#also i just have general medical anxiety and just the idea of his wounds being infected make me very uncomfortable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlinehorrorinserts · 3 years ago

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A/N: Normally what I’ll write is just snippets of images and scenarios, and that’s what this was GOING to be but I got insanely inspired and just kept going. What better way to get this kicked off than a oneshot, anyway? Eyeless Jack with the prompt “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Trigger warning for descriptions of blood and a wound, as well as it being stitched back up near the end (just in case)

You hadn’t expected this little outing to be any different than the usual. A quick get in, get rid of the target, and get out. Someone had gotten just a little too close to the isolated mansion even despite the failsafes put in place, and it just wouldn’t be safe to let them be with the knowledge of what they may have seen.

Unfortunately, you had neglected to take into account that someone who was probably already scared and insanely paranoid and knew their life could be in danger after the things they had seen would fight tooth and nail to keep themselves alive. You had kept to the cover of darkness for a reason - not only should it have given you the clear upperhand, but it should have kept all of the damage to a minimum on both sides.

You didn’t particularly enjoy killing, after all. At least not when it came to innocents who were just in the wrong place at the very wrong time. It was simply a means to an end, something that had to be done to protect the family you had grown to love, twisted as they all were. Twisted as you were too, you realized, but the thought was often easy enough to shove aside.

Needless to say this was something of a routine for you. Something that should never have had the opportunity to go so wrong - yet that’s the very reason you must have grown complacent. What was usually just a quick get in and get out plan turned into a literal stab in the back and the rather aggressive fight that ensued after. The only thing on your side was the utter shock the victim had upon noticing how human you seemed to be compared to whatever he must have seen out in those woods. That realization had killed his resolve for just long enough for you. Humans could be fickle - if they weren’t like you, if they weren’t used to having the resolve to do what needed to be done, they could falter. You didn’t.

You knew the wound probably wasn’t deep enough to kill you. You’d have to seek treatment though. The idea made your skin crawl more than the feeling of blood oozing into the torn fabric of your clothing. It wasn’t who you had to seek out that frightened you. If anything you would have been a bit more comforted by his presence by this point. No, it was the idea in general. Hospitals, doctors, anything related to the medical field gave you tunnel vision in the form of a very rapid fight or flight response. It wasn’t something you’ve been able to control for a long time.

When you returned to the mansion, you were thankful that not many seemed to be out and about, especially not him. A couple of the guys were lounging on the couch or the chairs in the living room, playing games and cracking jokes a bit too loudly to fully notice you enter, except for Jeff who threw a casual nod your way. You offered a small smile in return, waiting for him to return his attention back to the others before you dared turn your back and crept up the stairs. You didn’t want them to see the wound and were thankful when you heard no words calling up after you to indicate that they had.

Only once you were in the safety of your room did you let out a sigh of relief, reaching to your back with a strained wince to try and gauge the damage. The amount of blood that covered your hand when you pulled it back was enough of an answer.

You knew you had to go see him. You weren’t stupid. No matter how close the two of you grew though, the idea of descending into his basement, penetrating into his bubble of personal space… it felt wrong. Even knowing that no one else seemed to care, and he was technically something of a designated doctor for them all and it was sort of one of his jobs… you couldn’t feel comfortable with it. Or more likely it was for less selfless reasons like that and more your own fear piercing your heart worse than that knife had pierced flesh.

Not much time was given for you to debate with yourself though as you heard a knock at the door, jolting you back into reality as you stared at the knob. It didn’t seem as if anyone was going to take the initiative and just come in. Maybe you could just leave it and they’d get the hint? Another knock was soon to dispel that hope as you sighed, forcing yourself to go answer it. As much as you hated the idea of having to clean it later, you used your bloodied hand to hide it from your visitor.

It soon became clear that it was all for naught though as your eyes met with the familiar deep blue mask, an inky blackness where eyes should have been and a gunky tar like substance slowly trailing down the mask, long ago having stained the fine blue like oil in water.

“So you are back.” The muffled, vaguely distorted voice spoke matter of factly, not afraid to show a vague irritation in the way he crossed his arms. You sheepishly smiled despite yourself.

“What, were you watching for me or something?”

“You know how good my hearing is.”

“I thought your basement was soundproof?”

“And who said I was in the basement?” He had a point, you realized. You had merely assumed he was down there after not seeing him in the front room. As reclusive as he could be, it was likely he had just been in another room. He knew he had you there and so he turned and began to head back down the hall towards the stairs. With a defeated sigh all you could do was follow him.

You kept quiet as you followed him back down and through the front room, the boys pointedly watching as you passed. Had they not noticed the blood before, they certainly did now, and it was Jeff to make that all the more clear.

“The fuck happen to you?” He asked with a cock of his head, perhaps genuinely curious despite his more blunt tone. You were about to stop to respond, wanting to take any opportunity to prolong the inevitable, but predictably it wasn’t going to be that easy. When you slowed, Jack immediately shifted to grab your wrist and with a light pull, ushered you forward and ahead of him. The message he was giving you was clear, and with a soft huff you continued on while he stayed behind, no doubt to talk to the scarred boy.

The descent down the stairs was never very easy to get used to. As soon as you hit the first step you felt the warmth from the house seemingly leave your body as the chill penetrated nearly to the bone. You knew the cold didn’t bother him like it did you - in a technical sense he was scarcely what you could even call alive. Not like humans were alive, at least. The cold was better for his specimens anyway. No use complaining.

You were at least thankful that he had gotten into the habit of leaving at least a dim light on when he knew that you would be coming down. Just because he didn’t need them to see and not wipe out on the stairs didn’t mean that you didn’t, after all. Once you had found your way down, you went to take a seat on his bed, pulling the sheets up and around you. You didn’t care that you’d get blood on them. He had plenty of spare sheets anyway, considering he had to constantly change them out if he didn’t want to be sleeping in… whatever that substance from his eyes were. He was a bit more hygienic than that, thankfully.

You weren’t sure how long passed before you heard his descent, feeling a shaky breath escape you as you did. A mix of anxiety and relief crossed you in that very moment - an odd mixture for sure. A small shiver passed through you. You decided to convince yourself it was due to the chill in the air.

When he reached the bottom step he faced you, not wasting time to remove the mask. A couple points of his sharklike teeth poked out from the cover of his grey lips, and though he had no eyes you knew his gaze was focused entirely on your own. It hadn’t been long since he had started removing his mask around you. He seemed to prefer the security it brought him. You weren’t sure what vulnerabilities lie underneath that callous exterior, and though you knew him well enough by now to know there was no harm in asking, you decided not to breach the subject today.

“Come here. Sit by the table, take off the shirt.” Despite the cold you felt a bit of heat rise to your cheeks, and if he noticed he thankfully didn’t comment on it for the time being. All you could do was obey, letting the blankets pool behind you on the bed as you stood and made your way over. Once the material was off the cold only felt more persistent. You wondered for a brief moment if you could catch a cold in here if you spent too much time down here.

The feeling of his hand made you jolt, a soft hiss escaping your lips when it caused the muscle to pull. You heard him sigh but noticed the faintest, gentle skim of his thumb against the unmarred section of skin just below the wound. A form of apology gone unspoken.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” He finally spoke as he reached over to the table beside you, preparing a few of his tools. Before you could answer he continued, his slight growl of a voice softening the best he could manage, “slight sting.”

You winced when the needle punctured you, but you were thankful when a bit of relief slowly started to take over. You weren’t entirely sure where he got any of this, but right now you didn’t care. You could only faintly feel the pressure of him working on stitching up the wound, wincing only occasionally if he went a bit too deep.

“You know why, Jack.”

“You’d think by now you’d realize I’m not going to harm you.”

“I never said my fear was logical. Anyway, I also just hate bothering you when I have no idea if you’re in the middle of your… work.”

It was then that he paused, perhaps taking in your words. It wasn’t for long though before he got back to focusing on the task at hand.

“I would prefer it be you who interrupts me than one of the others. At least I know that if you get hurt, it wasn’t a stupid mistake.”

“Careful. Keep that up and I’ll make excuses just to bother you.”

“If you want to see live dissections, be my guest.”

You cringed at his words, and while you couldn’t see it you could picture a slight shark-toothed smirk. You could occasionally hear the faint drip of something, probably from his eyes. It seemed he was at least careful not to let any of it drip on you. I guess he must have eaten recently. Your mind wandered, zoning out to the occasional rhythmic sound. That is until he finished his work and pulled back, cleaning the area one last time as he looked it over.

“Okay,” His gaze shifted elsewhere, probably a clock in a darker part of the room but you couldn’t be sure, “Get some rest. By midday you can probably wash up as usual. Until then, keep it dry. No straining the muscle until I give you the okay. If I have to restitch this, I’m not going to be happy.” Though his words were tough, you couldn’t help the slight twitch of your lips. You knew he didn’t mean it. You gave him a small nod and stood, ready to put your torn shirt back on before his cold hand once again gripped your wrist - it was a bit softer than it had been earlier.

“Wait.” He commanded, and though you were confused you obeyed as he went off into a side room. To his credit he didn’t leave you waiting too long, bringing back an extra of his hoodies. It was a bit more worn than his current one, obviously older but the sentiment was still there.

“No use wearing that anymore, but you’re not going up there again without wearing something.” He mumbled, a slight rumble in his chest akin to a feline’s growl or purr. You weren’t sure what that sound really was even now, but you had grown rather accustomed to his quirks. You grinned at him and gratefully took the hoodie, slipping it over your head with ease thanks to the side of it. You noticed as his eyeless gaze shifted subtly elsewhere.

“Thank you, Jack.”

#creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x reader #ej x reader #reader insert #oneshot

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arvandus · 4 years ago

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Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining. Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1 Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again. By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly. It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks. “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?” She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right. Crap. You forgot about that little white lie. “Sorry, hang on a sec.” You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face. “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks. Are you feeling okay? I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied.

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah. He was big, too. And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.” Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down. When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others. You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned. You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing. So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over. “Hm. Better keep that on there. You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag. You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully. The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes. “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed. Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in.

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work. The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you. You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her. And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence. But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge. Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft. “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was. You gave a soft sigh. “Of course not. He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed.

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement.

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it. She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them. You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing. More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes. But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied. You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No. I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded.

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes. You had to choose your words carefully.

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained. “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away. It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you. And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people. You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something. You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right? You treat each of us like family. Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know. But you don’t. That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes. “You’re so nice, big sis.” Her compliment made you smile.

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation. “Am I all done?”

You nodded. “You’re free to go.” You announced. Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name. “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave. As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand. Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before. It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time. Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation. It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear. The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past. It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

* * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible. To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores. He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels. His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you. The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before. But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake. He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it. It shouldn’t be important. You shouldn’t be important. His mouth pressed into a thin line. The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.

The cleaning only occupied him for so long. Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them. He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories. Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands. The cigarette was gone within a minute. The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort. So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids. His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face. Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal. It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space. His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself. They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret. But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind. How did you fold your towels?

Idiot. He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague. Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind. He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence.

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar. A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated. Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him. The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination. No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

* * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes. You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects.

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles. Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up. You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand. Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked. You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction. “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind. “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…? Maybe Dabi said something the day before. Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded. “She might throw it up. She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank. No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously. Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits. Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it. You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile. “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up. “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented. “However, Kurogiri is supervising her. Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high. I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered. “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled. “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents. It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh! One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.” Toga explained. Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table. “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated. “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides. “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray. Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him. “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill. But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward. Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne. Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be. The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date. You wanted to laugh. Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates. In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter. You weren’t his type anyway. And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage. Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together. He needed someone he could trust. He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact. He needed a friend. You could do that. You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag. If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills. It was about time for it anyway. With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination. Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch. Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form. You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different. Maybe it was the shower. Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants. Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain. He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems. Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips. Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in. You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips. His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing. If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down. “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice? How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog. Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted. The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness. The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence. Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth. Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered. All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival. A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with. You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls. With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.” He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog. He gave you a soft glare. “Why did you even take this? You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased. “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.” You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it. That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk. “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes! So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back. It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander. “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first. If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl. “Fine, you big baby.”

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth. He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful. Definitely burnt. And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth. You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.” Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back. “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.”

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll? You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him. “Don’t try to act like you know me. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. So eat up.” You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose. He pushed the bowl away back towards you. “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.” He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed. “and she had Kurogiri with her, too. Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed. “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm. “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head. Dinner date. Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it. The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks. Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you. He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits. But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him. Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table. You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off. But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload. But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could. More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed. You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment. You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.” He finally said. He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips. “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball. You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face. “Yeah, thanks.” You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it. “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway. “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first. Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.”

Was it a lie? Of course. You were starving. Did Dabi know that you were lying? Of course. But he took the other half of the muffin anyway. You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

“Are those my towels?” you asked.

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth. “Yeah. They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end. Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now. Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before. He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal. Bringing ramen. Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something. You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes. Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster. As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle. His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills. He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it. “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space. “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile. “It is. But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about. Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower. You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch. The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze. As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night. There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him. Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off? About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted.

“I’m not talking about the pain. I’m talking about… I don’t know. Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone. “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll. Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face. Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified. You needed to understand more. You needed to know how bad it was. “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling. Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions? You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night. Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with. You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing. “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged. “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing. Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again. And certainly not twice in one day. You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them. Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk.

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back? What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand. They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little. “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you. You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips. You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard. The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured. “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself. His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state. You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did. I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied. “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him. “NO!” You finally exclaimed. “Of course, I didn’t! Why would you even…” but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you.

You playfully punched his arm. “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed. “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back. “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit. With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower. You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind. You weren’t here for this. You were here to treat him and get out of his space. You weren’t his type. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice. Why did he have to be such a flirt? It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time. Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there. You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today. Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip. It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty. How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face.

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now. You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew. In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you. It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered. “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided. “Of course I’m going to do your legs. The better I treat you, the better you can rest. And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll. I won’t be needing them. Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing. “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk. “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable. Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen. But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure. He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up. He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you. What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery. Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears. Was it multiple sensory attacks? You flinched again. And again. There was a rhythm. So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out. Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper. He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears. He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point. But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave? Why stay here if it was bothering you this much? Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter. You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling. The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes. Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized. The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room. Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag. It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so. Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah. Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door. After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

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#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x you #touch #dabi touch #soft dabi #pining #slow burn #TW: blood #TW: needles #TW: killing #TW: violence

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and fire (04b)

word count; 7050

summary; you wait hours for news on the young boy, and when the results are finally in, it looks like a breakthrough with thomas might be on the horizon.

notes; this is the second half of part four since it got so long, hope you guys enjoy!

warnings; reference to injury.

Trying to make yourself a little calmer, and distract yourself from how you were feeling, you peeled the gloves from your hands, dropping them in the nearest trash can and searching to find some toilets. The mirror did not offer you a reflection you were proud to see, tear-stained cheeks that cut through sweat-caked dust in tracks, messy hair and red eyes; like picturesque misery.

There was blood on the clean fabric of your button-up shirt, and your medical bag held little that would be able to help, but you were sure you could at least make a start. Holding your hand under the dispenser for soap, the soft humming made by the machine as it deposited a small pile of foam into your hand was enough to break the rigid silence, and you let out a slow breath. Logically, you knew it wasn’t your fault that he was injured, the boy was almost an adult, he was old enough to make his own decisions, and yet you’d let yourself become attached, you’d tried to offer him advice that had backfired, and so you couldn't help but feel partly responsible.

The water ran pink as your skin was cleared, before shaky fingers were coming up to undo the buttons along your top. The long-sleeve top worn underneath wasn’t the warmest of items, but it was better than sitting in a blood-soaked shirt, and so you folded the crisp white uniform up carefully, tucking it into your bag and letting out a sigh. With hands cupped under the cold water tap, you let your palms fill, before leaning over the sink and splashing your face carefully with the water, rubbing away the grime and salt present on your skin until it felt fresh and clean once again.

Your eyes were still lined with red and your throat was still raw, but both of those would begin to fade as you finally began to get a hold of yourself once again. Your head was hurting, both inside and outside, the tight ponytail your hair was pulled up into made your scalp ache as you released it, and you rubbed your fingers gently through the strands to try and soothe that pain, making a note to find some water for your oncoming headache soon.

Finally, it was enough, hair flailing loose around your shoulders once again and skin clean, at least feeling a little more comfortable than you had, and as you patted down the pockets of your bag, you found your phone again, grateful that Newt must’ve tucked it in there when he’d gone back to the van for you, because you were sure you’d left it on the dash. There was a text from Newt, just having arrived back at the station, saying that he'd spoken to Vince and everything was cleared up, while Brenda had also left a text saying she was hoping that both you and the boy were okay.

A voice cleared in front of you, snapping your attention away from where you were trying to think of how to reply, clicking your phone off and looking away to find the source of the disturbance. Allison was standing before you, a gown on her body and a scrub cap on her head, but she’d shed the mask and gloves, for now, smiling a little as she began to undo the ties behind her back and neck.

“I came to give you a little update about what’s going on.”

“Already? It’s only been, what, forty minutes?” Panic flared up inside of you once again at the speed at which she was emerging, but the soft smile and a chuckle she gave to you was reassurance enough.

“Don’t worry, the kid is doing alright. Doctor Hale is great at his job, and it’s all going smoothly.” You rubbed your hands down along your pants, clearing sweaty palms and standing up to be the same height as her. “He’ll be going into the ICU after this, so why don’t you walk with me now and I’ll take you up to that waiting room, it's a little more comfortable and private than the corridors.”

“He’s going to be alright, then?”

“He’s going to be just fine.” She confirmed, waiting a second for you to grab your bag and swing it onto a shoulder, before she was setting off through the halls again, guiding you as she made her way towards the elevator. “He lost a fair amount of blood, but we’ve got him on some bags now, and his levels are steadying again, he’s starting to get some colour back, so we’re happy with that process, and his heartbeat is stronger.”

You watched as she pressed the button to signal the machine, silver doors reflecting back at you, and you felt positively exhausted as you slumped upon hearing the good news, tensions and adrenaline finally being able to slip away. “What about his legs?”

