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urdepressedslut · 1 year ago

Note

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

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jjkamochoso · 5 months ago

Text

Pt. 2 of Imagine… Soshiro Hoshina Finding You on the Brink of Death

Angst, Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of hospital setting/devices

You can find the all angst ridden part 1 here!

One week.

That was how long it had been since Soshiro had seen your alluring (e/c) eyes, heard your infectious laugh, blushed at your gentlest smile reserved just for him. The past 7 days of you in a coma after almost becoming a kaiju meal had been devastating for him and the rest of your teammates. You had many visitors over the hours you lied completely still on your hospital bed, but you weren’t the only unmoving person in your room. Soshiro had rarely moved an inch from your side, only getting up to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t remove himself from his seat next to your fragile body in case you woke up; he couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone in such a vulnerable state anyway.

“They’re under the best care here, Hoshina. Go get some rest,” Captain Ashiro had told him on day 3, when Soshiro was sporting dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He respectfully refused, and Mina knew better than to fight with him right now—he was as stubborn as he was talented with his swords. Every time the nurses came in to check your vitals, they looked upon him and his sad state of being with sorrow, feeling awful to see the man in such despair. They had taken it upon themselves to deliver meals for him since they all knew he wasn’t leaving to eat. Even if most of the time the tray sat untouched, they took it as a win when a pudding or fruit cup disappeared.

Day 5 was the hardest for Soshiro. By that point, he was delirious from staying up practically all night in case you needed something. His typed reports stopped making sense, his brain nowhere near as sharp as usual due to the fog of grief that had settled in his mind. The steady beeps of your life support machine haunted his every waking moment, a perfect symphony of the anguish he couldn’t escape. Thankfully, Kafka had heard about his vice captain’s condition and visited that night, offering to take over Soshiro’s watch in case you woke up. Soshiro was extremely reluctant at first, but he knew that you and Hibino were close; he also trusted the kind hearted man enough to know he’d be there for you in case something happened. With strong hesitation, Soshiro left your sight for the first time in 96 hours, heading to the shower. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn’t wash away the feelings of guilt he harbored over your injuries.

If only I was faster, stronger… I could’ve been there sooner. Stopped the kaiju from ever sinking its disgusting teeth into you. What kind of vice captain am I? What kind of… person am I? How could I ever expect them to love me back if I can’t succeed in my one job of protecting them?

He let his tears fall freely, mixing in with the water from the shower head.

Day 7 was the point where Soshiro was just… there. He barely felt anything anymore, whether it was exhaustion, anguish, or anything else. He sat next to you like normal, gazing at your chest as it sank and rose with shallow breaths, but his eyes were glazed over in a manner reminiscent of a man without hope. The doctors didn’t have an estimated time for you to wake up. With injuries as extensive as yours, there was no telling when your body would be ready to start running on its own again. Soshiro didn’t know how to process that news; he liked seeing tangible results, and the fact that you had been hooked up to all these damn machines for so long and nothing had changed? It was pure torture to him. He found himself inching closer to you, if that were even possible, and he took hold of your hand with the softest of touches.

“I miss ya, y/n,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips. He was careful to not disrupt the IV as he laid a gentle kiss on your cold skin, savoring the sensation of doing what had wanted to do since he first met you all those years ago.

“Remember the promise we made to each other when we were young and dumb? Now we’re old and dumb,” he chuckled humorlessly, “and you still have to keep up your end of the bargain. You have to survive. I can’t lose you.”

He took in a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t lose you because I’m in love with you.”

It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on him—he finally garnered the courage to admit he had fallen in love, but the object of his affections wasn’t able to hear it. He let his head hang in misery as he kept your hand close to his face, eventually placing it against his cheek. He closed his eyes, wishing with all his might that you would wake up. If you died… he wouldn’t know how to move on from such a devastating blow. He knew this macabre scenario had a high probability of happening in this career field you two chose, but he always had faith in his and your abilities to stay alive. To say that faith had been shaken was the understatement of the century.

“Y/n, please. I can’t do this alone. I need ya back with me. You gotta keep fighting.”

Soshiro went to place your hand back on the bed when he swore he felt your fingers move against his own. His eyes widened in surprise as his heart started slamming against his rib cage. Was that real or just his imagination?

It happened again.

And your eyes opened.

He slammed on the call button, informing the nurses of your awakening before turning his attention back to you.

“So-soshiro,” you tried to say, but your throat couldn’t form any words.

“Shh, don’t say anything, darling, I’m right here. Always have been, always will be.”

A grin swirled with anxiety and relief was present on his lips as he looked at you.

After a few hours of tests, doctors checking up on you, and small moments to collect your thoughts, you were finally able to form coherent sentences.

“You sat here the whole time? Now I feel bad,” you said, a small frown gracing your features.

“Don’t feel bad. I didn’t want you to be alone, that’s all,” Soshiro told you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. “Did you… happen to hear anything I was saying before you woke up?”

“What, like how we’re old and dumb and that you’re in love with me?” you said, trying your best not to laugh at his shocked expression.

“Huh? You actually did hear me? I thought that only happened in movies!” he whined, his cheeks tinged with red.

“No reason to be embarrassed, Soshiro. I didn’t know how to tell you but I’m in love with you, too. I have been for a very long time.”

Soshiro was looking upon you like you had descended directly from the heavens, his eyes gleaming with unbridled joy as his fingertips danced over your arm, tracing shapes in an intimate, comforting manner.

“I‘ve been so worried about ya, sweetheart, but now that you’re back with me, it’s like I can breathe again.”

You relished in the calm quiet of the room, basking in Soshiro’s loving presence. He was exactly the driving force behind you willing your body to wake up. You could never leave him to walk this world alone.

“I also felt you kissing my hand,” you said after a long bout of silence. “That was very sweet of you.”

“Guess all I had to do was give ya true love’s kiss to wake up?” he joked, his little fangs peeking out of his lazy grin.

“I’m looking forward to my real kiss when I get out of the hospital,” you replied, attempting to wink at him.

He leaned his face over yours, his breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. “If you want, I can give you a preview of it right now.”

You felt your pulse quicken and apparently so did the heart rate monitor you were hooked up to; the machine started beeping, alerting that your numbers were abnormal.

Soshiro kissed your forehead before sitting down again, smirking. “Do I make ya nervous?”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Watch it Hoshina, or I’ll have you admitted into the bed next to me.”

Soshiro burst out in his trademark laugh, grabbing at his stomach and wiping away the tears forming in his eyes. You could be given all the medicine known to man but nothing could make you feel better than the promise of being loved by the easily amused violet haired man who will never leave your side.

#soshiro hoshina fluff #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader fluff #soshiro hoshina angst

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sapphicjackal · 5 months ago

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Bingyuan Soulmate au 1

Bingyuan soulmates au

The modern world has soulmates, with the function that anything written on your skin appears on your soulmate. Only soulmates can see the writing of their soulmate, nobody else can see what is written on your skin. The words are visible to your soulmate as well. Language barriers don’t affect communication because it's the communication between souls through the medium of flesh, you will always see your soulmate's words in your own language.

PIDW is a work of fiction within the genre of “no soulmates/alternate soulmates”, it operates on the invisible red string of fate, and not everyone has someone attached to their string. Only certain people like Madam Meiyn can see the string, which means that soulmates are practically a myth within PIDW.

Shen Yuan has been studiously writing to his soulmate since the moment he was old enough to read, cheerfully hoping for his pretty soulmate to write back to him. He was disappointed when years went by without a response, but his parents told him that it happens when your soulmate is younger than you and either hasn't been born yet or can’t read yet.

It took until Shen Yuan was 15 years old to receive his first response from his soulmate. He was both overjoyed and mildly worried and disappointed. He can finally connect with his soulmate, but they're far younger than him. They probably aren’t romantic soulmates which is sad, but Shen Yuan will love them anyway!

Shen Yuan had taken to the habit of writing a short message to his soulmate every morning, even when he was in the hospital. He made sure that each message was unique, and that it told his soulmate that he cared about them. Sometimes he left little stories when interesting things happened and he wanted to share it with someone.

He was delighted when he felt tingling on his forearm, the strokes were far broader than the felt tipped markers that were commonly sold in stores to write to soulmates. It felt kind of like a brush, which Shen Yuan was familiar with writing from his classes on the 4 arts.

“I hope you have a wonderful day that brings you joy.” The words that Shen Yuan wrote this morning.

“Who are you?”

Came the messy calligraphy painted onto his skin, alongside the words he could feel the phantom emotion in the lettering. It felt like curiosity and confusion, laced with wariness.

Shen Yuan sat up in his bed and grabbed the felt marker from his bedside table, “I’m your soulmate! It’s nice to meet you.” he responded swiftly, watching his arm in anticipation.

Stroke by stroke came the reply from his soulmate, still with the same calligraphy brush as before. “Soulmate? This one has never heard of words on skin happening with soulmates." The feelings accompanying it were skeptical with an underlying stirring of hope.

“How old are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard of soulmates, everyone has one. Only soulmates can see each other’s words, but everybody gets them. Unless their soulmate isn’t born or has died.” Shen Yuan explained to his young soulmate, curious as to why his soulmate hadn’t heard of it before.

Soulmates were ingrained into culture to the point that ignorance of the mechanics was near incomprehensible to Shen Yuan. It was like someone not knowing that there were stars in the sky or that the sun rose in the morning. It was just something that everyone knew, and something that everyone was taught.

“This one is 10.” came his soulmate's reply.

Oh, they weren’t as young as Shen Yuan thought. Maybe they came from a more rural place with lower literacy, or lived somewhere less privileged with education. In that case, Shen Yuan should do his best to help educate his soulmate and help them in any way that he can. He cares for his soulmate and he won’t let whatever circumstances they have dictate the rest of their life.

“I’m 15, and I’ll help you with anything you need. Let me know anything you struggle with learning and I’ll try to help you.” Shen Yuan wrote before wiping away his earlier messages to make more room.

“Really?” wrote his soulmate, full of hope and wariness, something so earnest yet fragile that it broke his heart to feel. His soulmate must lack support for them to feel so tentative about genuine help.

“Yuan-ge will help you with anything. I promise.” he wrote, firm with his conviction and affection, hoping that it would transfer to the other.

“Yuan-ge?” asked his soulmate, full with giddy happiness and anticipation.

Shen Yuan smiled, happy that his soulmate was less scared and wary. He wanted his soulmate to be nothing but happy.

