BEFORE YOU READ:

If you can stomach excessive violence, please remember that this chapter technically falls chronologically after the Sore Spot one-shot. However, it is not required reading and you will not miss out if you could not read it for whatever reason.

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: Hospital, egregious injury, coma, intubation, needles, IV, coma, drugs, bleeding, broke bones, medical descriptions, medical tests, guns, gunshots, ect

“You’re late.”

“Sir.”

“47 minutes this time.”

Heavy sigh.

“27 the last and an hour and a half prior to that. You have two assigned patients total, one of which is no longer in critical condition and yet, here you are, late for the last round of your shift.”

“If you think-!”

“133 Pitt St, Apartment 3B, New York, NY 10002.”

Sharp inhale.

“Contain your personal life. You shouldn’t have moved in with your boyfriend so fast. Of course, he’s cheating on you. If your sloppy time management skills are any indication, you were never meant to be a suitable partner.”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!!! I’M THROWING YOU OUT! I DON’T CARE THAT-!”

“Again!?”

“NO! NO MORE! I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY! I REFUSE TO-!”

“Please, ma’am! I’m begging you! I know! I know what he’s like and he’s a million percent at fault, but if you could-!”

“He just said my home address.”

“Eugh boy…”

“He’s cruel. He’s mean! He never stops! He’s-”

“Ma’am…”

“No! Don’t you ma’am me again! Do you know how many nurses have refused to serve this room! You are down to less than a handful and mark that down as one less because there’s no way in hell I’m coming back here. I’m filing a fucking police report. I’ve had enough of this shit. He threatens us. He lies. He antagonizes. He hovers! He’s a stalker! He’s a bastard! He should have been kicked out the moment he pulled that stunt in intake! I bet he was the one who did this to-!”

Slam.

“H-He-!”

“Donatello!”

Slam.

“Get out of my way, Leonardo.”

“Do you want to be cut off!? That’s what you’re fucking doing! We’ve been busting our fucking butts to keep you in here, but that’s enough!! Don’t you get it?! Do you want to be here when Y/N wakes up or do you want to be miserable and alone!?”

Snivel.

“She… insinuated… that I…”

“I know.”

Rustle.

“I know.”

“I didn’t…”

“I know…”

Sigh.

“I’m taking charge.”

Sharp inhale.

“That’s the only way this is going to work. You threatened her, idiot. What the fuck did you think was going to happen?”

Hmph.

“Ma’am…”

“You think I was gonna be moved by that?”

“Look, I get it. This is… There isn’t a way to explain this. All I can promise you is that if you can… find it in your heart to let this incident slide, there won’t be another.”

…

“I’m taking full blame, full responsibility. If he acts out of turn again, he’s banned. I’ll make sure of it.”

…

“Please.”

Heavy sigh.

Clink.

“You saved… my sister two years ago from a monster… er-“

“Monster. I’m not sure it was a mutant.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… I’m only doing this because of that. Not for him. Fuck him. Hey! Yeah, I’m talking to you. Fuck you.”

…

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Squeak.

“And one cup of absolutely burnt coffee for the-!”

…

“I knew it!!!”

Clatter.

“Donatello!”

“Don’t.”

“I knew you were hiding something, but this-!”

“Get back.”

“What did you inject yourself with!?”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does! You think you can-!?”

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

“I didn’t mean-!”

“You know why, now leave it.”

Bang.

“I heard yelling! What’s going on? Donatello!”

“It’s alright, Lee.”

“Don’t you pull that shit! What happened!?”

“It’s fine.”

“Knock it off! No, it’s not! You’re going to let him talk to you like that?! What was that?! I was gone for five seconds!”

“Leo.”

“Don’t ‘Leo’ me, Mikey! Everything that happens is on me. Don’t you get that? You need to tell me what just happened!”

…

“Well!?”

“I got too friendly, Leo. Nothing else. I swear it.”

…

“Damnit…”

“It’s been 2 weeks.”

…

“Donatello.”

…

“Say something.”

“I keep time. Down to the second.”

“Then you’ll know that you haven’t slept. Not once.”

…

“Donatello.”

“I fatigue of hearing my name come from your mouths.”

Heavy sigh.

Creak.

Squeak.

Wane.

“I… I know what this is like.”

…

“I know you know why I know.”

…

“It’s not going to get easier.”

…

“I know you don’t want to hear this.”

“You presume too much.”

“Donatello!”

“What? Why do you insist on pleading your case? Why do any of you? You think of yourselves so highly. You are wretches. You are sheep parading yourselves as saviors. You flock if only because you are too feeble to attempt anything alone! You think I need you? I never have! I never will! You have hitched yourselves to a technicality at best! That I let you live and occupy the same vicinity as Y/N is happenstance at best! Yet you press! You always press. Always. You never stop! You never have!!! You will plague me for my lifetime and I will never be rid of you so, please, pray tell, Raphael, what wisdom on this dimension or any other could you possibly think to disturb me with this time!?!”

…

“Ya done?”

“I should have-!”

Scrape.

Crash.

…

“You need to eat and drink. Actual food. Actual water. Y/N will need you when they wake up. All I was gonna say. I’m taking my turn outside. Try considering that we might care about something other than you once in a while.”

Step.

Click

Fuzz.

Someone left an ancient video set on.

It was plugged in for the sake of it.

Or it was being checked.

To see if it was still operational.

Something was beeping.

Not overly loud, but enough that it made a thrum in the room.

It smelled clinical.

Dry, but with a must of synthetic polish, it spoke of industrially cleaned linens and hospital corridors.

There was an actual hum.

The kind that came from fluorescents when they painted everyone a sickly hue.

Something was in your mouth.

A twitch found a tube in your nose.

You were cold.

Every breath came with an ache and numbness.

It all channeled down your throat.

You were layered up with blankets.

Three parts of you were free as far as you could tell.

Your left arm.

Stiff, folded, and holding emphasis.

Your head.

Lying on a papery substance concealing more than one pillow.

Your right hand.

Only emerged enough for something stuck to the back of it and large digits cupped between your loose fingers.

Two digits.

Two long, thick fingers.

You squeezed with as much force as you could manage.

You heard a little grunt.

You shifted to dig your nails.

“Woah there.”

Not Donnie.