“Well, we won’t know much about any of it until he wakes up, and we can test his response to stimulus when the drugs in his system wear off and we can replace the anaesthetic with general medication, but the shattered leg has been set and is due to be wrapped in a cast, it’s all we can do, but it isn’t looking the best on the outcome.”

You winced, knowing there was nothing more you could have done, but you still hated to know what the repercussions might be. The elevator ride was silent, as was the walk to the waiting room, and yet none of it was uncomfortable, she was simply a companion at your side who had brought you a little peace, and when you were of a more stable and clear mindset next time, you’d thank her properly for being so kind to you, and make a better effort to get to know the nurses here, but right now, you didn’t have the right headspace for anything other than taking it ten minutes at a time.

“There’s not much more we can do now, it’s all about recovery, really. You did some great work out there, we’ve cleaned and applied new stitches to his wounds, I did it myself, and I promise they won’t burst any time soon.” You nodded your head, trying to absorb all the information that you could, but your mind was spinning, only focusing on the fact that he was going to be okay. “We’ll keep him in the hospital for a while, and check on him, his head has been patched up, luckily it was a crack and it hadn't splintered, so we’re happy with that.”

“When he comes out, will I be able to see him?”

“Yes, you can.” She turned to smile at you now, holding the doors open to a much nicer, and empty waiting room, you being the only person here, nobody flying past busily, phones ringing and conversations being had, it was calm and serene, and exactly what you needed. “Doctor Hale is going to come and talk to you more comprehensively himself while they get him all set up, and it shouldn’t take too long for the anaesthetic to wear off. As soon as he wakes up, we can get him started on some real painkillers that won’t knock him out.”

“Excellent.” You sighed, brushing yourself off for invisible dirt a story anxiety took over, before looking back to her. “Thank you so much, I can’t even tell you how much it all means to me.”

“It’s no trouble, truly.” She placed a comforting hand on your arm, squeezing lightly. “You’re one of our own. Derek, uh, Doctor Hale, he feels like he really owes the fire department, so he would do pretty much anything for you all. House ‘21 was one of the firehouses involved in saving his family when there was a house fire. He has a big family, and he almost lost them a few years ago, this is the least he can do, he feels.”

You had no idea, you’d never been anywhere long enough to reap the seeds of good acts so far down the line, but you felt proud just to be able to associate yourself with the team, to be a member of Firehouse ‘21, even if you hadn't been there for that event. They were a great team, a wonderful group of people, and you were proud to be associated with them. You weren’t sure how long it would last, but for the first time in a long time, your first thought wasn’t the next immediate escape route.

“I’m going to head back in there, now. It shouldn't be much longer.”

You nodded, watching as she walked away, and leaving you alone in the peacefulness of the waiting room. There was a table, stacked up with magazines and a water machine in the corner, chilled and humming slowly, and you made your way over towards that firstly. Taking one of the flimsy little cups, you held it under the nozzle, pushing on the button of the cold water, and watching as it filled up, the temperature making your fingers cool as it moved toward the top.

Taking it back over to one row of chairs, they were much more comfortable than the others, the hard plastic being replaced for soft cushioning, warm and inviting, and you slumped down into it. Shuffling through your bag, you were grateful to find the half-used try of painkillers you'd hidden in there for personal use, thanking a past version of yourself for thinking ahead, and popping two of the small tablets out, placed on your tongue and reaching for the cup. Several swigs of the water, until the cup was empty, washing them down and enjoying the cool feeling washing along your throat and soothing the burn, and you felt a little more refreshed immediately.

This time, as you filled it up, you took a moment to observe the room you were in. A small, ornamental water fountain sat on one of the counters, soft sounds of trickling water as you neared it, and it was relaxing just to be around, stacks of little pebbles to create a water fountain, and blue lights to make the pool of water seem clearer, you lips flicking up at the sides. There was a radio, it wasn’t turned on and you didn’t intend to do so, but you admired its place here, the room filled with things all around so that there was something to calm and relax every type of person, no matter what their comfort was, and as you settled back down into the seats, you found you weren't quite so stressed anymore.

Producing your phone from your pocket once again, you sipped at your water, the headache you had finally beginning to recede, and you replied to Brenda, a thumb swiping rapidly across the screen as you thanked her for her concern, and gave her an update that he was due out of surgery any time now. You replied to Newt too, once again thanking him profusely, as yet another batch of unrelated guilt began to make itself known, surfacing as you realised you’d just abandoned your partner to do all the work.

Neither of them replied, both messages being left on ‘read’, and you simply hoped that they were having fun with the team, getting to relax and destress after a long day, and they weren’t torturing themselves in the same way that you were.

The elevator chimed, not too far away, the other end of the corridor, and you paused. Following it, there was the sound of wheels, moving along the corridor, squeaking a little as a bed rattled, before fading away, and your heart leapt in your chest as you resisted the urge to stand up and look out, staying sat where you were. Your suspicions were confirmed, however, when the doors opened up, the doctor who you’d seen only a couple of hours ago appearing once again, and you pushed yourself up to your feet as fast as you could, meeting the doctor, who looked a little frazzled and worn out, but optimistic nonetheless.

“Doctor Hale, hi.”

He smiled a little, ducking his head. “You can call me Derek. I’m not your doctor.” Your cheeks heated a little bit, mumbling his name as you grew used to the feel of it in your mouth, and he cleared his throat. “So, you ready for that update?”

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, and he turned his body, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you back towards the doors.

“How about I tell you on the way to the coffee machine, because I’m desperate for a double espresso, three times over.” You grinned, laughing lightly as you agreed, just the thought of such a drink making your mouth water, and you grabbed at your bag, swinging it onto one arm and letting it dangle as you followed behind him. He held the door open for you, guiding you through the halls, and you followed after him, falling into a comfortable pace beside one another. “First of all, do you happen to know his name? We can’t get anything up on file, and we can’t put him on medications until we know if he has allergies.”

“All I know is that he’s called Aaron, I think. He’s been here before, though, should be on file. I brought him in a couple of weeks ago for the injuries on his stomach.”

The man beside you nodded, taking the pen from his pocket and writing down the name on the back of his hand. “Alright, well, I’m pretty optimistic about how Aaron is doing. He’s all set up in an ICU room now, and as soon as he starts to come around, we can let you in to visit him. While you’re in there, we need you to try and get some contact details, his parents, anything like that, so we can try and get him on file, if we can’t find him in the system, but we have a lot of Aarons’.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“His leg is now in a cast, we set it as best we could, but there was more damage along his spine, so I’m not overly optimistic about that. I don’t know how bad the paralysis will be, but there’s definitely going to be some loss of movement there, he won’t make a full recovery, not from a fall like that with his injuries.” It wasn’t a surprise, you had been anticipating the worst, and so far, everything beyond being told he didn’t make it was just a blessing. Stopping before the coffee machine beside a nurses desk, the screen flashed to life as he swiped his card through the holder, greeting him with his ID on screen, and he began to program a selection of shots and syrups into the blend. “What are you having?”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“My treat, let me buy you a coffee. I get a doctor discount on it anyway.” You couldn't resist the charming smile he gave you, shrugging a little and laughing under your breath. “Alright, Derek, surprise me. I’m not that fussy.”

“I take that as a challenge.” He confirmed, setting to work on making your brew, and as the machine hummed to life, he returned to the topic of your patient. “We pumped his stomach, we ran a few tests and flushed his system out. You might not like me too much when I tell you this, but with the contents of his stomach and the harm he got into as a minor, with nobody here to explain it, I have contacted the police and child authorities.”

“I don’t blame you, Doc. I really don’t. All I want for this kid is the best in life, I encouraged him to get out of that whole gang-lifestyle, I feel responsible for him even being here, and I-” You cut yourself off as you realised you were rambling, your lips pursing shut, and the coffee maker beside you beeped. He grinned, picking up the second coffee and handing it over to you, but only after pressing a plastic lid onto the top of the coffee cup. Bringing it up to your nose, the sweet smell of delicate spices and warm coffee filled your nose, and you hummed happily at the delicious blend. “Thank you.”

“Just so you know, you saved that kid’s life. You brought him here and he’s safe, you’ve done the best you can, and you did great.” You sighed, blowing at the steam on your coffee and taking a moment, a few deep breaths, settling yourself in the moment. “When he wakes up and starts to surface, we’ll let you know. If you give me your details, I’ll keep you updated on how he does.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me for my number there, Doctor Hale?”

“I thought I told you to call me Derek.” He beamed, both of you knowing it was only a joke, before he was holding the pen from the pocket of his coat out for you and grabbing a piece of paper from the nurses stand. Placing down your coffee, you wrote down your name and number, handing it back over to him, and he looked at it for a moment, repeating your name, before putting it into his pocket. “You can head on back to the waiting room, and I’ll come and get you in a little while when he’s awake, and we’ve got him on something to keep the pain off.”

The device on his belt beeped, calling him away to another case, and he was leaving, a wave on his fingers as he picked up his coffee, and you were left to try and navigate your way back to the waiting room alone.

There were signs up along the walls, but every turn you took felt more confusing, muted coloured walls and total silence feeling more like your new norm as you navigate the maze of pathways, letting out a relieved sigh as you finally caught sight of the same doors you’d come through earlier. There was movement behind them, your heart sinking a little as you realised the peaceful loneliness you had was broken, but you knew other people would be here to visit their families.

Your bag would still be laying on the floor, where you’d left it before leaving to find coffee, and as you made you way back along, the people behind the glass became a little clearer. Blond hair, brown hair, strawberry and jet black. Pushing the door open, your jaw dropped a little as you looked across the group, all eyes turning to face you, and your heart raced in your chest.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re pausing movie night!” Chuck was almost yelling, his enthusiasm getting the better of him, and several members of the team shushed him, while others snickered. “Sorry. We’re pausing movie night.”

“I see that, but, uh, why?”

A few looks were shared among the team, and Newt sighed, standing to his feet from where he’d been lounging in your chair. “Because we’re your team, and we care about you. You’re here for the kid, and we’re here for you.”

He took your coffee from your hands, sniffling it, and winking a little before raising it up to take a sip. His eyes widened a little, before he was gulping down another mouthful, and you snatched it back with a protesting noise.

“That’s good coffee. Where can I get one of those?”

“Doctors only.” You mumbled, a sweet smile on your lips as you took a sip, and he stared at you for a second.

“Are you telling me you made a friend other than me? You really are getting comfortable here.”

You shook your head, pressing it back into his hands after another mouthful of coffee, gifting it to him. Brenda was holding her arms out to you, a sweet smile on her face as you paused for only a second, before falling into her arms and letting her wrap you up tightly. The moment you squeezed her back, there was another body wrapping around you, making the pair of you giggle as Chuck joined the hug, and you whined at the overwhelming heat that was encasing you when Newt joined in too.

Elbowing yourself free, you wriggled out, popping free and finding the rest of the team still wearing sweet smiles, all standing around and waiting patiently. “Thanks for coming, you guys, it really means a lot to me.”

Settling down with the company of your team, Newt slumped beside you, a backpack of his own on the floor, and he picked it up, roping it down on your lap, and the weight of it winded you a little.

“What was that for?”

“I brought you the clothes from your locker.” You raised a single brow, opening the bag and finding your hoodie and leggings inside, as well as your more comfortable trainers than the ones you wore to work, a little sigh leaving you. “Figured you’d want to be comfy, and you smell a little bit musty and bloody.”

Lifting the edge of your top to your nose, you took a whiff, faint traces being picked up, nothing overwhelming, but it certainly was present. Everybody else had changed their clothes as they left their kit at work, or went home to shower, but no matter what, you appreciated it all.

“So, you gonna’ give us a little update on the kid?”

“Oh, yeah.” You wiped at your nose, feeling yourself get a little emotions, before pulling one leg up under yourself and turning to face him. “So, he’s doing alright. They’re worried about his legs, and they pumped his stomach, but they’re confident about his recovery and they’ve put a cast on his leg. He’s out of surgery now, they’re waiting for him to wake up.”

“What about his parents? They got in touch with them, right?”

“They haven’t got any information on him yet.” You sighed, rubbing at your forehead. “They want me to go in and ask him to give up his information as soon as he wakes up.”

“Well, look alive, because here comes a white coat with determination. A good looking one at that, dark hair, tall, I would be all over that if-”

“Newt!” You hissed, the door opening, and he laughed himself into silence as he brought the coffee to his lips. Standing up, you gave him the bag back, making sure to drop it into his lap with equal the force he’d dropped onto yours, and he spluttered a little, glaring at you and kicking his leg out at you as you walked to meet the doctor. “He’s awake?”

“Yes, he is.” Derek spun on his heel, the two of you walking away towards the main doors, and you turned over your shoulder to scowl at your partner for the kick, a sugary-sweet and sly grin on his lips as you scoffed. “A lot of your friends have shown up, huh?”

“They’re my team, they came to support me.”

“Hey, I think it’s sweet.” He shrugged, guiding you along the halls. “So, he’s in a little pain, nothing awful yet as he’s still waking up, so he’s a sort of woozy. Focus on asking him his last name, if we can pull up his account we can see his allergies and get him some meds, but if he doesn't want to give it up, we need to know about the medicines.”

“What do I tell him when he starts asking questions?”

“We’re going to test his reflexes as soon as we get his medicine sorted but before it kicks in, though they may not be fully comprehensive on the total movement and reflex he can get back.” He stopped outside of the door, and peering in through the glass, you could see the young boy. The hair from the top of his head was shaved away, around the sides too, black locks were gone and bandaging wrapping his head. He was clad in a gown, and the blankets were tucked up around his body, staring up at the rod as he frowned, looking entirely displaced. “Press the button on the side of his bed when you’re ready for us to come in, I’ll wait at the nurses’ station.”

“Thanks, Derek.”

He dipped his head in a nod, taking a step back, and you entered the room. He lifted his head slowly, confusion on his features for a second as you clicked the door shut, before he was huffing again.

“Hey, kiddo, how you feelin’?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, words a little slurred, and you took a seat beside his bed, pulling the chair over, and his head rolled from one side to the other, cheek pressing to the pillow to look at you, but his gaze was unfocused. “My arm is itchy.”

“That’s just your drip line for meds, you’ll be fine.” He made a shocked face, as though you’d reveal the secrets of the universe to him, before his face was screwing up again.

“I hurt a bit too. Everywhere.”

“I know, and we can get you some meds, alright?” He nodded his head, silence falling around you both again, and he was using one hand to scratch at the bedding, toying with the loose thread in the beige blanket, and sighed. “You gonna’ tell me your last name, so we can get you registered and checked in on the system?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll call my foster parents.” Your heart stopped for a moment in your chest, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse for him, you found out the poor kid was in the system, no wonder he’d turned to family wherever he could get it. “I don’t want them to know.”

“Don’t you think they’re worried? You’re going to be here for a while.”

“They’ll be disappointed in me.” He whispered, and you reached out, taking the young boy’s hand in your own, and squeezing lightly. “They’ll bring my little sister, she thinks I’m brave and strong.”

“And she’ll still think that!” He huffed, rolling his eye sin denial and tuning to stare back up at the ceiling. “I get how it feels to not want to let someone down, and to feel alone. I have moved between so many firehouses to find my home, and I’m still looking. I have, like, no friends outside of work.”

“What about your blond friend?”

“He’s a work friend, that doesn't count.” You teased, and he turned to look at you again.

“Do you hang out outside of work?” You paused, thinking on the people who were filling the waiting room right now, simply to support you, and you wondered if that counted, but the boy seemed to be going on anyway; “See, outside friends.”

“Alright, smart ass, the point is that I understand how you feel, and you should let me call your parents, so that you can have people who love you here with you. What do you say?” He was quiet, the moment dragging on, and as the cogs in the clock ticked loudly, the ‘second’ hand moving around, and as the third minute of silence passed you by, you gave up on any hope, You wondered if he’d fallen asleep, his eyes having slipped shut, and you squeezed his hand a little, his hand squeezing back after a few moments, signalling he was awake.

“Edge.”

“Huh?” You perked up a little, your elbow having been resting on the bed to support your head on your fist, before you were moving to look up at him.

“My name is Aaron Edge. I’m already in the system, I had asthma as a kid.” You cheered a little, reaching around for the handle instantly and pressing the button for the nurse’s desk.

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” The door opened a second later, a short red-head nurse escorting Doctor Hale, his brows raising a little as they came in, and you gave him a subtle nod. “This is Aaron Edge, and he’d love some painkillers now.”

“We’ll get that sorted out. This is nurse Martin, she’ll be looking after you, Mr Edge.” She left the room a second later, heading away to get it sorted out, and the doctor took a step closer to the bed. “How are you feeling, big guy? You gave us a scare there, but you're brave, and I know you’re going to be just fine.”

“I have a headache, and I feel itchy. Is that just my nerves?”

He tried to push himself up a little in the bed, his arms giving way under the pressure, and you moved, helping him sit up so you could position his pillows behind him to help him sit up. “Well, actually, that’s the beginning of the withdrawal. It’s not going to be great, but you’re young. We can get you in a great rehab program, and whatever you were on we can get you off. You’re young, you still have prospects ahead of you. It’ll be a tough road, you think you can do it?”

His hand tightened around yours once again, and he turned, vulnerability written on his face. You gave him a nod, and he stared at you for a second longer, before returning to give those same gestures to the doctor.

“Now, I just need to run a final test, alright?” Producing the pen from his pocket, he lifted up the blanket to reveal both of the boy’s feet, and held the end to the pen, never popping the button to reveal the inked tip. “Relax your foot for me.”

He did so and he dragged the tip of the pen up along the sensitive underfoot, everything still for a second, before his toes twitched, and you let out a little cheer, the boy in the bed jumping in shock. “What?”

“You still have movement in that foot?”

“Did I not before?” He panicked, sitting up further to peer down at his legs, and it seemed that in his drowsy state, he was only just becoming aware of the cast wrapped around his leg. “What about the other one?”

The cast sealed over most of his foot, but Derek reached down with the pen, dragging it along the space under his toes, and there was no movement. He did it again, still no reaction, and you nibbled on your lower lip. “Tell me when you feel something?”