“My name is Shen Yuan,” he introduced.

He waited for a few minutes before he felt brush strokes again.

“This one is Luo Binghe.”

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

#svsss #bingqiu #bingyuan #shen yuan #luo binghe #soulmate au

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megalony · 2 months ago

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I'll Take Care Of Her

This is a new Doctor! Eddie Diaz imagine based on a lovely request, I'm sorry it took me so long to write this for you. I hope you will all like it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Both Eddie and (Y/n) work in the hospital, but while Eddie is in surgery, a patient down in the ER attacks (Y/n). And the staff have to go and find her husband quick.

Enjoy.

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

A rush of adrenaline sparked through (Y/n)'s stomach when a pair of arms deadlocked around her waist. Shivers coursed up and down her spine at the feeling of a chin pressing down on her shoulder and a familiar chest gluing against her back.

Her head twisted to the left and she pressed a quick kiss to her husband's temple, reaching her hands down to squeeze his wrists.

She loved the way he grinned and meshed his lips into the side of her neck, softly kissing her skin even though they were in the middle of the cafe. The feeling of Eddie's fingers squeezing her hips made her want to melt into a puddle. And she loved the body heat radiating off of him making her feel warm and fuzzy.

"Want a coffee?" She nudged her lips against his temple and began walking closer to the till, feeling him murmur 'please' into her neck.

Eddie kept his chest pressed up into her back and unhooked one hand from (Y/n)'s hip to grab one of the sandwiches from the fridge beside them.

He wasn't sure how long this break was going to last before he was summoned back into work, and Eddie didn't want to go back without eating something first. And he had a funny feeling that his wife hadn't eaten anything yet either so he knew sharing some food would be the best idea for them both.

When (Y/n) grabbed the two coffees the cashier held out, Eddie swiped his card from his pocket and paid before he finally unlatched from (Y/n). He wove his right arm around her waist and tugged her into his side with his lips attached to the back of her head and the sandwich in his left hand.

He followed (Y/n) towards a free table near the window and once she sat down, he wedged into the booth alongside her.

Once they were both sat down, (Y/n) leaned her head on Eddie's shoulder and tucked herself under his arm like he was a bird and she was taking shelter beneath his wing. She felt his hand gliding up and down her arm and the touch made her smile and she inched closer until one more inch would mean she was sitting on his lap.

"How's your morning going?" Eddie whispered against her hair and took a look around the practically empty dining area.

He hadn't seen (Y/n) since they both arrived at work this morning and parted ways for their respective positions. Eddie had gone upstairs to do routine appointments in the hospital, whereas (Y/n) had been put on the rota for the emergency room for the day. It was always both rewarding and challenging to work the ER.

Eventually he turned his head and took a bite of the sandwich. Lunch breaks weren't very long when they both worked in a hospital and if he didn't eat now, he dreaded to think when he would eventually get to eat.

"You wouldn't believe the kind of people who turned up so far. Oh, and dad brought a patient in too, the guy had a tape worm almost my height."

"Glad I'm not down there with you then."

Eddie would much rather be up with routine patients than dealing with emergencies. Half the people who walked into the emergency room didn't need urgent help and the other half had such strange issues that it scared Eddie to let them leave and fear what they would get up to when they went back home.

And Eddie knew his father-in-law was always one to deal with 'special cases' as they came to call them.

Bobby worked for the fire department and as such, he was always bringing people down to the emergency room. Which meant that (Y/n) often got to see her dad if she was working down there and she knew he always had fun cases to bring in and dealt with lots of strange things on his shift.

And it was usually (Y/n) who dealt with the cases her dad brought in. His team's motto and rules were that once they brought someone down to the hospital, they left them at the doors. No check-ins, no follow ups to see how they were doing, just leave them to the doctors. They got handed over to (Y/n) and Eddie.

Eddie leaned back in his seat and when he looked down at (Y/n), he nudged the other half of the sandwich over to her.

"Eat something now while you have the chance."

The look in his eyes made (Y/n) relent and take the sandwich, a grateful smile on her lips as she mixed some sugar into her coffee. Their respective jobs at the hospital were far from easy and when they were busy, it was hard to take a lunch break or a ten minute breather to go and get a drink. But while they were here together, Eddie would prefer if (Y/n) ate something, then at least he would know she would be alright if she got busy down in the ER. He didn't want her wearing herself thin.

"Do you think if I hid out here, anyone would notice?" She was only joking and they both knew it, but it was such a tempting thought.

To just sit here in the cafe and hide out for a while, take a proper break that they both deserved rathe than a few minutes to choke down a boiling hot drink and eat half a sandwich.

"Afraid so, baby. Don't worry, if I need a nurse for a consult I'll page you."

"Thank you,"

Eddie had paged for (Y/n) quite a few times when he had to have a nurse present in a consult to check a patient. It stole her away for a little while and got her out of the emergency room and all the hustle and bustle.

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) leaned further into Eddie's side and looped her arm around his middle. She would prolongue lunch as much as she could and scrape together as much time with her husband as possible before she had to go back to the team.

But it was comforting to think that if the emergency room got too much, she could head up to Eddie's office for a while.

Sitting down made (Y/n) feel tired enough that if she closed her eyes, she feared she would fall asleep. She was fine until she stopped moving and actually sat down, that was when the lack of energy hit her like a truck and knocked her back. And right now she felt like they were at home, curled up on the sofa together.

It was nice to feel Eddie's hand gliding up and down her arm while they both sipped their coffees.

Eddie closed his eyes for a few moments, but he groaned when he felt his pager vibrating and beeping on his belt. He knew it was too good to be true. Five minutes with his wife was all he was going to get. He was supposed to have a good twenty minutes for his lunch break, but clearly that wasn't going to happen today.

He leaned into (Y/n) and set his cup down so he could grab his pager and see what he was being called for. He was supposed to be on consultations today, but Eddie was always on standby. If there was an emergency, he would hand his cases down to a GP and head off wherever he was needed.

*Emergency appendectomy OR 6.

"Great. I'm gonna be in surgery for the next few hours." He twisted the pager in (Y/n)'s direction before he slotted it back on his belt. "If I don't catch you before we finish, just wait in my office for me."

They usually finished at the same time when their shifts lined up and Eddie would drive them both home. If he didn't see (Y/n) beforehand, he would see her when she came by his office when they both finished.

Their shifts didn't finish late tonight so Buck was getting Chris from school for them and he would drop him off after tea. They knew all of Bobby's team and they were all close, but Buck had become a very close friend to the couple.

"Have fun." (Y/n) sat up straight so she wasn't leaning on Eddie any more and she smiled when his hand cupped her chin and tilted her head back.

She could taste the sugar on his lips from his coffee and his thumb traced her jaw while he leaned into her.

"See you later baby, be careful."

Eddie's words spun round (Y/n)'s head that felt like it was full of air when he finally parted from her lips after stealing all the air from her lungs. His touch lingered on her skin as she watched him down the last of his coffee and weave between the tables.

His white coat flowing in the breeze at his quick descent and (Y/n) knew in half an hour that coat would be traded for a mint green set of scrubs.

With a sigh, (Y/n) downed her own drink, grimacing as it burned the back of her throat and settled heavy in her stomach. She felt a shiver coursing down her spine when she got up and slowly trudged out the cafe. She would head back to the emergency room, but she wasn't in any hurry.

There didn't seem much point in (Y/n) sitting here by herself any longer. She had gotten a small break and she got to spend a tiny portion of her day with her husband. She may as well get back to work now; the quicker she got back, the sooner her shift would finish.

She hoped.

***

(Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair while she finished writing up her notes, leaning against the nurse's station.

She could feel a headache rolling in and she just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. But there was still a few more hours left of her shift until she could go and find Eddie and head home. (Y/n) couldn't wait for next week. She and Eddie had booked the week off and that meant no one could ring either of them and ask for them to cover shifts or be on call.

They would get to be together for the week, the wouldn't have to be up early or home late or knackered from long twelve hour shifts. And they would get to be home with Chris. No swapping shifts and finding people to help watch him until they finished work. They could spend the whole week with him, and they had plans for the seaside and the amusement park.

She could barely contain her relief and excitement at the thought of leaving and heading home with Eddie this afternoon.

With her lower back arched out, (Y/n) leaned her head on her forearm as she finished up writing her notes and slotted the paperwork in the discharge file. It was easier when they got to see and discharge people on the same day rather than send them all over the hospital. Files got easily missed and the computer system didn't always update quick enough.

"(Y/n), did you discharge that last patient?"

Her head snapped to the left and she looked over at the Doctor Ardas. He was in charge of the ER today, and (Y/n) wasn't his biggest fan. He was all for pushing people past their breaking points. He didn't like people taking breaks or taking too long and to say he liked effeciency was an understatement.

"Yeah, she's been sent home."

"Good. Cubicle three needs assessing and bloods, the full works. Go." The way he pointed and wagged his hand in the right direction made (Y/n)'s jaw lock as she scowled.

What did he think she was, a trained puppet?

She didn't have chance to tell him not to be so crude and have some manners before he turned and walked away.

Great.

She thought about turning and skulking off somewhere, Eddie's office was only up on the second floor. She could make a break for it and hide away in there so she didn't have to deal with anymore patients.

(Y/n) had already taken blood samples, sone scratch tests, checked eyesights and set up patients on drips of antibiotics and saline. She had seen three different patients and discharged two of them after her short lunch break and she had barely discharged the last patient. She could use five minutes to just breathe and sit for a moment before she was run ragged again. But this was the job, and she couldn't exactly say no.

Pushing off the desk, (Y/n) clicked her spine into place and walked away from the nurses station to head down the short hall towards the emergency cubicles. Each one was a large room with glass doors and walls, all kept private with blinds and curtains.

When she reached the third cubicle, she grabbed the chart sheet from outside the room before she walked in and shut the door behind her.

Her eyes cast across the chart sheet but she could feel her blood draining down to her toes when she read it over.

(Y/n) wasn't prejudiced or discriminating in any way, she couldn't be in her line of work. But if there was one set of patients she didn't particularly like caring for, it was the ones on drugs. The ones who would become frantic and paranoid and could get vevry crude and snappy.

Sometimes with patients on drugs they were frightened, and (Y/n) could deal with them easier than the ones who got verbally aggressive and lashed out. Especially when they didn't want help, yet came to a hospital.

The chart said this patient had been brought in after a collision on the motorway and they suspected he was on drugs. (Y/n) was going to have to take bloods to confirm as well as check him for injuries and get him onto a ward, if necessary.

