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sapphic-yearning-lesbian · 3 years

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Epilogue (The Kumandra Memorial Hospital)

As annoying as it sounds I had this sitting on computer for a long time; I was just struggling to like it. SOO two days ago I rewrote the ending; so roughly 4,000 words out of 7,000... ANYWAY’S happy with it now.

Summary: Namaari and Raya being soft for each-other! Basically all fluff!

Warning’s: Mention of liquor, mild swearing, and implied sexual intercourse.

Here’s a preview, the rest of the story is on A03

The First Date

Raya had been discharged from the hospital for over a week, but she was still on bed rest, meaning she couldn't leave her house. Being surrounded by the same four walls was driving her insane. Even so, she was still thankful for her friends, family, and especially Namaari. They always came around and kept her company.

So what was Namaari to Raya?

Hell, as if Raya knew!

Namaari usually came around when others were present, so they hadn't gotten the opportunity to grow to know each other romantically any further. Yet, Namaari always found time to come and visit Raya, knowing they wouldn't be alone.

Maari, even bothering to show up, always meant the world to Raya as she genuinely felt wanted in her life.

Raya was looking in the bathroom mirror as she was towel drying her hair. Simultaneously, Sisu was changing her dampened wound bandages. Anticipating this, Raya had placed saran wrap over bandages to prevent this, but some water did manage to seep in. Thankfully Sisu remembers the basics of wound care and helps her change them.

Once Raya's hair isn't dripping, she brushes her hair as Sisu finishes. "Your bruise has gotten better," Sisu muttered under her breath, causing Raya to chuckle.

"Ohh, that's nothing!" Raya answers as she looks down at her chest in the mirror. She notices her bruise is fading and green now, only crawling partially on her left boob, mostly on her ribcage. "The bruise was spread across my whole rib cage and boob before in a grape purple."

Sisu nodded as she turned away and tossed Raya a huge oversized shirt. "I'll be outside the door," She said while making a peace sign exiting the bathroom.

Raya sighed as she slowly put on the shirt, trying not to injure herself further. Usually, Sisu or her Ba help her, but she's trying to do things independently; or at least try. She eventually managed to get the shirt on but was slightly winded by the effort needed to do the task.

Once she was all dressed in her oversized tan shirt with cheeky black underwear, she opened the bathroom door and found Namaari outside the door smiling at her. "NAMAARI!" Raya squealed as she lightly threw her arms over Maari's shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

"Raya," Namaari hummed as she wrapped one arm around Raya's waist as the other made its way up to her hair, gently massaging her scalp. "I need you to trust me, okay!" Namaari whispered as she pressed a quick kiss on Raya's right cheek, pulling away.

The warmth of Maari's lips kissing Raya's cheek still lingered as she nodded a quick yes. The next thing Raya knew, Namaari had pulled away and placed one hand over her eyes, as the other hand remained wrapped around her waist, leading her through the house.

"I know you're tired of being stuck at home," Namaari voice varies in high and low pinches, revealing her underlying nervousness. "I hope this helps," She admits as she guides Raya out to the backyard before removing her hand from her face. "SUPRISE"

When Raya opens her eyes, she first notices a white fabric hut in the middle of her backyard. The inside is full of comfy pillows and blankets. Her eyes then shift to the right, where she finds an array of foods and desserts on a picnic blanket; in the center sits a bottle of champagne and its glasses. She smiles as she shifts her gaze back to the left and notices a tiny projector pointing to her house.

The gasp that leaves Raya's mouth is full of amusement and pure joy. She couldn't believe Namaari pulled this all off in less than 30 minutes because that's how long she took showering and changing. "It's beautiful, Maari... words cannot describe what I'm feeling." Her stomach had erupted in butterflies while her core tingled ever so slightly.

Namaari only chuckles in amusement as she leads Raya to the assortment of foods she's provided. Once Raya comfortably sat down, she plops down (not so gracefully) next to her; she just wanted to be near her.

Maari understands how typical dates work: You sit across your date to get to know them better. But Namaari had learned so much about Raya these last four weeks.

That's all Namaari could really do; listen.

Technically Namaari was just another of Raya's friends. She couldn't comfortably kiss her or even touch her platonically, surrounded by others, out of respect, as they weren't official.

A friend who also happens to know the taste of the back of Raya's throat?

Anyways! Namaari knows Raya.

Raya loves the outdoor's more than anything, and her preferred way of exercising is hiking.

Raya has a prominent inner child.

Raya lives her day-to-day life in the spur of the moment but is very detail-oriented while working.

Raya's favorite color is turquoise because it's a mixture of both blue and green.

Raya is a night owl but will not work nightshifts.

Namaari knows Raya!

Raya smiled from ear to ear as Namaari popped the champagne bottle. "Woahhh, look at the bubble," She spoke in awe as she noticed the way Namaari bicep tightened as she popped off the cork.

The truth is Raya had quickly become obsessed with Namaari. She found herself missing her voice, the warm feeling in her abdomen when she was near, and her scoff.

Anytime Namaari scoffed, Raya felt as she died and returned to earth. She cannot come to explain the mixture of feelings that small action has on her entire being.

Raya is also very aware of Namaari's physical beauty; sometimes, she questions if Leonardo da Vinci sculpted her out of clay because there is genuinely nothing not to love! Raya loves Maari's rounded and wide nose, her pump upper lip missing its cupid bow, her squinted and curved eyes, her clean and maintained brows. But most of all, Raya loves Namaari's glistening, beautiful brown skin.

But of course, Raya also learned to appreciate Namaari as a whole. She liked to believe that she knew Namaari.

Her favorite color is gold.

She's an early bird!

Her favorite pass time is running marathons or volunteering with children. She is also very hard-headed and focused when working; sometimes, that seeps into her every day.

Maari also claims to be emotionally unattached, but Raya can see past that: She sees how much she wants to be understood and loved for all her flaws. And Raya hopes to be that for her.

Namaari poured the champagne into both their glasses, handing one to Raya once she finished. She then raised her glass to make a toast, Raya quickly mimicking her movements. "I want to toast to the beautiful stars and the moon shining above us." She raises the glass higher "And even as bright as they are, somehow you shine brighter than them, in your beauty." Namaari watches as Raya's face is engulfed in a red tint as she lightly shoves her shoulder with her own.

"I want to make a toast to Tong!" Raya spoke with a grin, only watching Namaari raise an eyebrow in confusion, "Because of him...I stumbled into the arms of this gorgeous specimen sitting beside me." She said, replacing her grin with a smile. "Cheers"

"Cheers."

They clinched their glasses before bringing the alcohol to their lips, both of them looking at each other with such fire and passion.

At that moment, a new feeling settled in their hearts, which they wouldn't express that night because love is scary.

...

For the rest of the night, they engaged in heartfelt conversations, passion-filled conversations, plenty of stolen or perfectly choreographed glances, the perfect amount of physical contact, and plenty of kisses—all amongst eating smores, shrimp Chao, a wide variety of fruits, and rice dumplings.

Once they finished conversating around 2 am they settled in the tent, watching the projected movie Luca on the side of Raya's house.

Namaari was the big spoon, and Raya was the small spoon.

They didn't actually watch the movie as they were too busy kissing each other's faces. Overall, they enjoyed having alone time as it allowed them to explore their romantic feelings for one another.

As the movie came to an end, Raya started to doze off. Namaari only watched her as she struggled to keep her eyes open, a smile resting on her lips. Never did that smile leave her face the entire night. Maari only scoffed as she bent her head down to press a kiss onto the tip of Raya's nose. "Are you awake, Dep La?" She asked in a whisper as the other only nodded while nuzzling deeper into her chest. "Can you look at me?"

Raya yawned into Namaari's chest as she pulled her face away just enough to lock her eyes onto Maari's. "Is this when you tell me our relationship is platonic?" She questions with the tiniest smirk on her lips. Namari only smirked back at her, causing her heart to began to flutter.

"Actually, about that...will you be my girlfriend? Like officially?" Namaari questioned as she ran on hand through her hair. All the while watching as Raya's eyes widen as a cheerful gasp slipped from her lips.

"AHHHH, I GOT THE HOT ER NURSE TO ASK ME OUT," Raya yelps as she lifts her free hand, pumping the air. "That's a yes." She finally clarifies as they both burst out laughing.

---

Apparently I’m a hopeless romantic for these two. Good to know XD.

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thathopelessromantic · 3 years

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Reckless Good (3/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Fic Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku

Note: Thanks so much for the great response so far! And if you haven’t already, please check out some of the other great pieces for the TDDK Big Bang this year!

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Chapter One: (X) Chapter Two: (X)

Shouto is, regrettably, not unfamiliar with the process of checking into the hospital, or the protocols in the burn unit, but things seem to go surprisingly quick with a doctor at his side, explaining not only the extent of his injury but the cause. Just a few moments after they’ve arrived, Shouto is whisked away from Dr. Midoriya and Kou to have his burn cleaned and dressed. They run the usual battery of tests, poke him for blood what feels like a dozen times, and after about half a dozen reassurances to various doctors and nurses that, yes, he does know how to care for a burn at home, he’s told he might be able to go home later that night.

The room he’s put in is, admittedly, one of the nicer hospital rooms that he’s visited. It’s part of a private wing made specifically for pro-heroes to get a little peace from fans and the media while recovering, but it doesn’t make him hate it any less. He’s only been alone in the room for twenty minutes or so, but he’s already contemplating a prison break. Let Momo handle the paperwork for his unconventional discharge on her next day at the office and call it good. But the risk of being put on some extra mandatory leave is too great. His doctor and Momo have been on his case about taking care of himself properly for months now and they’d love any excuse to bench him for a few extra weeks, instead of the couple of days he’ll need for the burn to heal enough that he can cover it securely and get back to work.

There’s a short knock on the door. Shouto starts to mentally prepare himself for another argument with a doctor when the door inches open and Kou peeks in. Surprised, Shouto waves to her. Kou smiles back, turning to motion at someone behind her. A moment later the door opens the rest of the way and Kou rushes in, followed by Dr. Midoriya.

“Dr. Midoriya and I are on a secret adventure.” Kou announces in a whisper. There’s a Uravity-themed spacesuit sticker on her cheek and she looks as if she’s recovered from the evening’s events, but her clothes have been replaced by a colorful hospital gown and fuzzy bathrobe.

Dr. Midoriya hasn’t changed his clothes, but he has a white lab coat on over top.

“Oh? What is your secret adventure?” Shouto asks. He shifts to the side and makes room for Kou to climb onto the bed besides him.

“Visiting you!” She announces, happily. “It’s a secret because I’m not supposed to leave the quirk ward, but Dr. Midoriya snuck me out. This is for you. Dr. Midoriya said you were friends!” She pulls two more stickers out of a pocket in her robe and hands them to him; a music note that says Earphone Jack and a nesting doll in Creati’s costume.

“Thank you,” Shouto says genuinely, though he has no idea what he’s going to do with the stickers. But his mind is distracted by Kou’s other words. The quirk ward? Obviously there was a reason the villains had targeted the girl, but that detail had gotten buried in the chaos of everything else. Now he’s reminded of the villain’s words…something about her being the key.

He looks up but Dr. Midoriya meets his eye with a subtle shake of his head.

Shouto lets the subject drop for now, but he’s determined to stay a part of this investigation. He’ll get his answers eventually.

Turning back to Kou, he tries a hesitant smile. “Would you still like that autograph?”

Her whole being lights up. “Really?” She reaches into the pocket of her robe again only for her face to drop. “Oh. I forgot my notebook.”

Dr. Midoriya taps her on the shoulder, holding out a small, heart-shaped notepad and a glittery gel pen.

Kou gasps, taking the items from him with excited thanks. She flips through the notebook quickly looking for a blank page, and Shouto is surprised by how many signatures she’s already amassed. Satisfied with the location, she hands the notebook and pen to him. She’s practically vibrating in excitement as he writes a quick note to her, trying to make it sound a little more personal than his usual scribbled signature.

Just as Shouto finishes his note, there’s another knock on the door. Yet another doctor steps into the room, reading through something in a folder. Her long, silver hair is draped over her shoulder in a thick braid and there’s a sharp horn coming out of her forehead. She seems faintly familiar to Shouto but he can’t place why he would recognize her. At the very least he doesn’t think he’s ever had her as a doctor before. She stops in her tracks when she sees Dr. Midoriya and Kou gathered around his hospital bed.

“Izuku!” she scolds, crossing her arms over her chest.

It takes Shouto a moment to remember Izuku is Dr. Midoriya’s first name. He glances up at him.

Dr. Midoriya leans close to Kou, covering his mouth with one hand to stage whisper to her. “I think we got caught.”