Moving the blanket from his body, his leg was exposed, the cast ending just below his knee. He poked at the knee cap, then a rough inch further up, moving in inch segments as you waited, before his leg finally flinched just after the pen pressed over his mid-thigh.

“Well, we can get you into some physical therapy, and see how the healing of your leg goes, and what happens after that.”

Tucking the pen back away, the red-headed nurse entered the room once again, a needle and a small glass jar in her hand, and she was ready to add some medicine to the bag for him. “I’ve called your family, and they’re on their way. I’ve got some medicine for you now.” You squeezed his hand again lightly, letting go as the nurse moved to start setting him up a new line for his medicine, and Derek was busy filling out details on the chart that sat at the end of his bed.

“I’m going to go back to my team now, alright?” The kid turned to look at you, nodding his head slowly. “You keep your promise this time, alright? I believe in you, do it for your little sister. Be better.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

You ran your hand over his cheek, giving him a gentle smile. As the medicine began to kick in, nurse Martin began to talk to Aaron about his family, and what had been said on the phone, and for the third time tonight, you were navigating the ICU wing halls. Stepping back into the waiting room, all eyes turned to you again, brows raising, and you nodded, shoulders slumping in relief.

“He’s going to be okay, and his family is on the way.”

A chorus of cheers took up around the room, and you nodded your head watching as they all began to get to their feet, coming over to offer their congratulations and comforts about how worried you’d been, and how much better you must be feeling, which was completely true.

Newt cupped your face, pressing a large and wet kiss to your forehead, and you scowled, wiping the mark on your skin. “I think you need a drink, love.”

“Kenny’s Bar?” Gally offered, and a series of acknowledgements and agreements going up around the room. You’d heard them talking about that bar before, it seemed to be a house favourite but you’d never been along with them before, and it felt like some kind of initiation ritual or rite of passage.

“You should go and change first. Get comfy, I’ll wait for you.”

“Actually, if you guys go on ahead, I’ll wait.” Thomas stood to the side, scratching at the back of his neck as he met your eye, shrugging a little before looking around the small group gathered around you, who seemed equally as shocked as you were. “Seriously, I mean it. We have some things to talk about.”

“We do?” You questioned dumbly, and he fixed you with a pointed look, before you nodded your head. “Right, sure, yeah, okay. I can work with that, I guess. I mean, if you don’t see me in the next twelve hours, you know who I was with last.”

“Uh-huh.” Newt eyes his friend sceptically, the two seeming to have a silent conversation all with that eye contact, before Newt was rounding everyone up. “Go get changed, don’t take too long, we’ll see you soon.”

He hugged you gently, before guiding the rest of the team out of the building, pats on your arm and squeezes of your hand as they all passed by and discussed who would be designated drivers and drop everyone else at home, each discussing driving their cars home and coming along to collect them as they went. You waved Newt’s bag at Thomas a little, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, and he nodded his head, tension forming between you both as you slipped away to find the bathrooms.

You were already learning your way around the halls of this building well, locating them easily enough, and stepping inside. Pulling out the contents of the beg, you sealed yourself inside one of the cubicles, putting the lid down and taking a seat on top of it. Toeing off your shoes and leaving them on the floor, you were wiggling out of your crisp uniform trousers, slipping into your leggings, bouncing as you tugged them up your legs and wiggling as you got comfortable. With some simple sneakers and your hoodie on, you were feeling much more relaxed and comfortable.

Stuffing everything else inside of the bag, you zipped it up, heading back to the waiting room, and finding Thomas with his hands shoved into his pockets, your bag on his shoulder, and he offered you what looked only mildly like a forced smile as you made your presence known.

“Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He nodded his head, letting you go through the door first as you stepped into the halls and back towards the elevator, total silence sitting in the space between you both. As he pressed the button, it was almost immediately ready for you, and you stood on opposite sides of the box as you waited for the doors to close again and sink back to the lobby. “So is this the part where you decide the hatred is too much, and actually kill me?”

He laughed, a lightweight and short, but genuine, laugh. Looking up to you, he shook his head a little, amusement still sparking in his eyes. “I don’t hate you. I mean, I don’t necessarily like you, but that's because I don’t know you, and I didn’t really give myself the chance. We got off on the wrong foot, and that's partially my fault.”

“It’s mostly your fault.”

“It’s, like, fifty percent my fault!” He argued, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head.

“Ninety.”

“Seventy-five.”

“Fine.” You huffed, surrendering to the deal again, and he gave a toothy grin. “Go on with what you were saying.”

The doors chimed as they opened up, and you fell into step beside him as the two of you began to head towards the doors to the building, letting him guide you as he headed towards his car, trying to form his words, and you waited patiently. “Look, the point is, I know you’ve been a good partner to Newt. Especially today. You went down there to look after that kid because you knew Newt couldn't take it, and while he’d never admit that to either of us, we both know it’s true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We flipped a coin, and I lost.”

“Do you always flip winning sides over to take a loss?” He questioned, clicking his keys as the sleek black car came into view, and your face flushed with warmth, not having known anyone else had seen that. “Exactly my point. I know I’ve given you a hard time. I have my reasons, okay? It fucking sucks, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe you understand, maybe you don’t, but I’m trying to apologise, okay?”

He held the door open for you, the passenger seat readily available, and you dropped your bag into the footwell, standing in the way but not taking a seat as you stared up at him. “Okay. I forgive you. I probably shouldn't have been so uptight, but I was hurt too, and I didn’t take that well, so I guess this is me apologising as well.”

“So, we’re cool, now?”

“Sure.”

He nodded, the two of you staring at each other for a moment longer, and that same dreadfully awkward tension settled over the part of you as neither of you knew quite what to say. Just because you’d called a ceasefire, didn’t mean that there was a sudden connection, it didn't mean that pain and resentment were gone immediately, it just meant that you had agreed to process and move on from it together, instead of dwelling and letting it fester. “Her name was Teresa.”

“What?”

Your eyes snapped back up to his face, but he was staring at the ground, arms resting on top of the door, and he was picking at his nails. “The last paramedic, the reason I was so mad.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I owe you an explanation, so I guess I’m forcing myself to.” He sighed, running a hand through already messy hair. “She was.. a wildcard. Passionate and funny and just this real source of energy, you know? Kinda’ like you. She skipped out on us all of a sudden before shift one day, a better offer somewhere else, she didn’t tell us, but she just up and left. I was hurt, I thought I meant something to her.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas..”

“No, I am. Because all my suffering was emotional. She was Newt’s partner, he had to try and handle a case on his own because we couldn't get a replacement in before a call came, and that's the day he injured his leg. He fell through a couple of burning floors, top to bottom of the building, shattered his leg like that kid. Nobody knew where he was, he had no partner to call it in. Minho found him, unconscious from smoke inhalation and carried him out.” He let out a shaky breath, and you dared to reach out, placing a hand over his as they sat joined, and squeezing lightly. “I don’t blame myself for the accident, it had nothing to do with me. But, for whatever your own reasons are, I know you’ve jumped between houses a lot, and I was worried about Newt again. He’s my best friend.”

“I promise you, I won’t ever do that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think Teresa would either, but then a better offer came along.” He sighed, lifting a thumb to rest over one of your fingers and stroke lightly as he sought his one comfort from your touch, and you squeezed his hands once again. “I shouldn't have compared you to her, and I’m sorry. It was unfair, I don’t even know you.”

Quit consumed you both once again, and there was nothing else to be said, only the weight of his confession hanging in the air, before you were perking up a little, realising how to gently move on and bring his mood back up. “You any good at pool?”

“Uh, what?”

“You know, pool. In bars. Does this bar have one?” You encouraged, his eyes meeting yours again and brows furrowing with confusion.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Well, you said you didn’t know anything about me. First thing to learn is that I’m amazing at pool.” He stood up a little more, smiling softly as he took your bait to move on from the conversation, and there was a slight twinkle of mischief in those honey-brown eyes. “Winner buys drinks?”

“Alright, I’ll take that deal, but only if we play darts afterwards. At which I will kick your ass, because I am fucking great at it.”

“You’re on, Thomas.” He chuckled, letting you step into the car and shutting the door behind you, the conversation being stored away for now, to think about when you were alone and process the details, but for now, you had bonding to do, with your teammates; for the first time yet, you genuinely considered the possibility of setting up roots somewhere, and making real friends that would last.

#thomas #firefighter!tommy #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #smoke and fire #SAF #tommy month #tomuary #tom-uary #thomas the maze runner #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Please ignore this if you've gotten sick of this particular prompt, but may we please get another set of the Oxygen Deprivation scenarios, but this time with Ratchet and Megatron?? Regardless of if you do it or not, thank you for your hard work, I love everything you've written so far!

Thankfully I never tire of drama! I did the prompt for Megatron back in part three, but I've absolutely got some grumpy/caring medic for you! Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and send in a request, it always makes my day!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Ratchet

·You're in Swerve's with him for a nice evening off, something he enjoys a little more frequently than he used to thanks to the multitude of medics on board, but he appreciates every minute the two of you get to enjoy together regardless. There's hardly a lack of things to discuss, and you often find yourself listening to his stories until the bar closes and he has to carry you to berth. It's a little embarrassing for you, especially with every bot that knows thinking it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, but you admittedly enjoy being with Ratchet too much to care about how it looks. It doesn't hurt that he quite obviously enjoys it as well, especially when he's usually around those who only seek him out if they're sick, and he enjoys that he finally has an enthusiastic audience.

·The two of you are amongst the last of the patrons but still going strong one slow evening, with you perched atop a table whilst the older mech tells a story about a long ago incident in a medical lab where, upon being short staffed due to an ongoing battle, a patient had helpfully assisted with his own surgery. Though you're tired due to the hour, you're more than invested enough to keep your eyes open and listen along in fascination. It's not often he gets to go on like this, after all, and he looks absolutely adorable when he does.

·There's an unexpected flickering of the lights that stops everyone in their place, but it ends just quickly enough for the atmosphere to return to calm and for some bot to crack a joke about Swerve not paying his electric bill. You barely have time to chuckle before the whole ship is rocked like a boat on the open ocean, sending engex flying and glass shattering as everything not nailed down is tossed without a care, yourself included. Only the quick hands of an experienced medic save you from experiencing a not so gentle crash into the floor. Looking up once the dust settles to see Ratchet has you cupped safely in his palms, the two of you can't help but exchange a quick smile before the various bots around you start asking questions.

·Ratchet is quick to answer, keeping you in his hands to avoid the sea of broken glass as he stands. Any bot with decent battle experience on a ship like this recognizes what they all just felt, but being a bot who's seen more than his fair share of combat in space, he's able to explain that the size of the tremor indicates that they've been trapped by an enemy ship of smaller but not insignificant build. He gives them about five minutes before they're boarded, and instructs those gathered to head for emergency battle stations, as commands for defense will no doubt be incoming.

·Announcing his own intent to get to his post in the medical bay, the mech is quick to get going despite appearing outwardly calm, even promising Swerve he'll settle his tab when they get all this sorted. Holding you tight in one hand, he pulls up his communicator and tries to reach the bridge for specific instructions. To his frustration nothing comes through, and you find the same results when you make an attempt to establish communication with any top bot on your own communicator, prompting a few muttered swears from your partner. As usual, he's quick to get right to planning.

·Thankfully his designated task for any kind of emergency is exactly the same no matter the crisis; he heads to the medical bay and starts repairing the inevitable wounded. While you can't help with surgery, being that you're not much bigger than most of their tools, he posits that it makes sense for you to come with him. There's nothing more fortified than the medical bay, after all, so you can at least be somewhere safe. Though you're tempted to tease him about how obvious it is he wants you somewhere he can keep an optic on you, for now you decide to just settle in his hand and focus on what's ahead.

·Having been on many ships before this one, he's able to navigate with hardly a second thought, giving him a chance to keep his focus on you whilst he tries to keep figuring out the extent of the ship's difficulty. You can see him frown as he tries unsuccessfully to get his communicator working, and though you want to be stealthy for the sake of safety, you do want a better understanding of what's going on. Thankfully a human voice doesn't travel far through the hallways when spoken at conversational volume. Trying not to betray your anxiety, you ask if he can tell you anything about what to expect.

·Holding your tiny form a little closer, he hides the fact that he can see your apprehension clear as day, quite familiar with the brave face bots and humans alike will put on when in danger. Still, he certainly respects you enough to be honest. He explains that one ship latching on to another for an ambush these days is typically a pirate tactic, as they're more interested in selling the vessel afterwards or scrapping it for tech, unlike warring factions who will typically just blow each other up. There's probably already enemy forces on the ship, and they've certainly come well armed if they feel confident enough to take on Cybertronians.

·Your eyes dart around a little faster at that thought. Securing your hand against one of his digits, you remember they're sensitive enough to pick your heartbeat from just a touch, and the recollection stirs your affection whilst also making you think. If Cybertronians are so advanced, how can there be nothing working on this ship right now? Were there really no back up systems that could at least give you the basics? With the whole structure being the size of Manhattan, it'd be very nice to at least know if some areas might be safe, but then again bots tended to build things in a strange way. Nevertheless, your curiosity is so great you can't help asking a question.

·Ratchet pauses even as he keeps walking, his expression going distant in a way that initially makes you worry your query was taken with offense. But thankfully he speaks a second afterwards, looking inspired as he recalls a station of terminals not too far out of your path. It's more vulnerable, sure, but it also has physical connections to every part of the craft. He'd at least be able to conduct a system wide scan from there, and after that he'd have a much better idea of what they're up against. But he has to ask you first; are you comfortable with him taking the risk? Of course he'll always protect you, but there's a greater chance he'll need to do that if this path is chosen.

·You're smart enough to know exactly what he means. But there's a risk you'll bump into an enemy anyway, so wouldn't having a chance to get information like this be worth it? Oddly enough you seem more on board than he is with the plan, his friendly blue optics dimming with worry before you lay a comforting hand on his chest, smiling as you do so. This big mech cares so deeply for everyone, but you have a very special place in his loving spark, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's a grump. Your sentimental move seems to snap him back to hiding behind his mask, and he mutters something about feeling your heartbeat against his palm and how it's obvious you're nervous but if you say you're ready then he'll give this plan a try...

·For the sake of stealth he remains in bipedal mode, but he absolutely keeps you securely held to his chest, and you can't help but wish the circumstances were better because his spark humming beside you is impossibly soothing. Being held protectively by a Cybertronian is undoubtedly one of the most secure feelings in the world, you believe. Just being held by him in general though is enough to make you realize you're actually quite tired, enough so that you could absolutely fall asleep... Until he detects your slowing heartbeat and encourages you to stay awake.

·The terminal is in sight without a spot of trouble when Ratchet has to gently coax you awake for a second time, using a light nudge of his digit to encourage you to open your eyes once more. Though he knows the hour is late, your sudden sluggishness concerns him as a medic, enough so that he's now more intent than ever on getting some answers. Even without proof and a wealth of far more simple explanations, he's got a feeling something is wrong. A small part of his concentration is divided to keep a constant watch on your vitals.

·You're still alert enough to hear the incoming trouble just as he does; gunfire, shouts and general sounds of skirmish approaching rapidly down the hallway. Hearing him curse this unfortunate luck, you try to ascertain how long the two of you have until company arrives, but the noise is much too chaotic for you to gauge. Knowing Autobots will be amongst the fray is somehow far from comforting. Holding on tight to the hands cradling you so protectively, you look straight up just as the quick thinking doctor looks down at you, absolute trust in your eyes as you meet his optics. Whatever he decides to do next, you trust him with your life.

·The decision he makes isn't a spontaneous one, but it certainly feels like it as he barrels towards the terminals, holding his tiny partner to his chest as he runs. Knowing what's happening may well be the key to undoing any damage before it's too late. He can feel the heat of a few errant shots of blaster fire just as he gets his one spare hand on the keyboard, typing with speed he typically reserves for surgery as the world around him grows gradually more chaotic. Fortunately he only needs to hit a few buttons to bring up all the information he's looking for. Sharp optics start scanning whilst he uses his multitasking skills to keep track of everything else, listening for the threat and holding your little body close while he registers your pulse.

·The world around you feels like it's moving through water that thickens with every passing second, and neither the crackle of energy weapons nor the clanging of blades does anything to reverse the process. Even a shout from an Autobot warning Ratchet to move seems a million miles away. You know he told you to stay awake, but would he really mind if you got a quick nap in? After all, it's so late, and you're so tired, and you feel so safe in his sheltered grip... There isn't even a bit of worry in your mind regarding the fray. How could you be worried, here with the bot who would protect you always?

·Everything makes a terrifying amount of sense far too quickly. Ratchet is accustomed to the rapid responses his occupation requires of him, but for this singular instant he's frozen, optics locking on the atmosphere readout and hoping that he's simply misread it. A glancing but molten blow past his back forces him to accept what won't change, and he manages a combat roll just as the terminal is blasted by errant fire, the battle now within arms length as the same Autobot keeps encouraging him to move. He obliges only after sinking a fist into the face of an alien who wanders too close. After that, he's on the move without reservation, keeping you shielded with his entire frame as he runs.

·Your world spins without end even when the movement of everything beyond stabilizes, and you cling to the bot holding you for something to steady it all. God, what you wouldn't give to lie down and sleep... Ratchet is talking to you though, holding you so that you can see his face as he explains something about oxygen and taking deep breaths while focusing on him. It makes tragically little sense to you. Still, you feel bad as your eyelids grow heavy and your body turns to limp weight in his grip. Even your efforts to breathe as instructed feel like a failure. Of all the beings in the galaxy he's the one you want to dissapoint least, but his warm palms beneath you are so comfortable, and his spark humming in your ear is so soothing... You only hope he can forgive you for submitting to sleep.

·Ratchet knows he's powerless to wake you again, but that hardly keeps the agony from tearing at his spark. Seeing you go limp in his grasp, feeling your pulse weaken and grow irregular, hearing your breath stall... How long has it been since any medical emergency has reduced him to near panic like this? He's so invested in his task that his arrival to the medical bay only comes with orders. You're the human equivalent of a Fader, and so much of what he needs to save you isn't even ready to go! He needs to have a mask, a saline solution for dehydration, and oxygen of the exact content percentage you need to survive just to start... For the first time in eons he's terrified, even as it all comes together and he sees your vitals stabilize before his very optics, as all he can think of is how very close this came to ending tragically. As you're left recovering he quickly gets to work on other patients, throwing himself into the task so as not to worry, though his optics betray him on the regular with glances towards the berth supporting your tiny body.