"Hi Joe, I'm nurse Diaz." She set the chart down and moved over to stand beside the bed.

The man was sat up on the bed, one hand cradling his temple and the other holding the rail like he feared he might fall off the bed.

"Can I take a look at you?"

When he didn't respond, (Y/n) leaned over and tried to move her hands towards his face so she could get him to look at her. He had a large gash on the side of his temple that needed attending to.

He didn't seem bothered when, after putting on gloves and getting some cotton swabs, (Y/n) started to clean the wound on his temple. His eyes constantly darted from his lap up to look at (Y/n) and then went back down to his hands that were now fiddling on his lap. He was shaking his hands and curling his fingers like he was losing sensation in his hands, but (Y/n) guessed it was because he was high and packed with adrenaline.

It didn't take long to clean his temple and (Y/n) determined he didn't need any stitches or glue, it would heal up just fine on its own.

But the way he looked up at her and suddenly had a smirk playing on his lips made (Y/n) wonder if he hadn't exactly noticed or looked at her earlier. He was staring at her now like he had only just took a proper look at her and seen the kind smile on her features.

"You're pretty." His voice was almost as sleezy as the smile on his face and he reached out to try and either touch her cheek or cup her face, (Y/n) couldn't be sure. But either way, she leaned just out of his reach.

"Thank you. Can I set you up on the monitor?" She pointed to the ECG machine in the corner and grabbed the clips that would need to be attached to his chest, but he didn't reply.

This time, when (Y/n) leaned over him and tried to motion to his chest, he seemed to come to life. His arm flung out and whacked her wrist, sending her arm jolting down to the side and causing a dull sensation to sting towards her elbow.

So he didn't want the monitors on.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and put them down. He wasn't about to go into cardiac arrest and he had refused, she couldn't force him to wear the monitors.

"Head up for me please." She swiped the flashlight from her top pocket and leaned in front of him so she could check his eyes.

He grunted and pulled back when (Y/n) lifted his eyelid and shone the light over his pupils. They were blown wide and not reacting as good to light changes. His nose scrunched and he huffed when (Y/n) grabbed a stethoscope and listened to his breathing and his heart, but he didn't hit her away this time.

"Have you taken anything today? Medication, narcotics, any drinking?" She jotted a few notes down on his chart but she was dismayed to see him snarling at her like she had insulted him.

"Nar-whats?"

"Non-prescription drugs, Joe." Using his name might make him calm down and feel listened to; at least that was the hope. It might also make him feel like (Y/n) was treating him as a person and not just as a patient, another casualty being brought through.

"If I s-say yes, will you arrest me?" He had a teasing manner to his voice and leaned forward towards her.

"I'm a nurse, not a police officer. I just want to help, if you tell me what you took I can make sure you don't have any adverse reactions and that you haven't overdosed."

He muttered "Nothing." beneath his breath, but (Y/n) wasn't sure if he was simply disagreeing with her or telling her he hadn't taken anything like that today. Not that she was inclined to believe him anyway.

(Y/n) may not be a police officer, but her step-mum was. She wouldn't arrest Joe, she would only treat him. Once he was on a ward and sorted out, then (Y/n) would inform her step-mum who would probably be the one to come down here and arrest him. But Joe didn't need to know that yet.

"I need to take a blood sample now, it might be uncomfortable but it won't take long."

(Y/n) moved over to the small unit in the corner of the room and got what she needed to take some bloods. That would tell them what Joe had been taking today to bring him here and if he was on drugs, it would be used against him for driving under the influence.

She pulled the small stool over towards the bed and sat down, laying the items down in a dish on the side table.

His left arm was closest to her and (Y/n) tried to be tender and careful when she pulled the plastic strap around his bicep to cut off his circulation. The action made him grunt again and he looked down at her with a raised brow and confusion plastered on his face.

"What're you doing?"

"I need to take some bloods." She got the needle ready and poised at the crease of Joe's elbow, but the moment she tried to slide it into his vein, he came alive.

His hand slapped into her shoulder and his other hand reached around to try and grab her. His fingers narrowly missed her head, clawing at a few strands of hair as (Y/n) scuffled back on the stool to be out of reach.

"You're not injecting me with anything." The gritty tone to his tempered voice made (Y/n) wince and she tried to hold up the needle with the empty vile attached. There was nothing to inject, she was retrieving a sample not giving one.

"I'm not-"

"Listen, just sign the forms so I can be discharged." He stumbled up onto unsteady feet and advanced over to (Y/n) who hurriedly hopped off the stool.

She had to take his bloods, it was far easier than taking a hair sample to test for drugs in his system and bloods also helped them rule out any infections and check on organ function. He was here to be checked over, he had to let (Y/n) help him.

"Joe, I'm only trying to help. Please sit down and as soon as I'm done, we can get you on an IV. You might have a concussion." He might indeed be concussed, but (Y/n) couldn't discharge him in this state, especially when she didn't know what he had taken and in what quantity.

"I don't wanna be prodded and poked. Sign the damn forms, you can even stay in here with me if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm flattered, but you need your bloods done so we can check you're okay. Let's get them done now, hm?" (Y/n) motioned to the tray and picked up the needle again while she motioned for him to sit down, but he didn't seem to be listening.

Once his eyes locked on the needle in her hand, his lips curled into a snarl and as quick as anything, he grabbed her wrist and bent her hand to the side. The motion was swift and violent enough to make (Y/n)'s hand tremble and she dropped the needle with a cry.

Her free hand grabbed his wrist and she pushed her effort into her arm to try and make him relent. Any second now she was expecting to hear her wrist snap from the brute force he was using.

"Let go." Her hand was trembling when Joe finally relented and released her wrist that was pulsing from lack of blood to her fingers.

She coiled both arms to her chest and looked around the room. If he wasn't going to cooperate then she would have to call for assistance, maybe even security. (Y/n) had had her fair share of tough patients, but the most she dealt with was verbal aggression or the odd shove when she had a panicked patient. This was different; Joe was different.

"You're a tough one." His words made her tremble and she sidestepped towards the end of the bed where the buttons and controls were. She needed to press the call button for help.

A gasp tumbled past her lips and (Y/n) flung her arms out in front of her when Joe suddenly grabbed her hips. His fingers pinched into her skin and he yanked her so forcefully that her feet bent awkwardly beneath her and she stumbled forward into him.

Her whole body went rigid when he tried to kiss her. She agreed with the officer's statement that he was most likely on drugs, but (Y/n) could taste alcohol on his breath too.

As soon as his lips touched hers, her trembling hands shoved at his chest and she writhed from left to right until he let her go and she could stumble back.

It didn't matter if someone was attacking (Y/n), if they hit her, put her in a headlock or tried to kiss her, she couldn't physically attack them back. (Y/n) couldn't kick, punch, hit or grab at a patient. She had been to the training, she vaguely remembered all the techniques to 'calmly and kindly' get out of a bad situation without harming the other person.

It didn't mean that it was easy when she just wanted to slap him and use force to get him away from her. But not at the risk of her job.

"That's- sit down. You can't do that." Her voice was croaky and her chest heaved as she sidestepped to the left towards the door. She didn't want to be in the room with him anymore and (Y/n) didn't need to be. He had tried to assault her, that gave her grounds to leave and she couldn't be forced to care for him any longer.

A high-pitch 'no' tumbled past her lips when a hand was suddenly latched into her hair and her body was propelled backwards. No one had ever grabbed (Y/n) or done anything like this to her before. She had never been in this situation and she didn't imagine she ever would be, either.

Most of the people down in the ER were seeking help, they didn't want to lash out or cause inappropriate situations. They needed help and most of the people (Y/n) treated weren't in any fit state to try anything like this.

"Where'd you think you're going?"

He seemed to try and twist (Y/n) around to face him, but she fought against him, turning her body in the direction of the door, desperate for an escape. And her head stayed twisted away from him as not to give him any satisfaction and show she wasn't agreeing to this situation.

Both (Y/n)'s arms coiled up in front of her but it did no use. She predicted Joe would swoop down and try to kiss her again. She didn't expect him to thrust her to the side and crash her into the bedframe. The beds in the emergency room all had plastic frames with rails around the sides and at the bottom to keep patients stable and secure.

That plastic frame felt like metal when (Y/n)'s forehead collided with it and when Joe slammed into her, the left side of her chest cracked against the bed frame. It knocked all the air from her lungs in the form of a scream and her eyes snapped closed as she felt her body tingling and turning numb.

She crashed to the floor, gasping and trembling through coughs and when her body seemed to come back under her control, (Y/n) could feel a horrible ache pounding in her chest.

Had she broken her ribs? She'd never broken anything other than her fingers before. She didn't know what it was supposed to feel like, but this horrible impaling feeling was close enough.

Her arms were trembling too much and her hands were too numb to try and find the pager on her waist. And she knew she wouldn't have the capability to try and send a message to anyone, not right now. and now she was on the floor, she was out of reach of the emergency buttons at the head of the bed.

Something croaky like a broken whine parted her lips when she felt Joe try to grab her legs. And she realised with utter dismay that he was kneeling over her waist with her thighs trapped between his knees. Pinning her down.

"You're my nurse, aren't you?"

His voice was horrible and gritty and sounded like poison in (Y/n)'s ears and again, she tried to raise her arms above her for protection.

She screamed as loudly as she could, ending in a cough while her legs writhed beneath him, heels scraping against the floor and her hands batted out in front of her when Joe tried to lean down.

He had something in his hand.

(Y/n) screamed again, repeating 'no' and 'help' because she couldn't see what he had grabbed. If it was a needle, she couldn't let him stab her with it. If she got an air bubble in her bloodstream it could kill her, air in the blood caused heart attacks and embolisms. (Y/n) couldn't have him causing that; she could die.

Tears streamed down her face that twisted to the right and she screamed when a sharp burning sensation scraped along the left side of her neck. Quick thorough; it couldn't be a needle he had hurt her with, that would have gone into her skin not sliced against her.

A scalpel. He'd found one on the medical trolley in the corner, that was the only thing sharp in here that he could weaponise.

"Help!"

(Y/n) scraped her heels against the floor, trying in vain to press her feet down and bend her knees to try and give herself some momentum. It didn't work. She couldn't sit up, and she couldn't move Joe off her either. And when the scalpel came within her blurring sight, she tried to reach out for his wrist to keep him at bay.