Kou copies him with a quiet giggle. “Oops.”

Shouto closes her notebook carefully and slides it across the bed. Kou covertly slips it into her robe.

“What are you even doing here?” The new doctor asks, exasperated. There’s no way she didn’t hear the two of them whispering, but she seems to be ignoring it.

“Kou just wanted to thank Entropy for saving her!” Dr. Midoriya insists, apparently choosing to take no blame in their “secret adventure.”

“Dr. Aizawa has a quirk kind of like mine,” Kou tells Shouto in a hushed voice while the two doctors argue. “She and Dr. Midoriya are really nice. And funny.”

Dr. Aizawa makes it all click. The light hair and the horn. She was the same little girl Aizawa had adopted during Shouto’s first year.

“We were just leaving, Dr. Aizawa!” Kou chimes in suddenly, sliding off the bed and grabbing Dr. Midoriya’s hand. “Bye!”

Dr. Aizawa shakes her head as Dr. Midoriya is pulled out of the room by a girl a quarter his size. “This isn’t over just because you have a patient protecting you, Izuku.”

Dr. Midoriya sends a bright smile back at her just as the door closes on the two of them.

“I hope they weren’t bothering you too much,” Dr. Aizawa says as she comes over to Shouto’s bed.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m glad I got to see her again. I was worried she’d be a little more upset after everything.”

“Kou’s a strong girl. She’s going to be okay.” Dr. Aizawa says with certainty. “Anyways, I’m Aizawa Eri, I’m part of the hero staff here.”

“Aizawa, er...Eraserhead’s daughter, right?”

Dr. Aizawa smiles and it looks so shockingly like Dr. Midoriya’s, Shouto can’t help but wonder about what their connection to each other is. Especially with how casually she spoke to him. Could they be related? It seems like he would have known if his homeroom teacher had also had or adopted a son his age, wouldn’t he? “That’s right, you were one of his students! Nice to see you again.”

Shouto bows his head in acknowledgement. He knows he met the young girl Aizawa adopted a few times, but his memories of her are fuzzy at best.

Dr. Aizawa checks him over again, asking him a few questions about how he’s feeling and what’s been done already. Finally, she gets to why she’s here to see him. “I’m not sure if you would remember, but my quirk is Rewind. It’s delicate but helpful for healing, especially for many pros. If you remember about how long ago you were burned, I should be able to heal your arm so that you can get back to work without too much fuss.”

“Really?”

Dr. Aizawa nods. “I can rewind your body back to before it happened, but it will rewind your whole body so the closer to the exact time it happened the better, otherwise too many things could change. Do you have a good idea of when it happened?”

“What time is it now?”

Dr. Aizawa glances at her watch. “Almost ten.”

Shouto is briefly surprised by that information. He hadn’t realized how long he had been in the hospital already. “I left the agency after the first alerts came in around 6:30, so it was probably around 7 that I made contact with the villain. I can’t be more exact than that, unfortunately.”

“That should work alright. Would you like to be rewound, or would you prefer to let it heal naturally?”

Shouto shakes his head. Anything to speed up the process. “No, please rewind it if you can.”

She smiles. “Okay, it will be just a moment then.”

Dr. Aizawa pulls on a pair of gloves and takes his arm in her hands, gently, mindful of the injury and the loose bandages protecting it.

A moment later the horn at her temple begins to glow, Shouto has to look away as the warm light grows brighter and then, just like that, it’s over. When he looks back at the doctor, her horn has shrunk a little, losing some of the sharp edge at the top.

“Okay! You should be good to go. How does it feel?”

Shouto moves his arm a few times, relieved that there’s no pain as he moves it. Carefully he peels off the bandages. It looks as if he was never injured, not even a small scar left behind.

Dr. Aizawa looks pleased with the results. “Perfect. Unfortunately it doesn’t work on non-living things so you will have to have your costume repaired separately.”

“That’s fine,” Shouto says. He was more worried about being forced to take some sick leave than repairing his costume to begin with. “Thank you.”

Dr. Aizawa smiles again. “Of course. I’m happy to help.” She pulls a few papers out of her folder and hands them to him. “If you are ready, you can take these to the desk out front and you’ll be discharged.”

Shouto hesitates as he takes the papers from her. An hour ago he was ready to run at the first chance, but now…she was someone who might have some answers…

“Kou mentioned that the two of you had similar quirks,”

“I’m sorry. If you become a part of the investigation I’m sure you’ll find out more information, but for now I can’t disclose a patient’s information.” Dr. Aizawa says before he can even finish figuring out exactly what he wants to ask.

“Right. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you for being curious, not after everything that’s happened.”

Dr. Aizawa looks ready to leave, but there’s one more thing Shouto has to ask. At least while he still has a chance.

“Can I ask about Dr. Midoriya, then?”

Dr. Aizawa stops with a puzzled look. “Izuku? What about him?”

Shouto's mind goes blank. Everything doesn’t seem like a plausible response. At least not one that would get him anywhere. “Uh, I…I was just surprised to hear you call him Izuku. Are you close?”

Dr. Aizawa studies him for a long time as if she could determine whatever ulterior motives he had for asking just by staring him down. Maybe she could if even he knew what he was doing asking these questions.

“I’ve known Izuku for a long time,” she finally says. “He’s like family.”

The answer is careful, guarded. With the slightest undertone of a threat.

“…Right.” Shouto replies awkwardly. “Thank you.”

Dr. Aizawa inclines her head to him. “Have a nice night, Entropy.”

After checking out with Dr. Aizawa’s discharge papers, Shouto heads back to the agency. Sunspot practically tackles him in the lobby.

“Entropy! You’re okay! I thought you were just going to check on the kidnapped civilian, but then Ingenium told me his friend was taking you to the hospital and that I had nothing to worry about so I should just go back to the agency but I didn’t know why you were going to the hospital or what was happening,” she stutters over her words for a moment, taking a breath. “Was it okay to leave? I didn’t know what else to do but I didn’t know what hospital you went to or why. Were you injured? You don’t look hurt. Is that how you damaged your costume?”

Shouto lets her run on while he goes to his office. He knows she’ll follow. And that it’s pointless to try and get a word in until she runs out of breath.

Sunspot sinks into one of his office chairs as he goes to turn his computer on. He lifts a brow at her slumped form in the armchair.

“Are you done?”

She opens her mouth to speak again but after a moment shuts it again and nods.

“The villain who took the hostage burned me. I hadn’t realized the extent of the injury until later. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you personally so that you knew it was okay to come back, but it was fine that you came back. It wasn’t serious.” Shouto explains calmly. “You said Ingenium told you to come back?” Shouto thinks back to Dr. Midoriya texting in the ambulance and he wonders if the two know each other.

Sunspot nods again. “He came and found me and told me a friend was taking you to the hospital. I assumed he meant one of the paramedics. I didn’t know he was friends with the paramedics. Was that part of U.A. training? Getting to know first-responders closely? Or just a coincidence?”

“I think it’s just a coincidence on Ingenium’s part. Not something you’re missing out on.” Shouto says. “You did good tonight. Go home and get some rest.”

“But-”

Shouto gestures to her before she can argue. “You expended a lot of your reserve helping the rescue crews with civilians trapped under the rubble and then helping me melt the ice. It’s okay.”

Sunspot looks down at herself. The faint glow she normally gives off as a result of having excess energy saved up by her quirk is almost completely extinguished. At the late hour, she wouldn’t be able to get any more energy even if they needed to go out into the field again. Not until the sun was up again.

Sunspot pushes herself out of the chair. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help tonight.” She says with a short bow.

Shouto waves her off. “It’s okay.”

“Good night, Entropy.”

“Good night, Sunspot. Good work tonight.” Shouto says. He catches just a glimpse of her relieved smile as his office door closes quietly behind her.

Alone, Shouto settles into his desk chair, already mentally preparing for a long night. He considers going against doctor’s orders and getting some coffee but just barely resists the temptation. Caffeine might end up making him too jittery to focus and this is important. Writing up a more in-depth report of the event for the police and the agency records is the first priority of the night. But after that, Shouto has some research to do.

Momo finds him like that in the morning. Sometime in the night the combination of the late hour and bright computer screen got to him and he went in search of his rarely-worn glasses to take some of the stress off. His final report and the accompanying paperwork are tucked in a folder for safe keeping, but the rest of his desk is a disaster zone of scattered pages, printed news reports of the attack last night with any information he might have missed, any police reports on the matter he could get his hands on with his current clearance, his own compiled notes.

He doesn’t even realize someone else is in the office with him until Momo clears her throat, placing a paper to-go cup of tea in the middle of his desk, on top of the latest piece he’s reading.

“Shouto,” she says seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. “ When did you last take a break?”

Shouto tries to come up with an answer but his brain is fuzzy at best, street names and potential identities floating at the forefront of his consciousness. “Uh, what time is it?”

Momo sighs, rubbing at her temple with one hand. “ Go home, Shouto.”

“I just need to-"

“No.” Momo comes around the other side of his desk, pulling him up and out of his desk chair by one arm. “It’s almost eight o'clock. You need to go home and go to bed.”

Momo might have had a point, his shift was supposed to end at six that morning and he hadn’t even noticed the time, but he digs his heels in, resisting being dragged from the office to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, Momo is stronger than she looks, and has the advantage of a full-night’s sleep on him.

“Go home. Go to sleep. Don’t come back until Saturday.”

“But-”

“You were injured! You should have called me as soon as you were taken to the hospital,” Momo scolds.

“I got better.”

Momo looks at him curiously. She comes to a stop, scanning him over. Shouto’s sure he looks a mess, still half-dressed in his damaged hero-suit, the top unzipped and tied around his waist. His hair has started to escape the braid he had it in for work and he can see the loose hair floating in his peripheral vision. Not to mention how exhausted he probably looks after spending the whole night scouring the police database. But – he’s not injured.

“What do you mean you ‘got better’? You weren’t really injured?”

Shouto sighs. “No, I was. There was a doctor at the hospital with a quirk who fixed it. Aizawa’s daughter, actually.”

Momo’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I didn’t realize she became a doctor. That’s wonderful.” She pauses. “But not the point. You still should have called someone. Though I suppose I should be grateful you went to get help, at all.”

Shouto rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well…there was a doctor on the scene when I was talking to the girl who was targeted who saw my burn.”

“A doctor?”

“Uh…Dr. Midoriya.” Shouto explains. He isn’t sure if Momo will recognize the name, not entirely sure if he wants her to remember or not.

“The professor from the lecture series?” Momo asks in surprise. “What was he doing there?”

“Apparently he’s not just a professor.”

Momo studies him for a few moments, trying to figure something out. Shouto doesn’t blame her. He’d like some answers about his behavior too. He just hopes she comes to an easy conclusion, like Shouto cooperated with Dr. Midoriya because he sort-of knew him, and not anything else ridiculous. Or revealing. Or uncomfortable.

Finally, Momo shakes her head, brushing off whatever conclusions she may have come to. “I don’t care. Go home. Sleep. Eat something. I’ll finish submitting your reports to the police and I’ll make sure they know you are interested in joining the case searching for the villains who escaped last night, but other than talking to anyone who contacts you about the case, I don’t want to hear about you working again until this weekend.”

Shouto wants to keep arguing, he’s not even hurt anymore, but he knows this is the best he’s going to get from her. He is also unbelievably grateful for all the years they’ve known each other and how Momo knows exactly what he needs to hear to relax, even just a little. “Okay. Thank you.”

Momo nods. “We’ll get whoever it is, Shouto. But you don’t have to do it alone. And you can’t do it in one night. So please take care of yourself. I’ll see you on Friday for dinner.”

Momo waves to an intern, instructing them to escort Shouto to the exit. Shouto wants to protest being babysat the rest of the way to the door, but Momo pins him with a hard look before he can even open his mouth and he lets it happen. Admittedly, now that he’s not pouring over his research to keep himself moving, he can feel exhaustion settling over him.

Though he could still find the way to the damn door himself.

Shouto stumbles into his dark apartment twenty minutes later. He leaves the lights off as he comes through the entrance. The morning sun has started to fill the front room with light, and its enough for him to make his way to the bedroom without tripping over anything. His bed is cool, the sheets still ruffled from the previous morning. Shouto just barely remembers to strip off his ruined hero-suit before he drops into the bed, using his left side to warm up the sheets quicker. In a minute, he’s asleep.

When he wakes again, warm golden light pours into the room from his half-open window. He runs a hand over his face, trying to will away the strange, disorienting feeling of waking up. He reaches to his bedside table, knocking a few things to the side until he connects with his alarm clock. Pulling it close, he squints at the lit screen. It was almost five in the afternoon. Shouto tosses the offending thing away. He takes just a few moments to reorient himself before he forces himself out of bed and into the shower.