·Wakefulness comes with a familiar digit resting in your palm, reading your vitals as you put together blurry pieces of a not so happy story. To your delight, a brightly colored chevron is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, and it's impossible not to smile when you roll your head over to look at the owner. Ratchet somehow looks more exhausted than you've ever seen him as he smiles back. He relays everything that happened in a way that paints him as an unimportant figure, up until you move your hand to rest atop his, your eyes filled with that same trust and admiration you'd given before he'd gone for the terminal. You want to communicate that you know how much you owe him. This brave, selfless medic who'd risked so much to give you his best and deserved the full credit for saving your life... Humility doesn't allow him to agree in full, but you're certain you can see peace in his optics, the kind he only seems to feel with you.

#transformers #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #idw #tf #transformers headcanon #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #ratchet #ratchet x reader #self insert #human reader

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doodledraw · 4 years ago

Text

Return (Of What Was Cherished)

Cody crash lands on Tatooine. He doesn't really know why, but there's nothing left for him in the Empire. Little did he know there's a lot waiting for him this far out in the Outer Rim.

(thanks @katanrocksketches for the title idea!! and for being my sounding board ily)

Today for @commandercodyweek I decided to write a fic I’ve been wanting to try my hand at for a while!! Post-Order 66 reunions are just...the BEST so here’s my shot at it!

Read on AO3 here! Or under the cut!

He didn't know who he was. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that it was kriffing hot and it had been over 24 hours since he had crossed paths with another being. Granted, 12 of those hours had been in space and then another 5 had been spent unconscious in the desert, slowly baking under the hot suns. Most of his armor had quickly been removed and fastened to a small sled using a piece of debris from his now absolutely trashed ship. Dragging that along, he began to wander the desert (it was just his luck he managed to land as far away from civilization as possible).

After two hours, he felt like he was going in circles.

After three, he spotted a ridge in the distance and started to make his way towards it.

After four, the ridge was still firmly in the distance and he was starting to think it was a mirage and that he was going to die out in the middle of nowhere.

He never realized that he was thinking clearer and more him than he had been for the last five years, like taking a breath after being underwater.

He finally reached the ridge on hour six and allowed himself a small rest. Clones were built for endurance but not for invulnerability. Besides, he needed to tend his wounds and the shelter he had found was the most he was going to get.

It was only once he'd stopped that his brain, no longer preoccupied with moving his legs through the rapidly shifting sands, caught up to his situation. That was when the panic set in. He was all alone, on a planet that very well could be the death of him, and yet at the same time he was feeling more alive than he had in a good long time.

After he gave himself a moment to panic, the rational part of his brain kicked in and he looked through the pockets on his toolbelt to see what he had with him.

Unfortunately, his black armor did nothing to help him from the heat of the suns, and he curses his competency for that. Why couldn't he have been forgettable?!

None of you are forgettable to me, my dear. You're all so very important, the memory surfaced unbidden. Obi-Wan would reassure him like that whenever he or his vode felt inadequate.

Cody's breath caught. He tried the name out in his head again. Obi-Wan. Then out loud: "Obi-Wan," he whispered to the wind.

He can say his General's name!

For the first time in years, he can say the name of the man who gave him everything and asked for nothing in return. It made him want to cry. But water is precious on Tatooine. Even he knows that. So he stashed that grief with all the other grief he'd piled away into a corner of his mind and then he left it be.

He's got a bacta patch, some tape, two painkillers, a spare comm that's broken straight in half, a ration bar, and nothing else. He split the ration bar in half and ate one of the halves along with one painkiller. Then he set to work making bandages out of part of the sleeve of his blacks and secured it around the cut on his head with some tape. Luckily he could still think rather clearly, so he didn’t think he was in danger of anything worse than a concussion, and the blood had stopped hours ago.

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up the next day. Sighing, he decided to conserve his painkillers and food. He wanted to make it out of this canyon...gorge...thing...whatever it was, if he even could and make it to some sort of civilization. So with a groan of pain, he set off again.

He focused on the fact that he was no longer burning under the suns constantly due to the slight shelter the ridge provided, and told himself that he could make it. He was Marshal Commander Cody turned Purge Trooper, the sun was not going to be the thing that killed him. Kriff it all, he was going to live. For his vode. For his General. He would live.

Civilization was a sight for sore eyes. After almost having fallen to his death multiple times, and having definitely aggravated the wound on his abdomen, he had made it out. He wanted to fall asleep. No wait, he wanted to eat something other than the expired ration bar and then fall asleep. And food required civilization.

The citizens of the town had apparently had a good amount of half-dead beings stagger their way into town because he was barely even given a second glance. The town, which he later learned was Mos Espa, was located in the north across from the Dune Sea, where he'd crashed. The barkeep was helpful enough to direct him to somewhere he could trade in some of his armor and scrap for some credits and get new clothes for it. He traded everything except his vambraces, greaves, blaster and toolbelt, and got a hooded jacket and a pair of patched-up spacer's pants in return. Freshly outfitted and feeling lighter than he ever had, but also more exposed than ever, he wandered back outside and through the town.

He had no working commlink, not that he would want to call the Empire anyway, better they just assume he died, and no credits and nowhere to go. Credits, he obviously needed. Shelter could come later.

Cody spent three weeks in Espa. He picked up odd-jobs here and there, and with the credits, bought some medical supplies, treated his wounds, and then did more odd-jobs. He had no purpose but also no reason to leave. The townsfolk weren't so bad once you got to know them and Espa was quiet, out of the way. No one could find him there.

At least that's what he thought.

Brown robes weren't uncommon on Tatooine. The first time he had seen one, he nearly killed himself by looking away from the box he was supposed to be catching. But it wasn't him, how could it be? The second and third times, he had been no less surprised, but this time he knew it wouldn't be him. It couldn't be him.

Now, being the tenth time, he barely even glanced at the stranger on an eopie wandering into town. But he felt the eyes on his back anyway.

Cody knew he was recognizable. He was one in a a few billion, obviously there would be people that had seen his face before. Some of the townsfolk asked about that at the beginning, but not for long. They stopped asking soon enough. So this stranger would realize soon enough that he wasn't who he thought and move on. They all did, everyone had for as long as he could remember, except for one. Cody couldn't escape the slight feeling of relief that filled him when the stranger's eyes were gone. For some reason, that stare had felt more piercing than normal. He shivered despite the heat, then turned back to his work.

He forgot about the stranger until that night, when he made his way into the bar for a refreshment after his day of work. They were there, at the bar, almost as if they were waiting for him. But that was crazy, and Cody resolutely placed himself as far away from them as possible. They made no move towards him, didn't even notice him, as far as he could tell, and they mutually ignored each other for the rest of the night.

Until Cody left to make his way back to where he was staying. Noticing his brown hooded shadow, he made his way through alleys and then stopped. "Whoever you are, whatever you want, why don't you just leave me alone. We'll both be happier that way."

The figure made a choked noise and took another half step towards Cody, who had spun to face them.

"What do you want from me?" the clone demanded.

"I don't know."

"Who are you? How did you find me?"

The figure lifted their hands to remove the hood, and Cody immediately tensed towards his blaster. Moonlight illuminated silver threaded copper hair and Cody's eyes widened.

"My dear, I think you know the answer to that by now. It's not an expression you've particularly liked me to say," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, tears streaming down his drawn face.

Cody stumbled back against the rough stone wall. "No. No, it's not you. It can't be. I...I killed you! I watched you fall! That should have killed you!"

"You of all people should know I am rather good at surviving things normal mortals should not be able to," he chuckled wetly and his gaze moved off into the middle distance. "It was a specific point of anxiety for you during the war. Oh Kote. Ner'Kote...what have they done to you?"

"More like what have they done with me," Cody remarked bitterly. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Is this real? I need you to tell me right now if this is real, General."

"Not your General."

Cody gave him a withering glare. "Yes you are."

The Not Apparition took a step forward. "May I?"

Cody nodded slowly, and then General Kenobi was gently, carefully, cradling his hand in both of his like it was the most precious thing he had ever held. "I'm here, Cody."

Cody broke right there. In the middle of nowhere on Tatooine, Cody fell to the ground and sobbed. He grieved in his General's arms, the man he was not allowed to even think of until earlier that month. The man he thought he had killed. The man he loved.

"Ni'ceta! Ni'ceta, Obi-Wan! I should have fought it harder, I should have escaped earlier, I should have looked for you, I should have--"

Obi-Wan shushed him. "You should have nothing Cody. You did everything you could. It was not you. I forgive you. I've forgiven you. I'd forgiven you as I was falling. It was not you, my dear."

They sat there, two broken pieces slowly healing each other in the middle of an alley in the middle of nowhere in Mos Espa until Obi-Wan pulled away.

"Let's go home cyar'ika," he murmured.

Home. The first true home he would ever have. "That sounds perfect."

#codyweek2021 #day 2 post order 66 #Post Order 66 #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody week #commander cody #the clone wars #writing #my writing #doodledrawsart #listen i love them a lot okay #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #my fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do a belphie fanfic where the mc has a anxiety/panic attack and just freaks out and can’t clam down so belphie using the pact to find them and since they can’t relax use the thing you talked abt in the kidnapping hc where he ends up forcing them to sleep in order to calm down

How dead am I, huh? (very)

School is absolutely killer. I’ve made it through the rough(er) spot--probably the roughest spot of the semester?--so I’m going to answer this and snoop around to figure out if I’ve got anything that needs updating.

I may just do the baby post today, by George :o

ALSO, CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW I PLAYED RELIGIOUSLY FOR TWO WEEKS AND MADE IT TO THE NEXT LEVEL BECAUSE I GOT A ONE-STAR PASS?! WHY?! I WORKED SO HARD AND RAISED MY CARDS A BUTT-TON!

This probably won’t be very long, but anyways...

Belphegor wasn’t incredibly accustomed to the idea of panic. It’s hard to think back thousands of years, but he’s sure the only time he ever really felt it was when he saw Lilith plummeting somewhere out of reach.

No armor, no medic, no help, just helpless...

Wounded and maybe unconscious. Maybe she was dead before she finished falling.

The memory is fuzzy. About as fuzzy as his eyes and focus feels now. There’s a sense of urgency in his chest, like he swallowed a little bird whole and it’s trying to find its way out. It’s pecking at the muscles in his chest; the panic twangs through him like a plucked string. It reverberates, a cascade of full-body tingles zapping his brain into alertness.

Not here, no, there! Go that way! Belphegor almost thinks he’s sleepwalking because there’s a disconnect between his brain and his body. Something that can’t process. Maybe he’s dreaming again and he’s subconscious seeking out a better napping spot. The youngest twin pushes open his eyes, a slice of blue violet and pink, and he realizes he’s in the foyer of the House of Lamentation.

Head outside! Keep going, keep going! the fluttering feeling starts to buzz in his chest, a pointed insistence demanding he walk outside. He knows he’s not dreaming now, and that he’s being directed to something. There’s something important in...whatever direction his feet are going. The crisp Devildom air never changes and never fails to wake him up when he goes for his rare walks. As he walks, he runs through the very small list of people who could pull on him like this.

Beelzebub would do it without thinking, and he never gives off such distress. Indigestion or upset stomach, maybe. Never panic. Belphegor has never known him to panic; in fact, Beelzebub has always been his rock, his protector. The other brothers would give off The Call, which could wake even him from a dead sleep.

So that left you, and the thought exhausted him. Or maybe pity felt just like exhaustion to this body. Under this sin he still wasn’t used to embodying. Being tugged on by a human would certainly explain the squirrelly, flitting sensation dancing throughout his chest. He confirmed the beseeching pull by wandering away from the general direction of the pulse.

It thrummed a little higher. A little stronger, like a silent plea. An urge to turn around, a compulsion to walk forward. Although the site of RAD caused a growl to bubble up in his throat, Belphegor fought the urge to shrink away. Instead, he allowed his demon form to take over, tail swishing angrily at the sight of the stupid school with stupid Diavolo’s name on it.

He crossed the threshold of RAD and inhaled quietly. Deeply. Your scent was very faint, masked by the passage of times and countless demons who came and went for class. It didn’t help that the Conjuring and Conjugation class smelled like smoke, and that smell seemed baked into the walls.

Where are you? Belphegor’s brows furrowed as he tried to see past the white tips of his hair. The panic wasn’t as strong now...perhaps your adrenaline was starting to fade. He was always careful when using the bond; when using it you were very susceptible to getting sleepy or falling asleep. If he wasn’t there, who knows where you’d land or what trouble you’d get in?!

Let me in, let me see. Show me. Belphegor took a stuttering step as his vision darkened dramatically. He was looking through your eyes now. Humans didn’t have the eyesight of a demon but even he could make out a shelf above your head--wooden with an iron gilded edge. It was topped with too many shapes to discern; he stretched your arms to feel stone walls scrape under his fingertips.

There was enough space to turn around one, two, three times. Whatever was behind you had a finite end. Nothing bulky in the way, but a cluster of something that rattled and jangled in the adjacent corner. He had you walk forward until you bumped into old, hard wood of a door. Feel the door, check for a handle--there were no splinters but he could feel cracks under his fingernails.

No light or faint glow from corridor torches. You weren’t near any windows.

The panic flared up all over again and it was strong enough to shake Belphie’s concentration. His heart cantered and he lost his grip on the connection. Human emotions could be so disgusting and yet, he was all too pleased to get the good ones from you. Ones that felt better than the warmest, coziest blanket.

There was the distinct feeling of a trapped animal ramming the sides of its cage. The fear of being closed in on and somewhere far too small. It was a feeling he knew all too well, being up in that attic as long as he was. The sensation of bruising his shoulders pulsed like the faint echoes of banging he was able to hear somewhere in the distance. Belphegor initiated the push again, forcing you to walk towards the door and put your hands on it.

Make noise, Belphegor demanded. You were shaking too much to do so. Your arms felt locked, and your brain felt too frazzled, too jumpy, to tell your arm and hand what to do. So he helped you, beating his fist on the wall as gently as he could. Humans were only so strong, but the dull noise was enough to make him take a right.

He stood before a wooden door that had been jammed shut by a wall torch. No doubt by some gutless demons playing a joke on the exchange student. Your newness had likely charmed too many and spurned a few. Surely upset some who used to wear the crown of popularity. Belphegor choked down the angry noises, the rage that burned blinding white-hot in his veins, and ripped the torch out with enough force to take half the wrought-iron lock.

You came spilling out with babbling sobs and gasping breaths that made his chest burn. He sort of felt like throwing up. His tail swished angrily at your situation and the unpleasant idea of you emptying your stomach on his hoodie. Careful not to grab your cheeks with his long nails, afraid you’d accidentally cut yourself on them as you tried to bury your face against them, Belphegor held your face in his palms.

Squished that cute, dumb human face of yours. He bent down until you were forehead-to-forehead, issuing a quiet demon coo that roughly translated to comfort. A wish for calm. Key emotions in the demon language would translate in the human subconscious, they’d come to learn, and that effect was enhanced when pulling on the bond. It helped a little bit but to save your shaking and the nauseating feeling brewing in your stomach, he burrowed into the bond and sent a wash of sleepiness over you.

It was a command, really. It didn’t technically count as charming you, so Lucifer could suck it. It was just a...very potent side effect of the bond that he happened to use for a good reason. You slumped awkwardly against him, going limp as a doll, and Belphie underestimated how graceless that made you.

How heavy, too! You were BEYOND easy to hold and handle by demon standards, but humans were awkward to hold when they weren’t positioned right. He pinned you between the wall and one shoulder as he texted Beel, wondering if gravity could put you in a piggy-back position. So far your chin was on his shoulder...that was about it. He debated moving into a slow crouch but was worried you’d tumble straight over his shoulder or flop out of his reach (to the left or the right).

He tried slowly wrapping his arms around you, putting your arms on his neck, but your legs wouldn’t stay on his waist. Belphegor got the bright idea to wrap his tail around your legs once he secured them in place, but now your head was lolling in a way that humans’ bodies probably shouldn’t.

This position wasn’t good, either, and it made him feel very tangled. Just when he was considering stuffing you under one arm and toting you like his pillow, Beel shuffled around the corner with a bit of training equipment and a cooked Devilbird leg that he’d nicked from the cafeteria prep. By the smile on his face, he’d done it without getting caught, too.

Beel’s eyes glittered with interest as he looked at his little brother and the human. There was surely a story here, but if Belphie wanted to share it, he would. The bit of training equipment was very similar to a human world baby-carrier, something they used to practice training under added weight. He shouldered it on and tried to stabilize you as best he could, reaching blindly over his shoulder to hold you as Belphie buckled you in.

The twins started back towards the House of Lamentation, Belphie lagging behind not only because he was tired, but to keep an eye on you. “You think they’d wake up for food?” Beel turned to look at him. Your feet swung out and your head rolled a little. Belphie flicked him in the back of the calf with his tail and turned him forward gently.

“Maybe,” Belphie laughed. “But I owe you for bringing the sling, so let’s grab a bite at AkuDonald’s.” he offered. Beel agreed, humming with excitement. After Beel ate his fill, they went back to the House of Lamentation. You slept the whole way, but Belphie wasn’t surprised. His sleepy aura was always potent; the brothers hadn’t pinned down the average nap time for you yet.

All he knew is that you’d wake up with him, safe and sound, like you always did.

---

Hope you liked it :)

#Belphegor #Belphegor x Reader #Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader

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chrayari · 3 years ago

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ayarimun or phoe (she/her, 21+) here with the second year medical intern who suggests britney spears as the OR playlist, aoyama ayari 😭✌️ please like this post if you’re interested in plotting, and read on if you’d like a (somewhat) brief introduction to her!

PROFILE. BIO. PLOTS.