That wasn’t Donnie.

It wasn’t Donnie.

You made a weary noise and tossed lightly against your pillow in dismay.

The thing in your mouth shifted.

You choked.

“Shh. You’re okay. Breathing tube. I know, I know. I also know I’m not the one you want, but I can get him. Can you hang tight for me, kay?”

The fingers returned the hold.

Eyes.

You wanted your vision.

You cracked a lid and winced it back shut at the light.

“You’re in the hospital. I’ve got you.” Another hand came to touch your leg in a neutral, but reassuring way. “You with me?”

Knowing there was too much white, you opened your eyes slower this time and glimpsed Leo leaning over you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You croaked.

“That’s all the confirmation I need.” He gave your hand a final squeeze before walking to the end of your bed. “Any more false starts and he’d lose it. The roving eye thing has been a nightmare.”

Gaze adjusting by the second, you watched him slice open a portal and Donnie clamber through with a rush of sound. “You had seven more minutes before you were meant toI-! Does that mean-!?”

Leo stepped out of the way and held out an arm.

Donnie rounded his head and was at your side before you could blink.

Function was difficult.

He cradled your hand close and you saw the wire attached to it.

Tracing it drearily, you found several bags sitting above you dripping liquid directly into your veins.

Coming back down, Donnie had tears in his eyes and a watercolor smile on his lips. “Y/N.”

You creaked, rusty on your intubation.

“Yes! We’ll get that right out if possible! Of course!” He brought his beak down and kissed the tips of your fingers. “Procedure says you should first explain whereabouts as a patient may be confused.” Donnie gave a sharp nod. “Y/N. There has been a travesty. We were in the Hidden City when we were ambushed. We-I-No-We were drugged… and you… you were…” Tears threatened to fall and he choked with a swollen throat.

You squinted at him.

None of that made sense.

You didn’t remember anything like that.

You remembered.

You remembered a beach.

You remembered a love potion.

You remembered rolling in the sheets with your mate.

You remembered.

You made a fearful noise and pulled at your body.

None of it came as it should.

Your arm wasn’t just folded, it was taped down to your chest.

In fact, most of your body was constricted.

The pull clanged along muscle groups and you felt a pulse trained inwards on your abdomen.

Shooting sparks of pain straight into your gut, you gave a soft pained cry and tried to kick.

Only one leg responded.

The other was lead and weighed down.

You were choking.

“Y/N, w-wait! P-please!” Donnie refused to touch any more of you.

“Donatello.” Leo appeared just behind him.

“Don’t. It won’t. Not now.” Donnie went to snap at the blue turtle.

Leo stared back, stoic.

“Don’t…” Donnie managed, gaze falling.

“Y/N.” Leo took to the other side of the bed and reached in to adjust a strap of bandage on your shoulder. “Listen. You’re at the Mount Sinai on Madison. You were in emergency, then the ICU, then you got assigned a room. Saying you were banged up is an understatement. You almost died. You might have, if we hadn’t…”

Relegating to pupil movement, you first stared at Leo, then checked with Donnie.

Your boyfriend gave a sharp nod where he’d taken Leo’s seat at your side and your hand.

You rasped.

“They had to medically induce a coma so we could figure out what substance you were injected with. You were considered an overdose patient until then. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. cracked it and passed the info along so they could treat you. Then you… didn’t wake up. They considered it a regular coma after that. You were stabbed in your shoulder, miracle it missed any of the three arteries there. You’ll have a hell of a time with physical therapy for the muscle though. Your left femur is broken, but that… We’ll get into that later. You were cut along the ribs and stabbed in the right upper torso, into the liver. You were in surgery for hours. Internal bleeding… concussion… broken bones, you name it.”

You made a flighty grunt.

Donnie squeezed you.

You sent him a weak flick of your eye.

Leo sighed softly. “Button time?”

“I hit it a moment ago.” Donnie answered, not looking away from you.

Leo nodded and put his hands on his hips. “Ready, Y/N?”

Leo.

Donnie.

Together in the same room.

It only occurred to you now that there was an issue with that.

There was so much happening.

All of it was wrong.

You shifted your pupil between the two and translated what you hoped was a question.

“I’m assuming you’re wondering about this?” Leo pointed between him and Donnie. “Another explanation for later because you’re going to want to sleep after what’s about to happen… I sure as hell did.”

He walked to a corner and you wanted to know what he meant, but a nurse walked in. “Oh…! How are you feeling!?”

What followed was torturous. Over and over your sanity was questioned and examined as they checked your faculties. Tests were done in abundance and you were poked and prodded by what you assumed was every metal device known to man. A legion of doctors, nurses, and contracted medical personnel filed through to tell you similar and yet all new information about your wounds. Tubes were inserted, removed, and shifted around in what you could only imagine was a cruel cosmic game of hokey pokey. You picked up little details where you could under the barrage. There had been something about mysticism, both bad and good. You’d healed nicely. You had more healing to do.

It had been three total weeks since the attack.

You held onto that lost time with an iron claw until you were forced upright. Both for physical examination and because a wheelchair arrived for some test that couldn’t be done in this room, you saw Donnie keep a wounded strength up and Leo keep his distance. Both men had been similarly cycled, in and out of your vicinity, for the sake of decorum. You alternatively had none as you were carted around for more scans where doctors both talked to and around you. By the time you were uncomfortably back in bed and finally left alone, you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Sleep.” Donnie kissed your temple.

“Donnie…” You fought your lids.

You hadn’t gotten to talk to him at all.

His name was probably the first thing you’d said to him.

You wanted to say so much more.

How could you be tired?

You’d been asleep for nearly a month.

Donnie hushed your mind and a glimpse of him was the last thing you saw.

You woke up sometime in the night to a nurse fiddling with your IV.

“I have to get used to seeing you.” She teased lightly, checking the cord and coming away with a syringe.

You grunted out a sound.

“Don’t mind me.” She told you before giving your good leg a pat and disappearing around the bed. “Just something to ease the pain.”

You stared after her shape and caught a dull hue of Leo on the far side of the room.

Squinting, you found him watching after the nurse before he turned with a tired expression.

Following his gaze led to Donnie who was waiting with a patient expression.

“Hey.” You told him still groggy.