He only remembers after stepping into the spray that half of his hair is still twisted into a braid. He swears as he tears the now-wet strands free of the stubborn rubber-band, tugging at the knots there unhappily. He doesn’t mean to stay in the shower for long, but after fighting with his hair for who knows how long, the heat and relaxing pound of the spray against his shoulders eases some of the tension from his body and he wastes time under the comforting water until it starts to run cold. The temperature change doesn’t bother him much, but he figures he’s wasted enough water like that and climbs out.

After drying off a little, Shouto brushes his teeth, and that, combined with washing off the grime of the previous day, helps make him feel a little more awake. A little more human.

Shouto dresses in casual civilian clothes. He finds his phone, dead, in a pocket of his hero-suit before tossing the ruined thing in a bag to give to the support team. They’ll probably just have to make him a new one, but he feels bad throwing it away without trying to salvage it.

His charger is plugged in near the bed, so he goes to grab it so he can charge his phone in the kitchen while he makes something to eat. But in fumbling around looking for the charger, he spots his forgotten glasses in the mess of sheets and pillows on his bed. The ear piece on the right side is bent at a strange angle and one of the lenses is cracked. Shit. Well, he supposes, that’s what he gets for wearing them for the first time in months while running on fumes. He tosses the damaged glasses on his side table and leaves for the kitchen.

Finally, he switches on a few lights.

His apartment is mostly bare, plain white walls with just a few basic pieces of furniture, mostly just there to fill the empty space. The occasional dirty glass or dish that gets left behind if he’s in a rush on his way to work are the only signs of the life in the otherwise dull place. Those, and the three picture frames hanging on the wall in his living room; one of his mother and siblings, one of his graduating class with their teachers mixed in with the colorful crowd, and one of the day he and Momo started their agency. They’re the only decoration he needs. They represent all the important people in his life.

There are a few containers of leftovers in the fridge, and while it would be easier to warm something up and leave it at that, Shouto takes the time to pull out some fresh ingredients. Washing off the vegetables and prepping them while rice cooks is a simple, familiar routine and it helps ground him.

He starts a simple stir fry with chicken just as his phone finally comes back to life, chiming with a number of missed notifications. Lowering the heat slightly, Shouto lets it simmer for a minute while he checks his phone.

A few of the notifications are basic news reports he usually dismisses, though today he saves any about last night’s attack incase there’s been any updated information. There are two texts from Momo asking if he got home safe and if he ate anything. He shoots of a quick reply to her, apologizing for not letting her know right away and reassuring her he’s making food now. He takes a picture of the pan and sends it as an after thought, just in case she doesn’t believe him. There are also a few texts from Kyouka telling him to stop worrying her wife and to stop being an idiot. He responds to those with a few choice emojis and nothing else. She’ll get the message.

Finally, he looks at the emails he missed. There’s one from an Officer Uchida he doesn’t recognize, confirming he (Momo) submitted the right paper work to join the case against the villains from the night before and once the task force has been officially formed he would be contacted with more information. Relieved, Shotuo saves the contact information and sets it as a priority so he’ll be sure to get any future notifications right away. The only other missed email is from Dr. Midoriya.

Shouto goes back to checking his food, stirring it for a few minutes and adding a few more ingredients. His attention goes back to his phone a few times, but he resists going back to it. He’s not sure why, he’s been waiting for this stupid email basically since he left the professor’s office, but suddenly he’s nervous about opening it. He’s not sure what to expect once he opens the list of the professor’s topics. What if he imagined all of this and the professor still wants him to talk about his family? What if Shouto can’t answer any of his questions about how his quirk works? Is it even a good idea for him to talk publicly about how his quirk works? Couldn’t someone use that against him?

Shouto turns his phone upside down, hiding the blinking notification.

He’ll look at it after he eats.

He finishes cooking a little while later. Scooping out a generous serving of rice into a bowl and getting a plate for the stir fry he settles in the living room. He has a perfectly good table he could eat at in the kitchen, but there’s something satisfying in breaking the rules and eating on the couch. Out in the open, casually. He hasn’t lived with his father since he was a first year, but he still takes satisfaction in all the ways he can defy him and the rules he kept in that house.

Shouto turns on the local news channel to watch while he eats. Unsurprisingly, the attack from last night is still the focus of the station. There’s a reporter discussing the widespread damage through downtown on the screen. In the background, heroes and clean up crews are still working to clear the rubble. Shouto recognizes Uravity’s bright pink costume amongst all the grey and black. She’s moving two giant pieces of concrete overhead, some kind of broken metal rods coming from one look particularly dangerous.

A scrolling banner runs across the bottom of the broadcast, asking anyone who might have information about the villains to call in to a hotline, and a separate call for anyone with quirks that might help in fixing the damage done to the roads. There are also short headlines for stories meant to air later that night and a small graphic with the weather.

The camera view changes suddenly and the report comes back into view with a police officer, answering questions about the attack.

What did they know about it? Not much yet, but they don’t think it was random.

Was anyone seriously injured? Thankfully most casualties were only minor injuries and the paramedics on scene took care of most of the civilians who were hurt.

Who were the villains? No one in particular. They don’t think this is an organized group starting attacks. Not like in the past. No one needs to worry.

All safe answers that tell them basically nothing about what happened. Shouto learned more in the two minutes he spent on the radio before pursuing the villain than the news report. He changes the channel. A talk show re-run is showing an old interview with Hawks. Shouto hesitates changing the channel again.

“So, Hawks, it’s no secret that you’ve been a fan of Endeavor’s basically since your debut, and the two of you made a good team as Number 1 and 2 for a while,” the interviewer says in a fake cheerful voice. Hawks gives a stiff smile, placating but revealing nothing about how he actually feels about the subject. “What are your thoughts on the rumors brewing about a civil trial after the allegations against Endeavor from his family?”

‘Tis the season.

Shouto clicks the TV off before Hawks can reply.

Not hungry anymore, Shouto puts his plate down. He ate most of what he had taken anyways. The rest will be fine for leftovers.

Getting up from the couch, Shouto goes back to the kitchen for his phone. The same ignored email is still waiting for him with that mocking, blinking notification light. Taking a deep breath, as if preparing for a fight, he opens it.

Entropy,

I hope you are doing better after Dr. Aizawa’s visit with you at the hospital. Sorry I couldn’t see you off. Here is the list of possible topics we discussed the other day. This is just an abbreviated list of some basic things to talk about. You can obviously go into more detail about anything that might interest you or that you think might be important information for anyone with two or dual quirks to consider.

Thank you for considering being a part of the Hero Talks Series.

Thank you, also, for your help with the attacks last night and with Kou.

Midoriya

Shouto isn’t sure what to focus on first. The dropped title from the professor’s name? Midoriya thanking him for doing his job of all things?

Making the executive decision to focus on none of them for the time being, Shouto opens the attached document with the lecture topics. Dr. Midoriya’s “abbreviated list" is still two pages long.

Somehow, it’s exactly what Shouto was expecting.

#bnha #mha #tododeku #tddk #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #tododeku big bang 2021 #fic #rita writes #6.24.21 #fic: reckless good

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years

Text

My runaways story continues. Based on characters from the Throne of Glass series. 90% of this was written tonight. 100% of this is roughly edited.

TW: Depression, mentions of addiction, grief, angst…angst

when rowan whitethorn meets a girl and memories are cruel twists of fate he slowly slowly slowly come to understand reality. Part One, Part Two, Part Three

the thing about hope

There is a farm where rows of lavender bloom. All summer long for miles on end. The purple and blue extend along in near perfect rows. He’s never understood it. Flowers. Plants. Life in general apparently. How was anything supposed to grow when it was all such a raging storm of instability and pain? How was anyone supposed to come out of life functional?

Rowan didn’t know.

He didn’t know how his mother had managed to keep acres and acres of the lavender alive and blooming. It was to the point where every summer hundreds of people would come to pick lavender themselves or buy potpourri, lavender jam, lavender honey.

It was consuming. Inspiring.

He didn’t know how she managed to keep such beauty alive but not herself.

And lately he didn’t want to.

“Check in on room 220,” someone says. A clipboard is stuffed in his chest and Rowan grunts a response.

Grateful to be pulled out of the memories, he takes the clipboard and pushes off from the desk he leans against. He doesn’t look at anything in the file. As long as it doesn’t take him back to pediatrics he doesn’t care. There are so many stickers on his scrubs he knows he’s going to have to throw them away. Dammit. These were his good ones too. He was supposed to be on the trauma surgeon’s services but instead was schlepped off to do the grunt work of the hospital.

Sighing, he meanders to the designated room and looks through the open door.

The girl is laying perfectly still. Her hair in a messy braid flung off to one side. She’s so pale that Rowan can see her veins even at a distance. Her eyes are rimmed red and blue. It seems a miracle that she is even alive.

Rowan wants to roll his eyes. It doesn’t help that another girl, nearly her same age, is stretched out partially over the foot of the bed. This one hasn’t taken care to brush her hair out of the way. A pair of too tall black heels lays on the floor and Rowan can make out a black lacy dress. Of course, a couple of girls out partying to the point that they drank too much and got alcohol poisoning.

They should have been kept in the ER and turned out this morning with the regular discharges.

Rowan’s about to walk into the room to start taking her vitals when her eyes pop open. Hazed with sleep and pain, her eyes take a moment to focus on her friend. The girl curses. Several times. And then she notices Rowan.

“What the hell’d’you want?” Her voice snaps and slurs together in a way he has never heard before.

“Glad to see you’re not dead,” he replies. He finally glances at her file. “Aelin.”

“Yeah right,” she mutters. She’s barely awake as she rolls her head from side to side and then kicks lightly at the girl lying at the foot of the bed. “Wake-up, bitch.”

The brunette gives a muffled reply but doesn’t move. It doesn’t matter though because Miss Aelin Galathynius is asleep within moments and Rowan is left in a peaceable quiet once more.

She is trying to be quiet—Aelin Galathynius. But if there is one thing Rowan has learned about her in the past twenty-four hours it is that she is incapable of it. Of being still too. Once the drugs slowly worked their way out of her system and she’d managed to stand on her own two feet without looking like damn Bambi, she hadn’t stopped. Stopped talking, stopped cursing, stop, ordering him around.

Until she threw up on his shoes.

His good shoes.

“Buzzard,” she mutters before slumping onto the floor next to her bed. The hospital gown she wears does little to cover her. Not that she cares. She hardly tries to adjust the way it rides up her thighs or dips down from a shoulder.

Rowan wonders if she’s somehow managed to sneak another hit into the hospital. But he soon realizes that one of the reasons she hasn’t managed to be still is because she is shaking too much. She is sweating too much. She’s in a withdrawal that is threatening to kill her.

So when she passes out, again, Rowan stays with the night nurse to get the vomit cleaned up, to get her hospital gown changed, to make sure she’ll make it through the night.

He was eight when his mother died.

And eight when the lavender was plowed over to make room for a new hotel.

And eight when his father started drinking.

It takes forty-eight hours for one Aelin Galathynius to be discharged from the hospital.

Rowan is once again covered in stickers from the cretin children in the pediatrics wing. For some reason he doesn’t care though. Not when one of the girls who needs a heart transplant hands him a sticker. It’s a daisy with white petals and a happy, smiling face. She tells him it’ll help him remember to smile more.

He decides he has a love hate relationship with the pediatrics wing.

While he’s down on the ground floor working on paper work that supposedly will help him find his way into an OR he caught the flurry of blonde hair. He looks up to see Aelin walking towards him in the clothes she was wearing when she was admitted. It occurs to him that she was not dressed like the girl who had been visiting her. No, Aelin Galathynius had not been dressed for a party that night. Not with the leggings that had holes along the seams, the black tank-top with bleach stains. Not with the hospital socks to protect her feet.

She’s walking though the hall with wide eyes, beautiful eyes. Even though they are still rimmed with red, the gold and turquoise is captivating. If filled with confusion.

And Rowan realizes he knows that look. He knows that look all too well.

Maybe that’s why he’s taking that silly little sticker and writing on the back of it. Maybe that’s why he gives it to her.

“Ninety days,” he tells her.

It’s a lie, but sometimes it’s better to have the start of a goal, the start of something too look to, to home for.

She tilts her head as she takes the sticker, her beautiful eyes piercing him. And then she is gone.

He tried to find another lavender farm when he was ten.

Just to be something better than what he had. Because at ten years old, his mother was dead and his father was absent. So he would walk for hours around Wendlyn. It was summer and her had no place better to be, so why not on that desperate hunt?