“aoyama” is a household name in healthcare in japan; an aoyama’s identity is inextricably linked to the fact that they either 1. ARE a leader in medicine or 2. WILL be one. to pursue any career outside of this bubble of theirs is considered menial, and to be essentially outcasted from the family isn’t out of the question

naturally, aoyama rei (ayari’s mother) is subjected to these same kinds of expectations. unfortunately for her, the makings of an outstanding physician do not come naturally, and she struggles to gain her father’s approval. confidence issues, daddy issues, you get the gist of it.

to put it simply, she is average. and average, despite how fun of an example of alliteration it would be, an average aoyama is not something that should exist. rei becomes a doctor without borders in both an effort to please her father and remove herself from that environment of expectation.

as such, she vows that should she have children, they would not be subject to the same kinds of expectations she had to endure. but of course, and as life would have it, she does that very thing when it comes to ayari.

kid one, kaito, goes off to pursue something worlds away from medicine. ayari, on the other hand, breaks that single streak. rei is nervous about her daughter’s natural interest in medicine, and despite trying any effort to introduce her to something else, is unsuccessful.

ayari shows promise as a natural talent in medicine. this is where rei’s anxiety transforms into jealousy. it’s tamed, of course, but as the years pass and rei finds that this is her reality, that jealousy evolves from bubbling at the edge to toppling over.

in essence, ayari is everything that her mother wanted to be. when rei sees ayari, she sees what she could have been, and more importantly, what she should have been. her issues with her father + the insurmountable expectations as laid by her family name, paired with the absence of talent and finesse make it the perfect storm to envy her daughter.

with a bit of luck, rei saves the life of a local cambodian leader on one of her postings with Doctors Without Borders. that single headline gifts her with a nod of approval from her father, and the attention she craved as an average physician. like a drug, she chases after events that would add to her esteem. they aren’t done, however, in the name of medicine or with compassion

ANYWAYSSSS...mom has an affair in south korea with a world-renowned neurosurgeon for the sole purpose of propelling her career forward --> divorce from ayari’s father, and they move to sk

mom continues to pursue headlines by sponsoring charities, making generous donations, and mobilizing outreach efforts to 1. build her prestige and 2. to make sure that her daughter will never reach the same level as she did --> a “competition” of sorts, that for the most part, ayari finds herself playing into but also it really fucks her up to know this is the dynamic she has with her mother

fast forward to hannam, ayari is shadowing and volunteering her ass off so there’s no question about her acceptance into medical school; she inevitably makes a lot of strong relationships with the patients there, one being jung sohye, a 12 year old with biliary atresia in need of a liver transplant

but surprise...a friend of ayari’s step-dad, who happens to be a wealthy business mogul, essentially takes the liver promised to sohye just weeks prior to her scheduled operation

ayari is, understandably, pissed. she feels extremely disillusioned at how, even in medicine, something that should be equitable, is not free from the grips of corruption. her step-dad tasks her with making sure his friend has a stellar experience at the hospital. she spends a lot of time with this man to 1. get her step-dad out of her hair and 2. to enact her own sense of justice by giving him the most subpar experience ever

but she can’t. because her moral compass and empathy disallows it. but as fate would have it, he has a stroke during one of her visits to him, and in a split second, ayari becomes judge, jury, and executioner when she moves the nurse call button to the paralyzed side of his body

he passes away. sohye gets the transplant she deserves. all is well, right? rose says fuck no, and of course, the decision haunts and continues to haunt ayari

flash forward to the present, she’s now a second year intern at SNU COM where she’s become known for her talent, finesse, and compassion. just finish this year off, apply for residency, and you’re home free, or so she thinks...

plots ––

“i plead the fifth.” “you can’t do that.” “then to jail i go.” ayari is put under review for possible malpractice, may be escalated to a lawsuit which could be either legally sound or one brought up out of malice against her or her family (lawyer/law firm muses?)

“i just caught you in 4k…in clogs, no less.” she’s extremely adherent to the hippocratic oath. what happens when she catches a colleague, or better yet, a good friend, violating their promise to do no harm?

“i didn’t violate HIPAA in between the tears, did i?” ayari experiences her first emergency room death, and has no idea how to cope with it. could be a good friend that helps her, or a complete stranger to which she drunkenly sheds tears of sympathy in front of.

“i know i’m supposed to be professional, but jeez…mind if i take a picture?” ayari treats your muse after they wound themselves, either resulting from a serious situation or a lighthearted accident.

“i’m so sorry for your loss.” someone in your muse’s family passes away, and as one of her tasks to harden her for these kinds of moments, ayari is the one to break the news to you and your family.

also if anybody wants the mogul who ayari let pass away to be their dad...let’s gooooo

#LMFAO i forgot the read more the first time i'm sick #sorry if that alarmed anybody #𝗼𝗼𝗰 / 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲.#chrintro

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misc-headcanons · 4 years ago

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1st Place Prize: Full Fluff Alphabet (Law)

For @dragonprincess18 , 1st place winner of the 1000+ Followers giveaway!

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

If you have an interest in medicine, he'll teach you what he knows (and even if you aren't interested, he may teach you basic first aid just as a precaution while on the seas). He'll also tell them all about his coin collection because his s/o is one of the few people he's comfortable enough around to e the gigantic fucking nerd we all know he is. He's also been meaning to learn how to cook (he's very good at boiling water for coffee or soup, but that's about it), so he'd probably want to learn together with you. I also think he's good at sketching, but doesn't do much aside from anatomical drawings; as he gets closer with you though, he might start drawing you in a more artistic sense in his spare time.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

The fact that you're with him of all people sometimes astounds him. He intentionally tries to close off his emotions and issues to others and can come across as very cold, so the fact that you love him despite that makes him grateful to have a partner who's so understanding and patient. He hasn't had that kind of warm presence around him since Corazon, and he wishes that you two could have met because of how alike you are in some ways.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Law's got the medical knowledge to know how to handle this, plus he's experienced panic attacks before. He'd get you to an isolated spot away from everyone else and softly tell you to breathe with him until you ride through that initial "wave" of anxiety and panic. Once it's passed, he'd get you something to drink and ask if you needed anything.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Once his business with his friends (allies) in the Straw Hats is concluded and Kaido is out of the way, he'd want to continue on to find the One Piece. He likes the idea of traveling to Raftel with you, and he'd set up a life for the two of you (as well as his crew) in some distant island for you all to come home to in between your travels across the sea. Honestly a part of him never thought he'd have the chance to live that long (with his history with Doflamingo and constant dangers following him throughout his life), so he doesn't have any specific goals in mind. He just wants to relax for a while with you beside him.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Mainly passive, but he'll sometimes be the dominant one. He thinks he isn't the romantic type, so when it comes to your relationship he's fine with you taking the reins. If you like things like PDA or private names, you'd have to initiate it because he's not likely to do that on his own. He's dominant mainly when he's being protective of you, especially if you're the kind of loyal partner who wants to fight alongside Law--even when he's demanding you run to safety with the rest of the crew, and is repeatedly having to Shamble you out of a fight.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Law tends to internalize his frustration and anger during an argument and will act very cold at first. As he and his partner argue more and more, he would respond shortly and curtly, and he'll get more and more upset with their stubbornness and refusal to just walk away. If you push him long enough he'll explode a bit, letting his bottled up emotions out in one angry outburst where he'll likely say something he doesn't mean.

When it comes to forgiving his s/o, it may take a while (a day or so of avoiding them and silence, and awkwardness when they're in a room together) but in the end he'll always forgive them. He's lost enough loved ones in his life, and he doesn't want his pride to keep him from losing you as well.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Law's very aware of when his s/o is doing something for him. He's always grateful for these acts of kindness, even if they're small in the grand scheme of things (making coffee for him, setting out the medical textbooks he was meaning to read later in the day, etc) He'll have a small smile on his face when he thanks them, either by saying it out loud or being a bit more affectionate than usual.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

At the start of the relationship, Law is very guarded. Once you two develop more trust for each other, he'll tell you more about his past and his plans for the future. His s/o will eventually become one of his closest confidants, if not the person he shares secrets with. Even then though, he may be inclined to keep some things hidden from you just to keep you safe (eg. He may not reveal the full steps of his plan to take out Kaido, just so in case you're captured you can't be forced to reveal everything). He's a pretty strategic guy, after all--even if things tend to go off-script if say, Luffy is involved.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Having an s/o has helped him significantly with some of his emotional issues surrounding Corazon's death. He has his nakama who he trusts completely, but being close with someone in a romantic context is new to him. It's not like he has that much real-world experience with romance and dating, since his adolescence and young adulthood has been...not ideal for that sort of thing. He's gotten better at not just freezing up in surprise whenever his s/o kisses him, and actually taking some initiative to give affection in return. Between his trust issues with new people and how cold he comes off sometimes, he's actively tried to work through those problems so he can be the partner his s/o deserves. Bepo and the rest of the crew have noticed how Law has started to smile and laugh more after he met you, and how he's a bit less wound-up when he's stressed.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Law's not that jealous, but he does have his moments. He pushes those feelings down and doesn't act on them (unless someone is actively flirting with his s/o or something blatant--then, he's going to have to step in and tell them to stop going after someone completely out of their league). At most, he'll sound more curt and will want to get his s/o away from the person making him jealous as soon as possible.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Law's first kiss with his s/o was equal parts adorable and awkward. Aside from one or two drunken one-night encounters while traveling the seas, he doesn't have much experience in this area--and when it comes to kisses as a form of genuine romantic affection, he had NO experience until his s/o kissed his cheek one night when they were alone on the Polar Tang. He was so surprised by it that he just sort of...froze up and stared straight ahead for a while. Eventually he'd realize that he should probably return this gesture, and he would awkwardly turn around before kissing her with little-to-no-technique in mind. It's short, only a few seconds before he pulls away to gauge their reaction; judging by the sweet smile on their face at finally getting a kiss from him, he couldn't have been that terrible. His s/o immediately leaned forward to kiss him again, and it led to Law learning quite a bit in one evening about how to kiss someone.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Law wouldn't do any dramatic or grand gestures when confessing. I think it would be really obvious that he's in love with you, so it's just a matter of not revealing that you already know when he finally says it. He'd be more quiet than usual one night, going over exactly what he was going to say to you. When you ask him if he's alright, he immediately blanks on what he had planned to say and just says "...I love you."

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Because of the target it might place on your back for being his spouse, he would be hesitant to propose. But over time, he would start to imagine what you'd look like with a ring on your finger, introducing yourself to people as Trafalgar ____...eventually he'd conclude that just being with him as an s/o puts you in danger, and you don't care about the danger because you care about him more.

Much like his love confession, he'd have what he wants to say planned out...but the second you look at him with those warm, kind eyes of yours and ask why he's acting so nervous, he'd just take out the ring and ask you to marry him. When you say yes, he slips the ring on your finger, holds you close, and tells you that he loves you with a small smile on his face.

Your relationship wouldn't change that much after getting married, aside from him being more openly affectionate sometimes when you're on an island together. Calling you his husband/wife/spouse always gives him a strange, almost giddy feeling in his chest the instant he says it out loud. You two are married. He's...your husband. It's an odd thing to think about, but it's odd in a good way; he's kind of surprised that he managed to find someone who he'd want to marry and who would want to marry him. His one regret is that Corazon wasn't able to meet you, and during the small ceremony on the Polar Tang, he leaves one seat empty for him.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

He normally just calls you your name, or a shortened version of it, ("Jess" instead of Jessica, "Tony" instead of Anthony) when you guys are around other people. Sometimes on the Tang, he'll call you "honey" and the rest of the crew is ecstatic whenever they hear him call you that...to his slight embarrassment. They just think it's so cute to hear him call you "honey".

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He tends to stare at the person he's in love with, and is just awful at saying how he feels to them. He'll have what he wants to say to them planned out in his head, and the instant he goes to open his mouth he totally blanks. There are times where he's walked up to his s/o, panicked when he actually looked at them and was distracted by how attractive they looked, and how they always make him feel vulnerable, albeit in a good way...and just looks at them in silence for a while before walking away.

He's better at expressing his feelings in writing, so his love confession would probably include either a little written speech or bullet points of what he wants to say, or he'd give his crush a full letter and at the end, ask them to come to his room to talk privately.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He's not big on PDA, since every time he is openly affectionate with you his crewmates can't help but remark at how cute it is to see you two together. He's also a bit of a shy guy when it comes to giving and receiving affection; if you kissed him on the cheek, he'd freeze for a second before awkwardly taking your hand or something. His PDA is more casual, like having you lean against him (or leaning against you) and taking your hand when you two are walking around. At the first sign of danger, he'll instinctively either take your hand or put an arm out in front of you.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Law's a great listener, and he remembers a lot about the people he cares about. You could mention craving something for dinner and then a few days later, and he'll write down the ingredients for it; a few days later, he and Shachi are making it for the crew's dinner and he gives you the first place. He isn't one for grand romantic gestures, but he'll do little things like that because he cares about you and likes knowing that he made you feel happy and appreciated.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

As said previously, he's not one for big, romantic, Sanji-esque gestures; he thinks that kind of over-the-top sentiment would annoy you (and it would definitely annoy him). Some of the romantic gestures he displays are a bit cliche, though, in a sweet kind of way. He'll write short notes to his s/o when he wakes up before them, just to say where he's at; he'll always write "good morning" at the top though, and sometimes will add little cute messages as well: "You looked like you were dreaming about something nice, so I didn't want to wake you", "It's cold out and I already wish I was back in bed with you", etc.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He's absolutely helping his s/o reach their goals, no matter what they are. A lot of his help comes in the form of advice and constructive criticism when he thinks something isn't a good idea; it's usually said a bit bluntly, but it's not meant to be an insult. He's saying these things from a genuine place, but he doesn't realize how cold and blunt he can sound sometimes.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

With how chaotic life as a pirate captain (and a Supernova...and a former Warlord, lol) can be, he enjoys the little routines he has with his crew and his s/o. Waking up in the morning, going to bed at night, eating meals with you, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, the whole family...he treasures it not despite how mundane it is, but because of how mundane it is.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He's an intuitive guy...at times. When you're upset about something, he can tell that you are in fact upset, but he tends not to know why you are. Even if you two previously had an argument over him being too protective, and you're a bit more sulky a few days later, he'd actually wonder what you might be upset about. Similar to Luffy, he's equal parts observant and ignorant sometimes.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is one of THE most important things to them. Prior to meeting his nakama and falling in love with his s/o, he had almost lost hope in his ability to actually feel love at all--familial, platonic, or romantic. When he became the captain of the Heart Pirates, he realized that he could love again. He realized it again when he met his s/o. And he would sacrifice anything if it meant he could keep them safe.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He LOVES. LOOOOVES seeing you wear his clothes. He’ll be looking for his hat, see you in bed wearing it just for fun, and he feels a stereotypically romantic fluttering in his chest. It’s such a romantic cliche, so he tries to hide how much it affects him...he’s not that good at hiding it, though.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He's more affectionate in private, compared to when there are people watching; though if he's on the Polar Tang with his crew, he doesn't mind being affectionate either (though he gets a little embarrassed when they talk about how sweet it is to see him being cute with you). He likes leaning on you when you're sitting together (or when you lean on him), having you rest on his lap while he reads a book or something, having his hand on yours or on your thigh or shoulder...his PDA is very casual.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He tries to "logic" his way out of missing them, if that makes sense. He'll remind himself that it'll only be a few more weeks until he gets to safely see you again, and that he's had to wait longer to see you--he can wait a little longer. He'll also try not to think of how much he misses you too often, but it still always manages to enter his mind.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Law would absolutely kill for his s/o (and probably has, if the Marines or other enemies have ever tried to hurt them). And as for the farthest he'd go...If he had to make a decision that meant either his s/o and crew or say, Luffy and the Straw Hats? If he was pushed into a corner and absolutely could NOT find a way to save them both, he'd choose his s/o and his nakama.

#law #trafalgar law #one piece #one piece headcanon #one piece headcanons #sfw alphabet #fluff alphabet #mine #1000+ followers

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anothersadsimp · 4 years ago

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Blasted

Obi-Wan x Reader

Words: 2354

About: You and Ob-Wan are on a mission and you get hurt

REQUESTED

Being Obi-Wan Kenboi’s padawan was one of the best things to happen to you. You were under instruction of Mace Windu, but as the war got more intense he thought it best to reassign you. Being able to learn from one of the best Jedi’s has been a true privilege. Obi-Wan is wise, experienced, kind, and one of the most selfless people you have ever met. It was a bit of a bonus that he was also one of the most handsome beings you have ever met. He welcomed you with open arms, making the transitions of masters a little easier for you. It didn’t take long for you two to click.

Over the course of 6 months you started realizing your feelings towards your new master were changing. You wanted something more with him, but knew it was against the code. It was a very confusing time when you first confronted the emotions. No matter how much you meditated on the subject you could never find answers or resolve your feelings.

The next 2 months after that, the dynamic of your relationship started to change. The two of you were more in sync than ever. Easily able to read the emotions of one another, and when you fight together it is almost as if you are one. The physical contact started getting more frequent as well, light touches when one is injured or leading the other somewhere. Obi-wan had become more attentive towards you making sure you were always ok at home, or on the battlefield.

You and Obi-wan were called to Geonosis not long after, to investigate a seperatist base. The council wanted to know the ins and outs of it, the rotation of droids, any possible information that might help the Republic. You managed to sneak onto the planet in a small ship and dock it into a cave to keep cover.

The first day on the mission was to just locate the base, and to gather materials for the camp back at the cave. The second day you watched the base from afar, observing groups of droids walking in and out. You also observed the security around the base, droids guarding the perimeter wall keeping unwanted souls out.

“Master is our mission to just watch droids walk around all day?” You ask, boredom apparent on your face.

“Our mission is to collect any and all information on this base young one. Have patience.” He scolds.

You sigh knowing it's gonna be hard for you to just sit around and do nothing. You walk back towards the ship a little bit before getting an idea. You sprint over and get in the ship, grabbing the small tool kit it holds. You tinker away for a bit before your Master walks over wondering where you had run off to.

“You better not be wrecking my ship.” Obi-Wan chides.

“Says the one who almost crashed into an asteroid on the way here.” You quip, a smile appearing on both of your faces. He chuckles before you continue, “I’m messing with the radio. I want to see if I can intercept any transmissions coming in and out of that base, while not being picked up”

“Good thinking. Just please don’t get us stranded here.” He smirks.