“Hi…” He pet your arm. “No need to get up.”

“No… I… I’m… can I…?” You stirred, trying to remember if sitting up was a chore.

“What do you need? Feel free to sign an approximate.” Donnie watched on with tepid affection.

In the corner of your eye you saw Leo turn his head in a way to give you privacy. You eyed him openly before returning to Donnie. Your first real look at him, you saw how the last few weeks had taken their toll. An odd midpoint in comparison to your last separation where he’d headed to the Hidden City alone, he looked a little on the mend. Eyes sallow, but skin perked with some vestige of hydration, he mostly looked exhausted.

“Water…” You decided, your throat dry and still cracked from the tube.

“You might have trouble swallowing, go slow.” He retrieved a pitcher and cup from a side table before filling it carefully to offer it with a straw.

Knowing he would hold it, you wrangled the lead with your lips and sucked in the life giving liquid.

He lowered it when you’d had enough.

“Sore…” You mumbled, leaning back and feeling the cool drink travel downward in your body.

Donnie nodded.

You took your time reaching up to cup his cheek with a spin of your wrist to coax him in. “Not clean. Sorry.”

“I’ve done my best.” Donnie whispered, coming in only enough to barely rest his forehead against the side of your head.

“Why-?” A cough caught you and each wheeze thudded through your wounds.

Donnie disappeared to monitor you closely.

Hand falling away, you winced against the aggravating loose, but tight nature of your esophagus.

You heaved a sigh as you caught your breath with the ragged little pinpricks that still held on.

Taking additional time to simply breathe, you eventually calmed enough to look out at Leo. “Explain this.”

Leo perked up in the moonlight seeping through a window and approached.

“Now?” Donnie asked without pressure.

You gave a single nod.

“Consider it a bedtime story.” Leo refused an actual smile, but there was a jovial edge to his tone as he came around to the opposite side of the bed. “We make it boring enough and we can put Y/N right to sleep.”

Donnie barely rolled his eyes.

“What got you here or this situation?” Leo asked with minor disdain, ignoring Donnie while also referencing him.

“Both… from the… beginning?”

Leo gave a knowing nod. “When I got the call, you were…”

Donnie bristled and had to hold himself.

“Bad.” Leo decided with a tight eye over your boyfriend. “It was bad.”

Donnie closed his eyes.

You reached for him.

He caught your hand and held it delicately to save the IV.

“We were together so we moved together.” Leo went on.

“Toget…?” You struggled on the syllables.

“Me, Mikey, and Raph.” Leo confirmed.

You bobbed slightly.

“Skipping over our entrance onto the scene, Mikey sort of…” Leo juggled his phrasing.

Donnie was up and away from you.

You stared after him and noticed he’d taken the time to set your hand down before fleeing.

“Mike’s got all sorts of mystic mojo.” Leo tried anew. “I knew you were going straight to surgery and Mikey sort of… snuck into prep.”

“Wha…?” Your lips parted dry and you wished Donnie would come back with the water.

“I wasn’t there, to be clear, I’m going off what Mike told me, but basically he zapped you with magic before the staff caught him.”

“I don’t…” You wanted to shake your head, but you settled for a failed swallow.

“In addition to flying, Mikey can kinda sort of teleport like me, but it’s different… he can…” Leo struggled.

“Leonardo trained with an artifact to hone tears through space. Michangelo can rip through space and time with his bare hands.” Donnie spoke, his back half turned to you. “To his detriment. You’ve seen his scarring.”

Leo seemed unperturbed by this knowledge. “He’s banned from it, but I can’t control him in an emergency or last resort sort of thing. It’s… a whole thing, but he can manage very short distances without it… without…”

“Leo…” You murmured, sensing there was something painful there.

Leo took your acknowledgement as a cue he could skip over details. “He took one look at a hospital map, teleported into the OR, dumped as much mystic healing into you as he could, teleported out when he was found, and then promptly passed out for an entire week.”

You heard Donnie inhale to speak and both you and Leo waited for him to, but he didn’t.

Something was off here.

You felt like you hadn’t woken up.

Pangs said otherwise, but you still wanted to pinch yourself.

Leo and Donnie were being as civil as you’d ever seen them and only a few weeks didn’t seem like enough time for that.

Something else was happening, but you were struggling to keep up as it was.

“What… did he…?” You hoped that was enough.

Leo lightly touched a blanket crease on the edge of your bed. “He mostly reassembled bone fragments. From what I understand, flesh, with all its blood vessels and such is a harder patch, but he did get some in. Mostly that gash along your ribs. Overall, it’s more of a general spell. If it had been me-” Leo’s teeth caught the light.

“You…?”

“Medic training.” Leo held the first bitter edge you’d seen to him. “I’m a trained medic.”

Donnie rotated further away.

Why were you losing him?

“Mikey took you from a femoral break to a fracture.” Leo kept a sharp gaze. “Your bone was shattered.”

“Oh…” You gazed down at your body.

“T-tricky with the casting.” Leo stepped up to point and shift the topic. “It’s called a spica. A groovy kind of asymmetrical bottoms, half shorts, half pants, which you have, but they should have cast it up your whole torso, only they couldn’t because of the… stab wounds…” He drifted, his acrid edge returning.

“What’s… going… on?” You got out, the many odd signs too much for you.

“I’m sure you don’t want some medical textbook info on the arteries… But I think I can simplify it-”

“Leo.” You pressed down on his name.

Donnie was nearly curled into the wall.

“Donnie.”

Your partner's head barely rotated at the sound of your voice.

“What… happened?” You wheezed.

You’d asked Leo to start from the top.

Instead, he’d skipped around.

Now there was an ever changing air as if something enormous was being avoided.

You had to know. “Tell me.”

Leo tugged your sheet until it was smooth. “Intake.”

The word oppressive, you felt the other two suffer under it where it held no connotation to you. “What… about it?”

“You still don’t remember what happened during the attack?” Leo asked, edging closer to you with an odd timber.

You shook your head slowly.

“A… Hidden City police officer… abducted you both.” Leo began, a clear wary of Donnie even though he didn’t look. “The guy disobeyed the temporary pardon. We know next to nothing about his goal.”

Your hand flexed and you felt the bite of your IV needle.