He never found lavender quite like his mother’s though. He did find a group of boys playing with water guns. They still had smiles on their faces. They still had shoes on their feet. Even if the shoes had holes and more tape than sole. But they were smiling and laughing. And Rowan wanted to remember how to laugh.

The girl should not be on his mind.

Aelin Galathynius.

Beautiful, shameless, powerful.

She should not be on his mind, but how can she not be? She’s made an extra trip to the hospital on another overdose. But this time was different. This time she left with shoes. With grimace. With determination burning in her eyes.

She handed him a small watch that day. Pink, Dora the Explorer. She winked and told him keep track of the days for her.

And in that moment Rowan knew he was gaining a look into who Aelin Galathynius really was.

Which was highly unfortunately because no he cannot stop thinking about her.

He cannot help but hope she is okay.

And it is strange to him--to hope. It hasn’t come easily to him. Not since his mother. Hope is intangible. It can’t be measured or felt. At least he never thought. Hope is obscure and obsolete. Something that has barely graced his life.

But when he thinks of Aelin Galathynius, he feels a bit desperate that one day he’ll turn around and see her out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t see her as the girl that vomited all over him or flipped him off while failing to stand up properly. Rather, he sees her as what he saw in her eyes that last day. That determination. That strength. And he hopes that she will always become that person.

He knows it isn’t his place to think of her like that. He shouldn’t obsess over a woman he hardly knows. And not just because it is sad and pathetic, but also because he shouldn’t even know she exists. She was just a patient in the hospital where he works. A name on a paper. A body in a room. And that should be it.

But hope, he comes to realize, is a bitch.

When his father died, Rowan thought that maybe that was how things were supposed to be. Maybe things would get better. He had Lyria, he had college coming up, he had his friends. He could see his life playing out the way it was supposed to.

It was late in the summer when they had the funeral. The only thing Rowan could afford to put on the casket was a small bundle of lavender. And Rowan believed he was betraying his mother for it.

Not long after, Rowan began his senior year of High School. Lorcan of course had been suspended so much last year that he had to repeat senior year again. Neither he or Rowan minded. It made things easier. Mostly because Fenrys and Connall insisted they could continue their yearly ritual of cleansing the school halls with silly string and glitter bombs. For one more year at least.

For Rowan, it was all that mattered. Chasing that high of life with his friends. Forgetting the man that drank himself to oblivion. Forgetting that he betrayed his mother by laying his father to rest with that small bloom of lavender.

Maybe that was why Lyria died. The universe knew that all he was good for was betrayal. So he betrayed the universe.

The first time Rowan realizes he loves Aelin is when it is raining.

Torrents of rain are coming down and he can hardly see in front of him. As if that’s not the worst thing of the night, Aelin won’t unlock the car. Probably because she’s mad at him. Again. For something he doesn’t even know about. It shouldn’t matter. They’re barely friends anymore.

Not after she kissed him.

Not after he left.

Not after he forgot to text. To call.

She says she doesn’t blame him. They’ve been busy. He finally got time in a surgery to hold a scalpel and make a few stitches. She finally got a pay raise and has a new skirt to prove it. They’ve been busy and that has been perfectly alright.

Until tonight. Until he was so close to breaking because damn the fools who can’t drive. And damn the fools who don’t use their seatbelts. Who think that one drink never hurt anyone. Damn the fools who don’t answer their phones.

“I can’t find the keys!” she yells over the rain. She’s digging in her purse, her blonde hair utterly soaked.

“Are you serious?” he shouts back. Unable to help it, he tosses his hands in the air. “Hell Aelin.”

“Screw you,” she says.

He almost doesn’t hear it because the rain is pattering against the car, the sidewalk. It’s a rush of noise that assaults his ears in a constant whir. Scowling, Rowan goes to Aelin’s side. She must be missing something, not seeing properly.

As soon as his shift ended, he’d come racing to her apartment, praying, hoping, she hadn’t gotten tied up in an accident. Only to find that she was talking to some guy--a really attractive one with dark hair and golden eyes. The kind of guy she should be with. The kind of guy not tatted up with a drunken alcoholic history. The kind of guy who isn’t him.

Rowan just barely grabs her arm when she yanks out the keys with a triumphant laugh only to have him jostle her enough for the keys to go flying over her head.

“Dammit, Rowan!”

“Dammit, Aelin!”

They are screaming at nothing. At everything. To the rain that slips down the planes of their faces and deep into their bones.

And then Aelin is laughing. She’s tossing her head back and clutching her wet hair and is laughing. It’s the kind of laugh that can carry over the rain. It hits Rowan suddenly as he stars at her sopping wet form. Nothing can affect her anymore. She is her own.

And he loves her for it. She got her all on her own, he realizes. He might have been in the background, but he’s not the one who got her the apartment or the new job. He’s not the one who drags her out of bed so she can get to work on time or even get in the shower. No. She’s done it all herself. And he loves her for it.

So while she’s laughing like she’ll never stop he’s coming forward. His hand are cupping her face before he even realizes what he’s doing and he kisses her.

Mouths slick with rain and bodies chill with it too--they come together slowly at first. And then all at once Aelin is moving against him, her hands around his neck. She pulls him tighter against him as though he might disappear.

Rowan wants to tell her he’s not going anywhere but that would require him taking his lips from hers and that is not going to happen. Not now. Not for a long time.

At least he thought so.

Until a clap of thunder echoes overhead. Until he realizes how cold her fingers are on his skin. Until the slip of lightning comes and lights up the shock in her eyes.

And he pulls away until he can rest his forehead against hers. With a sigh, he runs his hands down her cheeks, her neck, until they settle on her waist where he lets his fingers dig into her sides.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers. He has to close his eyes from the sight of rain drops falling from his lips and the desire he has to capture them with his own. Deliberately, he steps away from her and runs a hand over his face.

She stares at him still, head cocking to one side. “That’s it?”

“That’s all it can ever be, can’t it?” he replies.

Even though he’s finally begun to hope again. Even though he’s finally started to see something else in his future. Even though she is the reason he can roll out of bed in the mornings. He knows she deserves better than him.

He should have remembered that hope is a bitch.

thanks for reading my dears!

Tags: @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire @aelinchocolatelover @cicadabones @esco--s

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass au #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #runaways fanfic #the fanfic no one asked for continues #the fanfic no one asked for #queen of shadows #kingdom of ash #modern au #runaways

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itsdangeroustorunaboutinthedark · 3 years

Text

19, 20

18 hours~

18 hours ive just slept. dont know how much i slept yesterday. the day before that slept 3 different times, 2-3 hours each. it felt like 4 days went by in that one day, not just because of the sleep patterns. that morning i woke up, or i was woken up, with an already shit feeling that was just about to get worse. i realized, if todays events were to go as planned, id probably kill myself. there was a plethora of reasons for that, going so far back it's almost laughable. a large component to ensuring i would carry it out, was that id be alone for the next few days. it felt, feels? extremely pathetic, even though the being alone in itself had no part in the reasons building up to such major suicidalness. suicidality? whatever. the conditions surrounding that being alone were some reasons; the being alone itself was just the perfect setting to allow it. but i couldnt say that. i couldnt say, in this situation specifically, that if i was left alone id probably kill myself. it'd be manipulative, would it.. though maybe what i ended up doing was no different. "i think im going to admit myself to the psych ward" was essentially what i ended up saying. i was met with so much support, it felt worse in a way. not as in worse than if id been met with anything else, just, worse than i had felt before. i felt guilty. i felt selfish. it felt like i was saying whatever just to get my way. even though all "my way" was, was to live, and to hopefully not leave the animals unattended in the process. foremost the animals, really. after having been shown awkward support, albeit shocking in a good? way, i regretted saying anything. or maybe i didnt, maybe those feelings didnt come til later. either way, the guilt was, still is, all-consuming. making calls to inpatient services piled on the guilt even more. i shouldnt be wasting these peoples time, there are surely those worse, ill be fine now, probably. the same feelings of guilt towards the person i admitted this to, and to the admissions people at the looney bin, grew even more while at the crisis center the next day. there were cases, serious cases, serious-er cases, being discussed by the staff. severe drug addict, has uncontrollable seizures, huge gaps in memory, is in and out of the hospital, only 21. someone came in with a fucked up leg, brought in by someone else. another came in with 5 bags packed, as if this was a usual visit, prepared to stay for a long while. another person, also accompanied, came in, just as quiet as i was. i knew not to compare. i knew everyone goes through things differently, presents differently, and presentation alone hasnt a sole explanation on whats actually going on with a person. and it wasnt these exterior comparisons that lead to the guilt, but that i was no longer feeling the unbearable despair and violent willingness to go through with what i had planned the day before. i didnt feel good, i didnt feel okay, i felt numb. but numb is better than That, numb is no reason to take up the time of people who are busy trying to help people with worse problems. they were kind, and seemingly all too knowing, and they sent me home with a couple phone appointments. i didnt know how to feel about it or what to think, the only prominent feeling still being guilt, somehow residing along nothingness. perhaps emptiness would be a better word. i was so confused about what to feel and think and so overwhelmed with guilt, that for a short while after any time i tried to speak about it, my mind would go blank and i sounded like a malfunctioning printer trying to get words out. now its the day after, technically two days after, and i still feel nothing. or i feel empty. or i feel numb. the words i was told when i first spoke of my plans to admit myself, and in turn some of the feelings/reasons that led to that, still ring in my ears; "it often looks you're doing better, but i think you're just distracting yourself." im still not sure whether thats entirely true, but it is at least partly, and its distinctly how i decided to live at the ripe-old age of 12 or 13, when i was in a different, arguably worse and far more hopeless set of circumstances. i remember it now n again, and every once in awhile i come across the note i wrote to myself at the time as a reminder, it saying only "distract yourself". its been 7 or so years since. so much has changed, i have far more ability to make further changes by myself than ever before. a week before all of this happened, i was determined and taking the first steps to make what would probably be the largest change of my life so far. and all it took to take me from that to the pits of despair was several ever-smouldering struggles and a couple of current happening-problems. and now i dont know what to do. im mostly numb, maybe a slight bit anxious, and i dont know what to do next. im going to have to face everyone about what's going on, and I don't know what to tell them. and I'll once again feel guilt, because I don't know how i feel or what to say, because i didn't go through with the attempt, because ive wasted people's time over this. because i knew as soon as i wasnt going to be alone, the main excuse to kill myself was gone, and i couldn't admit that to the person who was leaving, the same person who contributed to so many of the events that brought upon the feelings that lead up to this point. that lead up to it this time, that lead up to it several times before. i told work i had been admitted earlier than i actually had been because i didnt want to let them know very last minute, and they were so kind about it; and then i was discharged within an hour. i dont want to go anymore. i dont know if i should. i can think of 100 reasons why i shouldnt, maybe only a few convincing reasons why i should. i look at my ongoing suicidal ideation, and since now that it's met with indifference to the actions and potential outcomes rather than turbulence, i shrug it off. i think, i think thats what im supposed to do.

and all of this sounds like self pity, self loathing, utter dejection, such things that i hold such disdain for and cant handle in other people anymore. its irritating, its pathetic, all i need to do to improve is take a step, a step in literally any direction. and eventually, i will, maybe. if i make it to that point. but right now, i dont know. im not sure any of this is true. im not sure of anything, period. and thats a lie. and its not. ah

#wuahjkhsdf yea #tw suicide #hi i just had to edit this bc i spelt suicide as suidice #hjelp girl my shjip #there is no real point or moral to this btw #idk #gnya

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msjr0119 · 5 years

Text

What took you so long?

Part 8- Discharged

Liam had been assassinated, Drake had left Cordonia before this. He had heard from Savannah about his friend- he felt guilty not returning. Someone had blackmailed him to not return, with only his sister knowing the truth. Leo had taken over the throne in place of his brother due to there being no heir....

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

{Drake x Riley}

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012

******

Between Drake and the others they had tried to comfort Riley over the last few days. She was still confused with what was reality and what wasn’t. Maxwell tried to trigger her memory by showing her different social media sites - pictures of them all together. With no avail, the staff had warned everyone to be patient and eventually her memory could return. When there was no visitors- Riley emotions that she had held in burst.

Riley was due to be discharged, the friends not knowing where was best for her to stay in her state- had come to an undecided decision. The press were still camping outside the palace and Valtoria. If she wasn’t there, the press would automically go to Ramsford as she was an honorary Beaumont. The last option- Drakes cabin.

“She won’t want to go to my cabin. She’s still confused. At times I feel like she doesn’t know what she wants between us. Yes she has been saying ‘love you’ to me, but is that because we’ve all drilled into her confused mind that we were an item? Maybe she’s just saying it because she feels she hasn’t got a choice.”

