#but I’m not constantly downing medicine and still in so much pain I can barely sleep

[skyward-floored]

So that splint was causing me a lot of unnecessary pain it turns out

[fastandcarlos]

Nurse Lance : ̗̀➛ Lance Stroll

summary: you were all set to be there and cheering lance on at the race, that was until, the world's worst cold decided to hold you back

“Are you sure that you’re going to be alright?” Lance quizzed once again as he hurried around the hotel room, making sure that you had everything that you would possibly need for the day at arm’s length.

“Lance, it’s just a bit of a cold, I’m sure I’ll survive for a couple of hours,” you tried to protest, but he was having none of it. If he had his way, he wouldn’t even be going to race, instead staying back and taking care of you, but you refused to let him miss out on the race just because of you.

“You promise that if you need anything you’ll give someone in the garage a ring, please.”

“I absolutely promise,” you assured him as Lance chuckled his rucksack over his shoulder. He walked across to you and pressed a kiss against the top of your head, brushing your hair out of your face. You groaned as you moved, feeling your body ache and your head pound. “Try and get some rest my love, I’ll be back with you as soon as I can.”

You mumbled a goodbye to Lance as he headed out of the hotel room, heart aching with guilt that he was leaving you to fend for yourself.

Although, it felt like Lance barely left you alone. Every time he had a spare five minutes, he was texting to make sure that you were alright. He was constantly on you, wanting to make sure that nothing had changed or got worse.

You adored Lance for how much he cared about you, you had enough supplies beside you to last the week if you were honest. Across the city he was struggling to concentrate, caring too much to really pay any attention to what was going on in the race.

For most of the afternoon you managed to get some rest, closing your eyes and ignoring the pain that was pounding against your body. As much as you wanted to watch and cheer for Lance, the thought of that much light from your phone staring back at you was enough to make you feel sick.

Once the race was finished, Lance was straight back on the phone to see if there was any update from you. When his last text was left unread, he began to panic, terrified that something bad had happened and he wasn’t there to help.

Lance had never moved quicker through the media pen, never shared so little in the team briefing to get it over with, and never got to his car quicker in order to leave. Just about every speed limit was tested as Lance drove from the paddock straight to your hotel.

His legs couldn’t move him fast enough, ignoring the cameras that were outside the hotel waiting to capture a photo of Lance. Usually, he had plenty of time to stop and smile, but today his only focus was getting back to you. He darted to the lifts, bouncing nervously on his feet as the floors seemed to change slower than ever, before rushing down the corridor, fumbling for his hotel room key in the bottom of his bag.

He was silent as he entered the room, nervous to see how you were. Lance crept through the room, noticing your figure was still in the exact spot where he left you. He was terrified to wake you as Lance studied you closely, only for you to shuffle slightly on the sofa as you heard him clear his throat and gently place his bag down on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

“You’re home, how was the race?” You whispered across to him.

“It was alright,” Lance shrugged, taking a seat down beside you. “Don’t worry about the race though, how are you? Can I get you anything? Have you been keeping up with your medicine?”

Your head nodded, but Lance could tell from the expression on your face that you were still struggling a lot, barely able to pull yourself up so that you could see Lance.

“It seems pretty early for you to be home,” you noted, glancing across at the clock. “Please don’t tell me that you left the paddock early to get back to me,” you scolded, knowing exactly what Lance was like. His sheepish smile told you everything that you needed to know, shaking your head at him, although Lance knew he had made the right choice and would do it again in a heartbeat.

“I came back for you, you can’t be mad at me,” Lance chuckled.

Your eyes rolled as he innocently smiled across at him, “I can be mad at you when you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

“How am I supposed to enjoy myself when you’re not there?” Lance asked, shifting his body to face you properly. His hand reached out and held onto yours, squeezing it gently. “Even when you’re ill and germy you’re the person that I want to spend all my time with, the people at the paddock are cool, sometimes, but you’re a thousand times cooler.”

“I was sleeping peacefully until you showed up,” you joked, offering Lance a reassuring smile as he kept his eyes on you, always checking you over.

“Shall I remind you of how much you clung to me last night?” He pushed, raising a questionable glance at you. “Lance, please don’t leave me. Lance, what if I die from this cold?” He asked, imitating your voice and the questions that you asked him cuddled up in bed last night. “You were pretty much stuck to me last night, and now you’re wanting me to go away and leave you alone? You’re pretty indecisive when you’re unwell.”