“Without you, there’s no account of what happened. The perp left no evidence of planning or anything so we have to assume it was spontaneous, but… we don’t know. We won’t know. Donatello regained consciousness right before the guy tried to…”

Your gaze flew to Donnie where he’d wedged in a corner.

He didn’t know what happened?

No one did.

Was he guilty?

You wished you could go to him.

Leo gave a shaky exhale. “I can only say what I saw for sure.”

You were slow to trek back to Leo.

“Donatello called me and… asked-”

“Begged.” Donnie spoke venom. “Say it.”

Leo’s eyes flashed a warning that Donnie didn’t catch. “I guess he… beggedfor my help. I portaled over and saw you… you were… you…”

Soothe them.

You wanted to hold Donnie.

You wanted to pat Leo.

If your arm closest to him wasn’t bandaged down you might have managed the latter.

Leo seemed to notice your intention and gave a tired smile of his own.

This was the closest he’d been to you yet.

His eyes looked like Donnie’s.

“I scooped you up with the others trailing behind and portaled us straight to triage.” Leo cut through the silence. “I had to leave you bleeding out on the nurse’s station because…”

“Y/N.” Donnie spoke around shattered glass.

“You won’t tell it.” Leo ground out just shy of a bark.

“I should…” Donnie tried to turn, but there was an odd glint to his eye.

“Donatello…” Leo had that warning to him again.

“I can talk about it!” Donnie’s voice held a rising bile. “I am not some child!”

“Donatello!” Leo took a few steps over.

“I lost control!” Donnie turned to plead his case with you.

Trapped in your bed, you felt strapped down.

You couldn’t help.

You were helpless.

“I didn’t see the yokai, you know.” Donnie crept forward slowly. “Your-our-your attacker.”

He looked a vision similar to a sleep paralysis demon.

Your heart clutched and it reflected in the ever constant beep of the heart monitor.

Leo neared the edge of the bed, his body readying.

Donnie saw nor heard neither. “I saw a knife. I saw you. I saw you speak your last words to me. Then I saw purple.”

Leo’s arms went up.

“They were trying…. They tried… They-!!!” In a single blink, Donnie’s eyes lit up a bright fuchsia. “They weren’t going to touch you.”

“Stop!” Leo’s eyes spun a blue similar to his portals.

Dancing lights filled the room.

For every flash of purple there was an equal blue swallowing it up.

It cast horrifying shadows across Donnie’s face. “I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I couldn’t-!”

Leo caught Donnie’s shoulders in a swift move.

You flinched away as the dueling lights picked up to a blinding luminance.

There was a sharp choke.

You forced your lids up to see the glow gone and Leo’s leg lifted where he’d kneed Donnie straight through his plastron and into his stomach.

Donnie hunched with drool dripping from his mouth and had just caught himself from vomiting at the force.

Leo let go just as fast and held up innocent hands as he backed away. “Well? How’d that work out for you?!”

Donnie winced, clutching himself for a moment before he raised his own hand as a signal.

“What… was that…?” You looked at them both, feeling a ghost amongst them.

“Donatello unlocked his ninpo.” Leo turned to you looking haggard.

Now a moment away from tears, Donnie scrambled to his side of your bed on his knees. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t-!”

Your hand immediately went to his cheek and though your body raged and you were only allowed a few inches, you turned toward him as much as you could.

“Don’t do that…” He scolded and your action alone was enough to ground him minutely.

You shushed him with affection and pet down his jaw.

It took two strokes before he went a calculated limp against you.

“Has this…?” You swallowed hard and the cup appeared in front of you.

Hating how much maintenance you needed, you took a quick sip before shaking your head to force the swallow down.

“This has been… happening the whole time… since I got…?”

“Put in the hospital.” Leo nodded and staggered a few steps before he caught the bottom of your bed.

“What… power? Why… now?”

Leo rubbed an eye and mocked. “What power?” He clicked his tongue. “We… as in my family, believed it was only possible for clan members. You unlock your ninpo through acceptance. You have to have faith or trust or believe in the Hamato clan, in us, in family, and poof! It’s the only way you should be able to…” A form of irritation brought Leo upright. “Mikey and I unlocked ours to save Raph. It should be for family. Our family. That fierce protection. That-”

“He unlocked it…” You looked at Donnie.

He was curled into your palm with his eyes screwed shut, looking especially young.

“…saving me?”

Leo clicked his tongue.

Donnie gave a nod that was more of a nuzzle.

“It was wrong.” Leo spoke sharply.

A purple gun appeared in his face long enough for you to watch it cock before Leo realized and a tiny blue portal swallowed it up.

“Enough already! We just did that! You already flipped out so chill!” Leo growled, his eyes still entrenched in a glow.

“Don’t you tell me that saving them was a mistake in any way.” Donnie pulled from you to bare his fangs.

Several cycles of purple and blue cascaded a waterfall around Leo’s features. It painted him haunted before his face broke into true dismay. “I would never.”

The flickering stopped and you didn’t dare look at Donnie.

“How you activated it…” Leo shook his head trying to bury the raw emotion. “Your faith is misplaced. You get granted Hamato rights because you’re a Hamato. Because you believe in one another and how we’re stronger together… You are supposed to believe that you are a part of something larger and that they have you, everything about you. Every single bit. They will do anything for you! You don’t…! You don’t believe any of that!” His eyes rose with tears caught by the pale lights in the room. “That’s why you’re wrong. You tore into a power you shouldn’t have. That’s why you don’t have control. It will never be okay. It will never be yours! It shouldn’t.”

Donnie finally turned inward toward you and there were broken flickers of purple in his gaze like a match trying to light.

You had very little movement, but used what you could to grab his mask and tug.

He came limp and loose into your good shoulder and wilted there, shutting off the light.

Leo grunted about his weakness and did a small pace to recompose himself.

“Leo…” You murmured, petting Donnie with a heavy weight that he accepted.

“Yeah…?” He rounded the edge of the bed.

“That was… What Donnie made was…?”

“Weaponry.” Leo spat. “His power manifested in the same shit he started with. Destruction as always.”

There was a humming vibration of a phone.

Donnie flinched into you.

Leo pulled his device out.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered to Donnie, knowing you couldn’t go low enough to not reach Leo’s tympanum.

