#bleeding onto the floor and scratching frantically at reaching hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

millersdjarin · 2 years ago

Text

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E

Chapter warnings/tags: injuries, medical stuff, panic attacks, angst, negative self-talk/self-image, flashbacks, past emotional & physical abuse, lots of love despite all that though, violence, graphic (?) depictions of injuries, PTSD, scars, cults

Chapter length: 10k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info | Full Masterlist

notes: SO sorry for the 2 week wait, y'all. the end of march is a crazy one for me, and i'm not all that well to top it off. hope this long chapter makes up for it! grab a drink, settle in, and enjoy❤️

and i can still see it all (in my mind); all of you, all of me (intertwined) i used to think love would be black and white; but it’s golden

Din is woken up by a soft scratching noise against the door.

You’re still in his arms, pressed against his chest now where he lies on his back. It takes him a second after he’s awoken to realise that he’s not wearing his helmet. He looks down at you, fast asleep against him, your head rising and falling with each of his breaths.

The kid coos outside.

He closes his eyes, sighs. The last thing he wants is to let you go.

His underwear is on the floor by the bed. Untangling himself from you as best he can without waking you, his feet hit the floor, and he pulls his boxers on, then opens the bedroom door just a crack, enough to pop his head around it. Grogu is standing there, and seems surprised to see him without his helmet on. Pleased about it, though.

He reaches out a hand like he wants to touch Din’s face.

“I’ll be out in a minute, buddy,” Din promises, keeping his voice low. “I just need to get changed, okay?”

Happy with this, Grogu turns and waddles off into the living area, lifting himself up onto the couch.

Din smiles fondly at him, then turns back to look at you. You’re lying on your side, still asleep and snoring, your hand laying against the mattress where Din just was.

Last night, it was like you thought he was going to leave. And he needs you to know that he won’t.

He wants to get back into bed with you, hold you, never let you go.

Instead, he gets dressed. For the first time, he hesitates before putting his helmet on.

It’s weird, unnerving, and he can’t let himself pay it any mind.

Din has been out most of the morning with Fett and a few of his soldiers.

“It’s just a few Pykes,” he’d told you that morning, pouring you a cup of caf. “Nothing dangerous. Shouldn’t take long.”

He was right about that part. But not about the not dangerous part.

Because now this is happening.

You’d been sitting in Fett’s lounge, enjoying your third mug of caf of the morning while overlooking the town below. Just a regular day, the suns shining, people going about their business in the streets, ships taking off in the distance. The kid is playing with a child-minder in the corner, fascinated by the selection of toys she brought out for him. You’d been enjoying watching the world go by, not worried for a second about Mando’s wellbeing, because you know how capable he is. And he’d told you not to worry.

That’s the last time you do what he tells you to do without question.

You hear a commotion downstairs, including Mando’s modulated voice in the midst of it. You know something is wrong, so you drop your mug, rushing over to the hallway and down the stairs towards the entryway, where you find the group of soldiers that had gone out on the mission, Boba at the front, with an injured and bleeding Mando hanging from his side.

“Mando!” You cry, only just catching yourself before you say his real name.

“I’m alright,” he says, but no, he’s not, he doesn’t even sound like himself, he can’t even hold his weight up—

“Get the doctor,” Fett instructs one of his workers, who nods and hastily rushes off down the hall.

You rush to Din, your hands frantically trying to find something to do, to help him, but all you can do is stare at the place on his thigh that is currently bleeding badly down his flight suit, crimson blood dripping down the beskar.

“I’m alright,” he says again, looking at you, at the fear on your face.

It all happens quickly. Before you can ask what happened, before you can tell someone to fucking get him sitting down and elevate his fucking leg, there’s a crowd of people coming into the room with a stretcher and a doctor in tow. They get him sitting on it, then lie him down, and it takes half a dozen of them to carry him down the corridor, and away from you.

You’re just standing there, your head swimming, and somehow his blood is on your hands even though you don’t remember touching him.

Shand comes to your side, looking like she’s going to try and reassure you, but you’ve already taken off down the hall, following the group of people who are taking Din away from you.

You jog to catch up, following them into a med bay tucked behind a sand-coloured door. It’s substantial, all white-walls, divided into sections with silvery metal dividers, beds between each one. It’s empty in here, Mando the only person currently in need of help.

Which is probably for the best, because he can’t get himself off the stretcher and onto a bed; he can’t put his weight on his leg at all. So everyone has to help him, which you know he’ll hate, you can see it in his body language that he’s not just uncomfortable from the injury, but from all these people fussing over him. From the fact that he can’t help himself.

“What happened?” You rush to his bedside, ignoring the woman who tries to tell you to go away. As if.

Mando looks up at you, his hands clenched tight into fists on his stomach. You stand by his head.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Din says, voice more strained than you’ve ever heard it, pain evident in the set of his shoulders. “I was standing too close to a detonator.”

“You what? A detonator?”

“I—shit,” his gaze moves to the doctor, who is currently looking in detail at the piece of—holy fuck, there’s a huge piece of fucking shrapnel sticking out of the side of his thigh, ripped right through the thick fabric of his flight suit. It’s only an inch away from the armour. Fucking unlucky. And to make it worse, there are smaller gashes around it, where metal has obviously struck him and fallen out, which is what’s causing the bleeding.

There are three people on him, pressing gauze into the open wounds, holding pressure to stop the bleeding. Another person is gathering a blood bag and an IV, readying the transfusion. Someone else is cutting into his flight suit, removing the plate of armour from his leg to allow them full access.

Then his skin is on show, and it’s fucking littered with cuts and bruises, some actively bleeding, some not—

“Holy shit,” you breathe, feeling light-headed again. You stare at his leg, wide-eyed, tears stinging in your nose.

Mando’s hand is in yours, then. Holding tight. “I’m alright,” he says, again, and it’s obviously a fucking lie because he is not alright! He is so not alright!

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I need you to step back,” the doctor tells you.

You look at him, more offended than you’ve ever been. Making a point, you hold Din’s hand tighter.

“I’m sorry, I need to stand where you are if I’m going to help him as best I can.”

“Cyari’ika,” Din’s voice is pained but soft, calling you to look at him instead of glare at the doctor. (Which is probably unfair; he’s only trying to save Din’s fucking life.) “I’m alright. Let them take care of me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

It takes everything in you to let him go.

Your hands are shaking as you step backwards, pressing yourself up against the room divider.

The doctor moves in straight away. He asks Din if he can remove his helmet, check for signs of concussion; Din says no, of course. But he does accept the heart monitor they want to attach to his finger, removing his bloody glove to clip it on. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time, even when the doctor is asking him questions about what happened, how he’s feeling, if there’s anywhere else he’s hurting.

The room is alive with bustling chaos, but Din’s eyes are warm on you, even through the visor—as always—and you force yourself to focus on it, on the rise and fall of his chest. And then, once the heart monitor is hooked up and beeping away with each beat of Din’s heart, you focus on that, too.

You don’t know how long you stand there for, watching it all happen.

They stop the bleeding of the smaller wounds, stitch up the ones that need it. Then they go to remove the large piece of shrapnel, and the heart monitor picks up speed as they pull it out; you hear the squelch of it against his flesh, see the blood start to pour from the wound the minute it’s open, the way every muscle in him clenches against it. His breath hitches. He doesn’t let out noises of pain, but you can only imagine how he’d feel if you could touch him. How his face must be twisted in pain.

At first, his gaze on you had been for your own comfort. But now, as he stares at you, you can tell that he’s the one seeking the reassurance.

So, you don’t look away. You hold his eyes like you wish you could hold his hand. You clasp your hands over your heart, feeling it racing just as fast as his, and try as hard as you can to make yourself look reassuring. Comforting. Familiar.

At some point, the crowd of doctors and medical assistants thins out, only a few of them remaining now that the bleeding has stopped.

His leg is stitched up in seven places, bandaged to within an inch of its life. They had to cut through the entire leg of his flight suit. The armour that sat upon it is on the floor, kicked beneath the bed. It feels wrong. He removes it so methodically, treats it with so much respect and care. Now it’s just been haphazardly kicked beneath this hospital bed, and it’s covered in blood, and you know that that will upset him just as much as the injuries themselves.

But, he’s alive.

Covered in blood, cuts, and bruises, yes.

But alive.

“Can I…?” You take a tentative step closer to Din, looking at the doctor for affirmation.

He gives a polite smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

You’re at Din’s side in a minute, reaching out to grab his hand. You nearly knock the heart monitor off his finger. Your other hand lays flat on his chest plate as if searching for his heartbeat.

He holds your hand tightly, looks up at you.

“What the fuck happened?” You whisper, feeling suddenly weak in the knees. You’ve been holding back from him for the last fuck-knows how long, but now you can touch him again, now he’s here, and all the fear that you’d kept locked away for his sake as he looked at you for comfort is coming back.

“It was a bigger cell than we thought,” he explains, “they had detonators.”

“Fuck,” your head falls, presses against his chest plate. You take in the rise and fall of his lungs, the breathing you can hear through his helmet.

“I…saw one of Fett’s soldiers standing too close when it landed. Pushed them out of the way.”

You shake your head. “Of course you did,” you say.

He takes a breath to say something, but you’re both momentarily distracted by the doctor coming back into Din’s space, holding a chair out like an offering.

“I thought you’d like to sit down,” he says, smiling and placing the chair behind you. You feel bad for glaring at him now. “He’s stable, as you can tell. I’ll be back shortly to check his vitals, but for now, just rest.”

“Thank you,” Din says, so sincere and earnest that it hurts.

You sit down, pull the chair in as close as it can get. Your face hovers above his helmet, gazing right into his visor. He lifts his spare hand and brushes it down your temple and cheek, cradling your jaw in his palm.

“I’m okay,” he says.

“You’re not okay,” you protest, laughing humourlessly. “You’re very much not okay.” The blood bag is hanging above him, half empty.

“I will be,” he promises, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“You told me it wouldn’t be dangerous.”

“I…believed it when I said it.”

A surprised laugh comes out of your mouth. You shake your head, disbelieving. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

For another second, you look down at him. Then, shaking your head again, you lean in and rest your forehead against his cowl. It smells of sand, blaster fire, and burnt metal. There are tears in your eyes, hanging painfully in your nose and throat.

His gloved hand carts back into your hair. “I’m okay,” he says, again, this time in just a soft whisper. “I’m here. You don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” you say, “I think I should have been.”

Footsteps enter the room then, and you both look up to find Boba and Fennec standing by the divider, both of them carrying their helmets under their arms.

For a second they look like they’re worried they’ve interrupted something. But you lean back from Din, sit in your chair, and they step closer.

“Just came to check in,” Boba says, looking guilty.

“The doctor says I lost a lot of blood,” Din explains, then gestures to the bag above him, “but I’ll make it.”

Boba nods once. “I’m sorry. I should have known it would be worse than it was.”

“You didn’t ask me to come along,” Din reminds him.

“No, but you saved one of my men. I owe you much.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“At least let me buy you a drink,” Boba says, then, with a glint in his eyes, “Well, once you’re up and about again, at least.”

“How long’ll that be?” Fennec asks.

“The doctor said a couple of days at most. But I heal fast; I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“We can get you in the bacta tank,” Boba offers, but Din shakes his head.

“Can you get me in there in my full armour?”

“…We can clear the room,” Boba smirks.

“There’d still need to be someone to take him out,” Fennec points out.

Boba sighs. “Make sure you rest,” he says, abandoning the bacta tank idea. “If you need anything, either of you, you know where I am.”

Both you and Din nod. “Thank you,” you smile at him.

Boba and Fennec nod too, then turn to leave.

You look back at Din. “You’re not planning on resting for a few days, are you?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Have you?” You raise an incredulous eyebrow.

As if it’s his answer, he lets go of your hands and starts to push himself to sit up. Like a fucking idiot. He grunts with the exertion, and you roll your eyes, putting your hand on his chest.

“Stay there,” you tell him.

He stops. Looks at you. “I don’t do well lying down.”

“You don’t do well filled with shrapnel, either, but here we are,” instead, you reach down to the bed’s control panel, and push the button that lifts the top half of it up. He rises with it, slow, and you let go when he’s finally sitting up. “There. Happy?”

He takes your hand again. “Better.”

The door opens again, more footsteps coming close. Then, the child-minder pokes their head around the divider, and you see a glimpse of Grogu’s big eyes. “Sorry to interrupt,” they say, “but the Child has heard about what happened…”

Immediately you stand from your chair, rushing over to take Grogu in your arms. You turn him away from Din at first, and thank the child-minder, excusing them from their duty. “Alright, kid,” you say, holding him up in front of your face. You look over his shoulder to Din. “He’ll want to see you.”

Grogu cranes his neck, trying his hardest to look around and see Din. He protests when you don’t let him, an angry babble as he throws his fists down against your hand.

“It’s okay, Grogu,” you say softly, “you can see him. It’s going to look a little scary, but your dad’s okay, and you don’t need to worry. Okay?”

Grogu’s ears turn down a little, but he blinks, softens in your hands.

You walk back over to your chair, and place the kid on the bed beside Mando, who immediately scoops him up into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey, kid,” he says, obviously smiling beneath the helmet.

He looks at Din’s leg, then back to his helmet. Reaches out one hand, brushes it down the beskar, like he’s saying Are you okay under there?

“I’m alright, kid,” Din assures him, pressing his forehead into Grogu’s. Grogu closes his eyes, his palm pressed to the cheek of Din’s helmet. “I’m alright. Yeah, see? You can feel I’m alright, can’t you?”

Grogu coos sadly, his ears still turned towards the floor. But he relaxes at Din’s soft assurances, and leans down to press his head into Din’s cowl.

Din pats his back comfortingly, turns to look at you. You offer him a sad smile.

He reaches for your hand just as someone else comes in. This time, it’s the doctor again, and he’s carrying a clipboard.

“Alright, sir,” he says, “your vitals are looking good. But you’re going to need a couple day’s bedrest before you can be up and at ’em again.”

“I can’t do that,” Din protests. Because of course he does.

The doctor glances at you for just a second. “You’re injured,” he says to Din, cautious, like he’s maybe just a little bit afraid of his patient.

Which, you can’t blame him for, because when Din speaks again, he’s using his Don’t fuck with me tone (which, ironically, isn’t all that different from his I’m going to fuck you voice, but you digress), “I feel fine. I’ll be alright in a couple of hours.”

“…With respect, sir, you’re on painkillers at the moment, which will be making you feel better…”

“Great, so I can get up soon.”

“That’s…not exactly what I meant…”

“I have things that I have to do,” Din insists, almost growling now, “Do you understand? Are you going to chain me to this bed?”

“N—no, sir, I—I can’t force you to stay here, only recommend—”

“Right. So I’ll decide when I feel well enough to get up.”

Wide-eyed, the doctor glances between the two of you, holding his clipboard with white knuckles.

You offer him a smile that you hope is reassuring, and place a calming hand over Din’s. “Thank you, doctor,” you say. “I’m sorry, he’s just not used to being…well, still.”

The doctor relaxes just a little. “Yes, I understand. You were very lucky, Mr Mandalorian, sir, that the shrapnel didn’t hit any bone. So maybe you’ll be better sooner than we think.”

Din nods once, curt. “I heal fast.”

“Right,” he smiles, nervous. “The IV is giving you fluids, but it’s important that you drink enough when the transfusion is complete. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.” And then he’s gone, leaving just a little too hastily for it to be casual.

You turn to Din, and give him a Look.

“What?” He asks. “You were the one staring daggers at him earlier when he asked you to step back.”

“Because I was worried about you,” you protest, “and I was having a crisis. You have no excuse right now. You’re pumped full of painkillers.”

His voice is lilted with a smirk. “You were rude to the doctor.”

“So were you!” You find yourself smiling despite yourself. “You were very rude to him. He’s just trying to help.”

“I don’t appreciate people telling me I have to stay chained to a bed for days.”

“He literally told you that wasn’t what he was doing.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Being able to fight is part of who I am.”

“Oh, so you’re the first Mandalorian to ever be injured?” You challenge, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re allowed to rest, Mando. In fact, you kind of have to, if you ever want to be able to fight properly again.”