You mess with the radio for hours, night time falling upon you. Obi-Wan is breaking by the fire writing things in the dirt with a dead branch. You mess with some wires making sure any type of signal you might give off is scrambled. You reach for the radio and start searching, loud static filling the quiet night. It takes a few sweeps before you start hearing the animated talking from droids. Your eyes widen realizing you were able to pull off your idea correctly.

“Yes!” You shout.

Obi-Wan looks over, curiousauty covering his features. He gets up and walks towards you as you adjust a few more things. He studies the sound before confirming you had successfully tapped into their transmissions.

“Good job, my young padawan.” He praises.

You look up at him and smile, feeling proud at his praise. He sees how your eyes droop a little more than usual.

“Go rest young one, I’ll watch over.”

You nod and thank him before trudging over towards the fire. You sit and notice some extra rations left out for you. You grab it and start eating, relishing the feeling of finally getting some food. You look back over at Obi-Wan sitting near the radio, grateful for all he's done for you. You smile softly to yourself before you lay down, finally resting your eyes.

Obi-Wan sees you adjust in the corner of his eye and looks towards you. He sees you lay down and close your eyes, and smiles at the sight. This is one of the only times he will admit to himself that he likes you, and savor the feelings that arise. He knows it’s wrong, a master having romantic feelings for their padawan. Hell just having feelings of attachment as a Jedi is wrong, but he couldn’t help it with you. You’re just so compassionate, soft, and not to mention one of the most gorgeous people he’s ever seen.

Obi-Wan gets knocked out of his daydream by droids speaking over the radio. There’s some chatter of an unknown signal that's being picked up.

“It seems we can’t find the location, General.” One of them explains.

“Search the area, make sure the area is clear.” A droid general commands.

“Rodger, rodger.”

Obi-Wan gets up to start packing the camp. He wanted to let you get as much rest as possible, so opted to wake you until everything was set. Unfortunately it came sooner than expected as he heard sounds of the droids marching closer.

Obi-Wan gently shakes you, waking you. You grumble before you see his face, concern written across his handsome features.

“Obi? W-what?” You start to question him before he interrupts you softly.

“Come on. We gotta go love.” He says gently sitting you up.

You become alert, and stand next to Obi-Wan. You crouch and creep towards the entrance of the cave to see a group of droids headed your way.

“Hey, it looks like there’s something in that cave over there.” One calls out.

You panic and start scrambling up with Obi-Wan as they approach the entrance of the cave.

“There! Blast them!” It shouts.

You both run and duck behind the ship, it being the only kind of cover you have. The sounds of blaster bolts hitting the hard metal echos out into the cave.

“Well there goes our ship.” You deadpan.

“We’ll just have to find another way.” He says while igniting his lightsaber.

You grab your saber following Obi-Wan’s movements, deflecting blaster bolts back towards them. The few that you hit fall apart, but the droids keep advancing. You both begin to back away as there are more of them than you accounted for.

“What should we do, Master?” You ask, anxiety building.

“I’m sure an opening will present itself young padawan.” He said uncertainty laced in his voice.

It's another minute before you are able to grab his arm and start running out towards the open. Of course, because you were more concerned for Obi-Wan’s safety more than your own, you pushed him ahead of yourself. You ended up getting shot in the calf making you fall momentarily. Obi-Wan turns at the sound of your pain and sees you on the ground. He runs back to you to support you to safety.

It's not much longer until you see a hill with multiple caverns carved into it. Obi-Wan runs as best he can with you and ducks into one of the smaller cavers. You both practically collapse onto the ground, finally able to take a breather. It's another second until you hear the droids talking about how they lost the Jedi, and how the general is going to be so mad.

After they leave Obi-Wan crawls over towards you to inspect your leg. He pulls the fabric from the wound causing you to wince at the sticky, stinging feeling.

“I’m sorry love.” He apologizes, not liking how his movements are causing you pain.

“It’s fine.” You grunt as you sit up a little straighter.

Obi-Wan tends to your leg, tearing off the fabric around the wound letting the air rush to it. He winces at the sight, and knows that you're going to need some real medical help. He pulls back and looks at your face.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“I’ll live.” You smile.

He smiles pitifully at you, wishing he could make things better. He stands and grabs his comlink to try and get a signal. He messes with it for a minute before getting a scratchy signal and begins asking for help. Neither of you knows if anyone is able to hear your calls for help, but Obi-Wan stops after another minute.

“Looks like we might be stuck here for a bit.” He said turning and sitting next to you.

“Great” You respond sarcastically. “Did you manage to grab anything before the attack?”

“Not much, few ration bars, and our water canister.”

You hum at his response, thinking of what to do next. “What are we going to do?” You ask.

“Well hopefully my signal reached someone. We’ll just have to camp out here until we can get you some help.”

You sigh feeling helpless in the situation you have found yourself in. Obi-Wan can see your defeat in the way you sigh and how your shoulders sag a little more. He pats your shoulder and looks at you in the eyes as if to promise something.

“We’ll get out of here, young one. Why don’t you get some rest for now, I’ll go get more things for a small fire.” He gets up, but is reluctant to leave you alone.

You give him a soft smile and nod as to say that you’ll be ok. He walks off into the dusty night air in hopes to find some things to burn. You start shifting uncomfortably, careful not to put too much pressure on your leg. You bend down to take another look at it and wince, even though the pain has numbed away. You lean back against the cave wall and shut your eyes for a moment hoping to relax a bit. Unfortunately your anxiety gets the better of you, and you're unable to rest or even just close your eyes for more than a minute.

It’s about half an hour before Obi-Wan comes back with some more supplies. He can tell by the look on your face how tired you are. He quickly makes a small fire before sitting right up against you. You look up at him confused as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, his touch making you nervous.

“Making sure you're comfortable.” He says as he looks down at you.

You blush and look down for a moment, not wanting him to see you blush. Obi-Wan smiles at his affect on you before speaking, and makes you turn back to him.

“You’ve been doing very well. You are probably one of the strongest Jedis I’ve ever met, always refusing to give up even after your down.” He chuckles a bit at the last statement because you probably learned that stubbornness from him.

“Thank you, Master. I wish I could be doing more right now.” You say sadly.

He immediately shuts your negative thoughts down, “No you’ve done enough. Right now the important thing is that you get well soon, if not for your sake then mine.”

“Obi, it really means a lot.” You smile.

“Anything for you dear.”

“Anything as in-” You start in a teasing tone, but he cuts you off.

“Anything as in I’d travel to the ends of the galaxy for you. I know it’s not right for me to feel this way but I do (y/n).” He’s silent after saying that, anxiety overtaking him.

“It’s ok, I feel the same way.” You smile sweetly at him.

Obi-Wan all but melts at the confession and the small endearing smile upon your face. He leans down and kisses your nose making you laugh with how his facial hair tickles you. You turn and lean back up giving him a firm, loving kiss.

He pulls back with a smile, “Ok, really you need to rest.”

You sigh and pout letting out a long drawn out “fine�� before yawning. You rest your head back on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and close your eyes, smile still resting on your face. Obi-Wan looks down at you as your breathing evens out, and gives you another kiss on top of your head.

When morning comes you wake to find yourself snuggled into Obi-Wan, and his head rests upon yours. He must’ve fallen asleep caring for you the night before, and you smile at the thought. You look out towards the blinding light at the entrance of the cave, and see some movement. You start to panic a little bit as you start shaking your master.

“Obi-Wan, there’s something outside.” You whisper.

He wakes up, and panics himself upon hearing your words. He gets up quickly before walking slowly towards the light, hoping the shadows would hide him. He smiles at the sight of a ship landing with some clones, and unfortunately Anakin. When he turns around you smile at him, already knowing what was happening by the look on his face. You start to adjust and try to stand up when you feel arms wrap around you. Obi-Wan picked you up bridal style and started walking out. You’re blinded for a moment before your eyes fall on Anakin.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see you.” You shout.

“What happened here?” He asks smugly.

“Oh shut up.” You bite, burying your head further into Obi’s chest.

“Well let's get you all fixed up.” Anakin motions for Obi to follow him to the ship, where your leg gets treated properly.

#Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #star wars #obi wan imagine #obi wan fluff #ewan mcgregor x reader

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jakey-beefed-it · 4 years ago

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Today was... almost completely unproductive, even for me, due to various mental Crises that arose in the like... Venn diagram overlap of my sundry issues. Mental health talk below the cut so you can avoid it if you’ve got your own shit to deal with/might be triggered by that kind of thing.

Kinda did almost a checklist of disorders being problems. ADHD brain? Represented. Autism? Probably! Depression? You betcha. Anxiety? Hoo boy and then some. Mania? Maybe! Self-loathing? Energy levels off the charts, cap’n. Basically my brain was the equivalent of blaring alarms from all quarters and spinning out of control.

Anyhow I eventually managed to... not be doing that ...and in the process kinda realized that maaaaybe I haven’t been Handling My Shit as well as I thought. Like I’m medicated... for depression. Which is good! I haven’t thought seriously about literally killing myself for several years now. That’s a big improvement! Not to be sneezed at. But it’s hardly a panacea for the rest of my bullshit.

Anyhow anyhow I’ve internalized a loooot of really horrible shit I’m always speaking out against as an anti-capitalist pro-mutual-aid aspiring feminist; basing my self-worth on lots of unattainable things that I don’t even believe in but that somehow equate to me being a Failure as a Man(TM) for being a hot mess disability soup. Some of it is also no doubt related to the whole ‘Gifted’ Kid Burnout phenomenon as well. I was ‘a pleasure to have in class’ and always sought approval and validation because I had anxiety, not because I was gifted, sheesh. Whole childhood equating my value with being ‘smart’ and then having my entire ego collapse under the inevitable weight of not being able to hack it in my first attempt at college because my brain was actively trying to kill me with self-hatred that only got worse the more I failed to live up to my ‘potential’.

I’m much less of an elitist shitbag these days regarding myself as no different from any other h. sapiens sapiens in that we are all fundamentally dumb, panicky apes who sometimes need a minute to remember the whole tool-use or reason things. But while I’m really good at not holding it against other people for being dumb panicky apes, even though I don’t regard myself as better than anyone (far from it) I still somehow hold myself to these standards I long since dismissed as unreasonable to expect of anyone, much less a guy with a grab-bag of mental illnesses that makes his spongy thinkmeat even less effective than biology normally dictates. And inevitably fail to live up to them, of course. And then feel worse about myself. Forever. Well, ok, not forever, even if I do continue to manage the no-self-murder streak (which seems likely) I’m still definitely going to kick off at some point. But for my whole damn existence, which sucks plenty.

Anyhow anyhow anyhow here goes the first of hopefully many simple admissions of imperfections and forgiveness of that.

I am not a digital artist. I could spend lots of time and effort to develop those skills, but frankly I don’t... wanna. Instead of feeling guilty at having abandoned pursuit of the lovely art tablet my family got me many years ago that they ‘wasted’ their gift, I can just admit that I’d much rather continue drawing in pencil, inking in pigment liners, and scanning into a digital format for sharing on the internet. I like tactile hobbies; it’s why I get so much out of painting miniatures. And digital art is still tactile in that you’re holding a stylus and/or tablet, but it’s not the same, and I prefer physical art on physical paper. And that’s okay.

I am not a fantastic dungeon master. I’m aight. I am, in the words of the best mug ever (a gift from my sister), the “World’s Okayest Dungeon Master.” I can put together a campaign, it will mostly hang together, my combat encounters will vary from ‘pretty good’ to ‘super boring’ but my plots are generally interesting and my players keep coming back so I must be doing something right.

This one’s kind of cheating because I’ve acknowledged it before both publicly and internally for like... fifteen years ...but I am not, and never will be, a world-class miniature painter. I don’t have the manual dexterity, the patience for producing and executing many many layers of very fine glazes, or a strong enough desire to devote more effort to improvement than befits a hobby I mostly do to relax. And that’s okay. I paint pretty good, and I slowly get better. Sometimes I’m the best painter in my local store! And that’s good the hell enough to satisfy my external competitiveness, while my internal competitiveness of striving to do better than I myself have done before gets all the real attention. I do want to improve! And so I do, but at a steady pace that doesn’t stress me out.

I’m not a diligent writer at all. I like writing, and I love coming up with plots and characters, but I’m terrible at sticking to a daily writing habit. I’d like to get better at that, and I can, with effort. Honestly giving myself permission to write more fannish bullshit (Warhammer stories, SW:tOR stories, D&D stories) might help clear some of the roadblock. I don’t shit on other fan writers; I long ago admitted that it’s valid and cool when other people do it, but to this day I have still only written a handful of Warhammer bullshit and one (1) Mass Effect fanfic. All the while my idea for a novel has grown and evolved and never really gotten past a very rough first draft that is now almost completely useless due to rethinking everything because I’m not in the habit of actually writing. I can do something about that!

I desperately want everyone to like me and think well of me and never be mad at me but you know what, that’s not... remotely achievable much less healthy. I have various tendencies toward ‘people pleasing’ that tend to end up with my own boundaries trodden upon and far more people taking advantage than real friends. I am very fortunate in that I DO have some real friends, many of them online, but yeah. It’s okay if not everyone likes me. Even if they somehow did, it wouldn’t make up for the all-consuming singularity-like wound of self-loathing that the people-pleasing urge is probably trying to fill.

I can be unreliable due to my many, many issues. Most of them are mental, but some of them are physical. I can’t always do things that should be ‘easy’, whether it’s my brain saying no, or my body. Instead of making too many promises for fear of ‘looking’ disabled and/or trying to make everyone happy... sometimes I need to admit that there are things I do not have the capacity for. Preferably ahead of time, rather than bailing at the last minute or just.... not showing up. This probably would’ve been good to know about myself before I nearly failed out of college in my first attempt but hey, hindsight and all that.

I might be about as cis and straight as a guy can get, but I am not and will never be anything remotely like an Idealized Man due to my weight, disabilities, general body type (even at my thinnest I had a belly pooch and flabby chest), shit, right down to my hair but that’s got some big overlap with the Idealized Man being a straight-haired white boy when I’m merely a wavy/curly-haired white-passing boy. And shit, if I had some gender fuckery that’d be a whole other animal, but even though I kinda got assigned male and went ‘Yeah that’s about right’ I still deserve to not have to live up to some unattainable ideal.

There’s... a lot more, obviously (hoo boy is there a lot more) but that’ll do for a start.

#rengh #Jake is a big fat crazypants

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cxptain-rex · 5 years ago

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Keep You Safe {Commander Rex}

pairings: rex x reader

warnings: kinda angst!

request: this was requested by @bountyhunterslut I hope you enjoy this! thank you for requesting. I made it kinda angst I just got the feels.

prompts: 37. “You’re a terrible liar” 38. “I’ll keep you safe”

***

Rex knows.

He knows that falling in love is not part of his code as a soldier. People rise and fall in the midst of war. He has watch many of his brothers die. Die for something that they were engineered to defend no matter the cost.

Clones do not have a choice, you either fight or die. Or you just die for not doing your duty.

Rex knows he shouldn’t be attached to someone. But he is. He is attached to you. Yet he can’t help it. You became someone for him. A person worth fighting for.

***

Now you’re standing around the droid projecting Obi-Wan Kenobi as he speaks of the Anakin’s newest mission and how is the Siege of Mandalore doing.

“We need more men, General” you announced crossing your arms together. The blue light of the Jedi hummed softly. “I can’t send you more” he says dejected receiving a glare from Bo Katan and Ahsoka.

Rex on the other hand looks relieved. He can’t bare watch more brothers die thanks to the mandalorians.

“Commander! There has been an attack” a shiny announced to Ahsoka. The holocom has been cut short as Ahsoka and Bo Katan fled the plaza. You turn to follow but a hand tugs you back.

The announcement of the attack makes all the clones rush to their battle stations. You stand, knowing what’s coming. You can feel the anxiety piercing Rex’s aura.

Rex stands there, a hand closed around your wrist and his eyes searching the floor. “Where are you going?” He asks lifting his gaze to look into your eyes. You frown looking back, “I will go and help Ahsoka” you answer slowly.

He can’t help but sigh as well, silence coming from his parted lips. Rex wishes he could take you and put you in a ship far away from Mandalore. Just for your safety and his own sanity. He can’t bare seeing you get hurt.

“I’ll be fine” you assure with a half smile which indicates the contrary of your statement. The newly commander finds amusement. A bitter laugh snaps. “You’re a terrible liar” he muses causing you to roll your eyes.

Rex is right, you don’t know if you’ll be fine. This is Darth Maul, not another clanker you could easily slash down. A Sith Lord. And here you are, promising something that might be as well a lie.

You turn to leave. Rex’s eyes widen as he watches your retreating back. He reacts quickly following behind. “Y/N, wait” he calls forgetting all protocols and command. As you leave the room and down a corridor, Rex halts as you turn around swiftly.

***

“Stay here, Rex. That is an order” you say lowly causing the Commander to frown. “I can’t let you go, please. I don’t know if you’ll be back” Rex draws pleading softly as he lays his hands on your arms. “I must help Ahsoka, I need to do this” you push looking away.

“Y/N, stay. Please. I’ll keep you safe” the Commander says causing you to meet his teary gaze. Rex does not feel ashamed for crying infront of you. The guilt eats your heartstrings as you sigh.

Defeating Darth Maul is your duty. To destroy him once and for all. To bring peace to Mandalore. But to also survive this war.

“Rex, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum” you whisper leaning your forehead against his. Rex’s breath fans over your lips causing you to shudder as you lean in for a kiss. You enjoy the moment trying to remember it for as long as you can.

As you pull away, you search for Rex. You watch and take in his face and his beauty. His golden eyes, his blonde hair. The small scar on his chin, the way his lips have become bruised now, on your doing of course.

The Commander’s eyes widen in realization. You turn to leave once again and this time Rex doesn’t follow. He stays in place by your doing as you force bind him to the stay. He cries for you in his mind. He trashes as you are gone.

You’re gone to fight a mad man with no idea if you’ll make it back to your lover.

***

The battle has been won. Ahsoka and you took down Maul.