Your eyes rolled as Lance reached across and lifted the pillow up around your head again in an attempt to make you a bit more comfortable.

“So, why don’t you lay there and let me take care of you for the rest of the evening?” He offered, “because I know that’s what you want from me deep down.”

You couldn’t protest, having Lance looking after you was definitely one of the best perks of being unwell.

“Come on,” Lance smiled, carefully lifting your figure up from the sofa.

“What are you doing with me?”

“Exactly what you want me to do with you, even if you won’t say it.”

Lance twirled you around in his hold and sat himself down on the sofa, laying your figure over the top of him. His arm was securely around your waist to keep you safely in position. His head rested against the top of your own, eyes watching you closely as you made yourself comfortable. You enjoyed being stubborn, you enjoyed trying to prove Lance wrong, but the reality was you really did need him. You loved having him take care of you, you loved how he was so protective and would do absolutely anything in order to make you feel even just the tiniest bit better.

“Thank you,” you hummed after a few moments, finding yourself beginning to feel sleepy once again. Lance hummed as his fingertips brushed through the ends of your hair. “I love having you here, taking care of me,” you admitted, “I’m just sorry I didn’t get to be there and cheer you on.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for babe, you’re my number one, always.”

“I know, I love you Lance,” you murmured.

“I love you so much more.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[serenakeaton]

[cis woman and she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [SERENA KEATON]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [HALSTON SAGE]. You must be the [TWENTY-NINE] year old [PROFESSIONAL BALLERINA]. Word is you’re [METICULOUS] but can also be a bit [STUBBORN] and your favorite song is [CHANDELIER BY SIA]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

CHARACTER BASICS

FULL NAME: Serena Keaton

NICKNAME(S): S, Rina

AGE: Twenty-Nine

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Halston Sage

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Blonde

HEIGHT: 5′6″

DATE OF BIRTH: February 17th

ZODIAC SIGN: Aquarius

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

OCCUPATION: Ballerina

CHARACTER HISTORY [tw: drug abuse]

Born in Aurora Bay, Serena was the middle child of the Keaton Three and from there she was destined to prove herself.

She was constantly met with a set of standards growing up which left little room for error, though she had an older sibling to watch when she needed it. Serena loves her sisters more than anything, though they’ve had their fair shares of disagreements — she’d do anything to protect them.

Serena was thrown into ballet classes at an early age, 2 years old. What started as a hobby that would eventually look good as an extracurricular— her mother said she’d look disciplined, turned into her life once talent was spotted at age 9. She couldn’t be anything other than perfect according to her parents, they had standards to uphold.

Once she reached high school she started to be more rebellious, starting in small increments and never within the view of her parents. Her training schedule left her little time for much else, but she still balanced a pretty prominent social life — after all appearances were important so she couldn’t dare miss her prom and the opportunity to be crowned in front of everyone.

Serena was thankful for all her opportunities but it was easy to feel like you couldn’t breathe amidst the constant pressure. She started to fake Friday night practices, allowing herself to sneak out and take on the nightlife with her friends.

During college she met a man at a club who only knew her for name rather than her accomplishments and she fell hard. She felt like she could really be herself around him and he was the person that was always there when she needed to get out of the spotlight.

A few years ago she was there on center stage, playing “Juliet” in a small performance theater and her ankle went to give out on her. As she began to execute each movement, she rolled her ankle completely out of place. Her pride wouldn’t let her fall, finishing out the performance on an injury she wouldn’t be allowed to bring to light. Her image was on the line and she couldn’t look weak. He watched everything from the front row, her family didn’t catch it, but their eyes met as she refused to let her body fall to the ground in front of a crowd. Once she got off the stage she could barely put pressure on her left ankle, still she didn’t let herself fall until she was alone with him in her dressing room.

There was more than meets the eye to her boyfriend, he had a connection to someone who would allow her to keep her injury in the shadows. Sure under the table pain medicine wasn’t the most trustworthy thing, but it kept the public from seeing she had a weakness to prey on.

Soon she didn’t need the pills at all, the injury healed, but that wasn’t enough for her to stop taking them.

They were caught together when her mom was supposed to be at work, appalled the woman threw him out and Serena was forbidden from seeing him again under their roof. They even threw in a check to ensure he’d stay away —he took off from Aurora Bay and they haven’t seen each other since. A four year relationship was thrown down the drain because he wasn’t someone “respectable”.