He sighs. His helmet turns away, facing the ceiling. When he speaks again, he sounds surprisingly bothered. “I can’t afford to be hurt right now,” he says, so quietly.

“Hey,” you run your fingertips over his arm. “We’re safe here. You can recover as long as you need to.”

“I don’t need long. I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

You sigh. Gently, you take hold of his helmet, turning his gaze back to you. You stare at him for a long minute, taking him in, hearing the gentle beeps of his heart monitor. Tears sting at the backs of your eyes again, as memories of the last few hours come back to you. “You scared me,” you whisper, staring into his visor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers back.

“The fact that you’re okay is the most important thing,” you say, “you know that, right?”

He shakes his head. “You and the kid are the most important thing.”

You look at the kid and smile. He’s still got his face against Mando’s cowl, and you can hear him breathing, just soft little puffs of air. He’s so content to just be here in Din’s arms and beside you, not even looking for mischief like he so often is.

“We’re all here,” you look back to Din and smile. “That’s what matters.”

Din nods. He’s about to say something, taking a breath, lifting his hand to brush against your face—

Bang.

A flash of orange light down the hall.

Rubble clatters all around, scattering across stone floors, falling into the medbday doorway.

Metal beams fall outside.

Screams.

It’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

Din has shot up in his bed, leaning across to throw his arm over your body, cradling the kid between both of your chests. You look up at him, wide-eyed, and it seems like this little corner of the building is the only one untouched by the dust and rubble, by whatever the fuck just happened, the explosion—

“Are you okay?” Din asks you, running a hand over your face, searching for injuries.

You barely hear him through the ringing in your ears. Frantic, you nod. “Are you? Grogu, are you okay?”

He’s peering up at you with wide eyes, but he’s okay. All three of you are uninjured—at least, not from that fucking blast—but you can hear shouts and cries coming from the rest of the building, and then, a voice above them all—

“It’s an ambush!”

Fett.

Your hand flies to the blaster at your hip, dread dropping deep into your stomach.

Because you just know.

You know that Fett has enemies, that there are many people who still want to take him down. But you also know that a large portion of those people were taken out just this morning, and it’s really unlikely that anyone would launch an attack of this scale just after he and his soldiers took out a rogue cell mere hours ago.

So, naturally, your mind goes to places you wish it wouldn’t. That you wish it didn’t have to. And you just know you’re right.

Din is moving, trying to get down from his bed. He grunts and strains and you reach out, holding him down.

“You can’t move right now!” You argue, keeping your voice hushed, because you don’t know who—or what—is out there. “Din, you can’t.”

“I have to—”

“No. You have to stay here, and watch the kid.”

“I’m watching you, too,” you can hear the frown in his voice, “You’re not going out there.”

You’re about to say that you won’t, that you’ll stay to protect him and Grogu, but then there are footsteps running down the hall, and you see through the window one of Fett’s men, running towards the where the explosion came from. They trip, probably over some of the rubble. You hear them cry out and you stand, rushing to help them before you can even think twice.

Din shouts after you, tells you to come back, but you ignore him.

The man is on the floor, crawling backwards towards the wall.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, crouching down to his level. He’s got a cut on his eyebrow, and he’s clutching his arm to his chest, pain creasing his face.

“My arm, I—I think it’s broken,” he grits out.

You take hold of his good arm, help him towards the medbay door. “Come on, come in here,” you say, and he follows gratefully. “What happened?”

“There was an explosion at the front gates. A dozen people are trying to get in, saying something about—” he gasps in pain when he stumbles again and instinctively catches himself with his bad arm—“something about a girl.”

Oh, fuck.

Once he’s settled against one of the room dividers, you look across at Mando and Grogu, who are still on the bed, looking really fucking vulnerable and helpless and, kriff, you can’t let anyone hurt them—Mando can’t fight for himself right now—

Your hand finds its way to your blaster.

“It’s them,” you say to Din. “It has to be.”

He nods. He’s still trying to get up, keeping the kid in one arm, using his other hand to try and swing his injured leg over the bed. Blaster fire starts up down the hall, shouts of battle making their way through to you. “We have to get you out of here. There’s a back exit—”

“They’ll have covered the back exit!” You exclaim, feeling desperation rise in your chest and your voice, because they taught you that. You think back to the day Mando arrived on your doorstep, when you thought he was sent by Them. You didn’t bother using the back door, because you knew they’d be waiting for you.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. Mando has ripped off his monitor, so it’s just one long beep now, and flashing red on the screen above his head. He’s about to try and rip out the IV, but you stop him.

“You need that blood,” you say.

“No, I need to get you out of here—” He’s cut off when his foot lands on the floor, and it must send excruciating pain up his leg because he cries out, pulling back like you’ve never seen him do before.

“Stay,” you instruct, holding him down. “You have to stay here. I’m going to help them. I can fight.”

“No!” He grabs your arm before you can walk away, hard and tight in his gloved hand. His voice isn’t demanding. It’s desperate. “No! You can’t—stay with me, I can protect you here—”

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“They’ll take you!”

“No they won’t. Fett has a whole army. I’ll be fine.”

He says your name, both a warning and a plea, but your mind is made up.

If They get any further down the hall, they’re going to find Mando, and they’re going to find Grogu.

They’ll know who they are. They’ll take them, just to get to you.

And you cannot let that happen.

You lean in, press your forehead to Din’s. “I’ll be back,” you promise. “Stay here. Protect the kid. Please.”

And before he can protest, before he can grab you again, you’re running away and heading down the corridor.

The lounge is full of dust and rubble, the blast having come from just below it, blowing a hole in the floor. There’s no one in here, but the blaster fire is coming from downstairs, from the gate. Good, you think, They haven’t made it inside yet.

You drop down through the floor and land behind a pillar, using it for cover. Fett’s soldiers are dotted around the room, leaning out from cover every few seconds to fire their blasters. You take a second to peek around the pillar, trying to see who they’re shooting at, and where they are.

Your stomach drops when you see them.

Not your family. They’d never come to do their own dirty work.

But their people. You’d recognise them anywhere. Their faces, their clothes, their voices. Though you don’t know their names, you’ve been surrounded by them your whole life.

Fuck.

It really is them.

“Hold the line!” Fett shouts as he comes running down the hall from the gateway. “There’s only three left! Let’s finish it!”

His soldiers advance towards him, firing with newfound confidence.

You’re frozen in place.

Your heart is beating wildly, so loud in your ears that it almost blocks everything out.

They’ve found you. They’ve found you, and they’ve caused all this destruction, all this damage, probably taken innocent lives just to get to you. Din and Grogu are upstairs in the medbay. Din is hurt because you had to come here, because of you.

You should have just gone back when the blackmailer gave you the chance. You could have been the only damage done. Now, the damage is all around you. They’ve not only found their way into every corner of your life, but into every corner of everyone else’s, too. Everyone who has only ever tried to help you.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t focus.

Before the final blaster shot, something lands in front of you. Something small, round. A blinking red light on top of it.

It takes your mind a second to catch up to the fact that it’s a fucking concussive detonator.

You’re just about to jump back, about to scream, when all of a sudden there’s a wall of beskar on top of you, throwing you across the room and into one of the glass windows in the interior walls. You hear the glass shatter, don’t even feel it piercing your skin, going so deep into your flesh. There’s metal too, the structure of the window.

Your body falls to the ground, landing with a loud shout, and you’re not sure if it came from you or from the Mandalorian on top of you—in the haze, you don’t even know if it’s Din or Boba, just that it’s someone very hard and very heavy, someone very strong who has literally tackled you twenty feet away from the detonator—

Bang.

Not as big or loud as the initial blast.

But it sounds it. It feels it.

Pain spikes and spreads across your back. It’s blinding, white-hot, black spots appearing over your vision. The room is black and then it’s not, it’s dusty and then it’s not, it’s blurry and then it’s not—

The person on top of you rolls away. Someone is screaming, panting desperately for air.

It’s you.

Screaming at the top of your lungs.

The pain is like nothing you’ve ever felt. Not even close to everything They did to you, not to the knife in your shoulder by Din’s target, not the branch that stuck in your leg.

It’s fire against your skin, deep in your flesh. Every single one of your nerves is alight with it. You almost expect to not be able to feel your legs, but you can, the pain spreading right to your toes.

There are people rushing around you. If you could hear anything other than your own screams, you’d hear that the blaster fire has stopped, the fight is done.

You try to roll over, the pressure of the floor on your injured back more than you can take, but people are holding you down, someone’s hands on either side of your head to stop you moving your neck—

You try to push everyone away because you’re suffocating you can’t breathe you can’t see—

They slide something underneath you, a stretcher. The pain is indescribable.

Everything goes black.

You’re in a field.

It’s serene. Green pastures, rolling hills. Shindl birds fly overhead. A creek is flowing nearby. The sun shines in a clear blue sky.

When you sit up, you expect to see him there. A shiny wall of beskar, soft just for you. A green child, staring at you with wide, beautiful eyes.

But instead, you see Them.

Your parents. Standing beside you, looking down at you with nothing but disgust on their faces.

“Look at you,” your mother says.

You do. You look down at yourself, and are horrified by what you find.

Your arms, bleeding fresh, crimson blood. Cuts all the way up them. Your stomach, just open flesh. You feel welts on your back, warm blood dripping down your spine.

It’s the day that they did it to you. The Ceremony. No one else will ever want you, now. You are his forever.

“Don’t look at me—” You beg, and then, Mando is there in front of you, staring at you with his helmet on, covered in blood—“Don’t look at me, stay away, I—”

Gasps pull into your throat over and over, and it’s too much air and not enough all at once.

Then you feel it. The glass. It’s falling out of your back, coming from your flesh like it was made there, scattering around you in the grass and into the mud and over your skin—

You wake with a gasp.

Or, maybe you don’t.

Either way, you’re not in that field anymore. Instead, you’re lying on your side, staring at a metal wall. There’s a bright light above you. Not the sun. It’s white, harsh.

“Can you hear me?” A familiar voice says. You frown, trying to place it. Then he comes into view, the doctor from earlier, peering down to look at you. “It’s alright. You’re just coming around from some anaesthesia. Can you hear me?”

You nod. The movement stretches the muscles in your neck, sends pain shooting down your back.

The scars. Your family. They—it’s the day it happened—

No. You’re not there. You’re at Boba Fett’s home.

“I hear you,” you manage to say. “What happened to me? Why am I—why can’t I—”

“You’ve got injuries on your back and your right arm,” he tells you softly, pulling up a chair to sit by your bed so you can see him. “We had to place you on your left side. I understand it will be disorienting, but please, try not to move.”

Panic strikes your chest, but you do as he asks, staying still. It’s only because you know him from before that you don’t immediately suspect him of working for the enemy.

The enemy.

They found you.

“Grogu—Mando—are they—”

“Everyone is okay,” he assures you quickly. “No one was killed in the fight. Just some injuries.”

You look around as best you can, craning your neck despite the pain it sends through your nerves. You realise you’re in a private room, not the one that Din was in. It’s much smaller, dimmer.

The air is cold on your back. It matches the cold dread that hits you—a familiar feeling today, it would seem—when you realise that your back is bare. “I’m—what—what happened—”

“You fell through a window,” he explains, gently. “Mr Fett saved you from a concussive blast, but the window’s glass and metal framing injured you significantly. Some debris had to be surgically removed. Due to the…scarring on your back and arms already, some pieces were hard to remove, and many were too stubborn to be sutured.”

You screw your eyes shut. The scarring. The fucking scarring.

You’ve avoided it all these years. You don’t even look at yourself when you wash. You can’t remember the last time you properly looked at your arms, let alone turned around to look at your back in a mirror, looked down at your stomach.

And now, you’ve been scarred again. And you’re bare here in this room. Whoever treated you has seen you. All of you.

“Where’s…where’s Mando?” You ask, not daring to open your eyes.

“He’s just outside,” the doctor says.

“He got up?”

“He was there, when you were injured.”

Your eyes fly open. “What?”

He smiles just a little, shaking his head in disapproval. “It seems he’d tried to follow you into the entryway,” he says, “but didn’t get there in time.”

A heavy exhale slips past your lips. Your throat is raw. You remember, then, the way you’d screamed. The excruciating pain that went right into your spine, down every nerve. “Am I on painkillers?”

“Very much so,” he nods. “We kept you under until they started working. I…should tell you, ma’am, that your injuries are quite significant. It will take a while for you to recover, and you’ll need to be on medication for some time. Fett has offered use of the bacta tank, but we will need to get you more stable before that will be an option.”

Your mind is reeling, racing. All you want is to see Din, to see Grogu. To hold their hands and know they’re there and hear their voices.

But your skin. It’s on show. Some is bandaged up, but you still look a mess.

The kid alone would be traumatised by the sight of you, even if your existing scars weren’t bad enough. You can’t do that to him.

“I don’t want you to worry,” the doctor says softly. “Mr Fett has assured me that the threat has been neutralised, and security has been tripled. Not to mention the Mandalorian outside who hasn’t dropped his blaster since it happened.”

You almost smile at that. If you weren’t in so much pain, and at war with yourself over if you can handle seeing him or not, you’d smile.

“He’s been asking to see you,” the doctor says. “But…before we took you in for surgery, you were…talking.”

“I was?” You have no memory of it.

“You…didn’t want anyone near you.”

“…Even Mando?”

“It would seem so, yes.”

Oh, shit. The words you said in your dream weren’t just in the dream.

“He very much wants to come and see you. I…told him I’d ask your permission first.”

You screw your eyes shut. Guilt hangs heavy in your chest. You know that if the roles were reversed, you’d be fighting everyone who dared to stand in between you and Din. Hell, the roles were reversed just earlier today.

“You’re all bandaged up,” the doctor says carefully, sounding like he’s dancing around the topic of the aforementioned scarring, that he and the other doctors have not only seen, but had to operate through. “I can pull the blanket over you, if that will help.”

Kriff. He knows why you don’t want Din in here.

“Did he hear?” You ask, keeping your eyes closed as though that’ll keep all of this darkness away. “When I said I didn’t want him to see me?”

“I’m not sure.”

You’re surprised he hasn’t fought his way in here, actually; just barrelled right through everyone in his way. Though, if he heard that it was truly your wish to not have anyone near you, he’s probably respecting that over anything else. Despite the fact that he’s probably desperate to see you, as you would be him.

“He gave me this,” the doctor says into the heavy quiet.

You open one eye and see his hand in front of you, holding the commlink that Din gave you the day you took off with them. You stare at it. The doctor doesn’t need to say anything else. There’s a light blinking on the comm, signalling that someone is trying to get through it to talk. Tears hang in your throat and you don’t have the strength to swallow them down.

Despite the painkillers, your back and arm are throbbing, stinging, and aching. Your skin is covered with bandages, but there are still parts of your back exposed to the air, your wrist and upper arm out in the open for everyone to fucking see. You can’t even look down at yourself. You know that some scars will be visible. And, even those that aren’t, you’re still a mess. Wounded, bandaged up, lying here unable to move or roll over or cover yourself without it hurting. Just like you were back then.

“I can’t see him,” you find yourself whispering as a tear falls onto your cheek, sliding down to the pillow.

“He said he just wants to talk to you,” the doctor says softly. He’s still holding out the commlink. “We have more to discuss regarding your injuries, but I think seeing, or even just talking to, someone you care for will help your morale. I can give you a moment alone, if that’s what you’d like to do.”

You look at the commlink. To the doctor. Close your eyes.

You’re in pain. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. You feel trapped, caught, and worst of all—hideous.

But you need to hear his voice.

With a trembling, weak hand, you reach out and take the commlink, grasping it in your fist. You tuck it up in front of your chest, hold it to your lips.

The doctor gives you a sympathetic smile. As he stands, he says, “I’ll be back soon. If you want to let him in, just tell me through the commlink. But you don’t have to.”

You give him a shaky nod before your eyes are closed again, and you wait until his footsteps have gone and the door is closing behind him before taking a long, deep breath.

You press the transmit button.

Your voice is thin and reedy, see-through like wet paper, ready to fall apart with the next tear that falls. You’re trying so hard to stop yourself from crying, even though the tears are forcing past your defences. “Mando?”