His hand curled around her already tense, bruised wrist and fought to pin her hand to the floor, earning another scream from (Y/n)'s lips.

Someone had to hear her. Someone had to come to her aid and get this idiot off of her. They had to stop him before he did some real damage or did something unforgiveable because (Y/n) couldn't fend him off on her own.

A sob got stuck in the back of her throat and her vision blurred with more tears as she screamed loud enough to make Joe wince above her and pause, if only for a few seconds.

Would Eddie still be in surgery? Would someone be able to go and get him once someone finally came to (Y/n)'s aid?

She wanted Eddie. She wanted her husband.

For a moment when his hand let go of her bruised wrist, (Y/n) thought maybe he was letting her go. She thought he might be having second thoughts or realising what he was doing in a drug-fuelled rage. But when she saw his hands roaming away from her face and she couldn't see the scalpel anymore, she started to shout.

It took a lot of effort to lift her head from the floor, trying to get her blurring eyes to focus and see what he was doing. She didn't want another injury.

The door flung open and bodies bustled in just as (Y/n) let out a horrific scream when the scalpel imbedded in her waist. The small blade wasn't long enough to imbed into her skin and hit an organ or reach the bone. It would barely cut to the muscle, it was made for skin and light layers of tissue and the blade was as thin as card.

But with enough effort, it plunged at least half an inch deep into (Y/n)'s waist, just above her hip bone.

Something akin to "Fucking nurse!" Blundered past Joe's lips when hands were grappling with his shoulders and at least two doctors and one security man grabbed him.

They dragged him back while a nurse hurried to crouch down beside (Y/n) who all but blacked out when Joe was dragged off of her.

Both her shaking hands moved to plaster against her waist and she coiled her knees up to her abdomen, twisting onto her side. The scalpal was still in Joe's hand. He had yanked it out when the doctors pulled him off her. Thank God it hadn't been a knife and hadn't inflicted a deep wound or (Y/n) would of bled out.

She tried to open her eyes but she could barely see a thing for the spots covering her vision. But she could hear Joe screaming and the thrashing about implied they were trying to pin him to the floor. They would sedate him. (Y/n) knew the drill, she knew a psychotic outburst like this meant they would sedate him and strap his wrists to the bedframe so he couldn't hurt anyone else when he came round.

"(Y/n)? It's okay, let's sit you up so I can take a look at you. Come on."

She recognised that voice, it was Amanda, a fellow nurse. Her hands were warm and cautious when she held onto (Y/n)'s upper arms and tried to get her to sit up. They couldn't help her if she curled up into a ball like this.

(Y/n) trembled back and forth like a leaf when Amanda eased her so she was sitting up, but that was as much help as (Y/n) wanted. She shuffled across the floor until she was cowering against the bedframe, clutching the plastic frame like it was her lifeline. And when Amanda tried to reach out for her again, (Y/n) sobbed and shook her head.

"E-Eddie." She didn't want anyone else's help. She wouldn't let any of them touch her and if they tried she was going to scream.

Amanda sank back on her heels, but she was already nodding and looking across at one of the doctors now that Joe was sedated on the floor. "We need Doctor Diaz down here."

***

"Diaz!"

Eddie couldn't help the sigh that tumbled past his lips and he hung his head down for a moment to try and collect himself.

His hands twitched at his sides, covered in a light layer of powder from the latex gloves he had been wearing for over three hours. He could feel the sheen of sweat trickling down the back of his neck and the way his hair crimped and flopped about his temple, probably flattened like a pancake by now.

With as much of a smile as he could muster, Eddie turned on his heels to see who was calling out to him. He moved his hands to his hips, clutching at the mint green scrubs that felt a little too baggy for him right now. At least he had gotten the scrubs off his shoes, he hated walking in those.

"Hey Jones, you okay?" His smile stayed strong even though his shoulders sagged and he waited to be asked something, it was inevitable. He had only just come out of surgery and already someone had gotten to him before he had the chance to change back into his work clothes.

"I- we have a situation down in the ER-"

"Jones, I'm not being funny but I've been in the OR for what, nearly four hours and I've not even got changed yet. Can't someone else deal with this?"

Was that so much to ask? Was Eddie being too demanding by wanting to have a few minutes to himself before he was dragged from one situation right into another? Why had they collared him? Was it because he had been the closest colleague Jones could find, or had someone sent for him specifically?

"It's your wife," A flash of panic crossed Eddie's face and his hands dropped from his hips while his back straightened out. Now Jones had his full attention. "She had a patient on drugs, he went bezerk and attacked her… he had a scalpel."

"Is she still in the ER?!" Eddie was already sprinting down the hall before Jones could reply.

He heard a faint 'cubicle three' shouted behind him and he waved his hand to signal that he heard the instructions. He slammed his hand against the lift button, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the lift, but it was on the fourth floor and it was taking a long time to get down two levels.

With a grunt, he twisted to the right and aimed for the stairs instead. He had no idea how long ago this incident had happened. (Y/n) could have been hurt up to three hours ago while he had been in surgery. Eddie knew no one would come and get him during surgery unless it was a life or death situation. They would have waited until now to tell him and that meant (Y/n) could have been seen by a colleague or she could have been waiting all this time for Eddie.

He didn't like the thought of either of those options.

He almost skidded twice as he twisted round the corners and bolted down to the ground floor. Panting and breaking out in a cold flush by the time he swiped his badge to enter the ER through the doctor's administration area.

It didn't take long to hurry down the hall, weaving between the cubicles until he found the third one. He knew he must of looked a bit of a sight when he barely knocked on the door before blundering into the room.

He prayed (Y/n) was still in here and he didn't have to go scouting round the hospital to find her.

She was here. Eddie's sights set on her immediately. Surprise washed over his face when he looked around the room which looked twice its usual sight now that there was no bed in the middle of the room. The beds in entire hospital were all moveable so people could be transported quickly and easily. Clearly whoever (Y/n) had been treating in here had been transported out and no one had brought the bed back in yet.

Something snapped inside of Eddie when his eyes locked on his wife. Why had they not moved her out of here? Why was she sat on the floor, curled up like she was a child trying to make herself disappear?

There was (Y/n) in the right corner of the room, pressing herself up against the wall while she stayed as curled up as a little kitten. Eddie recognised the nurse knelt down beside her to be (Y/n)'s friend Amanda. And when he looked to the left, he was a little more than shocked to see one of the security team stood behind the door on the other side of the room to (Y/n).

"Eddie," The relief in Amanda's voice caught Eddie off guard and he headed over to them while Amanda pushed up onto her feet. "She won't let me help."

"I'll take care of her. Both of you, out please." Eddie waved his hand towards the door, trying his best to be polite. He knew his wife. He knew (Y/n) hadn't let Amanda help because she wouldn't want anyone trying to patch her up. And he knew she certainly wouldn't want them standing and observing while Eddie tried to help her either.

Amanda seemed to understand because she didn't look at all put-out or upset. She nodded and led the way out, followed closely by the member of security who nodded in Eddie's direction before leaving, closing the door firmly shut behind him.

His heart broke to see (Y/n) crying like this. He crouched down in front of her, unsure whether or not to reach out for her in case she shrugged off his touch too. But when he rested his cautious hands on her arms, he was relieved to have (Y/n) push herself into his embrace.

Her face burrowed into his chest and she wedged herself into his arms, shivering until Eddie tilted his head down and kissed the back of her head.

"Oh, baby. What happened, Jones said a patient tried to hurt you." Eddie had never worried about (Y/n) getting hurt at work.

Sure, when they had contagious outbreaks and people coming into the ER with unknown illnesses, he worried. He didn't want (Y/n) being susceptible to those illnesses and needing to be treated herself, and neither of them wanted to take anything like that home where Chris could catch it too.

But no one had ever tried to attack (Y/n) before, the thought had never crossed Eddie's mind because it wasn't something that happened often here and (Y/n) was never involved.

His fingers tangled in her hair and for a few seconds, Eddie breathed in her scent and focused on the way her shallow breaths mingled into the thin scrubs he was wearing. But then he moved his hand to cup the side of her face and carefully tilted her head back. She had to talk to him. He had to assess her and find out what was wrong so he could help.

(Y/n)'s hand trembled as she cupped Eddie's wrist and leaned into his touch, trying to look up at him through blurring eyes.

"He was- he was okay, until I t-tried to do bloods. He wouldn't let go, he threw me into the bed…" Her eyes glanced down and she leaned more into his hand until he was practically holding her head up for her, waiting patiently for her to carry on. "He pinned me down, Jameston had to- to get him off me."

It hadn't been (Y/n)'s best hour to have her colleagues have to rush to her aid and physically drag a patient off of her like that. But she didn't have a choice. (Y/n) did everything she could to get out of that situation, but without being allowed to use force and with no one else there was backup, (Y/n) had been defenceless.

Eddie could feel resentment growing inside of him and he hoped he didn't have to see the patient who had done this because he wouldn't be able to hold back.

He went to reply, but his brows furrowed and his heart battered against his ribs when he looked down at his hand which was cradling her face.

He wrenched his hand away from her face and unravelled his other arm from her waist so he could grab her wrist. He pulled her hand close for inspection, taking (Y/n) by surprise, before he held her chin and tilted her head back.

"Where's the blood coming from?!" The urgency in Eddie's voice made (Y/n)'s stomach jump.

Her palm was coated in blood and so was Eddie's wrist from where she had grabbed him. Why was she bleeding? Where had she been hurt to start bleeding? What had that psychotic patient done to make her bleed?

(Y/n) stayed quiet as Eddie tilted her head to the side so he could inspect the slash mark down the side of her neck. It wasn't deep and it had already stopped bleeding, but seeing her with any blood from any altercation like this made Eddie want to scream.

"What'd he do?"

Eddie let go of (Y/n)'s chin and trailed his fingertips down her arms, scanning his eyes up and down her frame while he got a lack of response. But his frown deepened when he realised (Y/n) was slightly creased over and she had her right hand pressing down on the right side of her waist. Something he hadn't noticed earlier.

He held her hand and pulled it away, nostrils flaring as he sucked in the deepest breath (Y/n) had ever seen to the point his chest looked like it was going to explode.

Blood was soaked into her shirt and coated her hand like she was trying to do finger painting.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes tight when Eddie scrunched up her shirt to see the wound. It was small and clearly not deep enough to hit muscle or bone, but it was enough to cause a lot of bleeding like this and the way (Y/n) kept creasing forward with every breath told Eddie it hurt more than she was trying to let on.