Now she’s been able to spread her wings, taking some months to travel and perform and get her own place in Seabrook Quarter she’s been able to feel a sense of freedom. Though her parent’s, mostly her mother’s voice still nags perfection in the back of her mind. She’s trying her best to live her life the way she wants to, though still keeping parts of her life a secret.

@aurorabayaesthetic

[noaltbruh]

yoooo i’m so glad your requests are open 🤧!! my back hurts so bad rn i need someone to relieve it. can i get some good ol’ fluffy tooth-rotting headcanons for bucciarati? maybe to alleviate the pain with his magic hands? fem pronouns please. oh and btw i’m having a great time reading your works! ✨

AHHHH I'M SO GLAD YOU REQUESTED THIS.

I've been doing nothing but playing Hollow knight for the last two weeks ever since my friend gave it to me for my birthday- I need to go back to writing.

As always, I hope you enjoy and I'm glad to hear that you're having fun on my blog!ヾ(*´∀｀*)ﾉ

Bruno with a S/O struggling with back pain 😔

If you were to hide your pain from Bucciarati, just know it won't last long. He's very attentive to details and easily notices you struggling with your movements or even just walking straight.

He'll wait for you to bring it up yourself, but it doesn't take long before he grows tired of it and directly asks you about it.

Will lick you if you even tried to deny it

He will immediately invite you to sit or lay down, whatever is more comfortable for you, as he goes grab some medicines that should alleviate your pain. He also makes sure to remind you not to take them all at once.

He's going to take care of any sort of errands you would have had to deal with instead. He doesn't want any worries to haunt you as you rest a little.

"Ah, it's alright cara, don't stress that little head of yours, I just want you to get better"

You won't have to say a word, as soon as he's done, he'll place himself behind you, gently putting his hands on your stiff body. They're rather big, but Bruno is a very delicate man, you can feel them reaching every centimeter of your back as he invites you once again to just relax.

You might find yourself completely spacing out or closing your eyes. Bucciarati isn't exactly used to giving massages, but knows very well just what to do to help a person feel at ease.

He will constantly ask you if he's hurting you or if you're feeling any better. Even if you were to answer "yes" to the last statement, don't expect him to stop until you tell him you're satisfied.

He'll even advice you take a warm bath, he's heard it helps a lot with dense muscles and it has always provided him with some comfort after a stressful day. He hopes it'll do the same for you.

Needles to say, he is going to prepare it for you while you're still laying down and will probably help you walk to the bathroom, even if you told him there's no need to.

He won't suggest to bathe with you, as he's afraid that you might not be comfortable with that, but he will gladly join you if you asked him. He's taking it as an opportunity to also spoil you a little, he isn't going to miss it.

He'll keep on massaging you as soon as you get inside the water. I also can't help but think he'd particularly enjoy kissing the back of your neck while doing so, for some reason.

He'll try to make sure you won't have to move too much for the following days, or at least until the pain goes away, he knows it isn't an extremely serious issues, but it hurts him to see you barely being able to stand up.

[cheeseburgersstuff]

Hi💖Can u pls write like steve rogera x reader, where steve got badly hurt in a mission and end up lossing his memory and forget about his wife(reader) and his marriage reader tries to help him remind.. lot of angst with a happy ending please..💗

Reminisce

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: language, mistakes, shitty plot, kinda idiot Steve (not really) a Lil bit of angst...

A/N: thank you nonnie for the ask and I'm sorry it took me so long :') and still, it's shitty...

Word Count: 2.8k

master-list.

~

You ran towards the infirmary with tears running down your face. It might be an overreaction to someone else considering how he would be just fine but you knew he was hurt. You had a weird feeling before he even went on that mission, a restlessness inside you that you couldn’t express.

The sight made you stop breathing for a moment. “Oh Steve” you whispered seeing your husband laying on the bed embraced by the wires. The right side of his face was swollen, bruised, and a nasty cut on the left side towards his lips.

He was still unconscious. Doctor Cho came out of the room. You rushed towards her.

“How’s he?” your voice, hoarse because of crying.

She sighed and looked at you with sympathy. “Can’t say anything till he becomes conscious. But you can meet him now” she said with a smile before walking off.

You entered his room with shaky legs and sat near him. He looked tired, a frown covering his face that you wanted to smooth out with your fingers. But you were too afraid to touch his injured face, your heart cleaned seeing him like that.

putting your hand on his while resting your head on the space on the bed, a fresh tear escaped your eye.