“Cyar’ika?”

The sound of his voice sends a rush of relief through you. “Hey,” you manage, weak.

“Hey, I—are you alright? How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been chewed up, digested, and shit out by a bantha,” you close your eyes in your best attempt to hold yourself together. Your throat hurts from the effort. Your hands are shaking. You hurt. It all hurts.

You just want to hold his hand.

“Sweetheart, can I…” his words fade. Through the distortion of his modulator and the commlink, you can only just tell that his voice is strained. When he speaks again, it’s just a whisper. “Can I see you?”

Even though he won’t see it, you shake your head vehemently. No words come that you can speak. You can’t say no. It feels like you’d be rejecting him.

“Cyar’ika,” he whispers, and you imagine him out in the hall, sitting down or standing against the wall, holding the commlink to his helmet and trying to speak quietly, keep the conversation just between you. Like it’s just you in the cockpit of the ship, in the middle of hyperspace where no one in the Galaxy can find you. “Why can’t I see you?”

A shuddering breath surprises you as it pulls into your lungs, loud and jarring. Tears release alongside it, a sob escaping your throat before you can stop it. “I��” you can’t, you can’t, you have to, he deserves to know—“You can’t see me like this,” you confess, a broken whisper. “I—I look…I can’t wear clothes right now. There are…parts of me you can see…I’m really injured, Mando, and I can’t…you don’t want to see me looking like this…”

“It’s more worrying to me when I can’t see you,” he says. “No matter how bad it is.”

You sob again. You press your fist against your mouth. Get it together.

“I understand not feeling ready to show me yourself,” he speaks again, this time even softer somehow, quieter, “I do. But—”

“You’ll be disgusted,” you manage to get out from behind gritted teeth, the effort of holding back every single sob that wants to wrack through your chest now hurting your wounds, spreading across your skin. “You’ve never—Mando, I’m scarred, okay? Not just from this. Before this, I am covered in scars. My family, they...” You don’t have the strength to hold back the truth from him anymore. If you’re not going to let him in to see you, he deserves to know why. Deserves to understand, to agree that he doesn’t want to see that, because why the fuck would he want to? How could he stand it? “It’ll work,” you breathe shakily.

“What will work, sweetheart?”

“What they did. My family. To make no one else want me. If you see me like this, with the scars they gave me, it’ll work.”

Silence.

Good, you think. He knows. He agrees.

But then, “There is nothing,” his voice is low, “you could ever show me about yourself that would make me want you less. That would change how much I—how I feel about you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, salt pooling on the corners of your lips. Your eyes are screwed shut so hard that it hurts. Your back hurts, it’s on show, your scars both new and old, the most vulnerable parts of you…

“Please,” he whispers, all fuzzy and distorted through the comm, “let me be there for you. I promise, I won’t look at your wounds, any of them. I don’t need to see them. I just need to see you. Please.”

You’ve never heard him like this before.

Through the modulator and the soft buzz of the comm, you could swear it sounds like maybe he’s crying.

And the thought of that breaks your heart. Hearing him but not being near him is breaking your heart.

You think of the pain in your arm and back, feel the bandages. The shame that comes with every single scar; the shame you have carried for so many years, that will probably take the rest of your life to fade away. It certainly won’t be healed if, by some miracle, Din sees you and decides he still wants you. The shame is your own. It’s yours to work out. And you don’t see that ever happening.

But…

“Please,” he says again. “I just need to know you’re okay, Cyar’ika. I need to hold your hand, I need to tell you…” his voice chokes. “I thought I’d lost you today. Please, Cyar’ika. Gedet’ye.” The Mando’a falls from his tongue like a prayer, ged-et-yay. You don't know what it means, but you know he's pleading.

Another sob forces its way past your tear-soaked lips and onto your fist.

You don’t know at what point you decided.

In fact, you don’t even know if you have.

But still, the only word that you can form, “Okay.”

He’s there in less than a minute. You hear the familiar sound of his footsteps, heavy boots along the vinyl flooring. The door closes behind him and he’s limping hastily towards your bed, coming from behind you, which really just adds insult to injury—

You expect him to stop, to catch sight of your back and your arm and the fucking state of you and then turn and leave, but he doesn’t. He keeps coming closer, and soon he’s beside you, sitting in the chair that the doctor had been in.

You can’t open your eyes. Tears are pushing violently past your eyelids.

“Hey,” he says, so soft and worried and shaky. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. It’s just me.”

You know that. You know him, trust him. And yet you still can’t look.

Gently, his gloved hand reaches out, and eases your grip on the commlink. He carefully takes it from you, places it on the table by the bed, then replaces it with his hand, holding so tightly that you can feel his concern through the grip.

“Cyar’ika,” he says, his voice so close to you, “Kriff, sweetheart, I…you’re okay. You’re okay.” He breathes out, heavy and relieved.

One of your eyes cracks open. It’s blurred entirely by tears, but you can just about make out the outline of him, shiny silver beskar in the harsh, white light of the room. The sight of that alone is enough to open your eyes completely. Because he’s here.

Shit, fuck, kriff, he’s here. He’s not looking at your back, or even your arm, despite the fact it’s right in front of him, his hand holding yours. He’s just looking at you, at your face, hovering right in front of you as if he can’t ever look away from your eyes again.

“Hey, there you are,” he says softly and reaches out his other hand to brush pieces of hair from your face. They’re soaking wet, either from tears or sweat. Your pillow is soaking wet, come to think of it, and so are Din’s gloves now as he reaches out and wipes your tears away—

The dam breaks.

He’s here. He’s touching you. He’s looking at you with anything but disgust; even though you can’t see his face, you know that’s true.

Because it’s Din. You know him. He knows you.

A loud, harsh sob comes from your throat and hits the silence like a tank. It’s the first of many. The tears become too fast for Din to wipe away quick enough, so instead he leans in, puts his face right in front of yours, uses his spare hand to smooth over your hair. You cry, and cry, and cry, violent sobs wracking your chest, shaking your entire body.

Everything comes over you at once. The blackmailer from Coruscant, how you were going to leave Din and Grogu behind, then when Din found you and you confessed some of your darkest secrets to him. Every panic attack you’ve had since you escaped your old life, every moment that has been tainted in your memory because all you felt was fear. Din’s arms around you, his lips on your skin, how you wanted so badly to see him and let him see you but you couldn’t because of what they fucking did to you—

And then, today, Din getting injured and then the explosion, the ambush, your family’s people coming to get you no matter what they had to do. People fighting for you, Din fighting for you, even though you’ve given him every opportunity to say no and walk away, to decide you were too much—

And now your body is bleeding and scarred, and you’re never going to be the fucking same ever again.

Din lets you cry. You can’t let yourself think about how hard it must be for him. About how much you wish he could take his helmet off, kiss your forehead, hold you in the dark with no clothes separating you.

“I’m here,” he whispers as your loudest sobs begin to subside, quieting down to soft weeping, the tears still flowing just as freely. “It’s alright, Mesh’la. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Mesh’la.

Even now.

Even like this.

“Din,” you reach out for him suddenly, hand scrambling to find his shoulder. You just need him. Need him close, need him here.

“I’m here,” he says like a promise, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You don’t know when the crying stopped. When your body decided it was done shaking you with sobs so harsh that they drew dry wretches from the back of your throat.

But you’re just lying here now, feeling like you’re in a pool of your own tears.

Din wipes them away with his gloved hands. Then, his hands move from your face and your hair, and it’s only because you’ve got your hand against the cheek of his helmet that you feel him go to take it off, his hands clasping over each side—

Your eyes fly open. “Din,” you say, stopping him, “What are you doing?”

“I need to see you,” he admits, and his voice is so husky and strained and filled with tears—

“You can see me like this. I’m here. You don’t have to take your helmet off.”

“I—” he falters. “I…I want to kiss you. I can’t—I can’t let you lie here like this and just be sitting here like some kind of droid while you need me…”

“I’ve got you,” you promise him. “I know I’ve got you.”

“I want to,” even though he’s whispering, he sounds more sure of this than he ever has. “I want to. Just for a second. Just—just to touch you. To see you with my own eyes. For you to—to see me.”

“I don’t want the first time I see your face to be like this,” you whisper, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles. He nods, understanding. “But I can do this.” Then you close your eyes. Because you’re only human. If Din Djarin wants to kiss you, you aren’t going to say no.

Moments later you hear the soft metal thunk of his helmet sitting on the floor.

Then, warmth. The smell of his skin, sweaty after everything that’s happened, so familiar and perfect and comforting. He presses his forehead to yours, strange at this angle where he’s upright and you’re on your side. He’s taken his gloves off, too, and it surprises you when he brushes the backs of his bare fingers down your sticky, tear-soaked cheek.

“Cyare,” he breathes, shah-ray.

“What’s that mean?”

He shakes his head. “Beloved.”

Oh.

Your heart lurches, warmth blooming beneath and around it. Your hand finds the back of his neck, his hair, its favourite place to be. He’s so warm. Sweaty. Lovely.

“I was promised a kiss,” you whisper into the space between you, earning a near-silent chuckle from him.

He shakes his head again, fond this time, and then fulfils his promise: presses his lips to yours, his nose pressing into the hollow of your cheek. It’s a strange angle, and you can’t really open your mouth for him. So with both of your lips closed, you just linger there for a long moment, tasting your own tears pressing against his lips. It’s maybe one of the chastest kisses you’ve ever shared with him, but there is nothing but passion in it. You can feel the wrinkles in his forehead, his frown against your brow. He’s breathing slowly, carefully, like he’s trying to drink you in with every second that passes.

Kriff, you’re so grateful. That you get to have him like this. That this is something he wants as much as you do.

You’re probably never going to get used to that.

When he pulls away, he presses your foreheads together again, strokes his finger over the curve of your neck. “I want you,” he tells you. “All of you. No matter what.” It’s not suggestive, sultry. It’s a statement. It’s, I want you all the time.

Your heart hurts with the weight of it. It pulls on your scars, fresh wounds and old ones. More tears start to sting in your eyes, and you don’t have the energy to cry again, so you just kiss him instead of letting the incredible meaning of those words hit you any longer.

“Once you’re feeling up to moving around more, bacta is an option, if you feel comfortable,” the doctor—who you’ve only just learned is called Dr Garidan—tells you, standing at your bedside, right next to Din who’s still in the chair with his helmet back on. He hasn’t left since he came in hours ago. It’s the middle of the night.

“Did the debris hit any bone, or…her spine?” Din asks, not looking away from you.

Garidan glances at him like he’d forgotten he was there, then back to you, seeming uncertain. “I’m sorry, I should have said. I…will need you to step out for a moment, Mr Mandalorian, sir. I can’t give out information…”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, smiling tiredly. Exhaustion is weighing down every inch of you, your back and arm throbbing so much that it’s becoming simply annoying as well as painful. “He can hear it.”

“Alright, then. Well, nothing hit the spine, though it came close. One piece of metal did graze the shoulder bone, not quite fracturing it.” He gestures to the bandage brace you have wrapped around your shoulder that’s keeping your arm nice and steady.

“How long will it take to heal?” Din asks, and you’re honestly grateful Din is asking these questions for you; you’d been too scared to ask them yourself.

The look on Garidan’s face is not exactly comforting; he’s clutching his clipboard again, propping it against his stomach, and though he tries to hide it, he looks rueful. Bad news is written all over him. “…Many of the fragments went deep, as you know, hence the need for surgery. That, combined with all the damage to the skin that the smaller fragments caused, could mean that it takes months before the skin repairs itself.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You close your eyes, whisper, “How…how much damage is there?”

He hesitates. “A lot,” he says, soft. “Some parts of your arm nearly required skin grafts. If it doesn’t heal over on its own, then that will be the only option.”

Oh, fuck.

Tears are stinging at your eyes again. You’re so fucking tired. Your entire body is throbbing. You can’t deal with this right now. Skin grafts? Things not healing on their own? As if you weren’t already mutilated enough.

“Can we let her rest?” Din requests, sounding tired, too, but almost like it’s on your behalf. “Talk about this later?”

“No, it’s okay,” you force yourself to open your eyes again and look back up at Garidan, who looks genuinely sorry for all of this. “I want to know. Just get it out the way.”

He gives you a grateful, apologetic smile. “The good news is, if you spend some time in the bacta tank, the chances of healing on your own go up to around ninety percent. Not only will it help to fight off any infection, it will also give your skin the boost it needs to heal over those patches where it's been damaged or removed.”

Fucking hell. The window fucking removed your skin. It’s amazing, in the worst way, that They managed to find a new way to hurt you, to scar you, to ruin any semblance of self esteem you might have had, without even touching you this time.

“I understand that use of the bacta tank is…tough for you. We can make sure that only one assistant is in there with you to help you, and I can assure you that they are only interested in your safety, not the extent of your scarring.”

You blow out a slow, shaky breath. Mando’s hand is still in yours, gloved again, and you can feel his eyes on you even through the visor. So familiar. Comforting, even though all you can think about is how he must be seeing you. About the idea of taking your clothes off, being put in a tank, watched, helped out and clothed by someone else.

“You can take some time to think about it,” Garidan assures you softly. “There is no rush. For now, you should get some sleep. I’m about to swap shifts with my colleague, but don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands. How is your pain?”

“Fucking terrible,” you answer honestly as a tear slips down your cheek. You can’t wipe it away, your arm too sore, too restricted.

Din reaches out, wipes it away for you, and leaves his hand on top of your head, stroking his thumb over your hair.

Garidan leans over to the controller for your IV, and presses a couple of buttons. The beeping is loud in the quiet of the room. “There,” he says, “I’ve upped your painkillers for a few hours. That should help you get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a weak smile. “For everything.”

“Of course. Hang in there. I’ll see you at noon when I’m back in.”

Nodding, you and Din watch while Garidan heads out, closes the door softly behind him.

You turn to Din. “Where’s Grogu?”

“He’s being looked after,” Din assures you.

“Does he know…?”

“That you’re injured?”

Dread hitting you at the idea, you nod.

“He does. He doesn’t know how serious it is; I told him that you needed to sleep, like he does after he uses his powers.”

“Kid’s been through enough already,” tears are still falling from your eyes, and they just won’t stop, even though you don’t really feel like you’re crying. “He doesn’t need this on top of everything.” Neither do you, you don’t say.

Din shakes his head, swiping his gloved thumb over some tears on your cheekbone. “He’s okay, I promise. He wants to see you, of course, but he knows he’s safe and that we aren’t far.”

You nod. Your eyes fall closed, and you nuzzle the side of your face into Din’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “’M glad you’re here,” you murmur as a sudden wave of sleepiness washes over you, the painful throbbing in every single wound starting to dull. Painkillers. Great things.

“Me, too,” he agrees. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

You’re still nodding, because it feels a bit like it’s lulling you to sleep, like Din is rocking you back and forth. You push into his hand, then pull it right up to your mouth, snuggling his forearm into your chest. It’s probably uncomfortable for him. If you weren’t rapidly falling into a drug-induced sleep, you’d tell him he doesn’t have to stay, that he can go and sleep in the actual bedroom you have upstairs, in the proper bed.

But he’s here, and you need him here. That’s all you can think about. If you could, you’d pull him into the bed, and hold him.

“For the record,” Din says, so soft and quiet that you could be imagining it as you tumble towards sleep, “you look just as beautiful as ever.”

Maybe you don’t literally fall asleep with a smile, but it feels like you do.

notes: apologies again for the wait, but i hope it was worth it! thank you for all your comments on the last chapter, and also for the birthday and well wishes on my update post last week. i appreciate you all so much. thank you for being here, for reading, for letting me know your thoughts, and for enjoying this story as much as i am ❤️ as always your comments help more than you know. all the love, always. xo

Mando'a translation:

Gedet'ye - Please

taglist: @toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @whenpugzfly @elsasshole @moony-toasts @julesjewelss36 @jbcalway @mxlsmith @indec1sive @lordhavemurthy @booktvmoviefangirl @brokenghostgirl1

@competitivedust @lostinsideourminds @gloryekaterina @ellesvoid @uncle-eggy @astronymity @leithatnight @domaniquessidehoe @dancealongthelightofday @loveslide @peqchsoup @jaguarthecat @starrynightsforever @djarinxore @rexamongthestars @babygirlrex0504

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #gif cw #my post #my post: fic #i only see daylight

179 notes · View notes

littlemisssatanist · 2 years ago

Text

Yeah… (Kamisato Ayato/Reader

I woke up a few days ago with a craving and wrote this in one sitting. It’s not finished. It has not been proof read because my beta-reader would have a conniption if she saw this (lesbians amiright).