“The others…” Donnie rooted closer to you. “… they’ll come now.”

“Why?” You wished you could hold him.

“The flare of ninpo.” Leo answered, tacking something out. “They’re worried. I’ll tell ‘em it’s okay for now. You… I’ll give you this.”

Donnie couldn’t thank him, but he chuffed a sound of acknowledgement.

That seemed enough for Leo.

You felt a depth of what they’d been through without you.

It was huge and weighty and both of them were overtaxed by it.

All because of you.

“Raph said you each had… specialties or something…” You murmured.

Leo stared dully at the blue light from his phone illuminating his face. “Donatello has built guns a million times over. Now he can assemble them without anything, but his mind. Makes sense. A stupid fucked up sense.”

You read the faintest emotion of him.

Fear.

“Leo-”

“I don’t agree, but Mikey has a different theory.” Leo pocketed his phone and his angle entrenched him in darkness. “He doesn’t see a problem with the unlocking because it was done to protect. He thinks the malfunction is tied to Donatello holding back. Something about him not being able to embrace the power because he’s forcing it away like everything else.”

Donnie exhaled revulsion.

“Agreed.” Leo puffed his own.

He did hold back.

You stroked down, tracing towards his concealed mating mark.

Did Donnie disagree because Mikey was on the right track?

He’d come a long way, but he still believed that the person he was with you wasn’t the authentic one.

He’d also said he could never live as himself.

That meant he’d never harness this power.

It loomed overhead, something even more dangerous than his enemies.

“It does… seem connected to your anger.”

You felt both men look at you, but you only watched Donnie.

“From… the little I’ve seen…” You tried to sound sheepish.

Donnie leaned in to rest his beak against your cheek. “You’re correct.”

Leo broke away and walked toward the window.

“And you two have just been…?” You glanced between them. “Together… this whole time?”

The palpable disdain swept through the room.

For a long moment neither spoke.

Donnie seemed the more sturdy of the two for now, sighed to retreat lightly, and adjusted your covers. “Not at first.”

Leo scrubbed his face.

“The initial chain of events went as such: I was…” The moment weighed on Donnie and took his voice.

“Not again…” Leo turned, looking twice as exhausted.

“I can do it.” Donnie pressed, harsh. “Look away.”

Leo bristled with obvious concern.

All you could think was how strange it was.

In such a short amount of time they’d seemingly come so far.

The Leo you knew would have taken every opportunity to barb Donnie.

Your Donnie would never allow the amount of supposed weakness he was currently displaying.

“I can.” Donnie tried again, his voice more even.

Leo said nothing and turned to tuck his head against the wall.

Donnie was slow in taking your face.

A familiar cascade of affection, it coaxed a smile from you and he nosed you lightly before drinking you into a kiss.

“My breath…” You murmured against the chaste press.

“Brushed earlier once the tube was removed and you were up to it.” Donnie caught your lips again and you realized the light brushes were to keep any errant smacks at bay.

“I’ve slept…” You teased him with the lightest nosing though the reach with your neck disturbed the muscles in your shoulder.

“You will learn to lie still.” He spoke with light heat and stole what was an obvious final kiss with a heavier press.

You relented into the pillow and failed to catch a soft sigh.

“That day… After disposing of that miscreant, I was beside myself. You needed more immediate attention then I could possibly… I found your phone. I called… When Leo appeared… I… I passed you off. My inadequacies were…”

“Too much…” You found his hand near yours and squeezed it.

He nodded and nuzzled close. “I let him take you, not more than a step behind, but Michelangelo…”

You tilted your head the slightest amount.

“You were deemed an obvious emergency and taken immediately. That I stood for, but Michelangelo he only…” Donnie paused and took a deep settling breath. “He had been nearby, suddenly saying he could help. Then he disappeared. I… It was an unknown variable. Him alone with you. With his mysticism… I… He hurt you before…”

You studied his eyes closely.

He leaned in to give you a better view, illustrating his gaze was free from purple, before nudging you with his beak. “I was irate to say the least. The staff would not let me warn them. Everyone kept telling me to calm down and then…” He caught himself and with several false starts to give a heady exhale. “Raphael subdued me after I manifested an entire arsenal and nearly leveled the waiting room.”

Leo shook his head against the wall, but you read it less as a disagreement and more of distress at the memory.

“His projections aren’t sturdy enough to dispel mine however. He temporarily knocked me out as the drug was still in my system.” Donnie continued. “When I woke, moments later, I was propped in the waiting room, informed Michelangelo had been returned to the sewer, Raphael was having a few superficial bullet wounds treated, and Leonardo was sat beside me.”

Leo flittered with a faint movement that you found to be his fist nervously tapping near his hip.

“For a while…” Donnie wrangled himself in and pulled away minutely to check your IV. “We sat as such for several hours until Leonardo spoke in regards to our predicament. A repeat of my display would put you at risk. The blue bast-ahem-Leonardo was meant to only be utilized as emergency transport. It was a temporary necessity. However… I was forced to acknowledge there was now more at play.”

Leo’s head tipped up and he looked toward a darkened ceiling corner.

“The staff had no choice but to accept my staying by your side once I was able.” Donnie had a faint smirk to him. “In situations such as those, I am unbothered. What power do they have? Police?” His teeth gleamed around a laugh, but he subdued it. “It was… your ongoing treatment that proved difficult. Not up to my standards. We’d failed to get S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. inside. You required the facilities and providers available here, but…”

Your lips parted and Donnie offered more water for you to sip.

“My threats along with my volatile ninpo made a dangerous combination. Not that they could have kept me away, but I was threatened with several premise bans.”

He let the cup sit comfortably against your side.

“You see, upon our arrival here, each of us displayed our powers meaning the uninitiated were confused. Sure, there is an irritatingly obvious color coding, but what was less evident was the effects. Raphael had smothered my attack so only sick, delusional waiting room patients saw a hallucination at best. No one of importance saw what my ninpo created. This was for the best, but to keep it that way, as the lethality of my manifestations happens to be off putting to some-'' Donnie flicked a quick glance toward Leo in gesture. “-I had to be monitored…” His lip curled. “The others sat with me in rotation. I was unfortunately in need of their attendance in case my ninpo activated. The three traded off, but Leonardo’s ninpo is most suited to safely disarming mine.”