“When we get to the hospital I’ll talk with her. After all, I’ve been through a lot with her. I flew back to New York with her that time.”

“That is probably a good idea Drake, let Liv try and talk to her.”

Drake nodded silently at Liam and Olivia. He still regretted not being there that night when she was shot. She had already been through enough shit, and he wasn’t there to protect her. And now all the pain she was feeling, not feeling herself - he wished he could take it all away.

The friends all gathered outside the palace- ready to visit Riley. All ready to support her with anything that she needed.

****

Riley impatiently tried to get out of bed on her own. She was due to have physio, but her stubbornness wanted to prove she could do it on her own. Swinging her legs over, she managed to stand up. Taking one step forward she was pleased with herself. Suddenly feeling slightly dizzy, she held onto the bed for dear life. The room was spinning- until two strong arms supported her. Relieved that someone was there for her- she turned around, her jaw become agape.

“What are you doing here?”

The man softly smiled at her- admiring what a beautiful young woman she had grown up to be.

“You are my granddaughter Riley. Of course I’m going to be here. I’m the only family you have left.”

“You Sir, will never be my family. You left my Gran and father. All for what? To become mayor. To mess about. Abandoning your family. I’d like it if you left me alone please, I’m doing just fine.”

“You are still my blood. We all make mistakes Ri. I’m here now, to help. The Queen Mother informed me. Why you would reject a kings proposal is beyond me. You could have been Queen!”

“I’m not power hungry like you are!”

Before Riley’s grandfather could respond her physio turned up- saved by the bell.

The physio held onto her and suggested that her grandfather supported her other side much to Riley’s annoyance. Walking through the corridor, she heard familiar voices in front of them. Her friends exchanged confused faces towards the mystery man- all wondering why he had returned.

“Guys this is my arsehole grandfather. Liam can you please inform Regina to not invite parasites to my bedside in future.”

“Er.... Riley.... we knew he was here. He was here when you was .... you know... asleep.... Drake told him to leave but he wouldn’t. Then he and Regina got talking about how you and Liam should have been married...” Maxwell couldn’t lie to his sister. Knowing that look she provided he knew they were all going to be picked out one by one and buried.

“Great another thing that I dreamt up... I must have overheard that conversation subconsciously. Where’s Drake?”

“I’m so sorry Riley. And he’s just gone to the shop. He will be here soon. Let’s sit you back down.” Olivia said softly, whilst giving Riley’s grandfather dirty looks.

*****

The friends all sat in an awkward silence- they had heard prior about Riley’s relationship with her grandfather. They were all annoyed at the man who could abandon his family. They heard the knock on the door, knowing it was Drake and decided to give them a bit of alone time.

“Hey Brooks.”

“Hey.” She sounded defeated.

“What’s up?”

“Oh you know, I’ve imagined half my life. My grandfather has rocked up. I just wish I didn’t come here in the first place.”

“I knew you’d be pissed seeing him- I told him to leave. But at the time the others didn’t want me to cause trouble whilst you was asleep. I’m so sorry. I’m glad you came- I know I was a jerk about it at first but I was happy to meet someone who finally understood me and loved me back.”

“How could you love me? My life is just one big fuck up. I aborted the heir of this country.”

“How can I not love you. We all love you. I wanted you to keep the baby. I know it wasn’t mine, but between us all it would have been loved. Liam wouldn’t have taken it off you because we were together.” Riley remained silent, as tears formed in her eyes. She hated the woman she had become, she was now unrecognisable.

“I love you Riley, I’m going to look after you. You mean the world to me and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”

*****

The SUV pulled up outside a log cabin. Drakes log cabin. Riley wondered why they were there instead of the palace. Olivia had wanted to be the one to talk about sleeping arrangements with her but she never got the chance to.

“We all agreed, for you to stay here. The press are still stalking the palace and Valtoria. They don’t know about this place. I’ve set your room up.”

Riley nodded and remained silent again. Taking a deep breath as he opened the opened the door, he hoped she would be okay.

“It’s just how I imagined. In my dream we came here- I placed Liam Jr on the couch, you wrapped him up in blankets. You looked after him for me, he called you uncle grumpy. We had sex on the table. Funny really isn’t it.”

Drake held her tight, when she found out she was pregnant he had made a crib in the spare room. He didn’t want to show her as he was unsure what her intentions were regarding the pregnancy.

“Funny? I wouldn’t say that. Erm when you was pregnant I made a crib as a present to you and King Liam. It’s still here. It’ll stay there until someone has a baby- that craftsmanship won’t go to waste. Shit. Sorry I shouldn’t have told you. I just didn’t want you walking in and seeing it without an explanation.”

“Can I see it?”

Drake looked at her confused. He gulped, and led her into the spare room. She ran her fingers along it, admiring all the detail and work he had put into it.

“It’s amazing Drake. You really are talented.”

“Heh... with things like this I am. Your room is next door. I’ll let you get settled in. You’re probably tired.”

“Where are you staying?”

“On the couch.”

“Why? Why not just stay with me?”

“Riley. You need time to adjust. You’ve been in hospital.”

“Please Drake. Stay with me. If we were together I want you with me. I need to feel loved.”

“You are loved beyond words.”

“Take me to bed then.”

Drake crashed his lips on to hers, not wanting to rush things but she was too damn irresistible. She worked at his trousers which were tightening at every touch, he needed to resist her. Seeing the scar from the shot wound he kissed it tenderly, hoping to take any pain away. Falling into the bed, he laid beside her, holding her tight.

“Drake... I want you.”

“I can’t Brooks, no matter how much I love you, I can’t have sex with you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Shit she’s angry.

“Because, I haven’t got any protection.”

“If you loved me, we wouldn’t need to use it.”

“Riley, NO! I can’t promise that I’d pull out in time- whenever I’m close to you I lose myself in you. And I’m not risking it. Not in your state of mind.”

“Fine. Night.” She rolled over, her body became tense.

“Riley please. Don’t be mad with me.” Trying to hug her, she brushed him away. Turning to face the other way, he was hoping her attitude would become more positive in the morning.

Riley thought back to the first time they had slept together in Vegas. She was sure they didn’t use protection then, but then again they were all intoxicated. Her eyes felt heavy and she eventually fell asleep.

***

Waking up the next morning, Drake wasn’t next to her. Shooting out of bed she wondered if he had left her in a strop. She didn’t want to argue with him. Walking into the kitchen, she saw him stood at the table in just his boxers. Smelling the pancake aroma that was spreading throughout the kitchen - I should have known.

“Morning beautiful.”

She ran upto him catching him off guard, kissing him.

“I’m sorry for last night. I was a bitch.”

“Heh, it’s fine. Here have some proper American food. I went to the shop before- there’s something in the bag.”

Riley opened the bag- condoms. Laughing at how he wanted to please her.

“How about neglecting the breakfast for now Walker?”

*****

Four weeks had gone by. The friends had visited Riley and Drake every so often. Even Riley’s grandfather visited, Riley updated him on her life and he did the same. She didn’t want him to leave without clearing the air. He was her only biological family that was left. Liam had made a statement regarding the attacks at the homecoming ball- the press had finally backed off. And Anton remained behind bars.

Riley had a check up appointment at the hospital. Drake was waiting for her outside, lost in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Nothing. Are you ready?” Drake held her hands contently. He had stuck to his promise about looking after her.

“Of course.” Riley kissed him on the lips, before sitting in the passenger seat.

*****

At the hospital, the doctor checked out Riley’s scar and was pleased with the healing.

“There’s something I would also like to discuss with you before you leave. When you were discharged, we had completed a blood test. After reviewing the results, it showed that you are pregnant Duchess Riley.”

“What?”

“We would like to do a scan. Just to confirm that these results are accurate.”

“I can’t be pregnant. I was shot. I was asleep. I’ve only slept with Drake and he went to the shop to buy condoms. We’ve been careful.”

“Ri... erm...” Drake’s mind finally clicked on, he didn’t know how to tell her? How she would react?

“What Drake?” She snapped, before apologising to the Doctor for her sudden outburst.

“The night you got shot. We snuck off to your room and.... we had unprotected sex... I walked you back to the ballroom, leaving you with Liam and Maxwell. Then I went back to my room to get something...”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #hanalee #olivia nevrakis #bertrand beaumont #liam rhys #riley x drake #trr whattookyousolong

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chameleon-of-the-fandom · 5 years

Text

Unconditional Love Comes From Family: Chapter One

Words: 3398

Summary: When the reader comes home from war, you doesn't exactly go to Chicago. Instead, and thanks to a friend of yours, you end up in San Antonio, TX. Your brothers decide to pay a visit.

In the last four years, you had completed two tours- the first was a year and a half, while the second sent you to the Middle East for two years. What royally sucked was the six months in between. You had just gotten adjusted to civilian life again when they called you back for the second. I was naïve about war, you thought to yourself as you waited on the tarmac for Dr. Drew Alister. Drew was a friend you met while serving your second tour. He was an Army medic as well, and had convinced SAMH to hire you on, as you needed an actual job now that you had received a medical discharge from the Army. The medical discharge was received while you had been in Iraq. A second IED had blown up while you were tending to the initial IED blast victims, and the second blast ripped the bottom half your left leg off. Drew was coming to pick you up, so he could show you around San Antonio and help you figure your way around the city a bit. You didn't know how to tell your brothers, Jay and Will Halstead, that their baby sister, who left in perfect condition- though slightly annoyed that they were pissed off about your enlistment- was coming back in more than one piece. So, in an effort to avoid that conversation, you had talked to Drew about working at San Antonio Memorial with him. Barely any convincing had to be done on his part, as the hospital board was exceptional about hiring veteran, or active duty, doctors. They had been desperate for an ER trauma doctor after Scott left that department to help head the cardiac department. You were shocked back to reality when a hand touched your shoulder. You saw Drew had a smirk on his face.

"Earth to (Y/N)."

"Sorry." You smiled sheepishly. "Hey, Drew."

"Hey. How was the flight?"

"Not too bad. For an Army flight, anyway."

"Good. How's the leg?" Drew was the person you confided in about your leg, and he was your emergency contact. You had pulled your brothers off shortly before the accident.

"Not too bad. Finally adjusted to the prosthetic. Still feels weird though, to know that I am walking on two legs, only one of which is my flesh and blood."

"Yeah, Rick had the same struggle. But he loves his new line of work." Rick had only started working for SWAT for about a month now. You had heard that Rick had struggled after the accident that caused Rick to become an amputee, and you had the crap fortune to have to go through the same struggle, only there wasn't anyone who denied loving you until just before surgery. Drew had confided in you about the fear that Rick wouldn't make it through surgery.

"I am so happy. I just hope I continue to have his luck." You winked at Drew, and he knew you were being a smartass.

"This is gonna be interesting." Drew had a baby smile on his face when he muttered that.

When you finally arrived at your new house after spending the day with Drew, you were exhausted, so you double-checked your alarm on your phone. It was set, so you showered, and went to bed.

You were standing as close to the entrance to the hospital as you could. The call for all emergency medics had gone out ten minutes ago. There had been an IED explosion, and natives injured in the blast, not just fellow soldiers. When the Humvee finally got to the hospital, you were the first one out the door. You had a love-hate relationship with moments like these. You hated that people had been injured, but there was a certain rush of adrenaline that came with these parts of the day.

When you finally arrived on scene, there was blood everywhere, not to mention the metal from the vehicle that had triggered the IED. You took in the scene before you for a moment, before rushing into the fray. The first two bodies you approached were just that, bodies. The third was still alive, but his guts were exposed to the outside world due to a huge cut across his abdomen. You acquired the plastic wrap that sat in your go-bag for situations like this and wrapped it around the exposed organs. You waved down a couple of people who were transporting victims, and informed them of the status of this patient. Once you finished, you left and ran to the next victim. This was one you would never forget. It was the body of a young boy. The dull and lifeless look in his eye shook you to your core. But you had almost no time to focus on him, because you heard a familiar click. Your head darted up to meet the eyes of someone else, who'd been sentenced to death with that click.

"Don't move!" You screamed, only the person didn't quite listen to you. You knew what was coming and waited in terror as they lifted their leg.

You woke up on the floor wrapped in your sheets and covered in sweat. You looked at your phone. There was still twenty minutes before your alarm was supposed to go off, so you dismissed the alarm and got ready for the day, as you first night shift at SAMH was in a few hours. You were kind of excited to have the ability to practice medicine again, and not the be the patient. Besides, tonight you gonna be meeting new coworkers.

When you finally arrived at San Antonio Memorial, the first place you went to visit was the office of one Michael Ragosa, seeing as he would be introducing you as the new head of the Emergency Department. You wondered, not for the first time since leaving overseas, just how many people your accepting the position would frustrate and anger because they wanted your job. The one hope you had for the job regarding coworkers was you wanted most of them if not all, to trust you. And, of course, you knew that would take time, but you didn't want to be working with people who didn't trust you, as you had dealt with that plenty. You knocked on the door.