Uhm.

Reader is gender neutral.

Not really smut.

Ayato is touch starved.

You reading this:

You sighed as you leaned back in your chair as the last of the flame spluttered out, leaving you in total darkness. Tossing the quill you were holding aside, you pushed back your chair.

Rain was pouring heavily outside. It was drizzling earlier, clouds grey and tired, but that was just regular Inazuman weather. Lightning thundered once, then twice. You grimace. The Shogun must be extra angry today.

It wouldn’t be such a problem normally. Normally, everyone living at the Kamisato Estate would be inside the manor by this time of night. The rest of the servants had already gone to bed.

So why were you still up?

You scowled, standing up to grab a matchbox from the tiny shelf attached to your dresser-desk. It was a mix of the two, really. You walk back to your chair, fumbling with the match and huffing to yourself when light filled the room again.

You scanned over the report you had been writing. Technically, this responsibility fell to the Head of House. Technically, the Head of House took care of all paperwork.

The scratching of the quill against parchment relaxed you slightly. It was a familiar sound, one that joined you at least once or twice a day. You didn’t mind doing part of the paperwork. It was part of your job description, as the right hand of Kamisato Ayato.

Paperwork was his responsibility, yes, but helping him was your responsibility.

You glanced outside the window again, sighing once more when the rain showed no sign of stopping.

And still Kamisato Ayato was nowhere to be found.

He had left the Estate in the morning, to go someplace he hadn’t told you, which was unusual in its own right. You knew everything about where he went and what he did. (A wonder that knowledge didn’t drive you insane sometimes. Kamisato Ayato had a tendency to be a bit unbearable sometimes).

But you had no clue where he was right now. Which was the reason for the tight and uneasy feeling in your chest. You play with the skin around your fingernails, getting irritated.

This was absolutely ridiculous.

A thud outside your room brought you out of your thoughts. You startle, looking towards the door. It’s handle turned with a creak, and you reached for the blade hiding beneath your skirt.

The door opened. Kamisato Ayato fell through. Speak of the fucking Devil. You must have done something terrible in your past laugh, because Celestia was laughing in your fucking face.

“My lord!” You gasped, watching as your employer stumbled across the room towards you. He was holding a hand to his abdomen, something red dripping down onto the floor. “What- what happened!”

“Close- close the door. Please.” Kamisato Ayato breathed out, collapsing. You lunged forward, attempting to cradle him in your arms, but Archons, he was heavy.

“Just. Just close to the door.”

You nodded, frightened, dashing to close it. Then you rushed back to him, unsure of what to do next.

“Take off my clothes.” Kamisato Ayato instructs you next, wincing as he tries to sit up.

You stare at him. He notices, raising a thin eyebrow.

“Could I just- what the fuck happened?”

Kamisato Ayato let’s out a breath, shifting slightly. “I went out.”

“You went out.” You said in a flat tone. “Without telling me? Or anybody, for that matter?”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, and his blue eyes looked at you with something like guilt in them. Your breath might have been taken away, but who can really say for sure. “I’ll let you know next time.”

You inhale sharply, glancing at his abdomen. “Never mind that now. Why are you bleeding?”

“Hm.” His voice definitely sounded a little less lifelike then. “Fight went wrong. Didn’t see it coming.”

“Ok. Ok.” You fling your hands around frantically, panic finally seeping in. “What do I do?”

“Take off my clothes.” Kamisato Ayato repeated. “Just the top parts. You can leave the pants on.”

“Yes. Uhm.”

You quickly set to work with untying the knots on his uniform. Why were there so many fucking layers? You cursed under your breath as you finally shrugged off the shoulders of the final kimono, revealing his smooth, pale, unblemished skin. You tried very hard not to think about the proximity, or what scandal might be started if someone were to walk in on you two that moment.

You held back a gasp at the sight of the bloody mess that was Kamisato Ayato’s stomach. It has been sliced open, blood still oozing from the wound.

“Rip apart some of the fabric.” He says in between short breaths, chest falling up and down. You watched the movement very carefully. “Wrap it around.”

You nodded, doing as he said so, glad that the ghastly wound was no longer visible.

“I think it might scar.” You mutter.

He lets out a laugh, immediately wincing.

“Let’s get you into the bed.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso, feeling him tense.

“Are you alright?” You ask, worried, but Kamisato Ayato shakes his head and stands up on shaky legs. You shoot up after him, guiding him to your bed. He relaxes into it with an exhale.

“Do you need me to do anything else?”

He shakes his head again. His eyes were lidded now, as is he could barely keep them open.

“Are you hungry, my lord? I have some left over bread from dinner.”

He levels you with a stare, opening his mouth. You want to frown at him for expending too much energy but what he says next makes all thoughts fly out of you brain.

“Call me Ayato.”

You blink rapidly. The world might have ended. You wouldn’t know. Your heart was pounding too fast for you to hear anything, and your head was filled with that one sentence for you to think about anything.

“Hello?”

Your eyes slowly focused back on the scene in front of you. Ayato tilted his head to the side, focusing intently on you.

“Anybody in there?”

“Oh.” Your mouth seemed to be working again. “Oh.”

Or maybe not.

Ayato’s lips quirked up. He looked almost amused. Part of you wanted to feel annoyed at that. The bigger part of you was still trying to figure out what to do next.

“You’re red.” Ayato observed.

Your eyes snapped towards his crystal ones, and suddenly your mind cleared.

“Ayato.”

He no longer seemed amused. His face turned very serious. “Say that again.”

“Ayato.”

He shifted, hands coming to grip your biceps, pulling you to tower above you. The air around you shifted.

“Again.” He breathed.

“Ayato.”

“Again.”

“Ayato.”

“Again.”

And so it went. You must have said it at least a hundred times, whispering when your voice got hoarse. Every time you said his name, Ayato would shudder beneath you. Just the slightest of trembles. You could feel his skin underneath your fingers, hot where you touched him.

You slide your hands up to his hair, brushing out any knots. Your fingernails scratched against his nape, and Ayato let out a delicious sound.

He was breathing harder now, as you touched him everywhere. His bare shoulders, his strong back, his warm cheeks, his arms that were still tightly gripping yours.

Yeah that’s it.

Maybe if this gets 100 likes I’ll actually write the smut but writing straight people smut scares me so… don’t expect anything.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato is touchstarved #yeah we’re all going to hell #smut?#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #smut #sorta

55 notes · View notes

the-consortium · 1 year ago

Note

Mr. Herik.. have you ever wanted crest feather/hair hybrid on your head

Like the peacocks, and cardinals of old

Something large moves in the uppermost tiers of the vast atrium and claws scrape over stone. Dust particles trickle down and dance in the rays of light. The lower level is lit - the faint sun above Urum pours sepia light through the scratched yellow skylights and further down lumen globes float like bizarre deep-sea fish. But the upper tiers, which stretch upwards like the boxes of an ancient theatre over several floors, most of them used only by rat mutants, lie in gloom.

And now a shadow sits there on one of the crumbling railings and radiates displeasure.

Below, Duco stands. A datapad in his hand, looking up.

As is customary when someone stands around looking up at the sky (or in this case: atrium ceiling) for no apparent reason, someone soon finds themselves looking up as well.

In this case, Arrian steps next to the Night Lord, dries his hands on an oily rag and follows the gaze of the black eyes into the upper gallery. But unlike the Nostramo-born Apothecary, his colleague cannot see in darkness unless he has his helmet on. He makes a questioning sound and Duco lowers his gaze. Bares his sharply filed teeth in a grin. "Herik's admirer has written to him again!"

Arrian tilts his head, trying to read what's on the datapad. "And what's the problem?" - "Oh, he feels he's being made fun of."

Duco raises the datapad and begins to read aloud. But he gets no further than the first two words, then a shadow falls from the ceiling. With claws splayed, Herik lunges at his two colleagues, a wordless, angry birdcall on his lips. The broad wings sweep a couple of lumenglobes to the side and almost bring Arrian down. The World Eater feels the nails bite and yells " Bloody bird! What the fuck?!" as he catches himself and jams the emergency injection of his Nail Suppression Serum into his thigh.

Duco cackles like a murderous squirrel, ducks out of reach of Herik's claws and tosses the datapad aside to free his hands. He is neither equipped nor armed, which makes it difficult for him as Herik now has the advantage of mobility and sharp claws.

The Night Lord hurls a few choice insults in Nostraman in the direction of his angry colleague and leaps into the first floor gallery, climbing up quickly and deftly to retreat into the darkness that Herik's eyes cannot penetrate, but which is as bright as day to Duco. He reaches for the nearest parapet. His muscles bulge, catapulting him upwards. With sparing movements he rolls into the dusty darkness. Little stones crunch beneath him. Inside the atrium, Herik screams out his anger and his wings whip the air.

Duco waits three, four seconds. At Astartes' fighting speed, an eternity. Then he leaps onto the parapet and dashes into the vastness of space, straight at Herik. Crashes into the Emperor's Children. Herik flaps his wings frantically, trying to compensate for the extra weight as he swats at Duco's soft abdomen. The latter tears open his mouth, wider than he should be able to. His teeth are daggers. They tumble towards the ground, locked together and dogged. They hit the stone floor hard. A split second later, they strive apart, wanting to find their advantage. Herik is bleeding profusely from a wound between his neck and shoulder where Duco's teeth have torn out flesh, one wing hanging slightly to one side. Duco is panting, bent over - deep claw marks have torn his lab coat and almost opened the abdominal wall. They both tense up -...

...- and cry out at the same time as the steel threads of a large net wrap around them, tightening and pressing the two adversaries together. Wings vehemently intertwine with outstretched arms, Duco's head crashes against Herik's nose, breaking it with a soft crunch. The net is merciless and does not care about sensitivities.

When they finally manage to stop attacking each other and surrender to their fate, Arrian approaches. The large net thrower, with which he usually takes the bird mutants out of the sky, on his shoulder. He eyes his colleagues with forced calm. A muscle twitches under his left eye in a deep scar.

"So, shall I fetch the Chief Apothecary, or is it enough of this childishness?"

Offended hisses and mutterings are all he gets in reply.

If Herik had the feathered crest his unknown admirer had asked for, it would probably be standing up angrily now.

#Warhammer #The Consortium #Herik Stymphalos #Duco #Arrian Zorzi #Ask Post

5 notes · View notes

witchcraftandburialdirt · 2 years ago

Text

-- @deathsmark asked: Rough Touch Starters [PIN] - Sender pins the receiver against the wall. as a treat c: ═══CANON VERSE═══

The movement is swift and brutal as a wreckoning is brought upon his body, teeth instinctively gritting when his head knocks against the wood of the wall behind him. The force is hard enough to make him see stars, milky gaze staring over Zed's head, as he tried to recollect himself. The motion is enough to slam the hat from his head as his toes point in an attempt to keep his feet somewhat on the floor while the crimson glare of a killer catches his attention.

The strength behind Zed's movement is hard to ignore as he feels the edge of a blade tuck itself under his chin, forcing him to lift his chin in a feeble attempt to escape the possibility of it slicing his skin. In terms of physicality, there isn't much of a competition, and his left hand reaches up to grab Zed's wrist, his free hand flicking to release a hidden blade from under his sleeve. The blade barely scratches the man before he's left with nothing but a shadow infront of him which causes him to collapse down onto his knee, spinning the blade in his palm before looking around frantically. But the lowlight of the room as well as his own vision makes it near impossibly to see the next strike, his hand just barely catching the blade which easily cuts through his glove and palm before its pulled back swiftly when once again he attemps to stab the attacker.

Upon getting onto his feet he dodges to the right just in time for the tip of a shurikan to clang deafeningly into his earring, and he backs up against the wall once more. Slowly he brings his fingers to his lips, pushing across his teeth to allow a low whistle to sound.

Before the room seems to darken even further, and a low-frequency, ultrasound creeps across the ambiance of the enclosed area. The door opening to reveal nothing but moonlight on the other side as an unlit glass lantern shattered along the floor. Robin lets out a low breath as he held his bleeding hand which slowly but surely began to close. Something else has entered the room with them, a darkness Zed is well acquainted with, something that would happily paint the land red given the chance.

A demon.

#ic #rp #deathsmark #starter #VIOLENCE!!!#blood tw

2 notes · View notes

aspenforest732 · 11 months ago

Text

Mortem ad Wrens Chapter 22: Is This Worth Our Lives

Summary:

tw: child abuse, scarring, graphic depictions of violence, blood, wrong pronouns, child abuse, near-death experience Nightmares, secrets, and sparring oh my!

Notes:

the end of the violence will be marked by [VIOLENCE START] and [VIOLENCE END] centered on the page. If you need to skip it, there's a flashback summary after the second marker. ‘text’ JSL Text thoughts

[VIOLENCE START]

“That’s it! You’re going to the Carpenter.”

Akira let out a choked gasp, neon purple eyes blown wide as they tried to crawl forward through a haze of red. They screamed as a foot slammed into their side, sharp claws digging into their skin as another rib cracked. Akira collapsed onto their stomach and narrowly stopped themself from curling inwards, knowing it would just make it worse.

Coarse hands grabbed their red and silver hair and dragged Akira across the blood-stained floor. Their brother’s clawed hand grasped the back of their neck, red-hot pain coursed through them as they were ripped to their feet, breaths coming shallow and fast as Akira desperately searched for an escape.

The maze of hallways only ever led back to where they were told to go, and suddenly they were at the soundproof door intricately carved with a tree. Hiroki roughly threw them into the room as the Carpenter lifted their hands from a block of wood, the intricate carvings stopping without his touch.

“This one needs more specialized attention. Use her back and remember to keep this one alive.”

The Carpenter grinned, sending a shudder down Akira’s spine as he set his current piece aside. “I can always make time for your failures, cousin.”

On the table, Akira tried to keep still. It was always easier when- they gasped as the Carpenter placed a hand on their back. Five bloody tracks slowly made their way out from his hand, dully scooping out millimeters of flesh at a time as Akira tried to hold back a scream. Screaming always made things worse. As the Carpenter’s quirk subsided, they thought he was done. The chisels started a second pass just as Akira took a breath, only to scream as the raw skin flared and burned.

[VIOLENCE END]

(flashback summary: after a torture session from one of their brothers didn’t result in forced quirk manifestation, Akira got their back scar from a cousin)

Akira jolted awake with a silent scream, throat raw as they scrambled out from their blanket pile, tripping over the weighted blanket. Frantically, they searched the room for anything familiar, only to find everything foreign. Trembling against the wall, Akira tried to ask a question, but only air came out. World pulsing in and out of focus, they ripped their shirt off, hands reaching back to touch their shoulder blades.

It's not bleeding. This isn’t our room. This is… Akira flinched into themself as the door flung open, stammering apologies they couldn’t hear as feet hesitantly approached. A callused hand gently pulled their right from their back, which they now realized had been scratching at the scars. Wait, scars? Akira peered up from behind their knees and tensed as they saw Eraser Head kneeling in front of them, mouth moving as he gently thumbed circles in the back of their right hand.

After a moment, the rushing Akira hadn’t noticed in their ears subsided, and they heard him murmuring reassurances that they were safe, were in he and Zashi’s house, and had nothing to be sorry about. When Aizawa noticed they were coming to, he loosened his grip on their hand a little. Akira immediately grasped his, flushing as they registered the motion but not letting go.

“Hot chocolate?” Aizawa asked gently as Akira slowed their breathing. They nodded and shakily got to their feet, forcing themself to drop his hand as they did so.

Settling on the couch with their mugs, Aizawa handed them a weighted blanket, which they quickly pulled up to their chest as a grounding weight.