"Baby, what did he do?" The guttural tone to Eddie's voice made (Y/n) whimper and she went back to clutching his wrist while he tried to inspect the cut.

"Found a scalpel… Eddie I- I think he broke my ribs, when I hit the bed."

The way Eddie dropped his head down and pinched the bridge of his nose made (Y/n) cry harder. She felt like she had done something wrong. She was a nurse. She was supposed to care for patients and stop situations from getting out of hand like this, but she didn't manage it today.

But when Eddie looked back at her, she was surprised when he pecked her lips and moved his hands to her elbows.

"I'll patch you up, get you an X-ray, then I'm taking you home." He could see his words took her by surprise and he hated how (Y/n) trembled when she gripped his arms, letting him take her weight as he got her up to her feet. He guided her trembling frame across to the chair in the corner and eased her down before he grabbed the stool and wheeled it across so he could sit in front of her.

(Y/n) stayed still and quiet, trying to stifle a whimper when Eddie lifted her arms and took off her shirt, leaving her in her bra and trousers.

Her eyes followed him as he scrubbed the blood from his hands and snapped on a fresh pair of gloves. Expertly finding the cotton swabs and anticeptic before he wheeled closer until their knees were touching and he was hunched over her lap to reach the wound.

Her stomach sucked in and she flinched away from his touch when he started to clean the wound. And he murmured a soft "Sorry baby," every time she flinched.

"Dios, he got you deep for such a small wound." It angered Eddie until he felt like a volcano on the brink of errupting. There had to of been a lot of force to cut (Y/n) this deep with such a small blade and cause this much bleeding.

Eddie threw the cotton swabs in the bin, grimacing at how many bloodied swabs he was using to clean her wound and the surrounding skin. But he had to make sure it was clean and that the bleeding was slowing down. At least it was small enough not to need stitches or gluing back together. Once the bleeding slowed down, Eddie applied some cream and looked for some suture strips.

He needed to keep the wound closed so it wouldn't bleed out. The strips were great for small cuts, but he winced each time he applied one of the thin rectangular strips. Three of them kept the wound tightly closed, and then with a patch of gauze over the top, (Y/n) was patched up.

"Can I check your ribs?"

(Y/n) wordlessly nodded and tried to sit up straighter, holding her left arm out at her side so Eddie could check them.

She felt like closing her eyes, but focused her vision on Eddie's face instead. Their eyes locked for a few moments while his index and middle finger tenderly prodded at her chest, checking each rib down the left side.

"I count two, you'll need a scan because I don't know if they're fractured or clean breaks."

Fractures were worse, they weren't complete splits in the bone and they could heal wrong. And Eddie needed to make sure if they were broken that they weren't at risk of puncturing a lung.

"No other injuries I need to know about, right?" He dreaded to ask in case (Y/n) had any other breaks or sprains or bruises he had to check over. She shouldn't be injured at all. She should be tending to patients and calming them down instead of sitting here, beaten up, needing Eddie to tend to her wounds. This wasn't right, it wasn't fair.

(Y/n) shook her head and sniffed, trying in vain to stop herself from crying but she couldn't seem to help it.

"I- I'm sorry, I should of-"

"Hey." A gasp elicited from her lips when Eddie's hand gripped her chin and their eyes locked. "I don't wanna hear any of that, mi amor. He hurt you, he had no right to do that and you have nothing to be sorry about. Understand?"

When she nodded, Eddie brushed his thumb across her chin, murmuring a soft "Good," against her lips that he stole a tender kiss from. He could feel salt tears trickling across her lips and each shallow breath she let out, but after another deep kiss, her breaths deepened and began to even out.

He wouldn't have (Y/n) apologise or feel bad for anything. She hadn't done anything wrong, she was the one who had been hurt.

Eddie slid his hands down to (Y/n)'s waist, carefully helping her up from the chair and he managed a smile when she tucked her face into his chest and looped her arms around his neck. He cupped the back of her neck and wound his other arm around her waist, pressing his palm into her lower back where his fingers tapped and messed with the band of her trousers.

"You're okay. I've got you, amor." He pressed his lips longingly and lovingly against the side of her head, breathing in her scent as he began to sway them from side to side.

They didn't need to go for an X-ray right away, they finally had a few moments to spare for Eddie to comfort her and hold her in his arms like this. And he knew in a little while he was going to have to call his father in law and pray that he got through. He didn't want to leave a message for Bobby to say (Y/n) had been attacked at work, it was a conversation that had to happen in person.

But right now, Eddie had to look after her.

#imagine #911 imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #bobby nash #doctor! eddie diaz

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fathomlessgaze · 10 months ago

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artistry: you paint colors all over zayne's skin before he has to leave

very suggestive mdni + maybe some fluff+angst, zayne/reader, ~1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, making out, lots of hickeys/marking/bruises, they're both possessive tbh, an innuendo, implied to take place before medical rescue with allusions to things discussed in it but no spoilers for what happens in the card itself, allusions to foreseer lore, use of yn, pet names (my love, darling)

an: zayne in turtlenecks...the dawns shadow card......yeah...

pulling back, you take a look at your handiwork, the colors and splotches scattered over zayne’s neck. with his face tinged an uncharacteristic red and his collarbones no longer an empty canvas of pale skin, you think he’s nothing like the rumors that fly around the hospital. it doesn’t take much at all to reduce him to putty at your fingertips, so long as that person is, well, you.

you lace a hand through his hair, only further tousling the ruffled strands and causing a little groan to fall from his lips. on instinct, his hands fly to your hips, lowering your frame that straddles him to his lap. “yn,” he breathes, “please, hold on.”

he pants as he raises his lowered gaze to meet your eyes, his hazel orbs boring into your own with a sternness that makes you bite down on your lip. “just because i’m not in the hospital this week doesn’t mean i won’t be going outside at all,” he sighs.

pouting, you bring your palm to his jaw, brushing over his cheek. “i’m just…i’m gonna miss you.”

“we will see each other in a few days, won’t we, my love?”

you drape your wrists on his shoulders and lay your head down in the crook of his neck with a quiet sigh. “i don’t like waiting…”

there’s a quirk to his lips at your words and he turns his head to plant a kiss on the crown of yours. “it’s just a couple days, and i’m sure you have a lot of preparations to do at work in the meantime.”

while you know you’re being petulant, you can’t help it. you think zayne and his presence have bled themselves into every part of your life and being. you can’t remember what you did before him, and knowing the frequent power outages near the mountain and both of your busy upcoming schedules, you probably won’t be able to talk much. what are you supposed to do without him? what are you supposed to do when one day feels like a year? when a week brings an air of deja vu that makes a pit form in your stomach, as if you’ve been torn apart without him beside you before?

“i guess,” you mumble, sniffling.

“don’t cry, yn,” he exhales. he brings a hand from your hip to your face, thumbing away the small droplet that falls from the corner of your eye.

“what if something happens to you?” your murmur.

“nothing will happen,” he whispers. “i will be okay; i have done these rescue missions many times before.”

you let out a small whimper as you kiss the corner of his mouth, letting your own linger, your breaths practically becoming his. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

even though he tries his best to downplay the way your care and concern reach his heart, you know him better than that, the faintest blush of pink building on his hot cheeks. he attempts once more at a serious expression as you discuss safety, a topic he wishes you would yield more to, but alas… pondering his options, a small smirk sneaks past his attempt to put on a nonchalant facade at your words. “i will promise that…but only if you promise me the same thing first.”

“fine.” you pout, a much quicker agreement than he was expecting. “i promise.”

you lean in close, your small exhale lingering between the two of you before your mouths meet once more and you gently nibble on his lower lip. a small moan escapes him, vibrating through your kiss and to your own body, but even he can’t make you forget your purpose. not this time, at least.

steeling yourself, you put on a stern glare as you pull away and ignore the pang from your separation that blooms in your gut. “your turn.”

he stares with a quiet intensity as you pull away, trying to feign impassivity despite his round pupils that watch your movement carefully, giving away everything you may want to know. taking your fingers in his own, he brings them to his lips, locking eyes with you all the way. “very well then. i promise.”

knowing him, you can predict how his business trip will begin without you there and you shoot him a pointed look. “and the first thing we’re doing when i get there is having a meal together.”

his hand reaches for your jaw and cheekbones once more, cupping your face tenderly in his large palm. “alright then.”

when you finally are satisfied with his response, resting your head back on his shoulder, you pucker your lips to his skin once again, pressing lazy kisses along his jaw. his muscles stiffen beneath you as you continue adding new colors and marks to his skin, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder as he caves in.

“yn,” he warns lowly, the last bits of rationality trying to claw back at what’s taken over the rest of his thoughts. “at this rate everyone will know what we’ve been up to when i get to the base.”

“good,” you hum, the vibrations echoing along his skin. “i don’t know who’ll be there.”

maybe this was always a losing battle.

“so maybe that’s what i want.”

this was definitely always a losing battle, he decides. zayne would like to think he’s very diligent in whatever he decides to put his mind to, but if there’s anything he just can’t do, at least not without extreme difficulty, it’s saying no to you, especially when you give him your signature cute little look or use some of your other equally persuasive methods.

your eyes flicker to his before you resume your work, painting warm splotches along his neck and collarbone. “maybe everyone should know you’re mine. just in case.”

he moans at your words, tightening his grip around your waist, but he admittedly tilts his head, giving you more room to continue your efforts.

a beat passes before you pull away to admire the latest artwork you’ve added to the collection of marks you’ve made tonight. “you look really good in that turtleneck anyway,” you whisper, pressing one last gentle kiss to soothe the spot before moving to the next inch of his skin to tease.

something in your words jumpstarts what’s been hiding, lying low, in the back of his mind. his gaze hardens at your words, his hands finding and squeezing your hips to still you so he can flip you both and is hovering over you. “oh, darling, you better believe i won’t be the only one who will have to cover up marks and bruises.”

sure, he’ll have to get up earlier and do a lot to hide all the work you’ve done on his collarbones for the next few days at minimum…at least until you arrive and can help him conceal all of your “art” on his skin. but there’s no way he’s going down without a fight. and when he plants his lips under your jaw, hovering dangerously close to your pulse point that thuds along to the unsteady rhythm in your ears, you know it’s over for you. it’s gonna be a long night. not that you mind exactly…

#zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #ive never posted anything like this or this suggestive in my life please be gentle with me 😭#zayne x y/n #zayne x you #zayne fluff #zayne smut #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace #l&ds smut #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #mine #tbh i feel like zayne would be like no marks and then punish you for giving him them anyway #but like idk maybe hes feeling sentimental or smthn bc youre gonna be separated idk that part is up to your imagination

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kindaasrikal · 4 months ago

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Things the ninja fear, except they make zero sense:

Kai: I refuse to forget he’s afraid of elves. It’s a good thing Christmas doesn’t exist for them, he would NOT survive the groups of little kids dressing up as elves for it.