"Come in." declared the person inside. You walked in.

"Hello, my name is Dr. (Y/N) Halstead, and I was hoping to speak with a Mr. Ragosa?" You confirmed.

"Just Michael is fine. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Halstead." He had been ecstatic that he didn't have to risk putting TC in as the ED head.

"Okay, if you insist that I call you Michael, then I insist you call me (Y/N)." You smiled.

"Wonderful. Now that those introductions are out of the way, I wanted to let you know, that if you need anything, you let me know, okay?

"Of course."

"Now, shall we get the biggest introduction over with, then?" He clapped his hands, and your nerves made an appearance in your stomach.

After following Michael down to the ER, you both continued over to the nurses' station.

"Everyone!" Michael yelled, attempting to gather everyone's attention over the usual hustle and bustle.

"Hey!" He finally succeeded. "Meet your new head of the Emergency Department," you stepped up beside him, "this is Dr. (Y/N) Halstead. Make her feel welcome, please. And TC, can I speak to you and her for a moment?" TC nodded, but you saw the suspicion in his eyes, and Drew's grin nearly split his face.

Pulling you both to the side, Michael began, "(Y/N), this is Dr. Callahan, or TC to most of us around here."

"Pleasure to meet you Dr. Callahan." You smiled gently.

"Same to you, Dr. Halstead."

"Please, just (Y/N), at least when we're not around patients."

"Then you can call me TC."

"Anyway," Michael butted back in, "I was hoping TC would be willing to show you around." TC nodded in response to the unspoken question.

TC started the tour in the locker room while trying to figure out why your name sounded familiar. "This is where you'll change into scrubs, and keep any food you don't get here, which contrary to popular belief isn't actually that terrible. Just have to know what to get."

"I've found that to be true for most hospitals." You stated.

"Hop-a-long doctor, then?" He raised his eyebrows. Hop-a-long doctors never stayed at one hospital for too long, so TC was surprised SAMH had hired one.

"No, patient, actually." TC was confused. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with you, physically, anyway.

"Huh?" He stopped walking to face you, and you explained, showing him your prosthetic.

"I was on my second tour, and an IED blew up. It tore the bottom part of my leg off. Finally finished with most of the doctor's visits, and rehab. Thank goodness."

"Oh, you just don't walk like an amputee." He stated.

You smirked, "Does Rick?"

"Point taken." He turned to finish the tour.

Three hours later, and TC had finally finished your tour. "So, what do you think of our home?"

"Protective of it much, Callahan?" you asked, sarcasm dripping in your tone. It hit him like a rock being thrown full force into his chest.

"Halstead?"

"Yeah?" You furrowed your brows in confusion. Hadn't you cleared this up earlier?

"As in, your brother is Detective Halstead? From Chicago?"

"How the hell do you know Jay?" Shock rippled through you.

"I'm a former Army Ranger. Served a glancing tour with him. Good man, good soldier."

"No shit. Wow. I never thought I'd meet another him."

"How's he doing?"

"… Uh, h-he's doing well." you replied with hesitancy.

"Okay? Anyway, shift has started, so if you need anything, you let me know, and we'll get it figured out." He shifted the subject, reading your body language. Maybe he could talk to Drew about it later.

"Thanks for the grand tour, TC. Hey, before you go, would you mind giving me your basic read on the people on this shift? Who do I need to keep an eye on? And who is good at their job?" You asked, hoping he'd help you out.

After shift, TC was mulling over what he'd learned earlier. He couldn't believe that he'd met you and your brother in different parts of the world. He wondered if the number he had in his phone for your brother was still good; he also wondered if your brother knew you were down here. TC was determined to find out, so once he was back into his regular clothes, TC snagged his phone from his locker and went into his contacts. Once he found Jay's number, he dialed. Ring, Ring.

"This is Detective Halstead." came from the phone.

"Jay Halstead?" TC wanted confirmation before giving out information.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Sorry, this is TC Callahan. We served in the Rangers together?" TC attempted to jog the man's memory, in case Jay had forgotten TC.

"Wow. I didn't think you'd actually ever use this number, man. How are you?"

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"No worries." A slight chuckle accompanied the words across the phone line.

"I've been pretty good."

"Good."

"Jay, you never mentioned a sister. You spoke about your brother, but never your sister." Confusion laced TC's tone.

"I never mentioned her because I always knew Will could handle himself, but she's my little sister, I just wanted to protect her. If she was never mentioned, then people wouldn't know she existed, and she couldn't be used as leverage against myself. How do you know about her?"

"I found out when she became my boss."

"Don't you work in San Antonio?"

"Yeah, why?" TC's initial question had been answered, but slowly, more questions than answers were building in this conversation.

"My sister can't be your boss, she's overseas. She's an Army medic. (Y/N) would've told me she was back."

"(Y/N) is the new head of our ER. She started last shift. I gave her the tour. Trust me, she's here. Is there any reason she wouldn't have told you?"

"Not that I can think of. I'm glad someone knows where she is."

"Me too. If you want, Ranger to Ranger, I can keep an eye on her for you."

"That'd be much appreciated, man. I have to go as there is a certain person I need to call. Talk soon, TC?"

"Of course. Have fun with your little conversation." TC smiled as the phone beeped to signal the end of the call and tucked it in his pocket.

ZZZT, ZZZT, ZZZZT. (Y/N)'s phone buzzed on the table next to her. She looked over at it and saw her brother's face on the screen. She answered. "Hey, what's up, bro?"

"Don't you 'What's up, bro' me, little sis. Why didn't you tell us you were stateside? Why didn't you call us to tell us you were home?"

"Woah, wait a minute, how'd you find out?" Accusation soaked your voice.

"I have my sources, but that doesn't answer the question."

You sighed in defeat, "I didn't tell you, " you voice dropped, and Jay didn't hear your answer, "because I was ashamed."

"What? Try again, and loud enough for me to hear." "Fine. I didn't tell you because I was ashamed." You punctuated your words.

"Why, (Y/N)? Why are you ashamed?"

Sadness now clung to your voice like a flower to the last ray of sun before the clouds. "I didn't come home in one piece like you, Jay. I didn't come home and deal with just PTSD. I had millions of doctor's appointments, and you'd only see me as weak if I'd come home that way. I couldn't bear the thought of my brothers seeing me like that, so instead, I called a friend of mine, and he helped me get a job down here in San Antonio. And I'm sorry, but I'm not coming back."

Jay audibly sucked in a breath, "Hey, no worries, Chicago's not for everyone." Then something you said hit him, "What did you mean you weren't just dealing with PTSD?" Curiosity rang in his tone. "(Y/N)? What did you mean?" He asked again when you didn't respond.

Huh, so he did catch that. You thought if you skated over it, he wouldn't have caught it, but the man wouldn't have made detective if he missed the little things. "Do we have to talk about it?" You tried.

"Yes, (Y/N), we do. You can't just say something like that, and not expect my big sibling protect baby sibling instinct to come out."

"Fine, I lost part of my leg." Suddenly, it was out there, and you slightly panicked. What if he didn't want to deal with you and your flaws anymore? What if this was where he drew the line because he didn't want to admit to being related to someone who wasn't all there, physically? Jay's voice drew you out, "leg?" You caught the end of his sentence. "What? Sorry. Got a little lost there."

Jay chuckled darkly, he'd been where you were at, maybe not physically, but mentally, hell yeah. "No worries, little sis. I get it. I just asked how much is part of your leg?"

"U-um." You stalled. You didn't want to answer, if only because you lied.

"(Y/N)." Jay's voice grew stern.

"Dammit, big brother." You rolled your eyes as if Jay could see the annoyance on your face. "I lost… all of it." You voice quieted with the admission. Now the ball was in Jay's court. He could love you or he could disown you. You knew which you wanted, and you hoped fate would roll your way. Thankfully, today it did.

"Shit, I'm sorry, little sis."

"Don't be. I knew the risks when I enlisted. I love you, Jay."

"I love you too, (Y/N/N), I love you too. Now, tell me about your new job and your friend." You laughed, relief flooding your system.

Jay was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. He needed to call Will, but he didn't want to tell him that they had failed to protect you. But he was afraid that Will would blame him, even though it was your choice to enlist. He didn't want to face that. He finally drew his head out of his hands when he heard someone approach him. Antonio sat on his desk, so Jay scooted back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. "What's up, man?" Jay asked.

"Not much. What's seems to be the issue with you?"

"My sister is back." Antonio whistled in sympathy. He was one of the few people who knew about you in the unit.

"When did she get back?"

"Apparently, long enough to get a job, and go to the doctor." Antonio's eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you mean go to the doctor?"

"Sh-ahum,” he cleared his throat, “she lost her leg?" Jay still couldn't believe it.

"What? What do you mean?" Horror rang in Antonio's voice.

"I don't know, all she said was she lost her leg." Understanding lit up Antonio's eyes.

"Ah. And she didn't want to come home to her big brothers who are protective and tell them she was no longer a whole person." Out of everyone in the office, Antonio had always best understood how you thought, due to Gabby.

"Wait a minute, huh?" Confusion soaked his voice.

"You and Will are notoriously protective, even over people who aren't related to you. She is already dealing with having to figure out how to live without a leg, and she was probably afraid that telling you that happened would change your relationship. I'll bet she didn't want that to change. For her, it probably seems like the rug has been yanked out from under her, and the only thing stopping her from falling is you and Will. She thinks that if you don't know, your relationship with her wouldn't change." Jay opened his mouth to protest, "It would though, Jay. You and Will would baby her, and she doesn’t want that anymore. She needs something to stay the same. Is she dealing with PTSD too?"

Jay nodded. "Yeah, and thanks for telling me all that. I'm not sure I would've thought about it that way."

Antonio smirked, "Invite her up here, though. We want to see her."

"I will. Thanks, man."

"No problem, good luck with Will." Jay still wasn't looking forward to that, but there wasn't an excuse to put it off anymore.

Will had just sat down at a table in the cafeteria when his phone began buzzing. "This is Dr. Halstead."

"Hey Will. It's Jay."

"Jay? Is everything alright?" Jay usually just texted him, so something must've been wrong.

"Yeah. It's all good. Have you spoken to (Y/N) recently?"

"No, I figured she was busy with soldier-y stuff."

"Soldier-y? What world did you yank that from? Never mind, I don't want to know. She's back. Apparently, she's been back for a while."

"Really? Where's she at, then? Where has she been staying? Because, I know she hasn't been back to her old place. It finally sold." He was referring to the home you put up for sale just before the accident.

"Apparently, San Antonio."

"Texas? Why the hell would she choose Texas instead of here?" Jay repeated what Antonio had told him.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Me too, man, me too."

"So, she's okay then, at least for the most part?"

"Yeah, she's okay, Will." Will sighed in relief. He was hurt that you hadn't allowed him and Jay to help with your recovery, but he did sort of understand it. Sometimes he wondered maybe if Jay hadn't come straight home, if he'd have dealt with the PTSD better. That if maybe Jay had done what you did, he'd never tried what he did. After a moment of thinking, an idea came to Will.

"Jay, can you get some time off, soon? Like maybe in a couple weeks, just take a vacation?" Jay's suspicion was felt through the phone,

"Not to hang out. But what if we visited (Y/N) for like two weeks?"

"Yeah, let's do that." They argued about the dates for a bit, before they finally found a good date for both of them, and they hung up.

#Chicago PD #Chicago Med #The Night Shift #Jay Halstead Imagine #Will Halstead Imagine #TC Callahan #Drew Alister #Reader

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greysfanpage388 · 6 years

Text

Elevator Hug part 3 ( repost)

As requested by @ameliashepherdgoeshunting :)

Parts 1 and 2 can be found here:

Part 1 :

http://greysfanpage388.tumblr.com/post/172963018076/elevator-hug-repost

Part 2 :

http://greysfanpage388.tumblr.com/post/172963240926/elevator-hug-part-2-repost

Hey guys, this is a continuation of ‘Elevator Hug parts 1 and 2, but this can also be read separately as a oneshot. Enjoy! ;)

This is based on on the promo and synopsis of 13x23, about Owen receiving some life changing news and Amelia being there to support him. This is also based on a prompt I received, with some modifications made.

Prompt : You're an amazing writer! Do you think you'd be interested in writing a fanfic based off the synopsis for ep 13x23 where "Amelia supports Owen." She hears from another doctor that some bodies were found(including Megan's) and has a bad feeling & runs thru the hospital and eventually finds Owen in an on call room and she holds and talks to him?