A tear slips down your cheek as you haul yourself to limp towards the plaza. You promised you’d make it back and you did. Pain erupts from your side, it is blinding and it burns as you recoil. The same pain makes you stay awake until you find Rex.

The man of the hour stands now watching over Mandalore. He hear footsteps and he turns. Rex’s demeanor falls as you stop to stand infront of him. Beaten and bloody but there you are.

You smile, and your knees buckle causing you to almost fall. Rex rushes to haul you into his arms. “Kix! Get in here!” He cries into his comlink as he holds you. The Commander applies pressure against your wound causing you to hiss. “I love you too” he hiccups making reference to what you said earlier.

Rex kisses your forehead as tears gush like a fountain. He cries holding you in fear of losing you. The man sobs harder as the clone medic takes you away from him. Rex sees the blood on his gloved hands, your blood. He feels a knot on his throat as he cries harder.

***

Hours later, you’re saved.

Kix had managed to save you just in time. Now you lay on a cot admiring the blue ceiling of a Mandalorian medic bay. You can hear clones and mandalorians as well being treated.

A figure stands on the doorway, you turn to see who it is.

“Rex” you drawl trying to sit up only to whine involuntarily and lay back down. “Don’t force yourself” he says advancing towards you.

The Commander smiles softly sitting down by your side. He cradles your hand causing you to whimper at the touch. “You’re ok” he says mainly to himself assuring that you’re fine.

“You kept me safe, my love. You were the beckon keeping me alive in this war” you whisper softly causing Rex to whimper as he leans to kiss you once again. You two bask in your moment of being alive. Forgetting about the rest and the future, living in the present.

***

Author’s Note: AAH THIS WAS SO NICE IM CRYING. You guys know what to do! Thank you as always! XX

#captain rex imagine #captain rex x reader #captain rex #ct 7567 #commander rex imagines #commander rex #the clones #commander rex x reader #the 501st #501st legion x reader #clone imagines #the clone wars #tcw season 7 #star wars imagine #star wars #x reader #adri answers #cxptain rex

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entitynumber5 · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker Characters: Sasha James, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Martin Blackwood, Elias Bouchard, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist (mentioned) Additional Tags: Episode: e026 A Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Elias Is Unpleasant, Minor Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Sasha James Lives, Not-Them Sasha James Doesn't Exist, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives) Series: Part 2 of this tired world could change AU Summary:

After a series of encounters, Sasha examines her role in the Archives.

(A sort-of follow-up to "a martyr in my bed tonight").

Because I can’t stop thinking about TMA series 1!!!! During the series 5 final act no less!!!!! Have some Sasha and Tim and Martin being friends and supporting each other (but watch out for Elias). I don’t know what this AU is going to be other than everyone will live. Writing is not coming easily at the moment so I am taking whatever inspiration strikes and running with it!!!

Content warnings: blood, injury, panic attacks, worms, dizziness, disorientation, voyeurism, invasions of privacy, surveillance, manipulation, gaslighting, isolation, mentions of past surgery, needles, trypanophobia (phobia of needles), medical anxiety, dermatillomania, exhaustion, insomnia, brief allusion to self-harm, nausea.

Full text below!! I hope everyone is having a wonderful day <3

From where Sasha is sitting, she can just see through the thin, dirty window that stripes down the centre of the staff room door. There are stickers accumulating along its starboard side: a yellow biohazard warning stolen from Artefact Storage; colourful Pride memorabilia from a building society she doubts cares for the cause beyond June; the logo of the band Tim has been trying to get her into for years. She catalogues each one again, slowly, before looking through the slice of a window to where Martin is standing near the fridge, having a panic attack.

She wonders if he knows it isn’t quite a hiding place, that lonely gap between the fridge and the door. The staff room is not especially ergonomic, trying to be too many things at once, and because of this, there are bizarre breaks between appliances and furniture, spaces too awkward to be filled but large enough to linger in.

Martin lingers.

At first, she worried he’d seen something—a silver worm, burrowing into the bin or even the moulding countertop—or was already assessing this corner as a space that might be suited to a fire extinguisher. He was so calm when she arrived, even though it was six in the morning and her coat was stained with blood. He didn’t look like he’d been asleep, although he had been on edge. Expecting someone. Not her, though. Still, he’d taken it in his stride, wrapped her in one of the blankets they’d equipped the spare room with and led her to the chair in Jon’s office while he made calls. Tim first, then Jon. He spoke calmly to them both, only flinching when Jon snapped about how “there had better be a good reason for this, Martin” before Martin had a chance to explain. Listening to Martin then, she knew he hadn’t been asleep. His voice was lacking that rusty disuse, the weariness from being woken up. He sounded tired, but not that his rest had been disturbed. She wondered if he had been talking to himself in the night when it was silent in the Archives and no one else was around.

And then Jon had arrived. He looked unimpressed but otherwise deliberately neutral when Martin explained that he knew where the first aid kit was in Jon’s drawer, that he had already opened it and helped Sasha with her wound. Tim arrived and made a fuss and went to get coffee because Jon was irritated by his constant pacing and hovering. Martin disappeared. Sasha gave her statement.

Somehow, she ended up back in the open plan office, slumped at her own desk while Tim texts her from the Pret down the road and Jon searches endlessly for Jane Prentiss’s statement and Martin has a panic attack in the break room.

She should have intervened earlier. Intervened when he went to make her a cup of tea, but she had been too tired and disorientated to remind him she preferred coffee, that Tim was already on that particular mission. Intervened when the kettle boiled and popped and Martin went to get the milk from the fridge and something made him stop. A collapse of the calm he had gifted her, perhaps. One moment of intense, stubborn, heart-breaking resilience too much. She watches him breathe too fast. He’s right in front of the door; if someone opens it, they will open it into him. She thinks, I need to get up. I need to help. But she is just too tired.

Her phone buzzes. She manages to pull her eyes away, although the tiny motion disorientates her, and when she gets her bearings—she’s forgotten about Tim. There’s a prickling at the back of her neck, like the sensation of being watched, and she just has time to think not again before she is thrown off track by the arrival of Elias.

At least it’s not Michael this time. Although, to be honest, that thought is not as comforting as she expects.

“Sasha,” Elias says, his voice infused with a concern that makes her skin itch, “Jon informed me you were injured?”

Sasha forces a smile. “Thank you, Elias. For your concern. But it’s nothing serious. Really, I’ll be fine, Tim is actually out right now getting me some—”

“Coffee, yes. You’ll be needing it after such a long night.”

Her inhibitions are lower. She doesn’t have the energy to pick apart this conversation, to remember again and again that she is talking to her boss’s boss. She squints at him. “I, um—how did you—?”

“An assumption. Based on what Jon wrote in his email. You recall me mentioning that he had emailed about your unfortunate encounter?”

“Y-yes?” she replies, but she’s not sure she remembers.

“I came down here to speak to Martin, as a matter of fact, but it’s a good job I ran into you,” Elias continues jovially, “Why don’t you take a few days off? I’m sure you could use some rest and relaxation,”

“Jon already offered…”

“How generous of him.”

“But I—I’m not sure I need—”

“The Archives will be quite alright without you, Sasha,” Elias tells her with an odd smile, “Quite alright indeed.”

Sasha doesn’t say anything. Her head is spinning. She wants Tim to come back right now and diffuse the oddness of this situation with his bulldozer workplace humour.

“Now, would you happen to know where Martin actually is?”

The realisation comes, blessedly, with a moment of razor clarity: Martin. Elias is obscuring her limited vision through the staff room door, but Martin hasn’t left yet. The certainty that Elias knows this, somehow, grips her like a hand around the throat. He smiles placidly at her, but there is something cutting in his eyes, something that knows far too much.

“Nothing untoward, of course,” Elias adds, “But he has been going through a rather rough time lately and I wanted to check in with him. Jon has asked me to replace the fire suppressant system with CO2 in case of any future worm infestations. I thought that might also put Martin’s mind at ease somewhat. You know what he’s like.”

Sasha forces herself to meet Elias’s eyes. To not look over his shoulder, to give him any reason to even glance into the staff room. “He’s with Tim.”

Elias’s smile twitches. “Is that so? I could have sworn I saw him down here only a moment ago.”

Sasha continues to look him in the eye. She knows that the only way to look through the staff room door, the only way to catch a glimpse of Martin, would be from her desk chair, from the exact angle she had been sitting in. She had tested this. She used this particular trick when Jon was trying to hide from them all but she needed to ask him something.

Elias hasn’t seen Martin. And yet. It snags at her mind, her logic, that subconscious but vivid sense of wrongness.

“He’s not here,” Sasha says, “But you could tell me how the CO2 system works. In case one of us needs to activate it.”

Elias’s smile falls a fraction. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Another time,” Sasha echoes, trying to hold this as a promise in her mind. She feels like she needs to know. She understands now, the way Martin has sharpened himself in anticipation of an unavoidable future. He is not different, but he is not the same. None of us will be, she thinks. And it scares her how naturally that thought comes, as if from somewhere deep and unknown that she would not be able to conjure on demand.

“I’ll leave you to recover,” Elias says with false grace, “Take all the time you need.”

Sasha summons an insincere smile and hopes he doesn’t realise how desperately she wants him to leave. He turns and walks from the Archives without a glance in the direction of the staff room, but Sasha gets that same impression that he knows Martin is in there. Knows why Martin is in there.

She wraps her hand around the desk and uses it to leverage herself up. But the change in elevation is immediately a bad idea, and her wheely chair has a mind of its own, spinning away before she can throw herself back into it. She stumbles, spots cartwheeling across her vision, and she thinks she is about to fall when a hand closes around her elbow.

“Whoa, steady there, Sash,” Tim murmurs. He slides the coffee holder carelessly onto her desk and puts his other arm around her, steadying her further. “You okay?”

“Tim,” Sasha says, still dizzy, “You’ve played poker, right?”

Tim huffs a small, confused laugh. “Let’s get you sitting down again.”

By the time he’s herded her chair back to the desk, still with one hand holding her steady, Sasha’s vision has cleared. She sinks gratefully back into the chair and grapples for the coffee holder, dragging it across the desk. There are four takeaway cups. She has no idea which one is hers. She wants to drop her head against the desk and sleep.

Tim crouches beside her chair, one hand soft against her forearm and the other shifting nervously at his side. He looks up at her, earnest and worried. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she says.

“Sasha.”

“Poker. I need to ask you something about poker.”

“I’ll tell you all about poker once you’ve—”

“No, tell me now,” Sasha insists, “While I remember.”

“Alright, alright. What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what people look like when they’ve shown their hand too early. You know, when they’ve—they’re winning but they’ve just told everyone they’re winning.”

“I mean, I just used to play in my college’s basement. And the others were all set on spending daddy’s money, so it wasn’t like anyone really cared if they gave the game away.”

Sasha groans. She brings her hand to her face, rubbing at her eyes, which feel heavy and sore. “Tim, just… humour me.”

“They looked smug, but…” Tim thinks for a moment, his thumb brushing against the inside of her wrist. “Still smug, that’s a hard foundation to shake, but like for the first time in their life someone’s seeing through them. Is that—was that what you needed to hear?”

Sasha drops her hand and smiles tiredly at him. “Yeah. I’ll… I can try and explain, but…”

“Later, yeah?”

Sasha sighs gratefully. “Later.”

Through the door, Sasha sees Martin trying to steady himself. Deeper breaths, shaking out his hands to dispel some of their trembling. He tips his head back for a moment, squeezes his eyes shut and seems to try forcefully summoning some semblance of calm.

“This one’s yours,” Tim says, placing one of the coffees in front of her, “I got the barrister to put extra caramel in there for you.”

“How sweet. When’s the wedding?”

“Psh,” Tim says with a flick of his hair, but there is a seriousness in his eyes that doesn’t match his words when he continues, “I have eyes only for you, my dear. And oh, would you look at that? I’m already on one knee! Sasha James, will you do me the honour—?”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Get up.”

“As you wish.” Tim winks before he stands.

“Can you go and check on Martin?”

“But I’m currently in the process of checking on you.”

“I’m fine. Martin’s having a panic attack in the staff room.”

Tim whips around before Sasha can tell him to be subtle about it, but it’s not like he can see through the door at his angle. “Oh, shit.”

Sasha leans slightly in her chair. Martin is no longer in view. He must have moved away from the door, which is good. Tim won’t crush him when he opens it. “Go now or he’ll open the new milk for no reason.”

“Oh, god, not the new milk,” Tim gasps.

“Tim.”

“Look, I’ve—we spoke the other day. About the panic attacks. He says he prefers to be alone for a bit, afterwards.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t know,” Tim replies with a small, almost imperceptible flinch, “But Sash, you’re still covered in blood. Can I—will you let me check if you need stitches, at least?”

“Martin already looked at it,” Sasha replies, her tongue loosened by exhaustion and blood loss, “Did a pretty good job considering he never actually completed his first aid training.”

Tim smiles, half fond, half admonishing. “I am not letting you near Jon right now. There are some things he really doesn’t need to know.”

“Jon asks me to ‘free up’ official records and whatnot. It’s not like he doesn’t know,” Sasha replies. But she pauses for a moment, defensiveness eclipsed by guilt. “That one was accidental, though.”

“Finding out or letting it slip?”

“Both?” Sasha tries. Tim looks dubious.

“Right,” Tim announces, moving on, “Can I go all nurse Stoker yet?”

“Fine. But you’re checking on Martin afterwards. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Sasha eases off her coat again. The grey wool is stained and she is sure no amount of dry cleaning will get it out, besides the fact that she doesn’t want to weather the awkwardness and anxiety of having to explain it to them. Michael’s hands—talons?—had ripped a neat but gaping hole in the shoulder and sewing has never been her strong point. She could ask Tim to do it, she supposes. But it looks like a lost cause where it droops to the floor beneath her desk and comes to a mournful, final rest.

“I liked that coat,” she sighs.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Tim murmurs distractedly, now fully focused on his task, “Anything for you.”

Sasha grits her teeth as Tim carefully peels away the gauze Martin had applied earlier to inspect the wound beneath. She can feel the wound is clean, almost surgical. It throbs in a similar way to the incision on her lower back when she’d had a mole removed a few years ago, although there was no anaesthetic this time, no warning. Behind her, she hears Tim inhale sharply when the entire gash comes into view.

“That looks deep,” Tim says sympathetically.

“It’ll be fine.”

“I think you need stitches.”

“I don’t need stiches, Tim.”

“To be fair, Sasha, you can’t see it. I can take a picture or something. It’s deep. And it can’t hurt to check, can it? Just in case.” Tim pauses, taking a trembling breath. “Humour me.”

“You know I don’t like needles,” Sasha mutters.

“I know.” Tim’s voice is so warm, so reassuring.

“I really don’t like needles.”

“I’ll hold your hand.”

“What about Martin?”

“He can come with us.”

“He doesn’t like hospitals.”

“Do I want to know how you know that?”

Sasha glances at the door again. She still can’t see him. She wonders if he’s okay. If he has forced himself to go back to making tea, if he is composing himself so they won’t ask when he steps back into the office. “I was watching Gray’s Anatomy the other day on my break. I asked if he wanted to join me since he was looking sort of lonely, but he said he could never get into those kinds of shows, never liked anything to do with hospitals. I mean, I kind of had to force it out of him. I think he would have sat and watched it just to avoid offending me otherwise.”

Sasha knows from Tim’s silence that he knows something she doesn’t. She forces herself not to push.

The staff room door creaks open in a way only Martin can seem to manage—so quiet, so deliberately quiet they wouldn’t hear if they weren’t listening. Martin himself steps out, looking washed out and red-eyed. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but he does look like he’s rubbed at his eyes, scratched slightly at his cheeks. He musters a small, shaking smile for them both, a cup of tea in each hand. The surface of the tea ripples with the lingering motion of Martin’s hands.

“Hey, guys,” Martin says quietly, “Oh, Tim, I didn’t realise you—I didn’t make—but you can have this one. It’s got sugar in it. But I know you don’t mind sugar sometimes. Although it’s the mug with the—”

Tim moves around the desk so he’s hiding the coffee cups behind him. “Oh, no, you keep it, mate. It’s your tea. And you look like you could do with the caffeine.”

“Yeah, I need to get on with some follow-ups or Jon won’t exactly be happy with me.” Martin’s smile is still wan, still too small. “And I don’t want to fall asleep at my desk again,” he adds with false cheer.

“Didn’t Jon tell you?” Tim says cheerfully. Sasha marvels, for a moment, at his ease. She knows he is good at this—at seeming happy even when he is not—but her heart hurts at the ways life has forced Tim to lie. “We’ve got the rest of the day off.”

Martin frowns. The smile falls away quickly, as if grateful for the excuse. “We do?”

“Yeah. It’s a workplace rule.”

“About?” Martin says, dragging the word out in nervous curiosity.

“Traumatic events,” Tim replies seamlessly, “I’ll get you the employee handbook if you—”

“As long as we don’t get in trouble.” A humourless laugh from Martin. “As long as we don’t get in trouble, I’ll take it.”

“Why don’t you go and rest a bit? I know you had an early start with all the commotion this morning.” Tim gives Martin a gentle, encouraging smile. Sasha can only see it in profile, but she knows it well enough herself to grasp the full picture. ��I’m going to take Sasha to A&E just in case she needs stiches, okay?”

“Oh.” Martin’s lips tremble almost imperceptibly. “Oh, Sasha, I—I didn’t know—I thought maybe it—I’m sorry. I really should have checked better, I—”

“Oh, Martin, no. No,” Sasha interrupts, as gently as she can, trying to mirror Tim’s calm, “You did a great job. Tim’s just being a mother hen.”

“You know me,” Tim adds merrily.

Martin looks even paler with guilt. “I can come with you. If you need someone to—I can tell the doctor about the first aid earlier if they need to know the details—”

“I’ll be fine, Martin,” Sasha tells him, “And Tim’s right. Go and sit down, at the very least. I woke you up far too early this morning.”

Martin looks almost like the words Sasha is thinking are on the tip of his tongue: I wasn’t asleep. But he offers another blank smile, a valiant attempt, but there is something deeply sad and guilty around his eyes. “Keep me updated?”

Sasha smiles. “Of course.”