Zane: uneven floor tiles. They literally had one job and now he feels like pulling them out of the ground and putting them back in an organised pattern that fits. He has done this once before at the monastery at 5am and Wu had to, for the first time ever, hit him with his stick and tell him to go to bed.

Lloyd: Bunnies. Specifically ones with white fur and red eyes. It reminds him of Harumi and Garmadon a tad too much. And Akita. Every time it reminds him of Akita he actually just turns super depressed until he sees the red eyes and screeches onto the ceiling spider-man style.

Cole: bleach. He drank it as a kid, got caught, and was rushed to the hospital. He didn’t understand what was so serious but all the panic made him terrified of bleach, and most cleaning products that aren’t used for hygiene.

Nya: the colour yellow. Ironic, isn’t it?

(She once was in a house that was fully yellow as a child and couldn’t tell up from down and ended up sobbing like a baby. Kai had to sell all of the fully yellow things in their house.)

Jay: crocodile’s. He had a dream when he was younger about a crocodile in his parent’s bed eating them under the blanket and he never got over it. Best part was that it wasn’t gory or detailed or anything, it more cartoony of a dream, but nevertheless he has had a vendetta against crocodiles from that day on.

Edit: Bonus+

Morro: flowers. As a child Wu read him a story about an evil flower that first started the fear, yet when he left the monastery he was no longer afraid. It was during his travels to find out how to become the green ninja that the fear sprouted again. Due to multiple events. He once ate a poisonous flower. He once came across a corrupted flower that was bigger than a mountain and liked to eat stuff. He once came across a cemetery covered in deadly flowers. He once got force fed incredibly sweet flowers. And he once had someone give him a bouquet of flowers, except that person had no idea that this flower can give some people severe allergic reactions. Yeah. He is terrified when he’s near flowers. He likes those really small ones that grow on the ground though if that helps.

Garmadon: the light. He hisses like a vampire when too much light hits either his skin or eyes.

Wu: pitch black darkness. Best believe you’ll find him half transformed into a dragon and in a corner with a spear when the light comes back on.

Skylor: beards. They look like rats nests to her. Specifically ones on people with bad hygiene, she will automatically back away and get close to throwing up in fear if that thing comes near. After seeing Wu’s beard care routine (cause you have to have one with a beard that long) Skylor has accepted Wu to be one of the people that her fear doesn’t apply to.

Pixal: weird scratchy floors, they feel disturbing to her at first, but during her first few weeks alive she watched a movie about creatures coming out of those exact same scratchy floors and she has never been the same. She sits on Zane’s or Cole’s shoulders when they’re near some of those type of carpets.

This was supposed to be fears that didn’t make sense and then I made them all make sense.

Best part, Jay’s fear was me projecting. Number 1 crocodile hater right here.

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lalithacsh · 19 days ago

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chaoticbreadengineer · 9 months ago

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gingeralecranberry · 1 month ago

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CHAPTER 1

𝟐-𝟏 ; 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AS YOU’RE RIPPING ME TO SHREDS

☺︎ cw:

mentions of death, fighting, canon-typical violence, gojo may be ooc he's a lil bit of a weirdo, sukuna and gojo both deserve their own warnings, scarring, brief mention/description of injuries, Megumi is an edgy teen, that one scene were itadori is chained to that weird ass pole, mentions of executions, semi-graphic descriptions of Sukuna's finger (cause it really is disgusting)

"Under Jujustu regulations, Itadori Yuji, I will exorcize you as a curse!"

Under the shrouded night sky, the moonlight blanketed the scattered chunks of jagged debris strewn across the school rooftop in a soft radiance. The holes in the structure croaked with a melancholy groan, the noise swept away by the sound of the wind. Spiderweb-esque cracks stretched their slender fingers across the concrete, across the pale gray walls, across the splintered siding of the building.

"Wait, really, I'm fine!"

Across the expanse of carnage, the two teenagers stared each other down.

The older of the two boys sat on the far end of the building, laying in a pool of his own blood. Spiky black hair matted to his forehead, both from sweat and his injuries, he raised both his fists in a false circle. The heightened collar on his gakuran cast an intimidating shadow over the lower half of his face, highlighting the kindlings of desperation burning in his muted green eyes.

The younger of the two, a much more spritely and jovial personality, raised both his hands in mock surrender. The pink hair that'd previously been ruffled to stand up nearly straight cascaded down towards his forehead again, the ominous black markings all over his body seemingly being swallowed by the flesh tone of his skin. The sharp black talons on the ends of each finger dissolved, almost as if they'd never been there in the first place.

"More importantly, you and I are both pretty beat up, let's get to a hospital."

Stuck at odds with his logical rationale and his gut feeling, Megumi Fushiguro could feel the familiar feeling of frustration welling up in his throat.

'I can't tell if the one speaking right now is Itadori or the cursed object! Damn it...'

His hands were stationary, still in the same faux circle he'd arranged them in earlier. He hesitated to drop the stance, fearing an ambush.

'...What should I do?!'

In the near deafening silence, both of the combatants failed to notice the presence of a third person on the roof. As if it were just any other day, the new guy waltzed in seemingly without a care.

"What's the situation?"

Fushiguro immediately dropped his hands in favor of whipping around to look behind him, jaw dropping open as his eyes settled on the familiar sight of his teacher. His internal wheel of emotions seemed to spin back and forth between horror, relief, and utter mortification. Eventually, his wheel settled for a nightmare cocktail blessed by all of the above! "Wha... Gojo-sensei?! What are you doing here?!"

Kitted up in his signature gakuran, blindfold, and a bag from the local pastry shop, his white hair stuck up from the pressure of the blindfold on either side of his face.

Leisurely, he greeted his student with a smile, "Hey." He stood idly on the sidelines with his hands shoved in his pockets, "I wasn't planning on coming, but man, you're roughed up..." As though a million dollar idea flashed on a big screen behind his blindfold, a cruel grin ran its way up the man's cheeks, "I should show the second years."

His student grimaced, doing his best to twist his broken body away from the camera. He hissed through gritted teeth, swallowing both his physical AND mental pain in an effort to keep his dignity. Still, Gojo persisted, leaning in close as he began to snap what the Sendai-student assumed were dozens of pictures. "Hahaha! Face this way!"

Itadori could only stand by and watch in what he described as abject horror-fascination.

Eventually, when it seemed the older man got his fill of amusement, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "The higher-ups wouldn't shut up with a special-grade cursed object gone missing, so I stopped by while doing some sightseeing." Curiously, he examined the surrounding area through the confines of the black fabric pressed over his eyes. "So, did you find it?"

"..."

The teenagers exchanged glances momentarily.

"Um..."

Oblivious to the situation at hand, Gojo tilted his head to the side, "Hm?"

"I-"

"He ate it."

Collectively, all heads turned towards the voice originating from the huge hole in the concrete wall of the school.

"Huh?"

Quiet footsteps resounded against the desecrated rooftop in the dead silence of the encounter. Peeking from the shadows cast by the ruined architecture, a tall man in strange attire stepped into the low light of the moon. Donning a pair of black hakama pants and a matching plain black haori jacket, he traipsed towards the trio missing the common trepidation one would have when confronting the strongest curse alive.

He raised a finger, matter of factly, "The finger, he ate it."

The two teenagers blinked at him stupidly.

Gojo's posture, on the other hand, straightened with excited recognition, "Sensei!"

'Sensei? That guy barely looks any older!'

Before Itadori could think about it any further, the white-haired teacher disappeared from view before reappearing on the other side of the rooftop. In the blink of an eye, he was already falling into stride alongside the newcomer with an eerily calculated ease. "What are you doing here?"

Still, the stranger paid no mind to the sudden change in position, walking forward at the same measured pace, "It's been 10 years since you graduated Gojo. You don't need to call me Sensei, especially since we're coworkers now."

The other sorcerer hummed, "Well, calling you by your last name feels too formal, but I don't wanna say your first name..." He trailed off, letting the silence hang in the air for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

"..."

Finally, he tacked on, "So... What are you doing here? Did you miss me so much you had to visit? No need to feel embarrassed!"

Fushiguro could feel his nose crinkle in disgust.

'God, he's humiliating.'

Completely unphased, the older man's eyes were still trained forward and locked on target. "When one of Sukuna's fingers goes missing, it doesn't take a genius to figure out the higher-ups are going to panic. I was sent in as back-up." Finally he came to a stop in front of the pink-haired teen in quest, "Itadori, was it?"

"..."

The 15-year-old gulped down a lump of spit, tilting his neck to look up into the other's (eye-color) pupils.

Instead of trying to kill him (like expected), the stranger offered a hand, "(name) (surname), may I?"

"..."

"...Huh?"

"Oh, uh-" The man shook his head, cringing a little at his own lack of decorum, "Sorry, I should probably explain myself first." He retracted his hand in favor of letting it fall to his side again. "I'm a cursed object specialist. Since you swallowed a cursed object, I want to do a quick check to make sure nothing's wrong with you."

"Oh," Yuji murmured, "Yeah... yeah, that's fine."

(name)'s neutral face shifted to a grateful smile, doing a quick visual inspection first.

'No signs of markings... but what are those?'

Without warning, the older man's hand gripped the teen's chin gently, tilting his head to the side to scrutinize the new scarring on his cheekbones.

A moment of silence passed among the group.

Finally, the specialist's arm returned to his side, "Fascinating..." He placed a hand on his chin, sitting on any potential questions before asking, "Does anything feel off with your body?"

The teen glanced over his appendages, looking for any injuries, "Not particularly."

He hummed again, satisfied, "Truly fascinating."

Laying a hand on (name)'s shoulder, Gojo moved his former teacher out of the way before inspecting the teen himself. "Damn, it really did combine with you... That's hilarious!" He trailed off, continuing to scan the composition of the teen's newly concocted and brewed cursed energy. There seemed to be a particularly mischievous idea forming in his head, indicated by the curling of his lips. "Say, can you swap out with Sukuna?"

Itadori blinked, "Sukuna?"

Gojo nodded, "The curse you ate."