After a few sips, Aizawa quietly said, “I have nightmares when I sleep more than a few hours. Most heroes get them eventually.”

Akira nodded numbly, briefly setting down their mug to sign, ‘Counselor said that, too. New place, bad day, or trigger during the day bring them.’ Aizawa hummed, giving them a minute to grasp their mug again. Akira risked a brief glance to the side, his eyes curious and another emotion they couldn’t quite grasp. Looking back to their mug, they signed, ‘Sorry for waking you.’

“You didn’t, kid. And I wouldn’t have minded if you did. What do you usually do after a nightmare?”

‘Drink water, ground myself like Counselor said, and sometimes talk about it with Wildfire.’

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aizawa asked gently.

Instead of answering, Akira turned to face Aizawa and forced themself to meet his eyes, even if only briefly. ‘Peppermint is being abused by Endeavor. I don’t have proof, but he will testify if we have a solid case. Natsuo will do the same if asked, but I don’t know about Fuyumi. If we can show something will be done, I might be able to get Toya onboard.’

Aizawa stiffened, nearly dropping his mug before Akira grabbed it and gently placed it on the table. “Toya’s not dead?”

‘No, he’s heavily scarred and wants to kill Endeavor, but he’s alive.’ After a moment, Akira hesitantly continued. ‘From what little he’s said, he was in a coma for a while. Broker helped him find a safe place in the underworld.’

In that moment, the hero looked exhausted, fingers shaking as he ducked into his capture scarf. “You knew at the sports festival.”

Akira swallowed thickly and nodded. ‘I needed to know you would care.’

“Does anyone else know?”

Akira restrained a snappy response, reminding themself he wanted to help. ‘Fat Gum, Sun Eater, and Blank. Also, maybe Nurse and Counselor? They were there when Blank and I helped Peppermint out of a flashback at the sports festival.’

Aizawa sighed, chording a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how much we can realistically do since the Commission will be fighting us every step, but I will do everything I can to get him out.”

Akira nodded, ‘I can and will extract him if he gives the word.’

“Good.”

As they finished their lukewarm chocolate, Akira sighed. ‘It was about my back scar.’

Aizawa’s eyes shot up to where their back was just off the couch. “You said a… villain did that.”

They grimaced bitterly. ‘Bit of a stretch, but you already knew that. Has Counselor told you anything about our sessions?’

Aizawa shook his head, confusion seeping in, “Those are confidential and can only be shared with your permission. I thought he told you that?”

Akira nodded. ‘He’s almost as confusing to read as Mic.’ As Aizawa tried to puzzle that out, they continued, ‘Limelights did this. They hated twilight and underground heroes, and only the best were fit to be in society.’

Akira tensed as anger bubbled to the surface of Aizawa’s expression. He glanced at their shift and relaxed marginally, simply signing ‘them, not you.’

A few hours of studying history and grading later, the running shower and muted singing filled the apartment as the cats filtered into the living room. Remembering the state they were in, Akira went to get ready as Bastard followed them, ignoring Aizawa as the hero skirted around his cat. Their back still crawled as they applied cream and slipped into their uniform, but that wasn’t uncommon. Right before they opened the bedroom door, Akira’s burner lit up. Tapping a quick confirmation, Akira grabbed their duffel bag.

‘I’ll be out tonight,’ they signed as Aizawa and Yamada turned around. Shinso was already lounging on the couch with Houdini and raised an eyebrow.

“Anything I should be concerned about?” Aizawa asked.

‘Not for me,’ Akira gave a small smirk. It dropped with a wince as they remembered Yamada’s presence and clarified, ‘I don’t have details yet, so it’ll be standard.’

At lunch, Akira pulled Shoto to the side with Shinso as he joined them again. “Sorry, I can leave if you don’t-” he said before they could start.

‘Wait, it’s not about that,’ Akira signed. ‘I told Eraser. He’s going to help.’

Shinso nodded after interpreting. “Dad won’t stop until you never have to see him again or are at least safe from him.”

Shoto stared at them, disbelief and a spark of hope in his eyes. He mutely nodded and followed them back to the group. With a new JSL student, Koda or Shinso interpreted for Akira. When the conversation eventually turned to the final exam, Shoto quietly said, “Kendo heard from upperclassmen the practical will be robots.”

Shinso snorted, “That was previous years. With how many nonphysical quirks there are in class and the villains we’ve already fought, there’s no way it’s the same this year.”

Koda softly added, “The mice heard the teachers talking. We’re fighting them.”

Shinso swore and Akira blanched. ‘Did they say who was facing which teacher?’

Koda shook his head, “They’re still deciding, but the teachers will have weights to slow them down.”

‘We should probably talk with Broccoli then to see what strategies he can suggest.’

Tokoyami looked at them strangely and Dark Shadow chimed in, “You analyze! Why not share?”

Akira shrugged, ‘He’s been doing it for much longer, and most of mine consist of basic observations, not strategies to take them down. I can update him on my quirk in exchange for the information, but he might ask for more.’

“We’re already giving him an advantage with the knowledge of teachers being the villains for the practical,” Shinso drawled.

Looking between them, Shoto softly added, “Midoriya doesn’t ask for anything in return. Why would he ask you?”

Akira blinked, about to bring up the Ectoplasm incident when they remembered that they had offered him the information. Midoriya technically hadn’t asked.

After word spread, the class started heroics with Midoriya breaking down strategies for each teacher, Akira occasionally adding their own observations. They would likely be working in pairs given their inexperience and power differential, so instead of normal sparring, they paired off for two v two matches with random pairings. Since it was the week before exams, this was considered a study period specifically for heroics. All Might watched from the sidelines but aside from occasionally making critiques and answering questions, he mostly observed. Anii was with him in case Akira needed her to interpret, but they had already established that Akira only wanted her as an interpreter with All Might, not during private conversations.

Unfortunately, Akira got paired with Yaoyorozu again against Uraraka and Shoji first, and they looked nervously at Bakugo and Midoriya as a team, the blonde glaring at the slips of paper. Akira turned to Yaoyorozu with a sigh and waved their phone, setting up a chat since teams had a few minutes to plan before starting the match. “Infrared goggles will let you see me. I register a few degrees cooler than ambient temperature while invisible.”

“That’s nice,” Yaoyorozu said distractedly as she made the goggles. “You can be the distraction while I drive them back.”

Akira rolled their eyes and huffed before typing in the chat. “I’ve actually been improving since the sports festival while you’ve gotten slower. Keep their attention and go for Shoji.”

As the timer went off, the teams stepped into the sparring rings. Akira immediately warped, darting forward in sync with their clone. Shoji’s brow knitted in confusion as he dodged a matryoshka doll and formed a few more ears.

Just as he stepped towards them and not their clone, Akira warped again, still sending the clones forward to be dispelled by Shoji’s arms as they tapped on Uraraka’s shoulder. The girl whipped around, palm outstretched, and Akira let her touch them before warping again right above her. As Uraraka released in confusion, Akira angled themself to land heavily on her shoulders, knocking the wind out of her.

As the clone dispelled with a swipe of Uraraka’s hand, Shoji turned to the thump. Cannon complete, Yaoyorozu shot them in the back with what looked more like a large bean bag than a cannonball, pushing her out of the ring.

Akira helped Uraraka up before signing, ‘The matchup wasn’t in your favor, but that was good. If you don’t know where a warper went, don’t immediately release your quirk. Tentacle Boy, trust your instincts; I could tell you heard two sets of footsteps, but you took a little too long to react to where I was. Rich Miss, if this was our only spar, the cannon would be fine, but we have nine other teams to face. Remember to conserve your lipids or keep snacks on you.’

A few matches later, everyone took a break, Akira sipping on a juice pouch with cold presses resting on their legs as All Might gave out encouragement and minor critiques. They noticed a Teaching for Dummies book sticking out of his back pocket with numerous page markers sticking out. Nudging Tokoyami, Akira pointed it out with a small smile, ‘Looks like he’s learning. That’s good, right? Ectoplasm hasn’t had a clone nearby in almost a week, and All Might has a little more room control.’

Tokoyami nodded, “I thought you didn’t like him?”

‘I don’t, but I can acknowledge the effort.’

Notes:

So random.org has a love/hate relationship with Bakugo and Midoriya and Akira and Momo XD they keep either getting paired up or being on opposing teams (Bakugo and Midoriya for latter).

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

0 notes

riddlethat · 2 years ago

Text

Everything is black. Silence steeps slow in his ears. He was somewhere else before this... Maybe a minute ago... Maybe an hour... Suddenly, a flash of blinding light, and Edward unsticks his eyes to a room with padded, squared walls, tiles cracked and brown and uprooted, the dirt frantically scratched from underneath. He knows where this is.

His heart starts. He was somewhere else before this. Maybe a minute ago. Maybe an hour. The room warping, floor tilting sideways, and Edward steps back until he almost falls, staggering, then up. The wall behind him has broken apart, now swirling in the infinite black; he stands on a crumbling floor floating in nothing. A shadow sits curled at the other end.

His brain scrabbling and frenzied. Edward remembers yelling. Jonathan. Fear toxin.

The shadow uncurls from its slouch, unfolding itself until it stretches, coming closer, longer and longer, bleeding into the pitchless black until its infinite and boundless and hanging over him. Edward can't step back. It’s here.

“No...” Under his breath. Edward mutters, craning his head up. “This - can’t - be happening.”

Two pointed ears. Two frayed, tatty wings. White eyes beating down at him. It reaches out a massive, swollen arm. Lightning cracks.

“No... How did you do it, how did you find me?" The fist coils into his shirt. His feet lift off the floor, kicking, rain pelting. “Don't you-!" He struggles, squirming. "I know what you're doing! Tricking me. Playing games. You couldn't have-!” Edward scratches its wrists for nothing. Rain hits his face and his chest lurches. His cane falls. “You can't beat me," he yells, kicking. "Don't you touch me!”

The shadow inching into his face, heart stammering, and it has green eyes, red hair. Father—

Lightning cracks. The van jumps. Edward stares, disoriented, and he slowly notices. Query watches, face frozen, from the passenger seat. Echo's eyes are plastered onto him from the rearview. Jonathan.

Edward shoves himself back and bars his teeth, jaw tight. "Ha," he tosses out, raw and throaty. "Where were you." They escaped. He remembers clearly now: Arkham and the guards and inhaling toxin. The way they all stared at him—they saw. And nothing, not even praise and you're brilliant and you did it can console his haphazardly put-together ego. "I should've known you'd take your time," he accuses, snatching up his cane. His smile is bitter. "I hope you enjoyed the show."

His hand half-shakes.

The van makes a sharp turn and he tightens up, humiliated, proud, and sulking.

Jonathan could already see it now. The halls of Arkham, running red, stained with the blood of anyone who dared stand in the way of Crane and Eddie. Not that many folks were stupid enough to try it, but they were still in a complex designed to house many notoriously deranged criminals. Not him. No, derangement implied abnormal behavior. No, no he was simply acting out his own part. Besides, if he were mentally ill, he would have been able to recognize it - or at the very least, another doctor would have been able to, right? Kellerman insisted that Crane was "sane and evil”, so that’s what he would be.

They step out of the cell, and immediately a man is jumping at them. He is scrawny, doesn’t even come up to Crane’s stomach (not that Crane was particularly short by any stretch), and Crane easily twists, reaching for the man’s throat, using the momentum of his leap to throw him further down the hall - straight into a wall. Blood spilled from the man’s skull, but Crane could still see shallow breathing.

As he turned to see the dozen or so inmates filing out of their cells to confront The Scarecrow and The Riddler, Crane could only muse that these ones would not be as lucky.

Later.

Jonathan Crane did not believe in coincidence, or luck, or fate. It was superstition. Pre-determined fatalism was easy to fall back onto as an excuse, as well, and those who left everything in their lives up to chance would probably be better off dunking their head into a vat of acid… assuming half their face hadn’t already gotten that treatment.

They’re careening down the hallways, and Crane is howling with laughter. Perhaps that is why they were located so quickly. He can apologize to Eddie later, when they aren’t in immediate danger of being attacked by Arkham’s filth.

Crane has his gas mask on, even though it’s hardly needed by this point in his life, and he’s just finished pulling the rest of his costume together, when he hears the sound of footsteps, boots against metal in sync. Ducking into the shadows, Crane reaches into one of the many different pouches in the many different holsters and belts beneath his oversized poncho.

Edward’s riddle is, admittedly, a good one, and Crane can’t help the sinister laughter that leaves his diseased lungs as he pulls the pin on the canister of toxin and lets it roll across the floor.

“IT’S A REAL NIGHTMARE.”

His voice no doubt carries, deep into the subconscious of those laying paralyzed on the ground, and those convulsing in shock. He wouldn’t be blamed, for claiming a subject. Would he? It was all for science. He’s crouching down to tear the (ineffective) riot helmet from a potential experiment, when he hears a clash.

His head snaps back at superhuman speeds, and a growl leaves his lips. Some prick brought a gas mask, and now Edward was unconscious. The cuffs around Eddie’s hands are enough to tell Crane he needs to end this now.

“You think yourself clever, guard? You’re trembling in fear.” He stands, about to reach into his pocket for Iaepetus when the guard recovers, shooting to his feet and drawing his firearm.

“Prisoner 0821!” His muffled voice was impressively even, but the crack towards the end tells Crane all he needs to know. “You are being ordered to comply peacefully, or I WILL use deadly force! Get back in your cell! Do you hear me? I am ordering you-”

He doesn’t need to let the man finish. In a blink, Crane has surged forth like a specter in a nightmare, a solid punch breaking the man’s visor and sending him down to the floor. His wheezing breaths confirm that the mask is broken, and he’ll soon be under the thrall of the gas. Still, Crane pockets the man’s firearm and turns to Eddie.

This would be a bitch and a half.

Outside Arkham.

He had hoped Eddie would remain unconscious and sane, but unfortunately no plan always survives first contact. Query and Echo were marvelous helpers, of course, apart from their constant hounding and questioning of what happened to their boss. It was almost as if they didn’t trust him.

The conditions of the van didn’t matter much to him. He had already cut Eddie’s cuffs apart with Iaepetus, leaving them as little more than decorative bracelets to clash with his green suit. His chemistry equipment was amongst the things recovered, and Crane is already working overtime on an antidote to the toxin when he hears Eddie awaken. The way he hit his head, it’s marvelous that he even has enough left in him to scream the way he does - but he still screams.

He’s just finished with the syringe, when a surprisingly muscled frame rams into him, sending him barreling to the side of the van’s chamber, and making it rock to and fro. He looks down at his fear-seized friend, and puts a calming hand up, even through the excruciating pain.

“I am sorry, Edward. This is for your own good.” With no time to spare, he jabs the syringe into the man’s arm and injects the antidote as quickly as possible.

Now, all he could do was wait and hope it took effect.

“Edward Nygma, you are a brilliant man. You have gotten us out of Arkham. Remember Arkham? Your partners are here. Query and Echo. We’re on the way to safety. You have done it Edward.” Hopefully a reminder of where he was would help.

#kingcrane #( riddlethat: v: criminal. )#I LOVE IT TOO #so happy jon liked his little riddle. and ty for helping this wet cat of a man...#fears are arkham and batman/his dad ):

7 notes · View notes

rae-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Loss of control

bsd boys x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : blood, death, reader injury

synopsis : your boyfriend snaps, losing control of his ability in the process, but you’re there to help bring him back to reality

a/n : remake!

Chuuya

The entire building sounded like it was going to come crashing to the ground

Which is probably because it was. You could hear Chuuya’s enraged screams from downstairs and you knew that if he didn’t stop, this entire 10 story building would come crumbling down with both of you inside

Which isn’t necessarily a problem for him, as he could easily deflect the rubble with his ability, but for you…well. You didn’t have an ability and you weren’t psyched on dying so young

So you began sprinting down the stairs, jumping over 5 steps at a time, trying to reach your boyfriend but it was all in vain when you heard a familiar chant

“Oh my gods, CHUUYA, NO!”