P.s I know in the show and based on the promo Amelia hasn’t returned back home and Owen would go to Meredith’s to probably meet her. But for the sake of my ‘Elevator Hug’ series- Amelia is already back home in this fic. However the main point remains- it’s Amelia’s time to support Owen :)

P.p.s In this fic, Amelia finds Owen at home, not in an on call room

p.p.p.s New note: I know on the show Megan didn’t die. This was written before we found out that Megan was still alive :p

It had been a very busy day so far for Owen Hunt. There was an influx of patients in the ER due to a huge pile up involving a bus, a van and several cars. He and April Kepner had been kept occupied.

It didn’t dampen his spirits though. It had been 2 weeks since his wife, Amelia Shepherd had returned home, and almost 2 weeks since he had the first glimpse of their baby. All was well in the world again.

He was humming to himself, discharging a patient who was under observation for a syncopal attack when he heard his name being called.

‘ Hunt.’ April approached him. ‘ I’m attending to the patient in bed 6 who has upper GI bleed. Can you attend to the patient in bed 3 who was just brought in? The paramedics said that she was in a car accident and suffered head trauma.’

‘ Ok,’ Owen answered. ‘ I’m just about done discharging this patient.’

As he walked towards bed 3- he stopped in his tracks. It couldn’t be her. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him, but from a far this patient looked rather similar to him. The red wavy hair, the slim body.

As he approached the patient, his heart sank. So much for getting his hopes up. Of course it wasn’t Megan. It was just another patient who looked like her. Today he had been thinking about Megan a lot.

‘ Hello. I’m Dr. Hunt. May I know your name?’ he asked the patient, who seemed fine at a glance, except for the laceration wound on her forehead.

‘ Michelle.’ she answered. ‘ My head hurts.’

‘ I was driving when another car switched lanes right in front of us without signalling . I couldn’t manage to brake and we collided with the car. I’m fine, but she hit her head.’ a red haired man sitting next to her explained. ‘ I’m Michael, by the way. I’m her brother. We were on the way to our parents’ place for dinner.’

‘ Do your parents know that you’re here?’ Owen asked.

‘ Yes, they’re coming over in a short while.’ Michael answered.

‘ Alright, Michelle, can you look right at me? I need to check your pupils .’ said Owen as she obeyed.

‘ Do you have any dizziness, vomitting or blurring of vision?’ Owen asked once he ascertained that her pupils were equal and reactive.

‘ No.’ Michelle shook her head.

‘ She’ll be ok right?’ Michael asked, concerned. ‘ She’s my only sister- I don’t want anything to happen to her.’

She’s my only sister. I don’t want anything to happen to her.

Owen found his mind drifting again to his only sister, Megan.

He shook the thought of Megan off his mind as he answered, ‘ Yes, she seems fine at the moment. But I want to page Neuro to do a full examination on you just to be sure. And I’m gonna stitch this wound on your forehead ok?’

He began working on Michelle’s wound as he ordered a nurse to page Amelia.

_____________________________________________________________

‘ You ok?’ Amelia asked as she approached Owen at the nurses’ station half an hour later. She had done a thorough examination on Michelle and reviewed Michelle’s Brain CT which turned out normal. Being cleared by Neuro, Michelle would be discharged after another 6 hours of observation in the ER.

Owen had a distant look on his face, and she knew that something was preoccupying his mind.

‘ Huh? Yeah I’m fine.’ Owen answered distractedly.

‘ Owen….’

‘ I said I’m fine!’ he repeated, louder than he intended to.

However Amelia didn’t flinch this time. No- Owen had always supported her all this while, she wanted to be the one to offer him support this time.

‘ You can always talk to me you know.’ Amelia said softly as she rubbed his arm soothingly. ‘ You have always supported me, and now I’m here to support you as well.’

Owen nodded as he looked at Amelia. He appreciated her support, he really did. But this wasn’t the time to be talking to her about it.

‘ Thank you, Amelia, I really appreciate it.’ he said earnestly. ‘ But I’m rather busy now. I’ll talk to you about it later ok?’

‘ Ok.’ she nodded. ‘ Just know that you can tell me anything.’ she offered, as she patted his shoulder before she left.

________________________________________________________________

It was quiet in the house as Owen sat on the couch of their living room that night. He could hear the sound of crickets and the occasional car driving by. Amelia was on call- so he sat alone on the couch, just like he always did during the 3 months before her return.

He was exhausted after an entire day of attending to motor vehicle accident victims. Now all he wanted was to sit back and relax with a drink.

He poured himself a glass of Scotch as he leaned back on the couch. He savored the feel of the drink going down his throat.

The truth be told, he had been drinking every night since Amelia left with a simple note. Without Amelia around , there was no reason for him to stop drinking. If before, he always tried not to drink in front of her, now he binge drank. He drank to drown all the sorrows he felt deep down inside. He drank to fill the hole in his heart and the loneliness and emptiness he felt. He missed her laughter, her dimpled smile, the vanilla scent of her hair. He even missed their petty squabbles over the remote and the dishes.

Now that Amelia was back home, he had another reason to drown his sorrows with a drink today.

Although he didn’t want to admit it, he really missed his sister Megan.

Today was supposed to be Megan’s 35th birthday had she still been around. He stood up from the couch and walked over to the collection of old photo albums he and Amelia kept in one of the drawers below the TV.

He took out one of the photo albums and sat back down on the couch, flipping through the album. It contained photos of him and Megan from birth to adulthood. There were many photos of them both as babies, then as children, and subsequently as teenagers and young adults. He stared at a photo of him and Megan building sandcastles together at the beach. Their parents would make it a point to bring them to the beach every summer for vacation, and it was something they looked forward to the entire year. Then there were photos of him and Megan smiling widely during her 2nd birthday party, cakes smeared all over their faces. Another page of the album contained photos of them during their teenage years- him dressed smartly in a suit, going to prom with a girl whose name he had forgotten, and her looking so beautiful in a red dress during her prom day, being escorted by a boy who Owen disliked. Owen had always shown an interest in Megan’s love life, much to her dismay. But the actual fact was, and they both knew it- he had her best interest in mind and just wanted to protect his little sister from getting hurt. As he turned to the last page of the album, a photo caught his eye. It was the last photo they had taken together, right before they were both posted to Iraq. They were both wearing similar army uniforms and smiling widely at the camera. Both Hunt siblings shared a similar passion for serving in the army.

He let his mind drift off again to Megan. He missed her so much. He missed her cheeky smile, her cheerful laughter, he missed the way she loved to tease and provoke him to make him mad. But he could never stay mad at her for long. He missed their happy childhood memories, cycling to the park and chasing around the neighbourhood with the neighbours’ kids. He missed her interrogating him on every girl he brought home during his teenage years. Later as she grew older, he would do the same to her, scaring away every boy she brought home. He missed her provoking him by calling him sausage fingers while he operated on a patient in the battlefield.

He could recall the last conversation he had with her. She had been upset about Riggs cheating on her, but still managed to squeeze in a word of wisdom for him.

‘ Owen, I hope you find someone who would be your soulmate and companion for life. I hope you can build a happy family and future with her. Because you deserve it.’ she had said as she hugged him tight before getting on the helicopter.

‘ Oh Megan - if only you got to meet Amelia.’ he thought to himself. He was sure they would both get along great.

He took another sip of his Scotch as he wondered where she was now. Was she in hiding somewhere? Was she kidnapped and being held captive by the enemies all these years? If so, were they torturing her? Or…was she….he couldn’t bring himself to think of the word ‘dead.’

But if she was dead, wouldn’t they have found her body? He didn’t know. No one knew.

There was a knock at his front door.

Owen frowned, puzzled. Who could be visiting him and Amelia at this hour? Was it Meredith, Maggie or one of their colleagues?

He opened the door to come face to face with a buff man dressed in an army uniform.

‘ Hello, is this Dr. Owen Hunt?’ he asked.

‘ Yes, it’s me.’ Owen answered, feeling a sense of trepidation. Surely this isn’t good news, he could feel it.

‘ I’m Major William Allen.’ the man introduced himself in a booming voice as he stiffly shook hands with Owen.

‘ Are you the elder brother of Dr. Megan Hunt?’ he asked.

‘ Yes.’ Owen answered in a small voice as he could feel his heart sinking. He had a very bad feeling about this- and he didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

‘ I’m so sorry to inform you that we have found your sister’s body today. The helicopter she was on was shot down in Iraq several years ago, but due to it being hostile territory, we could only manage to recover it now.’

At the Major’s words- Owen’s entire world collapsed. Even though he had tried to prepare himself for this possibility, now that her death was confirmed, he wasn’t prepared for this moment. He had always clung on to the small possibility that she might be still alive and might return to him someday. And now- that hope was crushed just like that.

Owen remained silent as he stood there in a daze, a shocked and devastated expression on his face. He could barely register the Major’s subsequent words.

‘ Her body was badly decomposed and beyond identification- we had to perform DNA testing.’ Major William added. ‘ We guess the body had been there for a long time- probably many years. It was found near the helicopter wreckage, which leads us to believe that she might have died from the crash itself - if that’s any consolation.’

‘ If that’s any consolation.’

He wondered how could anything give him consolation upon receiving this devastating news about the confirmation of his sister’s death. Maybe, the Major meant well. He understood, it would have been better for Megan to die from the crash itself than to die from being kept a Prisoner of War after all these years. He could never bring himself to imagine Megan having to go through all the torture had she still been alive. But still, the Major’s words pierced through his heart like a double edged sword. His little sister, his only sister was gone. She was never coming back. He would never see her smile, hear her laughter or be provoked by her anymore.

‘ We’ll help you to make her funeral arrangements.’ the Major added in a serious tone.

Owen thanked the Major solemnly as he shook hands with him and closed the door behind him.

_____________________________________________________________

As soon as the front door was closed and locked, Owen sat on the couch with his head in his hands, silently mourning for his sister.

He wondered how the last minutes of her life were, and whether she died a slow, painless death. Did she think of him? Or of Riggs?

He lifted his head up from his hands and stared at the photo album full of photos and him and Megan, still placed on the couch. Now all that’s left of her were just memories.

He knew that the first stage of grief was denial. Which was exactly what he felt at the moment. Maybe, just maybe he was dreaming and it was all just a nightmare. Maybe if he pinched himself, he would wake up from this nightmare, and Megan would appear to him alive and well the next day. Maybe he was just hallucinating, the Major was just a visual hallucination and the Major’s words were just an auditory hallucination.

He progressed on quickly to the next stage of grief - anger. As if on reflex- his wrist slammed against the coffee table, knocking down his half empty glass of Scotch. Scotch spilled on the coffee table, but he didn’t care. He was angry at the universe, angry at the God above for taking away his beloved sister from him. He was angry he didn’t get a chance to say a final goodbye to her, angry at himself for letting her go on the helicopter in the first place. If only he had stopped her from getting on the helicopter- she would still be alive.

He threw the photo album across the living room and plunked back down on the couch, burying his head in his hands again, wrecked in silent sobs.

________________________________________________________________

He didn’t know how long he sat in that position. It might have been just minutes, or hours. Time seemed to stand still for him.

He jumped as he felt a warm comforting hand on his shoulder.

He looked up to see Amelia looking sympathetically at him.

‘ I heard.’ she whispered, as she rubbed his arm soothingly. ‘ I rushed back right after April told me. ‘I’m so sorry, Owen.’ she added in a soft voice.

She had just finished reviewing a patient in the ER when she overhead April and a few residents talking about an army helicopter wreckage being discovered after so many years and several bodies being found. As she approached the group to learn more details, one name stood out for her, Megan Hunt. Upon hearing the name, she immediately rushed back home, asking April to page her if there were any incoming patients that needed Neuro consults. She knew that Owen needed her at that moment.

Owen looked up at her as their eyes met. His eyes were forlorn and filled with sadness, while hers were filled with sympathy and love.

He shook his head wordlessly, at loss of words to say to her. How could he tell her how receiving the news of a sibling’s death felt like?

She pulled his body closer to her chest and hugged him tight as he finally broke down in her arms. The warmth of her touch and the feel of her heart beating broke down his defenses. He sobbed and sobbed, mourning for his sister. She rubbed his back soothingly in circular motions, knowing that the gesture would calm him down. She knew because he always performed the same gesture on her to calm her down, and now it was time for her to reciprocate.

‘ It’s ok Owen.’ she whispered as she continued rubbing his back in soothing circles. ‘ Just cry, let it all out. I know you miss her. I’m here for you.’