The teen paused, "Oh... Yeah, I think I can do that."

Upon being given the greenlight, the white-haired menace started to stretch. Rolling his shoulders and squatting to open up his legs he continued, "Then give us ten seconds."

Megumi opened his mouth to voice protest, but (name) simply shook his head in response.

The teacher righted his posture, shaking out his arms, "Once ten seconds are up, come back to us."

Seemingly already familiar with the danger pertaining to the entity inside him, the younger teen also seemed hesitant to comply, "But..."

Immediately, he was cut off, "Don't worry. I'm the strongest." Upon seeing the boy's shoulders relax a little, he called over his shoulder. "Megumi."

Fushiguro gave a small grunt in response.

"Hold on to this."

Despite tossing it to his student, (name) ended up catching the bag in one hand and shifting to wedge himself between Megumi and where the fight was going to take place.

Fushiguro's eyes trailed up to the bag, gesturing towards it with his less injured arm, "What is that?"

"Kikufuku from Kikusuian!" As if he wasn't about to go up against the King of Curses, Gojo smiled eagerly and started to make over the top gestures with his hands as he spoke, "It's Sendai's speciality, and it's super good. I personally recommend the zunda and cream flavor!"

Quietly, the eldest of the four released a tired sigh, holding the twine straps in one hand. Megumi, though, narrowed his eyes, mumbling a rather pissed off, "This guy actually went and bought souvenirs when people were out here dying...!"

As Gojo went on to argue about the specifics of his souvenir shopping with his student, (name) closed his eyes, allowing the thrum of cursed energy to trace the outlines of his feet where they connected with the ground. Despite having fought special grade curses as a special grade sorcerer, the man still hadn't ever faced such... malicious decadence twisted into the very source of the energy itself.

Undoubtedly, the King of Curses was only a handful of yards away.

Then he wasn't.

Megumi's body surged forward in alarm, "Behind you!"

His teacher paid his cry no mind, wagging a finger at him with a hand on his hip, "Kikufuku's not like other souvenirs-"

The large cloud of dust exploded from what little remained of the concrete floor, brushing against your closed eyelids. As if tapping into your third eye, the outline of the battlefield appeared like a blueprint before the expanse of darkness in your head...

...two large husks of cursed energy gave particularly strong outlines.

"--And the whipped cream inside is simply exquisite."

You fanned away some of the aftershocks of the explosion with your hand, opening your eyes.

Not even a foot in front of you, the Ryomen Sukuna was hunched over... with your former student perched on his back.

The curse gave an angry laugh, immediately weaving to strike Gojo again. He wasn't expecting the man to match his pace, ducking and sliding out of the way with every fist that came soaring his direction. Eventually, instead of dodging, the man parried, sending the Curse hurtling through the air to the other end of the rooftop.

Another plume of dust flew up like a smoke wall, obscuring the King from view.

"My student's watching, so I'm going to show off a little."

Ah... something about hearing his own former student saying that made a little memory in the recesses of (name)'s heart flutter with bittersweet nostalgia. He remembered when he would've done the same thing.

Oh, to be young and stupid.

With something akin to a groan, Sukuna advanced again.

'He's unbelievably fast? No, that's not it.'

The two met midair, the curse finding itself on the receiving end of a fist straight to the face. Once agaain thrown nearly head first into the decaying building, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, just barely managing to correct his footing before landing, "For crying out loud... You jujutsu sorcerers are always trouble, no matter the era!"

Following his proclamation, he leapt into the air, bringing his wrath down onto the roof where his opponent stood. Before he could make contact with the floor however, it seemed the concrete hardened and reinforced itself with an electrifying concentration of cursed energy. Two of his four eyes glanced to the source, widening.

'That volume of cursed energy... and yet it doesn't feel as though he has any.'

(name) stood to the side, hands behind his back. His eyes were, once again, closed.

"Seven... Eight... Nine..."

Sukuna let out an exasperated growl, chest heaving with the excessive exertion.

"Should be time."

Instantaneously, all muscle control seemed to slip through the curse's fingers like sand through a sieve. Any attempt to grasp at motor function only served for it to escape him quicker.

'Damn it... Again? I can't take over. Who the hell is this... Itadori... brat?'

(name) peeled his eyes open, enamored as he recollected his cursed energy from the environment. He watched the malevolent aura of the King dwindle and dwindle until it was no more than a blot of the outline of Itadori's soul.

The teen's body slowly returned to normality, tattoos and nails regressing to that of the average human. The eyes on the side of his head closed into scars once again, "Oh, was everything okay?"

From the heart of the explosion, the remaining sorcerer sauntered back over the group. Gojo gave a lopsided smirk at the sight, looking over Itadori again with his Six Eyes. "I'm shocked. You really can control it!"

The pink-haired teen nodded, hitting at the side of his head with furrowed brows, "He's kind of annoying though, I can hear his voice."

(name) hummed, "That's to be expected when you're a vessel."

The other teacher expressed his own agreement, "It's a miracle that's all he's doing."

Just like the cursed object specialist had done earlier, when Gojo approached and outstretched his hand towards Yuji's face, the highschooler didn't pay any mind. This time however, when two fingers made contact with his forehead, something didn't quite feel right. With maybe a millisecond to register the strange sensation, his eyelids started to droop. Fighting to keep them open, he made a noise between alarm and discomfort, instantaneously confronted with the creeping, rapidly expanding feeling of his body turning to lead.

"What did you do?"

The youngest of the four crumbled, chin unceremoniously knocking on the sorcerer's sturdy shoulder.

"Knocked him out," he rearranged the Sendai student's body to drape across his back. "If he isn't possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, he might have potential as a vessel. Now, Megumi, I have a question for you."

"..."

"What should we do with him?"

(name) grimaced, watching the uncomfortable bend of the teenager's spine over the curvature of the other man's back.

Like the responsible kid he was, Fushiguro ruminated on his thoughts before he made a final decision. It was almost as though his eyes reflected each and every one of the potential outcomes while his brain parsed through the best and worst what-if scenarios.

"Even if he is a vessel, Jujutsu regulations demand Itadori be executed."

The cursed object specialist hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath the entire time he observed the first-year. Whether out of interest or apathy, he couldn't tell. Still, he offered a small sigh.

"...However,"

(name) paused.

Fushiguro's eyes met Gojo's, piercing through him with a thousand-yard stare, intense and packed with conviction, "I don't want to let him die."

"..."

His teacher's lips peeled back into a coy smile, "Personal feeling?"

The young man nodded, completely resolute in his decision, "Yes. Please do something about this."

His teacher's smile only grew wider, a single hand reaching up to brush through his untamed white hair with a quiet snicker, "Now it's a request from a precious student... Leave it to me."

"Wait."

Teacher and student whipped around to the other man situated just a few feet away.

The man cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed that all attention was situated squarely on his shoulders.

"..."

"...Let me carry him, Satoru."

"..."

A breeze drifting by was seemingly swept up in the silence that wrapped up the destroyed rooftop like a blanket.

There was a snort.

Then Gojo broke out into laughter.

(name)'s cheeks sprouted a flustered pink hue, extending from the roots to fan the flame over his nose and cheekbones. "You're holding him like a sack of potatoes," He averted eye contact, looking towards the waning moon, "he's already going to be sore after being thrown around like a ragdoll, I thought I would at least spare him the unnecessary back pain."

The sorcerer, despite his blindfold, made the motion of wiping a fake tear from his eye as his boisterous laugh echoed into a near silent chuckle. He took another deep breath, resting his hand on his stomach, "Always so doting to students... I wonder where all that was when you were teaching me."

Fushiguro felt like he wanted to vomit.

'God, he's so fucking cringe.'

"But... the recap and current events don't line up."

The room was dark, its only challenger being the gentle light offered by a generous collective of candles haphazardly stationed around the gloomy chamber. While their burning wax dripped onto the dirty concrete floor, the flame dancing at the end of each wick revealed the hundreds--thousands--of sigils and talismans looming above. The pages, yellowed with age, acted like impromptu wallpaper. A few corners beginning to peel, a few ink-stained fingerprints on others, the imperfections in the calligraphy didn't stifle the atmosphere in the slightest. The energy seeping in from the unknown, shadowy corners of the room was suffocating.

“Hey, I did my best.”

Sitting with his front pressed against the back of a plain wooden chair, Gojo observed the teenager through his blindfold. His Six Eyes traced over the intricacies of newfound cursed energy, almost mesmerized by the twisting, turning, warping of the two souls manifested in his singular body. He rested his forearm against the back of his seat, “The execution’s still on, but I managed to get your sentence suspended.”

“Suspended?”

Itadori sat flat on the ground, leaning against the room’s singular pillar. Large, steel manacles weighed heavy on his wrists. The chains that bound his cuffs to the room’s far wall were thick like pythons. Wrapping around the pillar like a pair of constrictors, they criss-crossed over one another in an x before melding into their respective anchors.

“So you’re not killing me right away?”

Staring into Gojo’s blindfold felt weird and unnatural, but the teen didn’t really have any other options.

“Yup,” The man would be the one to break eye contact first, maneuvering to reach into his gakuran’s pocket, “I’ll explain it from the top.”

His slender hand returned with something that looked very familiar. He presented the object proudly, holding it up in front of Itadori’s expectant face. “This is the same as the cursed object you ate.”

Amber eyes raked over the grotesque appendage. Ugly, wrinkly purple skin scrunched around the knuckles in an uncanny manner that sent uncomfortable tingles down Yuji’s spine. The texture was only made worse by the lack of a clean cut, bits of flesh left hanging off the finger. Being this close to it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“There are twenty in total. We currently possess six.”

Looking at it was like watching an accident. It was deeply disturbing but it retained this all powerful magnetic quality that made it near impossible to look away.

“Twenty?”

Fighting his compulsion to stare, Itadori made eye contact with the sorcerer sitting in front of him, “Each finger and toe?”

Gojo’s smile only grew wider and more unsettling in the low light, “No, Sukuna has four arms.”

Without a heads up, the older man tossed the cursed object into the air. In the nanosecond it took the Sendai Student to glance at the sudden movement, an abundance of cursed energy crackled to life like electricity. It snapped like a whip, launching the finger in a cloud of smoke.

“...”

“...As you can see, we can’t destroy them. The curse is just that powerful.”

The boy’s jaw hung open like the fat koi fish in the pond he’d pass on the way home. Staring at the fresh crater in the previously unblemished wall of talisman, he failed to notice the teacher standing up from his seat.