You didn’t make it down fast enough. You slid through the doorway just as corruption fully formed

Sharp cracks shot up the walls and the ground beneath his feet broke. Everything- the walls, the floor, the ceiling- was trembling under the weight of Chuuya’s gravity

‘The agency is running behind...Dazai-kun won’t get here in time!’ You cursed silently, dodging and weaving through the rubble being thrown around

This was supposed to be a simple co-mission with the Port Mafia and The Ada but things had been everything but simple. The enemy had planned for this; they knew about everyone

“Chuuya!”

He couldn’t hear you. He just kept throwing dense gravity spheres around with a chilling laugh, making you realize just how bad the situation was

You took a deep breath in. And then you ran. Straight towards him. Chuuya saw you coming and spun around, throwing his sphere directly at you

You ducked, getting scratched in the face with small bits of rubble that had broken off. You were bleeding all down your face, but you focused all your attention on the redhead in front of you

You took a leap, literally, and jumped at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Please, Chuuya! Just try and fight it until Dazai-kun arrives!”

Your touch managed to shock Chuuya into standing still for only a few seconds. His hands quickly grabbed at you, trying to throw you off of him

You could feel new bruises starting to form as you fought with Chuuya, frowning at the realization. You knew he’d feel terrible about it later- you didn’t want that.

It had been nearly 5 minutes when you saw a flash of beige and brown at the doorway. Gasping for air, you shouted, “DAZAI-KUN!” before you lost your grip, finally getting thrown down. You hit your head, vision going dark, but not before you saw a bright white glow

When you gained consciousness again, you could feel your head throbbing violently under the bandages that wrapped around it. You tried to lift your head, knowing Chuuya was in the room

A sharp pain made you slam your head back into the pillow, lips parting in a loud groan. It alerted Chuuya, who was startled awake, “Baby?!”

His eyes were frantic as he scrambled to your side. Luckily, he was considerate enough to have been whispering as he fretted over you and ran his hands along your injured face

“Chu...ya.” Your voice was very hoarse, almost inaudible, from the screaming you had done earlier. His frown deepened at the sound and you knew what he was gonna say next

“I’m so, so sorry. I- this is my fault, I should’ve been more careful and less quick to lose my temper and I…I just…why? Why would you come near me, you-”

“I love you..and if I..if I didn’t try to- to stop you, you would’ve…hurt yourself you..stubborn ass.”

Chuuya stared at you like you were crazy before his eyes softened. He bit his lip harshly to keep it from trembling, “But now you’re hurt…”

You smiled and lifted up your hand, clutching onto his tightly, “And I’d do it..again. I’ll always..protect..you.”

Atsushi

Everyone was aware, Atsushi more than anyone, that he couldn’t fully control his ability yet. But no one saw him lose control like this

The enemy had made a comment about you, a comment you don’t even remember if you’re being honest. But Atsushi had been livid and transformed into a full fledged tiger without even meaning to

There was blood splattered onto the pavement, bloody paw prints trailing behind the tiger as he paced; like he was stalking his prey

Nobody was dead, yet, but if Atsushi continued to act hostile towards the Agency, Yosano wouldn’t be able to treat the wounded and Dazai wasn’t here to cancel out his ability

What they needed was a distraction. And luckily, you were crazy enough to be said distraction

Ranpo and Kunikida yelled out, shouting for you to bring your ass back to the side lines, but you just continued to make a straight bee-line towards your furry boyfriend

‘Who doesn’t love a giant kitty?’ you thought

When you reached him, he was growling and snarling at the men trembling on the floor- until he sensed your presence. Atsushi instinctively roared, lashing out to slash at your face with his claws

You dodged backwards fast enough for them to be shallow, but fuck- it definitely hurt worse than normal cat scratches. You kept in your cry of pain, dropping to your knees to wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face against his

His white fur was now caked with your blood as you finally started to cry in pain, “At-su-shi, please. Please come back to me.”

When you lifted your head to stare into his eyes, one of yours was closed due to the four slashes that trailed across it, “Don’t let these bastards take you away from yourself.”

A pale blue light made you shut your good eye, and when you opened it again, your arms were clutching onto your human boyfriend’s shoulders

Atsushi’s bangs covered one of his eyes while the other stared at you in pure horror. “Y-Y/n…?”

You tried for a smile, whimpering in pain when it moved your cuts, “Welcome back, my tiger.”

You slotted your lips over his to send a clear, silent message before pulling back, “Don’t worry, Yosano-chan will fix me up all nicely later.”

Atsushi just stared at you in disbelief before his arms were wrapping around you, holding you as close as he physically could. He refused to let go, demanding Yosano treat you while you laid in his arms

Afterwards, he was a sobbing mess, “Y/n! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, I never wanted to hurt you, I-“ his words were slurred and his wailing just got louder and louder

You sat and stroked his hair for hours, waiting for him to calm down to the point where you only hear small sniffles

“It’s okay, Atsushi. I know you weren’t in control, and I made the decision to come to you. I trusted you to tame the beast and you did. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you with wide, glassy eyes, feeling the guilt slowly be unraveled by the sheer amount of love and trust in your voice. “Thank you.”

Akutagawa

The Port Mafia was on a co-mission with the Armed Detective Agency to take down a local gang that stole some information from both groups

Fortunately, you all found the their hideout within 3 minutes

Unfortunately, you split into groups and you were paired with Dazai, Atsushi, and Akutagawa. You didn’ have a problem with either of the two boys, you just didn’t like how Akutagawa, stupidly, acted around them

But, things were surprisingly going well as you four arrived at the rendezvous point. That is until a large bang was heard and Dazai dropped to the ground, unconscious

“DAZAI-KUN!”

“DAZAI-SAN!”

You and Atsushi raced to the brunette’s side while your boyfriend stood on guard with Rashomon out

“He’s alright, just out cold. I’ll take care of him while you guys guard us. We’ll wait till the others group back up.”

There was a silent agreement between the two ability users as they both took a protective stance around you. You were sitting on the ground with Dazai’s head in your lap with a gun drawn, just to be safe

Though the phrase ‘just to be safe’ lost its meaning when a bullet shot past both your protectors undetected and lodged into your shoulder

“Y/N!”

Atsushi was fretting over you but your eyes were on Akutagawa, watching him start to growl and lash out at everything around him

“Ryunosuke! Stop! You’re going to accidentally hurt one of the others!”

He wasn’t listening. What a surprise.

You held your hand out for Atsushi, “Watch Dazai-kun. I’ll snap some sense into him.”

Atsushi looked a bit apprehensive, but grabbed your hand, pulling you up anyway. He ripped part of your shirt off and wrapped it around your wound before you took off towards your boyfriend

Grabbing your gun, you shot a couple rounds off into the darkness, making Rashomon snap his jaws at nothing. With him distracted, you rammed into Akutagawa causing the two of you to crash to the ground

Rashomon snapped back down quickly, aiming blindly for your neck but Ryu grabbed him and tugged him back

“What the hell are you doing, you could’ve gotten killed!”

“I’m stopping you from losing control like an idiot. I’m fine- this is our job. Now calm down before you hurt one of our allies.”

You got up before he could reply, walking back to Atsushi and Dazai. The rest of the mission went smoothly, and Dazai ended up being just fine. You had a small follow up meeting with Mori before you were dismissed for the day

Akutagawa stopped you before you could get very far, though. “I’m sorry I lost control earlier. I just...seeing you get shot even though I should’ve been able to stop it pissed me off.”

You shook your head with a smile, wiggling your eyebrows playfully, “You’re so sweet, Ryu~”

“I am not, shut up!” He glared at the floor, shifting his weight, “...come home with me. please.”

Fyodor

Fyodor loved bringing you on his little outings (technically they were missions, but since they were so easy for him, they were the equivalent of running errands)

Not only could you defend yourself, like you’d ever need to with him, but you were also the perfect piece of eye candy- and he adored showing off his Milaya

Things were going just as fine as all the other missions he had brought you on, but these men weren’t easily persuaded, so they thought they could use you as collateral

Big mistake. As soon as the knife grazed your face, Fyodor was enraged

Each and every person in the tiny building you resided in were all brutally murdered. Some had their limbs explode one by one, some had their necks slit or snapped, and some had their heads explode.

He was acting rashly- you knew he wouldn’t stop once he was done here. Fyodor’s mind wasn’t...present anymore. So you needed to bring him back

“Fyodor, stop! I’m fine!”

He didn’t listen. He probably couldn’t even hear you over the screams of the man in his grasp

Once the man was thrown to the floor, you took a leap of faith. You knew how dangerous ‘Crime and Punishment’ was- hell you didn’t even know what exactly it was- but you grabbed Fyodor’s hands anyway and made him cradle your face

Your jaw was clenched in anticipation as your hands started to tremble over his. Fyodor stood tensely in front of you before the light returned to his eyes

You held his hands with an iron grip when he started to yank them away, “Fedya…”

His eyes were as wide as saucers, “Y/n?”

You smiled, nuzzling into his touch, before kissing both of his palms. His hands shook slightly as they secured a hold on your face. Your head was tilted up, lips being covered with his

“That was...beyond foolish, Kroshka.”

You hummed, “little one, hmm? I love it when you call me that~”

“I am serious. I could have hurt you. Badly.”

“But you didn’t.” He stared at you, opening and closing his mouth, making you grin, “My precious Fyodor- always protecting me.”

That made him chuckle and bring you closer to him in a warm embrace, “Let’s go home, shall we?”

“Yes, please. I’d very much like to wash all this blood off.”

#bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #akutagawa x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines

2K notes · View notes

hunterwritings · 3 years ago

Text

you get injured

summary: arcane characters reacting to you getting hurt

pairing(s): jinx x reader | silco x reader | viktor x reader | ekko x reader

warnings: mention of injury + blood, cursing

Jinx

when coming back from a supply run, you had an incident with the firelights and had gotten injured.

you sighed as you held your side, red staining both your shirt and your hand

you mumbled curses to yourself as you pushed open the metal door as you slowly walked into jinx's hideout

jinx was humming to herself as she was reading a magazine and blasted her music.

The second that her eyes drifted over to you, her head shot up and she dropped her magazine. "Y/n!" She said as she stood up and rushed to your side. "Wha-what happened?!" She asked frantically as she laid her hands on your injured side.

"I'm okay jinx, really." You tried to reassure her but you could see the worry in her eyes as she laid her other hand on the side of you face. "I just need to get this cleaned up, okay?" You told her as she nodded quickly.

You winced as you pressed a cotton ball with alcohol on it to your side. You sat on the couch in jinx's hideout as you cleaned up your wound. Jinx sat on the floor next to you, with her forehead pressed to her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs. She felt guilty for letting you get hurt and put the blame on herself.

"jinx, honey" you moved over on the couch to sit on the sofa behind jinx. You liad your hand on her back as she kept her head in her knees. "I should've been with you." Jinx breathed out as she held her head up by her hand. "I already told you I'm fine." You said as you kneeled down next to jinx on the floor. "None of this was your fault." You reassured her as you held her cheek in your hand and wiped her cheek with your thumb. She sniffles as she smiles at you as you pressed your forehead against hers.

"Next time I'm going with you." She states as you chuckle.

Silco

you winced as silco helped stich up your wounded shoulder. You sat on his lap while both of you were in his office.

"You have to be more careful next time, darling." He advised as he pressed harshly against your shoulder.

You chuckled as he looked sternly up at you, clearly not joking. "So I was bit clumsy, but I'm fine." You tried to reassure him with a stupid smile. Your mood quickly changed as he pulled tightly on the cord he was stiching on your wound and cuts the end of it. "Clumsy?" He says as he sets down the needle and thread. "What happens next time when you're clumsy? Hm?" He asks as he holds your face between his fingers gently.

He sighed as he let go of your face and pressed his head to the back of his chair as he stared at the ceiling. "Next time you're out you'll run and trip on your own knife." He closed his eyes with his head up. You chuckled as you moved your legs so that they were on either side of his legs. "Luckily enough for you, I'm not that much of an idiot." You joked as you finally saw a hint of a smile on his face as he opened his eyes to look at you.

He moved his hands from his lap and onto your thighs as he sighed. "I'll be more careful next time, I promise." You reassured him as he kept his gaze on you. "Good." He breathed out as he reached his hand behind your neck and pulled his head up to press his lips against yours.

Viktor

one day, you were running late for work at the academy and as you were running up a flight of stairs you had tripped and fell down a couple steps. Luckily nothing was broken but your legs were scratched up and even started bleeding a bit.

without even thinking, you had slowly walked into viktor's lab and tried to start your work.

Once viktor had saw you, he was immediately worried. "Y/n! What happened to your legs?!" He asked anxiously as he saw blood coming through your pants and he tried to quickly walk over to you. "Oh, I'm okay I just tripped." You tried to laugh it off but viktor was obviously still worried for you.

"Your legs need to be cleaned up before we do anything." He stated.

Even though you tried to protest, viktor told you to sit on the couch and roll up your pant legs and he saw multiple cuts on your legs. "All this because you didn't want to be late?" He chuckled as he prepared some medical supplies. "I guess I could've been a bit more careful." You said as he looked up at you with a smile.

You winced as he pressed alcohol to one of your cuts. "Sorry." He whispered as his eyebrows furrowed together.

He finished cleaning up your cuts by putting some bandages on your legs. "Thank you very much viktor." You smiled as you pecked him on the cheek, slowly watching his face turn red as he nervously chuckled. "Maybe next time you could walk with me, you definitely won't trip then." He said jokingly as you laughed in response.

Ekko

you were riding around on your hoverboard when patrolling for the firefights when you had a malfunction in your hoverboard and fell a couple stories onto concrete and ended up breaking your arm.

Ekko saw you and immediately flew down to be by your side. "Holy shit y/n, are you okay?" He asked, his mask making his voice sound deeper and more robotic. "Shit, it hurts. I-I think it's broken." You told him, feeling tears well up in your eyes from the pain. "You can't fly anymore, we're going to have to walk back to camp, it's not so far." He said as he helped you stand up. You kept your arm close to your body as Ekko had his arms around your body as he walked you bac to the hideout.

As you made your way back to the hideout, ekko had immediately called for a medic who told you that your arm was broken and they had to apply a cast.

You were sitting on a couch with ekko standing up and looking down at the firelights, both of you had taken your masks off to see each other. "The medic said I wouldn't be able to take this off for another 8 weeks or so." You explained as ekko hummed as he turned away. "I'm sorry I'll be out of the fight for so long." You said as he turned back around to face you. "You shouldn't be apologizing, you didn't mean to fall like that." He said. "I should've had that board checked anyway." Ekko said as his eyebrows furrowed closely together, almost feeling angry to himself.

"On the bright side-" You started, trying to change the subject. "- You get to sign my cast." You stood up and walked over to him, holding a marker that you had picked up from the table across from the couch. He scoffed as he looked down at your cast and back up at you. "You're not taking this seriously are you?" He rhetorically asked as you gave him a sly grin. "Well, what else am I supposed to do? Cry about it all the time?" You joke as he shakes his head with a smile.

He reluctantly grabs the marker from your fingers and takes off the cap. He holds onto your cast as he shakily writes his name onto your cast. "Could've been a bit neater." You joked as his scoffed at you. He laid his hand on your waist and pulled you close to him. "You're really looking for trouble today, aren't you?" He spoke with a sly grin. You chuckled as you looked into his eyes. "Well, you've gotta make light of the situation, right?" You smile as he leaned forward to press his lips against your own, smiling into the kiss.

5K notes · View notes

poedamneron01 · 2 years ago

Text

I GOT YOU BABE.

WARNING: character death, detailed description of injuries, pure sadness.

F!Henderson!reader x Boyfriend!Steve Harrington, Sister!Henderson!reader x Dustin Henderson, Reader x Eddie Munson

Summary: Y/N does a good deed for the lives of the one’s she loves.

Masterlist.

The demobats fell to the floor and everything in the Upside Down seemingly fell silent, It was so peaceful.

Y/N lay on the ground, her chest heaving up and down frantically as her injuries began to profusely bleed out onto the rough floor below her.

“Y/N!” Two voices screamed, followed by heavy footsteps.

It felt like her heartbeat was in her ears, the pounding in her head made her vision go blurry as she blinked to try and clear up her sight.