Donnie came close enough that you could lean on him.

“Waiting at your side gave me only time. Slowly, I achieved enough emotional control so as not to create weapons at the slightest provocation, but I am still me. I acted my usual and voiced my overall displeasure with your ongoing unconscious state. These… comments were not appreciated and compounded as I had worn my welcome. On supposed ‘thin ice,’ there was a particular incident where I slipped and allowed a nurse to see one of my manifestations. Thus a final deal was struck.”

Leo felt comfortable enough to turn and watch with a worn expression.

“Leonardo…” Donnie took on a strange expression that bordered appreciation. “… stepped in. He used his connections, status, and manipulation to garner you a better care rotation. In exchange, he was charged with being my full time handler. I was to defer to him in exchange and he put his entire public reputation on the line if only to keep me from actually being kicked out. If only… to allow us...” Donnie carefully cradled your hand. “... to stay together.”

You were overwhelmed.

Suddenly awash, your chest tightened lethally and you sent water works in Leo’s direction.

The blue turtle startled at the emotion and gave a single sharp nod as if it was a normal duty as any other.

“Shh, don’t waste your limited energy on him. Again, not that it would have mattered. Nothing would have kept me from you.” There was a fragility to Donnie’s usual bravado.

You pinched his fingers to translate that you noticed.

He looked away with the faintest noise of frustration.

“That was a week ago.” Donnie murmured.

“Back up some.” You let go of him to point.

Donnie studied you before adjusting his stool with a rolling slide.

It put him more easily in your reach and you tugged his mask up from his beak.

He grunted, annoyed, but allowed it and you revealed the deeper dark bags barely concealed by it.

Trying to betray little, you delicately put Donnie’s mask back in place before gesturing for Leo to come over. “You next.”

Leo walked to his spot on the opposite side where he yanked his mask up, unprompted, for you to see his equally swollen lids with an amused fluttering of his lashes.

“Him-” You threw a thumb back to Donnie as you spoke to Leo. “I expect to not sleep, but you?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I lost sleep over the jackass.” Leo smirked.

Donnie rolled his eyes.

“He’s up, I’m up.” Leo shrugged and used both hands to get his mask right.

“I would never allow myself disarmed around you.” Donnie growled lightly.

“And you see why neither of us have slept.” Leo’s hands fell away and he cracked you a manic expression like it were an ice cold drink.

“Where was…?” The memory seemed so vague. “Donnie was portalled in… when I woke up.”

“Ah.” Leo nodded, thoughtfully, before sending a smarmy look at Donnie. “Now where were you at, hm?”

Donnie bristled.

Leo pulled his expression slightly, but waited with a cocked ridge of his mask.

Donnie let a canine peek as he turned an acidic expression to you. “I have… scheduled meal breaks.”

Leo wiped a hand over the lower half of his face, no doubt covering a smile.

“A bargain to make you eat…?” You looked over Donnie with knowing affection.

For a split second you saw a swipe of guilt flash over your boyfriend’s face before he settled to a neutral expression. “My choice. An accepted one around. The only agreement was travel.”

“My moment of freedom tainted!” Leo held up a dramatic hand. “Basically, the jam jackass will only go to the cafeteria if I portal him there.” Leo shook his head free of his hand to show his disdain. “Mike or Raph take it from there, but still.”

“My retribution and instantaneous returns.” Donnie sent a lowered lidful of affection toward you.

“I’m not a damn taxi.” Leo grumbled.

You took them both in before you exaggerated a pout.

You then sank deep into your pillow though it made your body ache.

Donnie switched to worry and touched your arm anxiously.

“Leo.”

Donnie twitched with faint annoyance over you ignoring him.

You held out your hand to soothe him.

“Hm?” Leo leaned back, folding his arms.

Donnie took your hand and sulked.

“I get your stupid banter comment now.”

For a beat nothing happened.

Then Leo popped a single snicker before he burst out laughing.

You clucked along with him until the bubbles of comedy clung and irritated your liver.

Donnie pressed your arm to urge you to stop.

You tossed him a smile.

Leo came away, wiping his eye. “Oh man, I’ve lost my mind… That was good. What a call back…!”

“I’m mad I didn’t see you two get close.” You pursed your lips.

“We aren’t.”

There was a certain amount of horror passed between them which Donnie dispelled with a puckered focus on his face.

“Knock it off, bozo!” Leo’s lip curled.

“What are you doing…?” You touched Donnie.

“Trying...” Donnie’s eyes narrowed, willing something with all his might. “… to shoot him between the eyes.”

“You can’t do it on purpose yet and hopefully ever.” Leo sneered.

“If you keep that up he will.” You stared at him dully.

“Pfft.” Leo blew a raspberry. “I’ll just do a little abracadabra and poof, it’s disappeared right before your eyes.” He did a flourish with his hands.

“Hypno would be insulted.” You tilted your head away from the poser.

“Hypno’s a hack!” Leo threw up a hand. “I’ve studied the greats!”

“Since when do you-?” You reared your head. “No… I’m… I’m too injured for this.”

Donnie puffed with a single bubble of laughter and then painted a stoic face as if nothing happened.

“We’re literally right here. This room is dead silent.” Leo shook his head.

“Donnie…” You chewed your lip.

Donnie turned his beak up.

“Seven straight days of this.” Leo threw a hand out to Donnie.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say!” You tapped your sheet. “I missed it! Donnie, pull up the recordings!”

Donnie’s hackles went up.

Leo put extra shine on a snarky smile.

“You…” You looked between the pair before settling on Leo in awe. “How the hell did you get him to agree to not tape this?”

“You’re on the line. You’re literally the best bargaining chip anyone could ask for!” Leo turned a smile on you that was eerily similar to Donnie’s malevolent one.

They’d spent too much time together.

“Weak spot…” You whispered in spite of yourself.

“Come again?” Leo held up a hand to his tympanum.

“Nothing.” You crooned.

Leo cocked his brow through his mask.

“You have to fill me in on everything.” You demanded from both of them.

Leo opened his mouth with a retort, but a nurse appeared in the doorway with a tapping foot. “Ahem.”

“Maria! If it isn’t the most lovely night nurse this side of Queens!” Leo spun to her in a flourish and seemed to almost manifest sparkles.