Amelia’s comforting voice only made him sob harder in her arms. He sobbed, letting out all the emotions he had kept buried inside for so long. He had never told anyone else besides Amelia about Megan. He couldn’t possibly talk to Riggs about her- it would be too awkward. He never told anyone this, but he would often dream of her being shot in the battlefield and would wake up screaming and sweaty. Only Amelia and Cristina knew about his condition. He had been to the psychiatrist and was diagnosed with PTSD. However, there was little that the psychiatrist could do to treat it. When Amelia left for a few months- those few months when he would wake up alone, screaming after having a nightmare were the loneliest months of his life.

‘ I know- you didn’t manage to say goodbye to her.’ she said softly, as she rubbed his arm. ‘ I didn’t manage to say goodbye to Derek as well. I miss him so much too.’

Owen finally looked up at Amelia, as the realization dawned upon him that they both had something in common, they had both lost a sibling.

‘ How do you get over the loss of a sibling?’ Owen asked, as he looked up at her with teary eyes.

‘ You don’t get over it, the pain will remain with you for the rest of your life.’ she answered sadly. ‘ It would dull over time, but there is this ache that remains. I miss Derek too and think of him all the time.’

‘ For years I was clinging on to the tiny bit of hope that she might still be alive.’ Owen admitted, a downcast and crestfallen look on his face. ‘ And tonight that tiny glimpse of hope I had was crushed. I miss her so much. We had so many wonderful memories together. She’s my only sister, my only sibling.’ he shook his head sadly.

‘ I know.’ Amelia whispered softly, nodding her head in an understanding manner.

‘ I shouldn’t have let her get on the helicopter.’ he said angrily. ‘ Had I prevented her from doing so, she would still be alive right now. It’s my fault.’

‘ It’s not your fault, Owen.’ said Amelia earnestly as she held his hands in hers.

‘ It IS my fault.’ Owen insisted, frowning.

‘ Owen, look here.’ said Amelia as she cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head upwards so their eyes met.

‘ It’s not your fault, Owen. You wouldn’t have known that the helicopter would crash. I’m sure if you knew, you wouldn’t have let her get on it.’ said Amelia as she continued looking into his eyes.

‘ They said that they found her body near the wreckage site. I really hope that she didn’t suffer too much before she…died..’ said Owen sadly, a distant look in his eyes.

‘ I hope so too.’ said Amelia softly, taking his hands in hers and using her thumb to rub soothing motions on the palm of his hands. ‘ I’m not religious, but I would like to think that she’s in a better place. That’s what I do to cheer myself up- I tell myself that my dad, Ryan, my first baby and Derek are all up in heaven, watching and smiling down at us.’

Owen closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to imagine Megan smiling down at him from heaven with her beautiful smile. He wasn’t by any means religious, but he had to admit, it was a comforting thought indeed. And maybe, his and Cristina’s aborted child was also with her, smiling down at him. Maybe Megan was taking care of his child in heaven.

They both sat in silence on the couch, thinking about their loved ones in heaven. Amelia’s head was leaned against Owen’s chest as she cuddled up close to him.

Amelia’s hand covered Owen’s as she slowly guided his hand until it rested on her growing baby bump. Over the past two weeks, the bump had grown significantly, and now more than half the hospital knew her secret.

She placed her hand over his, as both of them savored the feel of their baby under their touch.

It was then that Owen realized he had to let go of his sister, she was never coming back. It saddened him deeply, but he knew that Megan would always be with him- in his heart, and smiling down at him and his family. He loved her so much, she was his only sister and she occupied a special place in his heart. However, he knew that she was never returning to him and he had to move on. At least this was the sense of closure he needed, as sad as it was. Megan was his past, but Amelia and their baby are his future.

It was Amelia whom he would lean to for support during Megan’s funeral, and throughout the subsequent years when he would think of her. Life went on though, and he knew that Megan was smiling down at him, watching him build his family as Charlotte, Noah and Olivia arrived. Megan would live through his youngest daughter, Olivia, whose middle name was Megan after her aunt Megan. As she grew, he would notice more and more of her aunt Megan’s characteristics in her, not only in terms of appearance, but also personality. He knew that It was Megan’s way of telling him that she was never truly gone.

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gordonwilliamsweb · 4 years

Text

Back to Life: COVID Lung Transplant Survivor Tells Her Story

Mayra Ramirez remembers the nightmares.

During six weeks on life support at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, Ramirez said, she had terrifying nightmares that she couldn’t distinguish from reality.

“Most of them involve me drowning,” she said. “I attribute that to me not being able to breathe, and struggling to breathe.”

On June 5, Ramirez, 28, became the first known COVID-19 patient in the U.S. to undergo a double lung transplant. She is strong enough now to begin sharing the story of her ordeal.

Mysterious Exposure

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Mayra Ramirez began working from home. She’s unsure how she contracted COVID-19.(Northwestern Medicine)

Before the pandemic, Ramirez worked as a paralegal for an immigration law firm in Chicago. She enjoyed walking her dogs and running 5K races.

Ramirez had been working from home since mid-March, hardly leaving the house, so she has no idea how she contracted the coronavirus. In late April, she started experiencing chronic spasms, diarrhea, loss of taste and smell, and a slight fever.

“I felt very fatigued,” Ramirez said. “I wasn’t able to walk long distances without falling over. And that’s when I decided to go into the emergency room.”

From the ER to a Ventilator

The staff at Northwestern checked her vitals and found her oxygen levels were extremely low. She was given 10 minutes to explain her situation over the phone to her mother in North Carolina and appoint her to make medical decisions on her behalf.

Ramirez knew she was about to be placed on a ventilator, but she didn’t understand exactly what that meant.

“In Spanish, the word ‘ventilator’ — ventilador — is ‘fan,’ so I thought, ‘Oh, they’re just gonna blow some air into me and I’ll be OK. Maybe have a three-day stay, and then I’ll be right out.’ So I wasn’t very worried,” Ramirez said.

In fact, she would spend the next six weeks heavily sedated on that ventilator and another machine — known as ECMO, or extracorporeal membrane oxygenation — pumping and oxygenating her blood outside of her body.

In this photo taken before the transplant, Mayra Ramirez is being monitored by the ECMO team at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago.(Northwestern Medicine)

One theory about why Ramirez became so sick is that she has a neurological condition that is treated with steroids, drugs that can suppress the immune system.

By early June, Ramirez was at risk of further decline. She began showing signs that her kidneys and liver were starting to fail, with no improvement in her lung function. Her family was told she might not make it through the night, so her mother and sisters caught the first flight from North Carolina to Chicago to say goodbye.

When they arrived, the doctors told Ramirez’s mother, Nohemi Romero, that there was one last thing they could try.

Ramirez was a candidate for a double lung transplant, they said, although the procedure had never been done on a COVID patient in the U.S. Her mother agreed, and within 48 hours of being listed for transplant, a donor was found and the successful procedure was performed on June 5.

At a recent news conference held by Northwestern Memorial, Romero shared in Spanish that there were no words to describe the pain of not being by her daughter’s side as she struggled for her life.

She thanked God all went well, and for giving her the strength to make it through.

‘I Just Felt Like a Vegetable’

Dr. Ankit Bharat, Northwestern Medicine’s chief of thoracic surgery, performed the 10-hour procedure.

“Most patients are quite sick going into [a] lung transplant,” Bharat said in an interview in June. “But she was so sick. In fact, I can say without hesitation, the sickest patient I ever transplanted.”

Bharat said most COVID-19 patients will not be candidates for transplants because of their age and other health conditions that decrease the likelihood of success. And early research shows that up to half of COVID patients on ventilators survive the illness and are likely to recover on their own.

But for some, like Ramirez, Bharat said, a transplant can be a lifesaving option of last resort.

When Ramirez woke up after the operation, she was disoriented, could barely move her body and couldn’t speak.

“I just felt like a vegetable. It was frustrating, but at the time I didn’t have the cognitive ability to process what was going on,” Ramirez said.

She recalled being sad that her mother wasn’t with her in the hospital, not understanding that visitors weren’t allowed because of the pandemic.

Her family had sent photos to post by her hospital bed, and Ramirez said she couldn’t recognize anyone in the pictures.

“I was actually sort of upset about it, [thinking,] ‘Who are these strangers and why are their pictures in my room?’” Ramirez said. “It was weeks later, actually, that I took a second look and realized, ‘Hey, that’s my grandmother. That’s my mom and my siblings. And that’s me.”

After a few weeks, Ramirez said, she finally understood what happened to her. When COVID-19 restrictions loosened at the hospital in mid-June, her mother was finally able to visit.

“The first thing I did was just tear up,” Ramirez said. “I was overjoyed to see her.”

The Long Road to Recovery

After weeks of inpatient rehabilitation, Ramirez was discharged home. She’s now receiving in-home nursing assistance as well as physical and occupational therapy, and she’s working on finding a psychologist.

Ramirez eagerly looks forward to being able to spend more time with her family, her boyfriend and her dogs and serving the immigrant community through her legal work.

But for now, her days are consumed by rehab. Her doctors say it will be at least a year before she can function independently and be as active as before.

Ramirez is slowly regaining strength and learning how to breathe with her new lungs.

She takes more than 17 pills, four times a day, including medicines to prevent her body from rejecting the new lungs. She also takes anxiety meds and antidepressants to help her cope with daily nightmares and panic attacks.

The long-term physical and mental health tolls on Ramirez and other COVID-19 survivors remain largely unknown, since the virus is so new.

While most people who contract the virus are left seemingly unscathed, for some patients, like Ramirez, the road to recovery is full of uncertainty, said Dr. Mady Hornig, a physician-scientist at the Columbia University Mailman School of Public Health.

Some patients can experience post-intensive care syndrome, or PICS, which can consist of depression, memory issues and other cognitive and mental health problems, Hornig said. Under normal circumstances, ICU visits from loved ones are encouraged, she said, because the human interaction can be protective.

“That type of contact would normally keep people oriented … so that it doesn’t become as traumatic,” Hornig said.

Hopes for the Future

COVID-19 has disproportionately harmed Latino communities, as Latinos are overrepresented in jobs that expose them to the virus and have lower rates of health insurance and other social protections.

Ramirez has health insurance, although that hasn’t spared her from tens and thousands of dollars’ worth of medical bills.

And even though she still ended up getting COVID-19, she counts herself lucky for having a job that allowed her to work from home when the pandemic struck. Many Latino workers don’t have that luxury, she said, so they’re forced to risk their lives doing low-wage jobs deemed essential at this time.

Ramirez’s mother is a breast cancer survivor, making her particularly vulnerable to COVID-19. She had been working at a meatpacking plant in North Carolina, for a company that Ramirez said has had hundreds of COVID-19 cases among employees.

So Ramirez is relieved to have her mom in Chicago, helping take care of her.

“I’m glad this is taking her away from her position,” Ramirez said.

Friends and family in North Carolina have been fundraising to help pay her medical bills, selling raffle tickets and setting up a GoFundMe page on her behalf. Ramirez is also applying for financial assistance from the hospital.

Her experience with COVID-19 has not changed who she is as a person, she said, and she looks forward to living her life to the fullest.

If she ever gets the chance to speak with the family of the person whose lungs she now has, she said, she will thank them “for raising such a healthy child and a caring person [who] was kind enough to become an organ donor.”

Her life may never be the same, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try. She laughs as she explains how she asked her surgeon to take her skydiving someday.

“Dr. Bharat actually used to work at a skydiving company when he was younger,” Ramirez said. “And so he promised me that, hopefully within a year, he could get me there.”

And she has every intention of holding him to that promise.

This story is part of a reporting partnership that includes Illinois Public Media, Side Effects Public Media, NPR and KHN.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

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Back to Life: COVID Lung Transplant Survivor Tells Her Story published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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stephenmccull · 4 years

Text

Back to Life: COVID Lung Transplant Survivor Tells Her Story

Mayra Ramirez remembers the nightmares.

During six weeks on life support at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, Ramirez said, she had terrifying nightmares that she couldn’t distinguish from reality.

“Most of them involve me drowning,” she said. “I attribute that to me not being able to breathe, and struggling to breathe.”

On June 5, Ramirez, 28, became the first known COVID-19 patient in the U.S. to undergo a double lung transplant. She is strong enough now to begin sharing the story of her ordeal.

Mysterious Exposure

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Mayra Ramirez began working from home. She’s unsure how she contracted COVID-19.(Northwestern Medicine)

Before the pandemic, Ramirez worked as a paralegal for an immigration law firm in Chicago. She enjoyed walking her dogs and running 5K races.

“I felt very fatigued,” Ramirez said. “I wasn’t able to walk long distances without falling over. And that’s when I decided to go into the emergency room.”

From the ER to a Ventilator

Ramirez knew she was about to be placed on a ventilator, but she didn’t understand exactly what that meant.