“How about I come and let you know when we’re leaving? I need to let Jon know before we go, anyway, and Sasha’s not in a rush to go near any needles,” Tim offers.

Sasha wishes her desk wasn’t enclosed so she could kick Tim. Martin just nods and begins walking away, almost ghost-like, still holding both cups of tea as if he doesn’t know he is in possession of them. Sasha wonders when he will notice. If he will punish himself for it in some hidden, devastating way.

Like refusing to sleep under the guise of keeping watch.

“God,” Sasha murmurs, “I really—I feel awful.”

Tim watches the shadowed hallway Martin disappeared through. “I’ll talk to him. And you have nothing to feel bad about. You couldn’t help waking him up and it’s not like you were feeling—”

“It’s not that.” Sasha chews at her lip. She almost doesn’t want to tell him, even though she knows he won’t judge her. That almost makes it worse—that she shouldn’t be forgiven, but she will be if she speaks it aloud. “I was—I kept trying to make it logical in my mind. Jane Prentiss, the worms, Martin’s encounter. I realise now I was just trying to make myself feel better, but I kept telling myself that if she was really a serious threat, Martin would be dead. But, Tim, he’s—he’s far more resilient than any of us give him credit for, and I’ve been a complete—”

“Sasha,” Tim whispers, brushing his fingers against her knuckles where she’s clenching the desk again, “I understand. I do.”

“I guess I’m just a bit shaken by it all.”

“I know. We all are. But it’s going to be alright. I’m going to do everything in my power to make it alright.”

Sasha meets his determined gaze. “Me too.”

“Right, I’ll text Jon and tell him where we’re going. He’ll be elbow deep in statements somewhere and very grumpy if I interrupt.”

Sasha musters a weak laugh. “Don’t be mean. He was nice to me. I think he was worried.”

“Jonathan Sims? Worried?”

“Tim.”

“No,” Tim assents with an apologetic smile, “To be fair, it’s been a stressful few months. I know he cares. I just wish…”

“He’d show it a bit more?”

“Yeah. Just a bit.”

Sasha sighs. She gives Tim a weak push. “Please go and check on Martin. Don’t make me ask again.”

“Okay, okay, but…” Tim smiles, almost shy. “Can I kiss you?”

Sasha taps her forehead, just once. It’s a familiar, well-worn routine by now. Tim lowers his lips to her hairline, places a gentle kiss where she indicated and then moves away from her desk. He smiles, a genuine, real smile—nothing behind or beneath it. Uncomplicated, complete. She returns it.

“I’ll be back,” Tim warms in an overly-dramatic voice as he hurries away to check on Martin.

Sasha sits alone at her desk and thinks, incongruously, about fire extinguishers.

When the Archives are under attack, when Jane Prentiss roams hissing and writhing through the rooms and halls where she used to laugh with people she no longer knows are alive, Sasha doesn’t go to Elias.

When she finds the fire suppressant system, when it takes her nearly ten minutes to work out the wiring and the code and the mechanism, she is almost sick with the fear that she is too late.

When she finds out she was right on time, she weeps.

And when she looks at Jon and Tim’s scars, when she notices the shadows beneath Martin’s eyes, when she faces down her own nightmares about a siege that could have been so much worse and yet wrought so much damage, she still cannot help but think she dodged a bullet.

It’s a stranger of a feeling. The certainty of it is new and unsettling. But it doesn’t leave her, this sense that she escaped something intended for her. She cries with fear when she hears fire alarms, close or far, and finds herself intensely, unexplainably grateful.

#anyone else think about how hard Sasha's encounter might have been for Martin or is it just me #also Sasha deserves to be loved and cherised #i miss her #Sasha is aro btw i don't mention it specifically but i adore this hc #i don't even know what this AU is and yet it is the only thing getting me out of bed right now #i want Sasha and Tim to somehow appear in the finale but i DREAD how that might come about #i just miss them so much!!!!#cw blood #cw injury #cw panic attack #cw worms #cw disorientation #cw invasions of privacy #cw surgery #cw manipulation #cw gaslighting #cw isolation #cw needles #cw medical anxiety #cw dermatillomania #cw exhaustion #cw insomnia #cw self-harm #cw nausea #i hope i got all of them but please please let me know otherwise #mostly very brief mentions but i want to be safe #take care of yourselves #<333 #also fuck elias #i'm sorry to subject you to him in this fic

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writers-blogck · 5 years ago

Text

BNHA Imagines - MISC 01

Meeting for the First Time

Hitoshi Shinso:

He was pissed that he was put in the General Studies, he should be in one of the hero courses! Those tests weren't made for a quirk like his so there was no way for him to show off how powerful it could be. Plus, just to top it all off and piss him off further, he could hear a couple of students whispering about him. He could tell they were all support heroes, huddled up and gossiping. He thought that this would go away when he got into U.A. but guess jerks would always find a way. He was used to it by now. "He looks super creepy, it's like he wants to be known as a villain." The one girl spoke, obviously frightened by the purple-haired boy. "I know. Mind control is always bad, how could a hero have that quirk?" "I bet he'll drop out and join the League of Villains. He already fits the part." The words filled him with both anger and sadness. He had lived his entire life with those words and worked every day to prove them wrong. He had thought that since U.A. would be different since he had expected the students to be smarter but it was obvious that he was wrong. The three years here would be filled with voices and hidden stares just like the rest of his life. Why should he expect anyone to think differently? "You do realize that the number three pro-hero is a man-made up of fire, right?" A new voice spoke up, bringing Shinso out of his thoughts and made him pay attention again, "That seems pretty villainy to me. What about thirteen? I'm sure people thought that her quirk could only be used for villainy. Plus it has been scientifically proven that a majority of villains were students who either failed or kept being told they could only be a villain instead of a hero. So please, be my guest if you want to keep berating him but don't be upset when he treats you like a villain. Even the best person will be a villain if they are diminished enough. All it takes is one bad day." Your eyes glowed a medium blue as you stared at the girls. You were part of the support class as well but still had a powerful quirk. It was called Memory Card, allowing your brain to reach super-genius levels for up to fifteen minutes. You would remember anything you had ever been told and could use this power to access all of that knowledge. It helped that you were just super smart, to begin with, knowing your brain was made to support such knowledge. As your eyes slowly changed back to (e/c), the group of students scurried away. Before Shinso had the chance to talk to you, you were gone. At that moment, he made it his duty to go find you and at least learn your name.

Mirio Togata:

Panic began to fill your chest as you crumbled against an alley wall. The dim street lights were the only thing lighting up the world around you. Everything seemed so dark and like there could be anything just around the corner. Whispers swirled around you and you could feel she was on her way. Why did it have to be like this? You would prefer not having a quirk to having to go through this. It made your entire body want to shut down.

Most of the time you were able to control her. As long as you were able to keep yourself calm and collected, she couldn't take control. You were able to use your quirk as it should be used. It was able to make people see their biggest fears, something which kept you from training with it as much as you should. How could you train with someone when you would have to make them feel that way? You had vowed from a young age to only ever use it in emergencies and against bad guys. Yet, due to your lack of training, she was able to take over every now and again.

Nightmare felt like a demon at times. You had no clue how these types of quirks worked. The only other person who you knew who had something like this was Tokoyami and he didn't understand himself. Dark Shadow got stronger when he was in the darkness, Nightmare got stronger the more you lost control of your thoughts. Breathing hurt as you gasped, fingers scratching at your neck as if something was choking you. You had medication to keep these episodes from coming on but you had run out. The doctor said he could see you in a few weeks and that you shouldn't have any attacks. Well, obviously he was wrong.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, one of the only things you were able to feel at that point. The rest of your body felt like it was numb and wasn't in your control anymore. No matter how many times you reminded yourself it wasn't real, it didn't help. Her sharp talons had attached themselves deep in your back and were planning on staying there. She had never gotten control of your body but you were terrified one day she would be strong enough. "Hey!" An echo reverberated around your skull, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was a male voice and while Nightmare could mimic someone, this sounded different. It felt hot, unlike everything around you that was freezing you to the bone. It seemed to only strengthen due to the voice but a patch of warm spread on your shoulder, shaking you. Loud thunder rumbled from above - she was angry. The talons tightened but you forced yourself to focus on the soft warmth until you felt your eyes open again.

The alleyway faded away as the light returned, bringing you out of your attack. The sun was shining down at your crumbled form against a tree on school grounds, your skin suddenly becoming quite warm. How long had you been here with the hot sun shining down on you? As you sat up properly, you could feel the sweat under your blazer and made a mental note to get some water as soon as you were inside. "Are you okay?" Your attention shifted to the boy standing above you, his voice exactly like the one you heard before. He was larger than you overall, suggesting him being an upperclassman. He wasn't part of 1-B, the class you had been assigned to. They told you that if you had more control over your powers, you could have made it into 1-A. You wanted to but you had no idea how to train without using someone else. What class was this boy in? General Studies? Support? Your mind was in a daze, slowly shifting your attention to the blue worried eyes looking down at you. Blonde hair was pushed back, though it was beginning to get messy with the heat. The first thought in your head as you saw his face for the first time was: Can the sun be a person?

Tamaki Amajiki:

Japan was so different than America. You knew you were lucky to be one of the transfer students to U.A. but it was intimidating with the entirely new country. The manners were so different here, they had so many ideas of what was polite and what was disrespectful. How would you learn it all? Would someone get mad at you because you were a foreigner? These thoughts filled your head until a shout rang out and you felt a large amount of force push against you. It was easy to regain your balance after stumbling back an inch or so. The sound of metal crunching up filled your ears as you began to focus back in on the present. What had happened? "Oh my god, are you okay?" A purple-haired boy that was much taller than you asked, running over in your direction before slowing as he got closer. His eyes moved from your figure to the crumbled car in front of you. A mixture of confusion and panic washed over his face as you casually looked down at the ruined vehicle. Luckily, no one was inside. What had happened? You glanced toward the direction it came from before you felt pale hands ghosting over your skin in search of some type of wounds. "I'm fine!" You smiled up at him, causing him to stumble back to put some space in between the two of you again. "That's a full car that just hit you. Maybe you have a concussion...Hm, you need a medic but the villain is still attacking...What should I do?" He mumbled the last part to himself, body rocking back and forth on his heels. This reaction was normal for you when someone saw your quirk for the first time. You were small, just reaching 5 feet (a symptom of your quirk), which often caused people to see you as fragile. It was rather ironic when they finally saw what you could take.

"I can take it. I am like super dense, you definitely can't pick me up. I'm 300 pounds if you can believe that!" "What...?" "My friends from home call me Buggie because of my quirk. I'm like an ant, do you know about them? I'm sure you do but some people don't think about how strong they are. They can carry up to 1,000 times their weight! I can do that too, isn't that really cool? I mean, lifting 1,000 times my body weight is straining but you know what I mean. " "Yeah, alright. If you're not hurt..." There was doubt in his eyes but he needed to get back to the battle. He would have to trust you if he could get back to Fatgum and help him. What if he was being hurt right now? His stomach twisted and he felt like he was ready to throw up. "No, I'm fine! I can move this car if you need, I could easily pick it up and-" "Ah- I don't have time. I'm sorry, I need to get back to that villain." A simple nod was all that you got as a parting before he was running off, white cape fluttering behind him. You wondered if he was a student of U.A. as you walked away, looking down at the address of the school that you were trying to find.

Nejire Hado:

When Ryuku decided to take you, along with Tsu and Uraraka for your internships, you were shocked. You were a quiet and shy individual, feeling a lot smaller than the two other girls. Both of them weren't afraid to speak out about what they think or how people are going to react. To you, this was your everyday life. Your quirk allowed you to see the future, multiple versions of the future. Sometimes it was good but you often saw so many terrible and dangerous things. Such simple things could hurt so many people. It had left you filled with anxiety, wishing you could turn off your visions. What was even more shocking was the member of the big three that also was part of your group. The three of them had spoken to your class, though you had a hard time paying attention, you still were able to remember her. Nejire, that was her name. She was so much nicer than you thought. She was so patient with you, it had to be due to Tamaki. She was used to dealing with someone with a fast-acting mind.

"Senpai..." You spoke softly, catching the attention of the blue-haired girl. The first time you had called her that was an accident but she seemed to like it. You couldn't help but wonder if she paid more attention to you than the other two girls. Was that fair? Were you just overthinking it and seeing things that weren't really there? "Yes?" She smiled and your heart couldn't help but skip a beat. Nejire was just so pretty and sweet, it was hard to keep yourself from getting flustered around her. She was what you dreamed to be but you doubted you would ever be as good as her. You didn't even have a chance, why did you keep trying? Shaking your head ever so slightly, you pushed those thoughts away to focus on the task at hand. "Are you sure you want to take me on patrol with you instead of Tsu or Uraraka? I'm certain they would be more suited for it...I don't want to mess up and make something-" "You are perfect for patrol, my little kohai. Plus, I want to get to know you better and you seem to be less nervous when there are not many people. Don't worry about it, I'm certain about my choices. I like to think I make pretty good ones, you know?" Her arm flung over your shoulders, leading you forward as you were left in silence. How could your face feel this hot? Was the air thinner? "O-Okay..."

How were you going to survive this girl?

All-Might:

The two of you were much younger when the two of you met for the first time. It was hazy to remember how it all went. It was strange to think there was a time you didn't know him or Aizawa or the others. They felt so permanent in your life now that thinking before them felt wrong. All-Might was one of the top heroes and the others were rising in the ranks just as much! Why would you want to focus on the past when the present was so good? It wasn't as magical as the press tried to guess. They said he rescued you from falling off a bridge or you had been a hostage but it was nothing that fancy. The two of you had met your first day of U.A. because the two of you were in 1-A. Toshinori attracted the attention of most of the other students and you would be lying if you said you didn't check him out like the others. He was handsome- a strong body with a dazzling smile. The full package. When lunch rolled around, you would be surprised when he approached you first, asking if he could sit with you. It wasn't that you approached him first and fell in love like the media believed. It was the exact opposite. If anyone asked him to this day, he would be willing to gush about you for hours if they let him. At first, it was a simple adoration as a friend who was proud but it began to change. It would all be out in the open when he ended up kissing you while a camera was pointing at the two of you. That was when all shit went loose. But it was much simpler back when the two of you were in school. It was no different than any puppy dog crush between two people. The two of you had no clue of the chaos and pain that waited for the two of you in the future. Who would expect their happiness to be on a timer?

Aizawa Shouta:

It wasn't rare to find Aizawa drinking at a bar in his free time. He was stressed and it was only getting worse as the year progressed. His students were being put in more and more danger and there was nothing he could do about it. These villains were getting ahead of the pro heroes and it was increasingly becoming hazier on if they could win. One would like to believe the good guys always will win but Aizawa knew better. He had lost that innocence long ago.

"Are you alright?" A soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, making him look up to see the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They held no grief or guilt in them and instead sparkled in the dim bar light. They were holding a small glass of wine, their lips dyed with a faint hue of red. "I'm fine." He grumbled, eyes drifting to the whiskey in his cup. Was this his second glass? He didn't keep track, he just drank until those thoughts left. It was one of the only ways he was able to get some sleep recently. It wasn't healthy but he didn't know of another way. So much was happening and he was in charge of making sure his students were safe. Bakugo had gotten kidnapped, who knew what else was coming? They were children...

Without any warning, they sat down in the stool next to him silently. Nothing was said between the two of them at that moment or the rest of the night. Aizawa didn't have to do anything and yet, the person stayed. He had expected to get annoyed but the presence of another person helped. His mind was able to relax if only for the few hours they were able to spend together. The minutes passed as they sat together, drinking their respective drinks. The sun soon set and the darkness began to cover the city. The time of the villains. He needed to go, he had work in the morning. He may not get a lot of sleep but he was going to take advantage of the warm liqueur in his stomach and the calmness this person provided. As he stood to put his jacket back on, his eyes glanced over at the dark streets again and couldn't help but think about how dangerous it was outside. He was a hero, after all, he was trained to go out when it was like this but when he looked at the other person, they looked just like a citizen. Before they parted, he took a chance and offered to walk them home. He was considering taking it back but once they agreed, he was too far gone.

Hawks:

For your first two years of attending U.A., you were an intern under Aizawa. He would never admit it but he had a soft spot in his heart for you. When you first entered the school, you had no family and had self-esteem about as good as Tamaki's, one of your juniors. You could remember seeing him get into 1-A as you were finishing up your last year. That had been a hectic time for you but you were part of the top three of your own year and had to give a speech. You were proud when you heard the shy boy was in his own big three. You knew he had talent when you met him.

Most of your time was spent in your internships as you had two to do, something extremely rare. Your official internship was under Aizawa and you were training to become a teacher at U.A. but you wanted some more fieldwork under your belt. When you first started, Aizawa did have you go on missions and such but it had declined the older you got and the more concrete your goal of working at U.A. became. It was true but you wanted more. That was when you met him for the first time. He was amazing to watch! When hearing that he was only twenty, you decided that you would internship under him.

Aizawa tried to talk you out of it but he knew once you had something on your mind, you wouldn't stop until you got it. It took a lot to finally get the boy to agree to take you under his wing. He gave a long list of reasons why the two of you would be a terrible pairing but you kept coming back with reasons that destroyed his complaints. In the end, it was your determination that made him agree to let you tag along. What would your life be if he rejected you? Once you finished your final year in U.A., you were given a position as a teacher's assistant, to Aizawa as was expected. When you got a few years under your belt with him, Nezu would then allow you to teach first years. It was a dream come true! Training future heroes was amazing but you did have that tug every now and again where you wanted to help with more hero work. Hawks decided to let you come with him on patrols whenever you got that way, the two of you going through many sleepless nights together. The press even dubbed you as Hawk's 'semi-sidekick'. You weren't in the front lines a lot but you really appreciated what Hawks did.

Hawks had no clue what to expect when he took you in. He had never been a mentor to someone and it was strange when they were only three years his junior. The mentorship morphed into a strange friendship that only strengthened once you graduated. What he didn't expect was to begin feeling differently about you, no longer seeing you just a kid. Aizawa had accepted his soft spot for you during your second year but Hawks was still in denial about how he really felt. The two felt different types of love for you but without you even knowing, you had them wrapped around your finger.

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