Delicately plucking the curse from the steaming indentation he’d lovingly branded into the side of the room, he sauntered back over to his wooden chair. Completely relaxed, his airy lilt carried through the room, “The curse grows stronger every day, and the seals of modern-day jujutsu sorcerers just can’t keep up.”

Tucking the finger back into his pocket, he threw his leg over the wooden seat, “That’s where you come in.”

Finally closing his mouth, the teenager blinked at him.

“...Huh?”

“You see, when you die, the curse inside you dies as well.” Dramatically, the sorcerer slumped forward with a sigh, “Our elders are total cowards, you know? They’re demanding we kill you right away.”

“...”

Gojo pursed his lips, “But that would be a waste, wouldn’t it?”

Itadori cocked his head to the side, struggling to process the clusterfuck of information he had unceremoniously dumped onto his unsuspecting lap, “A waste?”

Resting the side of his face against his palm with an awkwardly cheerful ‘mhm!’, the white-haired stranger went on, “There’s no guarantee another vessel capable of handling Sukuna will ever be born again, so this is what I proposed,” he held up a pointer finger, waving it around to punctuate his statement, “If we’re going to kill you anyway… why not kill you after you’ve absorbed ALL of Sukuna?”

“...”

Gojo crossed his arms over the back of his wooden perch, offering a non committal hum, “It took a lot of convincing, and Sensei had to pitch in, but eventually, the higher-ups agreed… so now you have two options before you.”

Staring into the blank darkness of the black blindfold, Itadori finally seemed to notice how dry the inside of his mouth was.

“You can either die right now…”

He swallowed.

“…or you can find all the parts of Sukuna and die after you’ve absorbed them.”

JAZMIN BEAN : FAVORITE TOY

☺︎ taglist:

@angelkazusstuff @ahoeindeedinneed @wutap @mysouleaten @ilovebattinson @satansdaughter123

masterlist ☓

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insanescriptist · 7 months ago

Text

Cremation is just another fun(erl) service

So blaming random 4am thoughts that have been plaguing me all day for this

----

Jason woke to a bright room, thin sheets and the smell of a hospital embedded in his body.

First as always, assess. Hospital. No affiliation printed on the walls or anywhere. Private room, but small. That door looked like it led to a private bathroom. Generic flower picture, a mounted screen turned off. Really fucking bright sunlight from the windows.

There was no fucking way he was in Gotham then. Everything was too nice. Normal by standards outside of Gotham. There were blinds, not metal shutters. The walls were cleaner than Gotham allowed outside of Downtown and he could see greenery through the window.

Okay. So what had he been doing? Jason remembered and then wished he had his Jerichos to shoot himself with. Mystic Shit™. Okay. Okay. That was not one of his better ideas, but if he's recovering in a hospital, it worked. World saved.

So recovery. How fucked was he?

His skin looked so fucked. Which meant he had been worse. He's had time to recover and lose muscle tone in, going by how twiggy his arms were. His hands looked good. Clearly someone knew he cared about those if they went through the effort of restoring those.

Hmm, that was odd. No matter how much Jason hated the Lazarus Pits and all its by-products, it would have been a faster and more simple way to recover from near-death than the long incarceration in a hospital for a John Doe.

Jason wasn't sure if he'd been abandoned yet again by those who called themselves his family because he could, "take care of himself," or if he had been written off dead. Again.

Hospital beat the coffin by a long shot.

And it was with that cheery thought, a nurse -obvious meta human nurse- came in and burst into excited Japanese, because that was of course, his luck.

It's after the nurse and doctors leave that Jason loses his shit.

It looks like he's sulking in bed, but mentally everything in his head is exploding. Imploding.

Three. Fucking. Years. Coma.

Burn victim so bad they not only expected him to die in the first couple of days, but still expect it because of the infection risk his fucked up skin represents.

Still the conversation with the medical staff -of varying degrees of bizarre- was enlightening.

No, he has no idea who he is. Did he ever get anyone visit? How did he get here?

Of course some amnesia is to be expected. No, some of the nurses visited. No one knows how he got here.

Does he know what his quirk is? Uh?

Trauma blocked amnesia, the doctor mutters.

What's the last date he remembered?

Saturday. Maybe? The last year? No, I'm pretty sure my memory is shit and I'm trying hard not to freak out over not knowing anything. So could I get the year number?

And then there's the fucking year number. Once he got it translated into more normal terms.

Mystic Shit™ said fuck you to the future.

Except Jason knows this is not his future. Again, if it was, this would have been treated as a fucking inconvenience. Effective skin restoration goop -the proper name escaped him- was easily available to those with the right connections. A normal baseline human with 2nd and 3rd degree burns would be fine in less than two weeks with it, with nary a trace to show for it.

Thanks to the three year coma, his muscles were all atrophied as fuck, despite their best attempts at physical therapy. Because of all the burns and later burn scars and infections making it basically impossible to actually do fuck all about maintaining muscle tone until he was basically burnt skin and bones anyway.

He was so fucking weak now. It wouldn't last forever. He'd escape this hospital before he was discharged, before whatever "benefactor" showed up for whatever "purpose," he was suppose to serve now, as they had the medical debt over his head or was threatening his loved ones or whatever. If one didn't show up in the next week, he was losing his genre-savviness, because shitheads always wanted to claim shit, if it looked useful.

And Jason was used to looking useful, until he was no longer useful and they just didn't care. The amnesia made him less shiny, but Jason couldn't pull off the brain dead zombie imitation without actually being a brain dead zombie crawling up out of his grave.

So under the thin hospital sheets, Jason twitched his muscles.

Two weeks of emotional freak outs, watching the news, physical therapy and drugs Jason had had enough.

And he broke out.

----

Yeah, he regretted it almost immediately. Hard not to in the stupid paper gown, barefoot and bare ass.

Thankfully people were people, even with the plethora of meta humans he had seen, so it actually wasn't hard to find clothes. Someone left a hoodie in their car and Jason broke into said car. Put on the hoodie. Hotwired the car and drove off.

Somehow for being in the fucking future by two centuries and change, cars really hadn't changed. More evidence of Mystic Shit™ slamming him sideways.

He drove to the next town over, picked another direction, drove some more. Parked the car near what looked like a chop shop, negotiated the car for some money. He probably got ripped off, but better than nothing.

He walked to a corner store, bought some flip-flops after bullshitting an excuse that his had broken. First aid stuff. You know, for his feet. Hair dye in three different colors, because Rose Wilson could pick out a bad dye job at a hundred meters and so Jason learned how to dye his own hair properly so as to avoid her mockery, only to get mockery (affectionate) anyway.

It was a mix of instinct and lifelong observation that let him find an empty apartment quickly. He stole some sweatpants and passed out on the bed.

----

The thing is, Jason doesn't regret his crimes like Bruce thinks he ought to do, with a massive pity party and flaming self-hatred and punching criminals instead of shooting them. He hates the necessity of doing crimes, even if that crime is a net gain to society, but that's why all his serious crimes are premeditated. He's homicidal, not a psychopath.

Not Pit-mad either, no matter what the rest of them might have thought.

Again, he's homicidal, not a psychopath. And when he doesn't have to be some sort of costume soldier to be discarded by family for the disgrace of disfiguring the memory of a dead boy? He's actually chill and boring.

That is to say, he crashed at that apartment for three days, felt progressively more like himself, especially after the dye job -white hair all over, now a solid and boring black- but it still didn't change all the other issues the Mystic Shit™ inflicted on him.

This body isn't actually his. Too young, scars not right where the burns didn't fuck him over. Thankfully his existing coping mechanisms for dysphoria work and it's shoved to the side.

It's also a shit body. Not even a month out of a three year coma with inadequate -by his standards- of medical care. It's weak and building muscle to do everyday civilian shit, is going to take months to do. Pushing as hard as he did during the escape wrecked him the next three days. Jason may not know what's going to happen, but with his luck, it's going to suck and training is preparing to make it suck less. The only certainty he's got is that his skin or lack thereof is going to kill him from infection if he doesn't fix it.

He's got no legal identity here. Which basically puts him back onto familiar ground of legally dead.

Beyond the lack of paperwork, he's got a lack of funds. He also has no easy target to steal funds and equipment from, even just for fun.

For more disadvantages, he's in a different country, with different laws and a whole different culture. He would be climbing on board a fucking plane to Gotham, if it existed in this world, for some familiar ground.

He really is the unluckiest Robin. It also means he is also the most prepared Robin.

---

The first six months after waking up in this mockery world of heroics were the absolute worst.

He started at one foot in the grave and crawled out of it before the casket could really eat him alive. Jason had experience in casket busting. He didn't wanna repeat it.

He still didn't know who he was -in who was he inhabiting- but it wasn't like Jason had a lot to go on. 'His' quirk was thermo-manipulation, most obviously in the blue fire he could call to his hands but he could do some ice too; it was thanks to Duke's light and shadow manipulation that he had even tried for the duality. He had white hair. Presumably Japanese heritage but quirks had really erased or blurred a lot of racial lines. Also presumed dead and young.

Access to the Quirk Registry took some doing, but again, not everyone followed basic computer security, much less what it took to keep someone bat-trained out of their systems. Again, for nearly two centuries in the future, a lot of the technological development had stagnated. Searching through the Quirk Registry hadn't yielded any result but none of his other methods had struck anything either. And he had looked at the recently dead and/or presumed dead. Sure, he had some leads that looked viable, but he wasn't going to follow those up yet.

He had fixed a few of his most pressing issues the past six months. His ignorance of the local area, the local and national politics and so on. This world supported and had an entire industry catering to making child soldiers and sell their image and reputation to make money and more child soldiers that called themselves Heroes.

His weak ass body no long cried doing daily tasks and only hated him after working out. Yes, Jason was pushing it but he was well aware of how months of preparation could mean shit in the face of seconds.

His infection risk was severely reduced after quick research bender let him make the most generic knock-off brand of the skin restoration goop in a shitty homemade lab. Did it fix his skin being patchwork fucked in places? Some. He wasn't going to get feeling back properly, but at least he looked more normal. Maybe with enough moisturizing he might look a little less Frankenstien's monster.

He also had a cash inflow. It wasn't great, but it supported his apartment. And the second set of papers. And the 2nd apartment.

Which meant in grand old tradition for Jason, time for him to bounce to the next apartment and come up with a new name.

#time for Izzy to slep #Izzy does fic #jason todd #dabi

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