--------

You woke up feeling a hand jerking away from yours. You sat up and looked at a confused Steve.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said trying to comfort him but he looked panicked. You went outside to call the doctor.

Steve was trying to free himself from the wires when you got back. You ran towards him to stop him.

“Hey, relax babe” you put your hands on him, causing him to stop. But before he could utter a word the doctor came in.

“Good morning captain rogers.” she greeted cheerfully coming towards him to check him up.

“What happened to me” was what he said.

The doctor kept checking his injuries. “You got severely injured on the mission. Kept everyone worried especially this lady here” she smiled, pointing towards you.

Steve frowned, his hurt hurting like hell. “What mission?” he didn’t remember going on any mission and why would you be worried about him.

“You shouldn’t be worried about me agent y/l/n”

Both you and doctor Cho exchanged looks at his words. This was getting serious.

Doctor Cho sighed and signaled you to follow her. You left a confused Steve behind and followed her.

A frown covering her face, “I think you have an idea what is happening to him.” she said, sympathy in her eyes for you.

Yes, you knew but didn’t want to accept it. When you didn’t reply she sighed explaining it to you. “He is having amnesia, most probably retrograde amnesia where he can’t remember things before the injury. We can’t say what he remembers what he doesn't but by the looks of it I think he doesn’t remember you are his wife”

“Yeah I know, he called me agent” it came out ruder than you anticipated but she understood your anger even though it wasn’t her fault.

“We will have to do CT scans to know how severe the damage is. And maybe he is going to heal soon because of the serum” she placed her hand on your shoulder. Her words soothe your worry a little bit.

“And you could help him heal too, it wouldn’t be easy though. You have to be careful not to overwhelm him with too much information” saying this she left, probably preparing for the CT scans.

With a sigh, you returned to the room. Steve was still sitting on the bed with his head in his hand. You sat down beside him, patting his shoulder gently so he wouldn’t get scared.

The soft eyes he gave you, reminded you of the time he came out of the ice. When you were assigned to guide him to cope with his new life. He had the same look when he was trying to understand how to use a smartphone and then looked at you with confusion, silently pleading for help.

He was asking for help again but this time you weren’t enjoying this, you were scared. What if he never…

“What’s the last thing you remember?” you asked softly.

“The last mission I remember is with you Nat and Rumlow, to free the hostages. But we came back, reported to fury, and then went home. That’s it” that was two years ago, a month before you two started dating.

So he doesn’t even remember us dating. You thought.

“Steve, I know it would be difficult to understand, to accept but what you remember happened two years ago.” you didn't know how much to tell him before he started to panic but for now he looked okay. Trying to take in the information.

You took the ring beside the table, they took it off his finger and showed him. “Um.. this is” you were hesitant to tell him but it was important. You showed him your hand with the wedding ring.

“We got married,” you whispered looking at him, trying to read his expressions.

You knew how emotional he was about his relationships, and suddenly knowing he was married would be a shock.

Steve took your hand in his and caressed the finger as if trying to remember but there was nothing.

Nothing, he could think off and smile. It was a bit painful to know you are married and not know anything about it. That day, your life with that person.

“Hey, it’s okay. You are going to be fine. We are going to retrieve everything back” you said his face in your hands.

You didn't know how you were going to do that or how much time would it take but right now it was important to give him hope.

He nodded and got out of your grip. Suddenly the doctor came in to take Steve for CT scans.

His ring was still in your hands, you didn’t give him, nor did he ask for it…

~

You brought Steve to your floor after the CT scans. You cleaned the bedroom especially for him considering how difficult you find cleaning your room.

There was an awkward silence between you two. You never felt this way with him even when you two didn’t start dating.

“You should change and take a rest, I’ll bring you dinner” you smiled to which he just nodded and watched you go.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like you anymore. He did like you, and with what he remembers he was thinking of asking you out but suddenly you are his wife and…

His head hurts thinking about that, so he laid on the bed thinking this all to be a dream.

~

You went to the kitchen where everyone was eating and talking. When they saw you coming they stopped and stared at you.

“I’m just here to make dinner for him. His head hurts constantly, I think he is thinking too much” you sighed. The team gave you sad smiles.

“It’s gonna be alright y/n,” nat said, coming towards you. She hugged you before you started making something for your husband.