Eddie dropped to his knees beside Y/N and Dustin let out a sob as they assessed the girl’s horrific injuries. Her sides had been slashed and gnawed at to the point where some of Y/N’s ribs could be seen, her neck had slash marks as well as her legs and arms.

“No, no, no Y/N/N.” Dustin cried as he fell to the ground and pulled his sister onto his lap carefully, though she let out a choking sound as blood gurgled in her mouth, falling down the side of her face.

“Y/N stay with me, it’s nearly over, come on.” Eddie yelled as he ripped off his jacket and wrapped it around the girl’s midsection tightly, blood seeping onto his fingers as he pressed against the wound and she let out a scream of pain.

“E-Eddie st-stop.” She choked out, and Eddie shook his head profusely “No, you are going to be fine.” He felt tears brew in his eyes and fall down his cheeks.

Dustin was letting out gut wrenching sobs “I tol-told you,” Y/N began, her hand shakily lifting up and holding her brother’s hand that rest on her cheek “I-I wasn’t going t-to let anything hap-happen to you Dustin.” Eddie stopped, giving up as blood continued to pour from her wounds at her side and pool around her.

“Why? Why?” He cried, resting his forehead on Y/N’s, who closed her eyes taking in her final moments. “E-Eddie.” She called quietly, her hand reaching out for Eddie’s.

“Look after my boys for me.” She sobbed, tears falling down the sides of her face, and Eddie nodded his head as his eyes met hers “Look out for Du-Dustin, an-d tell Steve I love him.” Blood fell out the side of her mouth and Eddie nodded “I promise I will Y/N.”

She nodded “You, Eddie M-unson, are a good man.” Eddie sent her a sad smile, leaning down and kissing her forehead, his eyes squeezing shut as he savoured these last moments with her.

Y/N looked up at her brother once more “You be go-od for mom Dustin, or I’ll ha-unt you.” She tried to make her last moments lighthearted, as Dustin hugged his sister close and tight.

“Till we meet again little one.” And with that, Y/N’s last breath left her, and her eyes closed forever.

***

“Henderson?” A crackling came over the walkie talkie that lay scattered a few feet from Dustin as he held his sister in his arms.

Eddie looked over as he heard what could only be Steve’s voice over the crackling static “Dustin? You copy?” Eddie picked the radio up and held it to his mouth, staying silent for a few seconds as he tried to find the right words to say.

He exhaled sharply as his eyes rest on Dustin and Y/N, holding down the button to speak “You guys uh, need to come get us.” He let go of the button as Dustin pushed some hair out of his sister’s face.

“Is everything ok?” Came over the radio and Eddie sighed, his head hanging and eyes closed as he scratched his head as a sob caught in his throat.

Dustin has fallen numb, he could not feel a thing on his body, his arms still held Y/N and that was all the strength he could muster up in that moment.

“I-It’s Y/N.” Eddie responded, his voice breaking and he let out a shaky breath and stood up, stumbling a few steps as he kneeled beside Dustin.

“We are not leaving her body here.” Dustin mumbled, his eyes never leaving his sister’s face, his eye’s following each line, and each shape of her features so he could remember them for the rest of his life.

“I know kid.” Eddie sadly responded, wrapping his arm around Dustin from behind, resting his forehead on top of the boy’s head as sobs racked their bodies once more.

The pair sat like that till Nancy, Robin and Steve found them.

“Y/N!” Steve yelled so loud as he frantically rode a bike over beside the trio, two of whom meant the absolute world to him.

Steve jumped off the bike and sprinted over, seeing a bloody body and two people hunched over it. As he came closer, Steve noticed her hair first, the familiar curls she had styled it in all the time, the rings that sat on her fingers too, all silver, now stained red.

“Oh god.” Nancy gasped as Robin joined Steve a few meters away from the familiar trio. Eddie and Dustin looked up, tear stricken cheeks and that was when Steve got a good look at her.

Her clothes were stained red, her flesh had been gnawed at so badly it made him queasy, and a large pool of blood lay around her.

His mind went back to the night before they had been trapped in the Upside Down…

Y/N and Steve danced and sang in the living room of his childhood home with large smiles on their faces “They say our love won’t pay rent,” Y/N sang as Steve wrapped his arms around her waist, the sweet melody of Sonny and Cher “Before it’s earned, our money’s all been spent.” He smiled as he admired how beautiful she had looked in that very moment. She was beautiful in every moment, but right then and there he had realised why he had fallen head over heels for her when they meet years prior.

“I guess that’s so, we don’t have a plot, but at least I’m sure of all the things we got.” Steve sang back as they swayed along to the beat of the song, the chorus ringing out loud through the empty house. “Don’t let them say your hair’s too long, cause I don’t care, with you I can’t go wrong.” Y/N ran a hand through Steve’s luscious locks of brown glory and giggled “Listen to Cher and I, never cut your hair Harrington.” Steve smiled and nodded, leaning down and kissing his girl “I promise I will keep it this way forever and ever.”

Oh how he wished he could go back to that moment.

“Steve.” Dustin sobbed as Eddie pulled away and left enough room for Steve to see Y/N. “Y/N?” Steve whimpered, his bottom lip quivering as he slowly inched down onto his knees beside Y/N.

He shakily reached out a hand, gently pushing the small hairs that fell onto her forehead and he lost it “Baby? Come on this isn’t funny, wake up.” He pulled Y/N away from Dustin and into his lap, his hands cupping her cheeks as he shook her violently.

“Steve, she’s gone.” Robin reached out for his friend who shook his head “No, no she is not.” His hair fell over his eyes as he moved frantically, refusing to let himself cry “Y/N please!” He screamed and began rocking her back and forth, the deadweight not mattering to him.

“Please, please, please no I can’t lose you, I CAN’T.” By now saliva had dripped from his mouth, hot tears fell down his cheeks and onto hers, mixing with the blood, dirt and grime on her cheeks and violent sobs wracked his body.

“I got you babe, I got you babe.” He sang gently as his cries and sobs filled the quiet void.

Dustin crawled around his sister carefully, and brought Steve in for a tight hug.

Eddie pushed himself off the ground and walked over to Robin and Nancy who too were crying watching their close friend in Steve mourn the person who he had loved the most they has ever seen.

In another life, you guys would all meet again.

#steve stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dustin henderson #dustin stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #imagines

490 notes · View notes

helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

The Warden (Adrenaline Junkie Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Major angst, The Warden, swearing, fighting, very graphic description of injury/gore (I put astericks around the graphic parts so you can skip it if you’re uncomfortable), death, grief

Word count: 2,201

(A/N): I took a few creative liberties with The Warden since we don’t know much about it.

The thing towered above you at at least twice your height, if not more. It’s mouth was shaped in a permanent gaping frown with grotesque pointed teeth curled in different directions. You heard a soft dripping from the bioluminescent drool seeping endlessly from its mouth and dripping onto the cold stone floor. Good god that thing could swallow you whole and still have more room for two other people. It had similar tentacle-like structures to the blocks on the ground protruding out of it’s head. It had no eyes that you could see, so you figured that it used a type of echolocation or vibration system to navigate. You willed yourself to be brave enough to look at the rest of it.

It’s chest had a huge hole in the middle, showing off what looked like something writhing around bound by its cracked, off-colored ribcage. The trapped beings glowed and flickered rhythmically. You couldn’t make out any defining features to identify them, but you thought you saw hollow eyes peering at you between the battered bones like an innocent prisoner’s dead, hopeless eyes staring at passersby from their damp prison cell after getting the death sentence. Almost begging for you to run. The creature’s clawed fingers dragged against the stony floor as it lazaly swung its arms back and forth. It looked like it could absolutely decimate you with a single flick of it’s finger.

You were paralyzed in fear as it lumbered closer and closer to you. Holding your breath and grasping your sword so hard that your grip was shaking and your knuckles turned white, you watched with wide eyes as the creature paused right in front of you, it’s stalks twitching slightly on its head. The surrounding tentacles on the ground glowed and twitched in response. Did it somehow communicate with the blocks?

It continued to shamble past you as you watched its every move. It didn’t notice you! Feeling a massive wave of relief, you quietly sighed out the breath you were holding in and let your body relax. You waited until it trudged a little further down the cave before backing away slowly, being extremely mindful of your surroundings. You didn’t know if it tried buffalo wings before, but you weren’t planning on sticking around to find out.

You shivered as you felt something tickle the ends of the feathers on one of your wings. Without warning, the entire cavern lit up as the blocks thrashed about. Paling, you realized that your wings must’ve brushed one of them.

You heard the booming stomps of the creature stop before it started moving back in your direction faster than before. A harsh cacophony of several different voices screaming got louder and louder. You could never out run it, so your only chance was to out speed it by flying. Luckily the cave was wide and tall enough for you to fully spread your wings and fly high. You frantically flapped and propelled yourself through the cavern in the direction you came in. It started to sprint faster. It was gaining on you, and faster than you thought it could move with its large stature. You flapped your wings faster than you’ve ever flapped before as you heard it coming closer.

You felt something claw your calf, causing you to whip your head around. Your eyes met with the creature’s outstretched arm blindly grabbing at the air around you with blood- your blood- dripping off from it’s claw. Yelping, you tucked your legs into your body and prayed that you could fly faster. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-

Your body was jerked back as you felt its giant hand crush the bones in your wing. It started to swing your body about like you were nothing but a ragdoll in the grasp of an over hyper child. Your body bounced off from the stone walls surrounding you. You felt your ribcage shatter and heard ringing in your ears as you hit the walls repeatedly. It’s shrieks mixed with yours as your entire body erupted in pain.

Abruptly mid swing, you felt the muscles in the base of your wing tear away from your back with a sickening rip. Screeching in pain, you were flung through the air before your back roughly collided with one of the stone walls. Your body was pulled down by gravity until you landed on a hard surface.

Clenching your eyes shut with tears streaming down your face, you heard the horrific screaming and rumbling footsteps get closer to you. You prepared yourself for your painful death.

Only, it didn’t come. You heard scratching coming from… from below you? How the hell-

You opened one of your eyes and looked around. You landed on a ledge several meters above the cave floor. Holy shit, lived! There was no way it could reach you now.

You took a few moments to catch your breath as you slowly moved to prop yourself up against the wall. Pain erupted from your right shoulder and wing as you tried to move yourself. Gritting your teeth, you shifted to use your left arm to push yourself up. Once you slumped against the wall, you closed your eyes. That thing almost killed you.

***************WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF INJURIES***************

With every painful shallow breath, you felt a grinding sensation in the entirety of your ribcage. You definitely broke most of them. You felt something warm trickle down your face and back. Reaching up with your left hand, you wiped at the substance and looked at it. It was your blood, and a lot of it. Groaning in pain, you sat up slightly and reached around to feel the wing it grabbed. Your hand grasped at nothing. Furrowing your brows and ignoring the pain, you twisted your upper body to try to find your wing. Finally, you grabbed something.

That something certainly wasn’t feathers.

What you grabbed was sharp, cutting your palm. Hissing, you grasped the shaft of… whatever it was and moved it down. Your hand finally met feathers, but it also met with an open wound. You felt stinging as your fingers poked into your open back. Pulling it back, your hand was slick with your own blood. Painfully craning your head around to inspect it, your gaze wasn’t met with anything except for something white and jagged jutting out from where your wing was supposed to be.

You let out a choked sob as you came to the sinking realization that that damned thing ripped your wing completely off your body. It fucking ripped it off.

*******************GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OVER*****************************

You could still hear its raged screams and the sound of its claws scoring the stone wall below you. You tried to stand, but you couldn’t move your legs. You probably either dislocated or broke both of them.

You used your good arm to drag yourself over to the ledge of the platform. Peering over, you saw it trying and failing to climb up the wall. Your blood dripped from your forehead and onto it, causing it to stop and open its mouth to collect it. You cringe in disgust as it greedily drinks your blood and tears. Looking somewhere else, you saw feathers littering the floor and the occasional blood splatter. Your blood coated the walls where you were flung, decorating them like a fucked up version of a cave painting.

The monster closed its mouth and turned around with a new sense of purpose. Your eyes followed it as it shambled across the cave and stopped to pick up something laying on the floor. You felt nauseous as you saw that it was your wing. It disappeared into the cave, dragging your wing behind it.

Feeling bile rise up in your throat, you gagged as you puked up a grotesque mixture of your breakfast and blood over the ledge. The blood wasn’t good. After it was finally over, you laid limp and sobbed. Why did this have to happen to you? You didn’t do anything wrong to deserve this, did you? You were probably going to die here. Alone, injured, and afraid. You didn’t want to die anymore. You didn’t like the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you anymore, it was the only thing keeping you conscious. You wanted to pass out. You were in so much pain.

Your ribs grinded painfully as your chest heaved, but you couldn’t control your sobbing. It was a never ending cycle of sobbing because of the pain and pain coming from your chest shuddering. You wanted to make it stop, but you couldn’t. You felt a pulsing feeling in your back as you were bleeding out onto the stone, the blood slowly framing your broken form. Finally, you felt lightheaded as your vision started to spot. You thanked whatever god was above as you passed out.

Above the cave, the sun was setting and your family was worried. You were usually very punctual about being home on time, especially after a skeleton nearly killed you. Philza was tensely cooking dinner while his sons were sitting at the dinner table thinking about where you could be. Mobs were already spawning outside, so Techno thought you probably decided to spend the night in the cave so you wouldn’t have to run into any mobs. Wilbur thought that you were on your way home. Tommy thought you were dead, but his brothers reassured him that since they didn’t receive any chat notification on their arms, you were still alive.

Meanwhile, Philza was worried sick. His mind contemplated countless possibilities of where you could be right now. You could be dying in a hole somewhere because you didn’t look where you were putting your feet. You could be bleeding out because a zombie attacked you while you were on your way home. You could be burning in lava right now. You could be poisoned by a cave spider. You could be fighting an entire fleet of pillagers you could’ve run into on your way home. There were a countless amount of possibilities racing through his mind.

Before he knew it, dinner was done and you still weren’t home. Dinner was laid out on the table in front of everyone and you still weren’t home. Dinner went by slowly without you here to carry the conversation. They finished their dinner and you still weren’t home. Your plate was still in your place and your food was freezing cold by now.

The boys congregated in the living room where they would wait for you to come home. They expected you to come bursting through the front door any second now sheepishly grinning at them saying you lost track of time. But that didn’t happen.

As the night moved on, Philza started restlessly pacing, Techno’s eyes were lazaly scanning the words across the pages in his book without him processing the words, Wilbur sat fiddling with the ends of his sweater, and Tommy sat wordlessly staring at nothing on the wall.

“Where are they? I told them to come home before the sunsets. They’re always home on time.” Philza broke off into mumbles, constantly running his hands through his blond hair. His wings started to puff up in fear.

Techno broke Philza’s rapid mumbling. “Dad, they’re probably camping out in the cave. They’re smart enough not to try to come home when there’s mobs out.”

“...I hope so, Techno,” Phil sighed out. “I hope so.”

Hours passed by with nothing coming from your end. Philza ushered his sons to their rooms for the night with some difficulty about an hour ago. Now, he sat on the couch with his head in his hands, rubbing his sleep deprived, bloodshot eyes. By now, the sun was almost up.

Feeling a familiar tingle on his forearm, he shot his head up and stared at the message he had nightmares about receiving since he adopted you and your siblings:

(Y/n) succumbed to their injuries whilst evading Warden.

Letting out a sob, he fell to his knees and let the tears stream freely down his cheeks. His precious child just lost one of their lives. When he heard thudding footsteps rushing down the stairs, he knew his sons also saw the message. He felt three pairs of arms wrap around him, causing him to immediately comfort his sons. Their sibling just died for the first time, after all. He pulled back to wrap his wings around his sons in a tight embrace.

Techno buried his head in his father’s shoulder as tears silently flowed down his cheeks. The voices were screaming at him for letting you die. Wilbur hugged both of his brothers and father as he softly sobbed with them. While he still felt grief, his first instinct was to give his family comfort. Tommy’s harsh sobs racked his body as he squeezed Philza’s midsection in desperation. He can’t believe that he’s closer to losing his older sibling permanently. He felt closest to them out of all his siblings.