She seemed largely unbothered, but you caught the slightest ghosting of pink to her cheeks from the fluorescence in the hall.

“Give ‘em a break. The lovebirds are making up for lost time…” Leo cooed.

She huffed loudly and renewed the fold of her arms. “They and everyone else in the corridor also need sleep.”

“Done.” Donnie spoke.

Leo polished his grin.

She glared openly at Donnie before sending Leo a pointed look. “I’ll check back in fifteen.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Leo gave a little amorous growl and you gagged to Donnie.

His lip wrinkled with a smile that he buried as soon as Leo walked back over.

“Think that’s a pretty good demonstration of how this arrangements been going.” Leo tossed a thumb back to where he’d come from and reverted to what you assumed was his neutral setting.

Donnie stood and fluffed your pillow.

You looked him over affectionately and felt that ever present exhaustion tug at you again.

It was there.

It had been there.

Speaking of it felt like a command and now it threatened to engulf you.

You hated the helpless feeling of it all.

“Just like that.” Leo hummed, cocky.

“Shut up.” You grumbled.

“Finally, someone else can tell him.” Donnie took his seat and assumed what must have been his usual waiting posture.

“Ugh, almost forgot you let him ruin your morality.” Leo made a big show of rolling his eyes.

You had more complaints, but your lids were heavy.

“Get some rest.” Leo blessedly dropped the complaint and took a seat in a far chair.

“We’ll get you home soon.” Donnie took your hand and pressed a careful kiss to it. You made a little sweet sound for him, but your vision of him skewed as you dozed off.

💜NEXT💜

Through every crazy little idea I have, my darling betas are right there with me and I could be more honored to know @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#weakspotfic #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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wangxianficfinder · 6 months

Text

In the mood for...

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1. Hi could you please suggest some

A) Omega Wei wuxian alpha lwj fanfics?

B) And fox wwx dragon lwj with good plot too @lostsoul234

1A)

A/B/O Comp

🧡 shoot your shot -- hot or knot by defractum (nyargles) (E, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show, Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes) (link in #6) would probably work?

@archeaologies said: re your latest 'im in the mood for' post, 1b (foxxian and dragonji fics): ive been slowly putting together a massive rec list on my sideblog (@lansyuan) of exactly this au - its currently sat in my drafts but if op wants to pm me on my sideblog then i can link them all the fics ive collected so far! 🥰

Shape-shifter AU Comp

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2. I was wondering if yall wouldn't mind reccing any favorite Chengxian canon Era fics? @dragonfairies

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3. Itmf for wangxian post canon where WWX is threatened to sacrifice himself for LWJ. It can be any case fiction with an interesting villain making their life hard. @paraffin22

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4. Hello, thank you for all your wonderful recommendations! Itmf LXC takes care of WWX

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5. Itmf omega WWX presenting for lwj

#2 in this fic finder might have a few you would enjoy

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6. Itmf wangxian survival fics, like wilderness or cold, etc

and from our own/live to ourselves by betweentheheavesofstorm (M, 105k, wangxian, modern, fantasy, reality tv, angst w/ happy ending, survival, blood & gore, self-harm, animal death, slow burn) this might count?

The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 (M, 277k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Accidental Baby Acquisition During a Zombie Apocalypse, Junior Quartet, (except they’re all babies), Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Ensemble Cast, Worst Zombie Fighting Team Ever, Found Family)

In The Dark Right Now by phnelt (T, 10k, wangxian, JC & LWJ, WWX & JC, graphic depictions of injuries, trapped in a cave, Near Death Experience, fatalistic thinking, established wangxian, Family Feels, mention of unnamed illness of an offscreen character, Nobody dies in this fic, Modern Setting, JC and WWX are caved in and LWJ talks to them through the radio, Hurt/Comfort)

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7. itmf (self indulgent) wwx appreciation fic. have a good day.

Simping over WWX is my fave hobby Series by brrrrrRawr (T, 10k, WangXian, WWX's original body, Fluff, Pet Name,s Blushing, No Smut, Genius WWX, yunmeng bros reconciliation, endgame lotus pier, big bro wwx rights, also dad wwx rights, BAMF WWX, Bad Writing, Body Dysphoria So OOC, world building, cliff diving, corpse wrestling, OOC, Canon Divergence, god WWX, god WN, god WQ, child JL, teenager MXY, xuanli get resurrected, rip nmj tho, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, BAMF WN, BAMF WQ)

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8. papa-zhan fics please! a-yuan/sizhui calling him dad, a-die, baba, whatever. canon world or modern anything, just some baba lan wangji softness.

🧡 Yiling Salon: Hair, Nails and Piercing by TriviasFolly (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, hairstylist AU, WWX owns a salon, Hairstylist WWX, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Experimental Style)

🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by acertainrogue (T, 39k, WangXian, WWX is in a coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Single Dad LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Parenthood, YZY's A+ Parenting, JFM's A+ parenting, wangxian family) mind the tags pls

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9. hello! it is me that animal-whisperer lwj fic anon! thank you for recommending that, it was such a good read..

would it be fine to ask more of that kind? i cannot seem to get enough of that trope.

🧡 A Study in Fluff by WeaverOfTheNight (T, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost bunnies, Vet LWJ, Architect WWX, Kid LSZ, Domestic fluff, Modern with Magic)

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10. This is more of a recommendation ask, does anyone know of any good canon compliant post last chapter fics? basically just more of lwj and wwx and the juniors etc just living their lives like the iron hook extra in the novels? Basically just any very canon post story stories people made i can’t get over the last chapter it was so cute with the lotuses and tipped boat help Sorry if that doesn’t really make sense THABK YOU TUMBLR!!!!!! @kaleajakic

🔒do not go gentle by RoseThorne (G, 684, WN & WQ, WN & WWX, LSZ & WQ, Canonical Character Death, Spirits, Ghosts, LWJ Plays Inquiry, Song: Inquiry, Protectiveness, Grief/Mourning, Love, Acceptance, Family, Angst, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV WN)

A More Practical Approach by Elhana (T,9k, WangXian, Canon Compliant Teacher WWX, Humour, POV Multiple, Implied Sexual Content, WWX is resourceful, wuxia magic shenanigans, Based on a Tumblr Post, Post-Canon)

It takes courage to pet a dog. by nenufares (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, a bit of canon-typical violence, past animal abandonment, Dogs, Fluff and Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort) I'm not sure if they really count but they are post canon and I enjoyed reading them!