You came back with a bowl of soup and saw him lying in bed with closed eyes but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. You sat near him and ran your fingers through his hair causing him to open his eyes. You smiled at him.

“I brought you soup, you have to take your medicines after that.” again just a nod and he took the bowl from you.

You got up and continued watching him, no glance at you, no smile, nothing. You knew you had to be patient but it still hurts seeing him behaving like a stranger.

With a sigh, you went to the bathroom to change for bed…

~

It’s been 3 weeks since lost his memories and you were trying very patiently to help. You were always there for him, wake him up with a smile, usually, you would kiss him but now everything stopped as he was distant from you. But now things were a little bit better as he would often give you a little smile. You made him his favorite food. You took him for walks and to dinner, where you two had memories.

Yesterday you took him to the restaurant where you went on your first date. You were noticing his expressions the whole time if he would get a spark of his past but there was nothing. And even if he felt something he didn’t show it. He barely showed any expressions now.

Today you were going to take him to the central park, that was where you took him first when he came out of the ice.

You personally had a lot of memories there with your family.

Maybe if you talked about the same things you did that day, that could cause an effect on him.

You sighed happily and went down the floor, to find him. He was on desk duty these days, which was funny. Considering the captain who always gave everyone else that pathetic job as a punishment, was doing it himself. And that everyone was mostly you, the favorite target of Steve Roger’s wrath.

You went towards his desk but didn’t find him there. So after asking FRIDAY you were heading towards the laboratory.

You were about to enter but stopped hearing their voices.

“I don’t know tony. It’s not like I don’t like her but…. She is being too much for me. She is always there, when I wake up I see her face, on breakfast lunch dinner. Then going to bed. And now she is taking me outside. It’s… so overwhelming.” Steve sighed.

Normally Steve Rogers didn’t babble his tensions out when anyone asked him what happened. But now when tony asked this question he couldn’t help but let out everything he was thinking for the past three weeks.

Tony gave him a sympathetic smile, “maybe you should talk to her then. Tell her she needs to give you space. She isn’t like that, Steve, she is worried too and maybe that’s why she didn’t even realize that.”

Steve considered his words and indeed before going out of the laboratory. You on the other hand left before he could.

Here you were trying so hard to help him get back to normal and he was taking you, as too much.

You marched towards your room and packed your stuff. Maybe you should shift back to your floor giving him his space back.

Well, you were being too much y/n. You thought. But for him, and if he had any problem he should have talked directly to you.

You sighed. He was normal with everyone but you, or maybe everyone was normal with him but you.

You took your bag and went back to the other floor. Now you also would try to be normal, acting as if nothing happened and wait for some miracle to heal him.

After making your old bedroom look presentable you decide to head towards the gym to let out your frustrations. But on the way you found Steve, who had the audacity to smile at you.

“Umm… I was looking for you,” he said softly. This made you even more annoyed. He was acting as if he didn’t bitched you to your friend just half an hour ago.

“Why?” he flinched at your tone which wasn’t meant to be that harsh.

“We were supposed to go for a walk” you sighed and gave him a forced smile.

“Not today Steve. I am a bit tired.” you were about to walk away but stopped.

“And Steve, I think we should stop this for some time. It must be overwhelming, huh, you know I can be too much sometimes,” you whispered the last part. He barely caught it but he heard. And watched you walk away.

~

One week passed and he was restless. You weren’t there, he barely saw you the whole day. He couldn’t even sleep at night. It wasn’t just because of the guilt of his words, it was your presence that soothes him, your warmth. Even though his mind didn’t remember his body was used to being around you.

He was in the kitchen making coffee for everyone when you walked in. and it hurt him when you didn’t even look at him and started preparing your breakfast.

“Hey, your coffee,” Steve said, passing a cup towards you.

“Steve she doesn’t drink black coffee-like, everyone” nat said looking at him.

Steve shocked his head, “no I didn’t make her—” he stopped in the middle of his sentence.

You looked towards your cup and it was filled with cream and an outrageous amount of sweetness, just like you loved your coffee.

You looked towards Steve who was giving you a nervous smile, while everyone remained silent. “Thank you” you muttered and walked out with your cup.

With a smile and happy tears in your eyes, he subconsciously made you a coffee. He remembered.

Still, that didn’t mean you are going to be on friendly terms with him.

~

The mission was successful but tiring, you were returning in the jet with Tony nat and clint. Sitting in a corner you smiled lightly thinking about the moments before going to the missions.