Until (y/n) respawned in their bed in a couple of hours, the family sat on the floor in the living room to grieve their child and sibling together.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @goldenstarofthunderclan

#sbi x reader #angst #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #platonic #sibling reader #major death #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: injury #tw: death #tw: grief #tw: the warden #tw: vomit

795 notes · View notes

beewithknee · 3 years ago

Text

lies & lives

sam x darlin' angst n fluff(?)

t.w - blood, death, the usual

You scrubbed the blood off your hands, trying to disinfect them before stitching yourself up. Your shirt was clenched hard between your teeth. You glanced quickly at the mirror. Your face was pale, eyes shining with pain and stomach bloody. Your phone vibrated as it sat off to the side of the sink. You dropped your shirt, it hit your wound and you hissed. You grunted, moving one hand away from the water, pressing it to the still bleeding wound. The other reached for your phone. “What?” You barked harshly into the receiver. Pressing harder into the open wound, face grimacing in pain. “Wow, what’s wrong?” Sam. Fuck. You gritted your teeth. “Nothing. Why’d you call?” You answered back, praying that the call would just be over already. You sucked in a breath as you took your hand away before promptly replacing it. “What was that? Darlin’, what's wrong?” He pressed, you could hear his car going faster. Shit. “Sam, it’s nothing. I just cut my hand cooking.” You lied, trying to distract him. “Darling. Are you at home?” Shit, fucking, bastard. Goddamn it. You cursed yourself internally. “Uh-huh.” You were getting dizzy, the blood loss mixed with talking was exhausting you.

Sam nodded even though you couldn't see him, “Good, okay. Now tell me what's wrong. Seriously Darlin’, don’t lie.” He instructed, not in the mood for anymore of your bullshit. You slid down the bathroom wall, too tired to stand. Your head felt like it was full of cotton and your tongue felt heavy. “Quinn’s minions. One… one of them, found me.” You slurred, arm dropping to the floor, phone clattering to the ground. “Darlin? Darlin!” Sam called, speeding up when you didn't respond. You were still awake, but you were finding it hard to keep your eyes open.“Sam. Don't speed, you’ll have an accident. Just, take your time. I'm fine.” The hand pressed to your bleeding wound was painful and hard to manage. You sucked in a gasp, eyelids fluttering as the agony radiated up your spine. Something was seriously wrong. Your wolf healing wasn’t working fully and you were bleeding out far too quickly. “That's okay, I'll be fine. Just keep talking to me okay? Just let me hear your voice. You know it calms me down.” He rushed out frantically, he didn't care anymore. Sam sped as fast as he could, racing through the streets. It only took him about 5 minutes to get back to you, but that could be 4 minutes too long. “Hmm, I wanna go away when we get him… i wanna- i-'' Your words died in your throat. You no longer felt pain, just cold. A debilitating cold. “‘m cold Sam.” You laughed dizzy and tired. Your body slumped over onto the floor, hands collapsed somewhere on your tiles. You felt like you were floating above it all.

“I know, I know you’re cold, but I'm like a minute away, okay? Stay awake for me, yeah? Stay awake darlin’.” Sam got silence in response. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he pictured you lying there, all alone. A choked sob rose from his throat. “Darling. Please.” He sobbed, pulling haphazardly into your driveway. The run up to your bathroom felt like an eternity. He ran as though in slow-motion, tearing through your halls. He looked down, catching sight of the blood. His heart sank. The tears still dripped down his cheeks. He got to the bathroom, and paused. There you were. It was so much worse than he thought. He didn't even know where to start. You were slumped, unconscious. Shallow breathing. Bleeding heavily from your stomach, your whole body was covered in scratches and marks. Your hands were stained red and your hair was matted with blood. Fuck.

Sam fell to his knees, scrambling to your side.

“Come on, don't do this shit. Not now, please darling. Wake up, come on. Wake up.” He begged, moving his hands to your neck, desperately searching for a pulse.

Thump.

Sam let out a breath of relief. He still needed to act fast, but at least there was hope. His hands shook as he gently touched your stomach wound. Blood quickly coated his hands. He took a steadying breath in, holding for a second before pushing the magic out with the air. He brought his hands away, watching as the wound healed itself. Now that the major bleeding was stopped, Sam moved you so that you laid flat against the floor. He put his hands on your head, pumping more healing magic into closing the wound. He did that for as long as he could, until all your wounds had healed up. Sam’s head pounded in pain, it radiated through his skull. With what little strength he had left, he lifted your limp body. Walking slowly, the vampire carried you into your bedroom, placing you next to him on the bed. He moved his hand up to your face, brushing the strands away from your bloody forehead. His breath caught in his chest.

You nearly died.

The thought broke him. Sam Collins prided himself on his indifference and strength over most things, but this. This he couldn’t be strong for. Silent tears dripped down his face as he brought your hand into his. He squeezed, needing the physical reassurance that you were there and… alive. He shuffled down the bed, placing his head over yours and his arm around your waist. “Fucking hell Darlin’. You really gotta stop scaring me like that.” He cursed softly, letting the rhythm in and out of your breathing lull him to sleep. His eyelids fluttered and the seemingly permanent crease between his brows vanished. The last thought he had before passing out was about the whooping he was gonna give you when you woke up.

Fuck if he didn’t love you though.

#redactedasmr #redacted asmr #redacted sam #sam x darlin #sam's a little traumatized #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #t.w death #t.w blood #Quinn being a fucking asshole #sam being a soft boy for darlin #darlin doesn't equal tank wolf lmfaooo #n e ways I lob sam if you couldn't tell #x gender neutral reader #g.n reader #x male reader #x female reader

110 notes · View notes

songbirdsingingthings · 4 years ago

Text

Polka-dotted Bandages

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury, the tiniest bit of angst, and fluff galore <3

Requested by @luluwiie :

"There is no limit in the number of requests", you said? Welllll... then can I request ? 😳❤ if the answer is yes: can I request a slow burn / pining Todoroki x Reader Oneshot ? 😶👉👈 Like, when they train together, Reader got into the habit of always taking care of his scratches and wounds, which at first confused Todoroki, cause Recovery girl is there for this, right ? But with time he got used and even grew attached to this little habit of ours. And one day, for some reason, Reader ends up badly injured (in a fight, against vilains? Idk), and he rushes to the hospital and is like sooo worried.. and when Reader wakes up they find like some band-aids on their little scratches, just like the ones they often use for him ? And we get to see their reunion Ajajdusdj TYSM if you do it 😳❤

A/N: I LITERALLY FELL IN LOVE WITH THIS REQUEST.... which is why I had to rewrite it like twenty times before I was finally satisfied with how it turned out lol. I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for the request! <3

Word Count: 2.2K

Ever since the age of five when his quirk made itself known to him, the world, and most unfortunately his father, little nicks and cuts were always a common thing to find all over his body. To this day, however careful Shouto was in training, they were ordinary occurrences. It wasn’t like he was careless, far from it in fact, he just got a little… distracted sometimes. How could he not when you were training right across from him? Your skill and poise were originally the traits that drew him in to hoping for a friendship with you. Those paired with your optimistic personality and effortless smile captured his attention completely. So, when he accidentally grazed his leg against a piece of metal that was jutting out haphazardly, he was unprepared for your attention to be on him.

“Shouto, are you okay? That looks like it really hurts,” you huff, out of breath from the last set of crunches you had just completed. The red-and-white haired boy looked in between you and his now bleeding cut with a somewhat blank stare.

“Oh… yes I think I’m fine,” He answered awkwardly, assessing the wound and slowly moving his hand to cover it. That is, until your hand caught his wrist.

“Wait, your hands aren’t clean!” You exclaim as you dig through your bag with the hand that wasn’t currently occupied. “Here, I have some disinfectant in my bag.” Shouto watches as you pull the little bottle of antiseptic out of your bag as well as some cotton balls and a little box of bandages. You douse one of the cotton balls with some disinfectant, accidentally spilling a little on your hands in the process, and hold it right in front of his cut. “Do you mind?” You ask, making sure Shouto was okay with your movements.

“No, go ahead,” He manages, keeping his composure but feeling his heart skip a bit. You flash him a grin before placing one of your hands on his leg to steady yourself.

“This might sting a bit, but it goes away pretty quickly,” you explain, slowly pressing the cotton ball to his wound. You made sure to clean the dirt and grime away quickly, your gentle and dexterous fingers going around the edges of the cut.

“Y/N?” Shouto’s voice was somewhat jarring in the comfortable silence you two had, causing your gaze to snap up to his.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” You asked hurriedly, your eyes filled with concern. He shook his head, allowing you a breath of relief before turning your attention back on his wound.

“I’m just curious as to why you are doing this, since we have Recovery Girl on call all day. I’m sure it would be no issue for her,” He asked as you disposed of the now slightly bloody cotton ball and digged around in the box to pull out a blue and white polka-dotted bandage.

“Well I didn’t want you to accidentally infect it,” you begin, smoothing the bandage across the cut, “plus, it's nice to do things like this for a friend, don’t you think?” You smile, satisfied that the coverage of the polka dots fit perfectly over the damaged skin. Your eyes finally go back up to Shouto, whose hand was held out to you. You take it as he helps you stand from your crouched position on the floor. Shouto smiled at the little notion and fell into a comfortable pace with you as the both of you walked back towards the direction of the dorms. Over time, Shouto began to like the little habit the two of you developed - he liked it quite a lot. Not ever had he been touched in such a caring and tender manner, and when it was coming from you… it was pure solace that he felt. And, gradually, as the two of you fell into a comfortable friendship - with more than a few lingering glances on his part - he felt that finally he was at a time in his life where he found someone that could understand him completely.

Buildings were leveled, the streets had craters in them, and your breathing was uneven. Of course, when Class 1A was on a day trip into the city, villains had decided to take action. The day was going too perfectly, you guessed. It really only was once in a while that the teachers would let you have a long day off to go shopping or enjoy the city life. Due to this incident, though, you’re pretty sure that they’ll be revoking those privileges as soon as the class steps their feet back on UA property. If you were lucky, maybe you wouldn’t be confined in the big dorm building for a week due to safety concerns.

“H/N, you take the guy on the left, I’ll take the annoying one in the middle!” You heard your classmate, Mina, shout to you. The pink-haired girl was currently fighting off a criminal with a nasty quirk - blood manipulation, as long as they were in some physical pain themself. That was probably why the guy was intentionally biting down on his tongue.

“You’ve got it!” You yell back, launching yourself into the fray and readying your quirk to attack. With the villain set straight on in front of you, you let your eyes zero in on them, everything besides them becoming a blur. That was why, when the enemy that was fighting Mina set their sights on you, you were unable to react quick enough.

Shouto was, more or less, beginning to panic. Everyone was accounted for… everyone except for you. That’s when he caught sight of a familiar pink-haired girl crouching down with tears leaking from her eyes.

“Ashido, have you seen Y/N?” He asked exasperatedly, beginning to grow frustrated with the lack of information involving the Y/H/C haired girl. This only caused Mina to sob more, her pitiful gaze finally looking up into Shouto’s.

“Th-they hit me with their quirk and it made the wind get knocked out of me,” she hiccuped, wiping underneath her eyes to try and rid the moisture from her cheeks. “They hurt Y/N really, really badly.” As soon as those words left her lips, Shouto felt his entire body grow cold. It wasn’t like the cold he used to regulate his body temperature when he used too much of his left side. This was a chill that encompassed his body as a whole, making him feel hollow. As Mina’s words grew more jumbled, Shouto felt his breathing go shallow and his hands beginning to tremble.

“Where,” He asked forcefully.

“Musutafu General Hospital.”

And with those three words, Shouto began running, and didn’t stop until he was at the massive glass doors of the lobby. He walked swiftly to the help desk and slammed his hands on the top of it, a little harder than he intended.

“Y/N L/N, she’s a member of Class 1A at UA, and she was taken to this hospital due to events that occurred downtown. Where is she.” The receptionist looked up to find an angered Shoto, his eyes blazing and narrowed.

“I-I’m sorry?” They asked, a little terrified of him.

“Y/N L/N, she is a patient here. WHERE IS SHE?” He demanded. The receptionist jumped in their seat and began to vigorously click on their computer, searching through patient charts.

“She’s, uh, on floor four, just got out of emergency surgery and is recovering. Room 107.” He didn’t stay to hear anything else they had to say as he sprinted to the staircase, ascending the stairs in record speed. When he arrived on the correct floor, a sudden feeling of misery descended upon him. Sitting in a little seating area, he saw as surgeons - still clad in their scrubs - were hugging a family of four, all of them sobbing in despair. This stirred him to now stumble down the hallways wildly, frantically checking the room numbers on both sides until he found the three numbers he was looking for. 107. Slowly, he pushed the door open to find you laying down on a hospital bed.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing you felt was the whole body ache that held onto your body like a vice. I’m never complaining about stomach or calf cramps again, you think, squinting to try and see anything in the harsh hospital room lighting. You groaned as you sat up, feeling the pang of pain in the small of your back. You smiled, though, when you saw all the things dotted all over your room. Vases of flowers were placed on the tables, from your vantage point you could spot the familiar petals of peonies - the flowers that symbolize life and good health. On the table next to you, lots of cards were propped up. Some had cheesy “get well soon!” messages scrawled across the front, others a bit more demure. And, as you reached to grab and read one, that’s when you saw them. The familiar pattern of blue and white polka dots left you breathless as you stopped your previous movements and began to inspect them further. These were exactly like the ones that were always in your bag, the ones that are so specifically designed that only one store sells them. You were sure that the hospital you were staying in didn’t make an effort to buy pretty looking bandages for their patients and nobody else knew where to find them in your bag. Nobody else except...

“Shouto…” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears.

“Y/N?” Standing in the door frame stood the exact boy whose name was just uttered from your lips. Dressed in a soft, black turtleneck - the one you always found so flattering on him - and a pair of beige pants. In his hand held the most beautiful red carnations you had ever seen, the petals so dainty and the stems so thin you feared they would break if he even moved them.

“Here, put them in this vase next to-” your speech was interrupted as Shouto let the bouquet fall to the tiled floor, his body moving on autopilot to encase you in his arms, his head wedging itself between your neck and head.

“You’re okay.” He mumbles.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re safe.”

“I’m safe.” Shouto lingers there for a moment before pulling himself back into a standing position, helping you reposition your body on the bed, trying to get more comfortable. The two of you stay in silence for a moment before you speak up.

“Thank you for patching me up,” you say simply, your voice soft as you tilt your head towards the polka-dotted bandages. You see Shouto’s lips quirk up a bit.

“You’re always taking care of me, so I wanted to take care of you. Even if the hospital staff had to do the heavy lifting.” He says, sitting down in the chair next to your bed, pulling it closer so that the two of you were as close as possible. Your hand immediately finds his, grabbing hold of it.

“Shouto, I-”

“Y/N, when I’m around you, I feel the skin on my face grow hot.” His statement caught you off guard. “My stomach turns, too, when you smile at me and look at me in the eye.” You suck in a breath, hoping that what he was trying to say was the same thing you had been feeling for ages. Shouto takes a deep breath before squeezing your hand. “At first I thought I was sick and caught something, due to the increase in temperature, but I realized that I only began to feel this way when you first put a blue polka-dotted bandage on my leg. And then that feeling only came around when you were near.” Finally looking up to meet your eyes, Shouto gazes at you with such care and affection you felt that you could melt. “I think… I think I love you.” Your shocked face soon softens into one of adoration and a grin spreads across your cheeks.

“I love you too.” You see Shouto breathe in relief before taking the hand he was holding and pressing a soft kiss to the back of yours. Your heart flutters at his gesture, encouraging you all the more to pull him towards you so that he could lay on the bed. Quickly, the both of you found comfort as he held you, letting his fingers trace lightly around the polka-dotted bandages. “Will you let me keep on taking care of you? Whenever you get scrapes or bruises… or if something makes you happy or sad or feel anything at all?” You murmured, letting your head fall against his chest. You feel him nodding his head.

“Only if I can take care of you, too.” You smiled, glancing back at the blue and white polka dots to see Shouto’s thumb brushing against it.

“Okay, deal.”

311 notes · View notes