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11. itmf fic where wwx is cultivating the ghostly path like in the novel. i'd like recs for a cultivation that's more a compassion/empathy-based collaboration that results in the liberation of the resentful dead not an antihero necromancer forcing the dead to do his will for the greater good. thanks ❤️🩵

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 74k, wangxian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, WIP)

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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12. Hi! I was just wondering if you have any good, longer fluff pieces. They can have plot, but in general everyone is happy and no one gets hurt (unless it’s jgs). I know canon makes it a bit more difficult, but if you have any recs, that would be great! I’m just looking for fluff, humor, and plot

Thank you!

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn, Yuisaki (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Actors, Multimedia, Online Friendship, Drunken Shenanigans, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Underage Drinking, Drinking Games, Families of Choice, Ensemble Cast, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Catfish AU) there's a bit of angst here

Meet Me Friday At Seven by craftyTrickster (luoxiaobai) (E, 128k, wangxian, modern, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Friends to Lovers, Blind Date, lots of texting, almost a chat fic, WC and WLJ aren’t evil but they are annoying, Kissing, Masturbation, Anal Sex, romantic sex, Bi WWX, bi nhs, Single Parent WWX, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator) just pure fluff

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13. Hi! I am looking for canon-divergent fics where people think WWX dies but he actually doesn’t? I then want a big reveal when people realize he is still alive/never actually died. Thank you so much!

ahhh I just sent in an itmf ask about WWX dying but not really? I meant to specify that I want him to be "dead" for a long period of time, not just a brief gimmick. Long enough that people mourn him or move on, and then he comes back years later like in canon. Thanks, and sorry for not putting this in the first ask!

🔒Brotherhood by LtLJ (G, 10k, JC & WWX, CQL canon, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, breaks from canon during the time skip, YLLZ WWX)

WWX and JYL run away by shanastoryteller (WangXian, XuanLi, JYL and JZX lives, JYL and WWX raise JL and LSZ, Fake Character Death)

Something From Nothing by sami (E, 55k, WangXian, XianLi, Minor QingLi, XiCheng, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Character Resurrection, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Assassin's Creed Fusion, Kinda, Assassin's Creed Vibes, Wangxian is endgame, Slow Burn, specifically for wangxian, no infidelity, no partner betrayal, Angst with a Happy Ending) This has canon divergence and wwx being dead long enough for people to move on plus hey he's alive reveal but not exactly the way requester described

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14. hii! I'm sorry to bother you! i was hoping you could rec me some dark lwj, or dark gusu lan fics? them being more manipulative or possessive? thank you so much in advance<3

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (M, 40k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

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15. hello!!! hehe would just like to ask if you have any fics where lsz is referenced as the lan heir? thank you! 💕

anyway, here's wuji by kakikaeru (T, 18k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, LingZhen, Post-Canon)

❤️ A Civil Combpaign by Ariaste (M, 12k, zhuiling, wangxian, arranged marriage, combs, courting, awkward teenagers, teenage drama, humor, feelings, fluff)

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16. Heyy ! I am in the mood for your favourite nightmares fic (Wangxian if possible). Thxx ! @sebyyw

#FreePalestine | hold me close by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (E, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Emotional Sex, Grief, Mental Health Issues, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, tender husbands being tender, Character Study, Masturbation, Oral Sex ,Anal Sex, Working Through Grief With Sex, Grieving Your Husband While Fucking Him, Depressed LWJ) I'm not sure if this is what you're looking for but lwj has a nightmare in one scene in my fic here

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

Feathers On My Breath by Sweetlittlevampire (T, 3k, wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Teen Crush, Pre-Relationship, Panic Attacks, LWJ Has A Panic Attack, Nightmare, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Mentions of Dying Linked To The Panic Attack, Sharing a Bed)

a needle, a whisper, an insidious dream by pale_and_tragic (M, 19k, wangxian, WWX & WQ & LWJ, post-canon, fix-it of sorts, case fic, horror elements, nightmares, hallucinations, pining, hurt LWJ, aroace WQ, platonic relationships, suicidal thoughts, angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, sleeping beauty)

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17. Me again, back to pester you all w/ an ITMF ask! Thank you so much for all you do! I have read (and re-read) An Elegant Solution and also Things to Do with a Flute During Wartime, and they have put me in the mood for NMJ-centric stories where he is a fully robust, complex, interesting character. Any ship is okay, and modern AUs welcome, but pref. no MCD. <;3 @kimboo-york

🔒 Audience of One by WinterDreams (T, 181k, XiCheng, WangXian, XuanLi, mentioned SongXiao, implied MingYao, Modern AU, Celebrities, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Singer LXC, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Swearing, Slow Burn, Family Feels, Family Bonding, childhood crushes, past emotional abuse, Post-Betrayal, Venerated Triad Feels, Yunmeng Duo Feels, Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, hand holding, Babysitter Ā-Qìng, Domestic Fluff, Soft XiCheng, Eventual Happy Ending)

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, NHS/WN, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, WWX raised by the Nie Sec, Mentions of WWX's life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, a plot showed up, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family) more canon

found in translation by sysrae (E, 12k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, my extremely justified hatred of LQR, Meddling brothers, Coming Out, Loss of Virginity, Under-negotiated Kink, slight breathplay, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending) a modern AU

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 months

Note

hi my dearest

any fics that are based on a movie? or good alternative meeting ones?

Hi Lovely!

I've got a TONNE of Movie-inspired fics! What a grand excuse to post the next part of my Crossovers list! Hope you enjoy all of these!! I've also gone through my MFL list to pad out this list a bit more, hee hee.

If anyone has some more to add that isn't on one of my numerous movie / TV-related lists, please do!

And finally, I actually ALSO had WiPs on this list but I had to remove them because Tumblr has a link limit, so if you guys want me to post a separate 2.5 list with those on it, just let me know! I've about 20 MORE fics I could add here :P

MOVIE / BOOK / TV CROSSOVERS and FUSIONS Pt 2