Steve came to you, “be safe” that’s what he whispered before giving you a peck on the cheek, hesitantly. As if you would slap his face hard for kissing you.

You chuckled before closing your eyes to take a nap…

~

He was sitting at the desk doing his work when Sherline? What was her name? Came to him with a more than a friendly smile. She was a new receptionist always needing help with stuff especially when Steve is around. She bent down when you walked in with a file on the mission.

Not again… that was what you thought. You knew what he must be on his display by the flustered face and the way he was averting his eyes.

He smiled hesitantly before trying to explain whatever that recipient girl was asking him.

“Captain Rogers” you called, with authority causing both of them to look at you. The girl instantly straightened and walked away before greeting you. Your eyes followed her as she went away before coming back to him.

The look of disappointment you gave him, reminded Steve of a memory, somewhere deep inside his head.

“Captain Rogers” your voice was stern as you looked at Sharon and then Steve. She was there for some work Fury asked her to do, and also got a chance to see Steve as well. You were annoyed from a hectic mission after a week to submit your report and seeing them together annoyed you even more.

“Hey y/n” Sharon greeted with a smile which you returned with your forced one. You marched towards steve and threw your file on the desk.

“Report,” you said before walking away.

With the same look of disappointment, you came near him and threw your file. Steve looked like a kicked puppy when he looked up.

“Report” the voice seemed like it was coming from a distance. He was watching you go away and involuntarily called your name.

“y/n” he kept calling but you didn’t stop. He left Sharon there and ran towards you. He grabbed your arm, causing you to turn. “What?” you spat…

He remembered, he remembered what he said after that, your wrist in his hand and you, still thinking what the fuck he wants?

“Will… will you go out with me” the words left his mouth. He suddenly smiled looking at your expressions. Your eyes got wet, while you chuckled.

“You..”

“Just a little bit” he whispered.

He took your hands in his, “look y/n I’m sorry about those words. I was just” but you stopped him. “I understand,” you smiled sadly. “Doctor Cho warned me not to be overwhelmed. I just got too much, I know”

“Will you give me another chance, will you help me with this?” he asked.

“Of course babe,” you said before giving him a long-overdue hug. It felt so good to feel him against you after so long, his arms wrapped around you. Now he felt like your husband.

“Now can you give me my ring back?” he said, showing you his empty hand.

“Hmm, lemme think about it. Think if you even deserve it or not” you said squinting your eyes at him.

He pretended to be wounded at your words only to receive a scoff from you. You turned and walked away leaving him there alone.

“Buy me dinner first, then I’ll decide” you shouted behind you, causing the captain to smile shyly.

[whumpzone]

everyone wants to see col broken, but i want to see linden broken. maybe sick with a fever so bad he's totally out of it, maybe with a broken bone, maybe with the kind of panic attack that takes you out of reality and leaves you completely drained. i want to see how col scrambles to care for him with his still-unfamiliar hands, when linden isn't even in the headspace to praise or thank him.

yes!!! CW for general illness & mentions of pills/medicine

-

Linden woke- rather, he was pulled forcibly from sleep- to a pounding headache. He kept his eyes shut and furrowed his brow, realising slowly that his whole body hurt, not just his head. He was on his back- when he tried to roll into the foetal position, his muscles complained as if he’d hiked up a mountain yesterday.

“Mmph,” he grunted. The small noise irritated his throat enough to set off a coughing fit. He finally opened his bleary eyes. He was definitively ill. He groaned, grinding his head weakly into the pillow.

-

Pet didn’t see Master all morning. The sun was in the middle of the sky, casting only slim shadows, when he gathered his courage and went to check on him. Every step felt like a mistake. He was disturbing him, he was attention seeking, Master was probably busy, he was doing something that didn’t concern the stupid little animal he kept around, and Pet was going to get ordered away at best and punished at worst.

Still, he gently knocked on Master’s bedroom door. The action hurt his knuckles. “Col,” he heard, just barely, from inside. “Come in, please.”

Master’s voice didn’t sound right. He didn’t look right, either, when Pet pushed open the door. He was still in bed, his long hair stuck to his face with sweat. His dark skin looked flushed-out and pallid, and his eyes were half-lidded. Two pupils slowly met his own.

Oh, god. Master was dying.

Pet rushed and collapsed to his knees at Master’s bedside, his mind racing to find a solution. He wanted to cry out, ask what is it, where does it hurt, what do I need to do?

But he couldn’t. He could only stare stupidly, his mouth parted with worry, eyes big and searching. Master saw his panic and slowly spoke. It looked like the words were painful.

“I’m okay, I’ve just-“ he coughed, turning his face away. “I think I’ve got the flu. It’s fine, it’s-“ another few seconds of coughing. “Okay, I’m quite badly ill.”

He half-groaned, half-laughed. Pet’s heart was still thumping out of his chest, but he made himself nod. Master pressed his face into the pillow, a pained look on his face. His eyebrows were drawn close, heavy over his eyes, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Pet stared, waiting, but Master didn’t speak anymore. He was tense, like he was trying to stave off an invisible pain.

A car rumbled past outside. Had… had Master fallen asleep? Pet wouldn’t dare touch him without permission, so instead he got up and looked down. It felt so wrong. Pet should be the one laid out, sweaty and barely conscious.

He had to help. What did Master need? Paracetamol? He knew that word, from somewhere. Had Master given him some, when he burnt his own hand? He went to the bathroom and retrieved the packet. Water. Pet would get him water, too. He’d be a good, useful dog.

Pet’s mind wandered as he completed the task. So often his thoughts were preoccupied with what Master could do, what he was capable of, all the ways he could hurt Pet in that moment. Constantly vigilant of any attack. Would he kick him? Whatever was in reach, would he smash it against his head? Would he reach out and slap him?

But right now, Master really couldn’t do anything. He was weak, he was tired. He could barely open his eyes- would he notice, say, if Pet failed to kneel quickly enough? If he didn’t cast his eyes down, or if he was slow? He wouldn’t do any of that, of course. Pet knew he shouldn’t be thinking this way, but he also knew he wasn’t considering anything disloyal. Just because Master was incapacitated didn’t mean Pet would let his own training slip, or- god forbid- try to hurt Master or slow his recovery. Never. It was just… an interesting thought, the fact that Pet wasn’t at risk of harm right now.

He also thought about how seeing Master this way, pained and exhausted, evoked a strange feeling he hadn’t felt for his old owner, even as he died. All Pet could feel back then was hopelessness, and fear. He had felt like a balloon cut loose and left to fly, unguided, into the abyss. Here, he could tell that the drive to help Master feel better was motivated by more than his obligation to serve, more than his fear of his owner dying. Seeing Master so reduced had created a strange sadness in Pet. He didn’t like it.

-

Master didn’t look much better when Pet returned, a glass of water in one hand and the pills in the other. He knew it was disgusting, to give his owner pills that had been handled by an animal, but he didn’t know how else to give them to him. He wasn’t sure Master would be able to open the packet by himself.

He was curled up, his face still taut, and breathing far too shallowly. It made Pet’s heart seize up. This was wrong wrong wrong.

Kneeling, he put the glass down and tried to gently wake Master. He knew he would get in trouble for touching his owner, for daring to disturb him, but he had to help. Master opened one eye and Pet proffered the glass.

It took both of Master’s hands gripping it, with Pet supporting the base of the glass, for him to drink enough to swallow the pills. Once he was done he immediately slumped back into bed with a groan, and shut his eyes.

-

By the third day, Master was improving a lot. But, naturally, he didn’t have any time for his Pet. He understood, he really did. Master had to focus on recovering and look after himself.

Still…

He was getting really hungry. He had no way of asking, and duh, it kept him dependent on his owner’s mercy, as he should be. But he worried that if Master didn’t grant him the privilege soon, he would be useless at helping fetch pills, water, warm blankets, anything. He was already starting to wobble a lot more as he walked. Once he thought he would actually fall onto his owner.

Pet tried to push the hunger away. He had to focus, this was important! He had to be perfect. He could hear Master’s voice in his head, once he was back to full health.

You just let me suffer in that bedroom, you fucking mongrel. No help, no care, I don’t know why I ever kept you in the first place. You can get out and never come back, you hear me?

So he ignored the void in his stomach. Tried to compensate for the way his limbs ached. If this was a test, he was going to pass. He had to.

-

tagging: @newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whumps @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

[movedtodykedvonte]

We know the lords can't be injured easily due to their regenerative powers, but can they get sick?  Drown?  Get an infection, or something?  If so, how do you think they'd handle it?

fSo I’ve thought I’d this and I imagine they can die but it isn’t permanent if it’s not the case like when they crystallize in game. It’s just like a long coma. While I do think they can get sick, I doubt it’s in any natural way or has regular symptoms:

Alcina Dimitrescu

Gets sick the least out of the lords actually. It’s mainly due to how strong her regenerative abilities are but also she rarely interacts with others outside her daughters and meals.

Though when she does get sick, it’s bad. Mainly because it only happens when she hasn’t been able to feed

Mix the headache and stuffy feeling of a bad cold and insatiable hunger. Her eyes would be blood shot and dull, skin cracking like before her boss fight, maybe a little clogged sinuses.

It be super easy for her to transform at this point so her mood is even more shit. Snappy and cruel, rude and impatient even to her daughters

She feels bad about it when it’s towards her girls but Momma’s having a rough time rn.

Needs to feed A LOT during this time to feel remotely better so they lose a lot of staff.

Probably one of the only times you’ll see her in down clothes and casual attire as getting all pretty is too taxing

Donna and Angie

Surprisingly gets sick the most out of all of the lords. This is mainly because she’s always had a weak immune system and the cadou didn’t do much to make it better. Also she makes tea outta of not necessarily edible flowers

Most human so she get the most normal symptoms, but they are super intense. I’m talking bad headaches, upset stomach, dizziness, the poor girl can barely get out bed.

Angie takes care of the house and dolls during this time and goes as well as you expect, but she’s trying. Doesn’t help as the cadou messes with Angie and all the dolls. The dolls act sick like Donna and Angie can barely move around.

Sometime when it’s really bad Angie calls Moreau and Alcina. Moreau was a doctor so he would know what to do and Alcina has the physical capabilities to help. Also Angie can’t make food without burning it.

Because of this Donna tries to hide whenever she is ill or feeling bad, hides behind her veil more wears gloves to hide how pale she’s getting, attends more meetings and such. She doesn’t want to be a burden. This all stopped after an incident in which she passed out on her pin cushion.

Since she tries to hide it, it takes her a lot longer to recover as she starts to medicate for it later. Only time the other lords show compassion to one of their own (Donna is the most helpful and least annoying)

When she gets better she makes little dolls for the other Lords as a thankyou, only Moreau keeps them all but Karl and Alcina would never let her know they get rid of them.

Salvatore Moreau

The lord that gets sick the least. Yes, he constantly vomits and has various physical complications but when it comes to colds, flus, or whatever happens to him rarely happens between all the lords.

When he does start to get sick, he barely notices it as it just feels like when his cadou is acting up on a bad day. However, when he finally realizes, after too many bad days in a row, absolute dread and despair washes over him

Being sick for Moreau is a deeper ring of hell in his already torturous existence. His tumor growths become enflamed and more sensitive to the point a gentle wind feels like agony. He loses immunity to his acid bile and it burns his throat raw along with him in general. He feels weaker and this it is harder to move with the weight of his parasite.

Cries a lot. Not necessarily over the pain (he’s used to that) but just the extra reminder of how fucked up he is, is never good for his psyche.

He hides away both to avoid something hurting him as his body is super sensitive now and to avoid his family picking on his further. Donna knows the signs of a sick Moreau and will bring him herbs and teas for him to make medicine (I like to think they care the most for each other)

Also stays in his fish format the bottom of the reservoir most of the time as the pain is more disbursed and the water feels better on his enflamed tumor eyes

Gets better over time but always forgets how bad it is, so he’s never prepared for when it happens again, smh.

Karl Heisenberg

The biggest baby about being sick because he refuses to do the right things to take care of himself. Like he starts getting sick and purposely over works himself out of spite.

When he gets sick his electric organs go into overdrive so he kinda has to leave his factory if he doesn’t wanna get magnetized to a wall for like a week.

Randomly gets shocked by his own ability and hates it. Not to mention he has regular cold symptoms like blocked sinuses and a cough. Still tries to smoke his cigars, hacks up like half a lung.

Hates how the medicine makes him feel and tastes. Tastes like ass and makes him feel loopy, out of his element which he hates. The other lords have to hold him down just to give him a single dose.

Over heats super easy and has been found in his factory slumped over something. Donna and Moreau have to beg him to rest just because Mother would be very unhappy if her “favorite” died

Huffs and whines the whole time, “Its too hot.” “I don’t want that.” “This tastes like shit.” The other lords are tempted to just let him suffer, but he’ll whine even more.

Gets better fast and honestly shouldn’t complain as the other lords are literally in pain due to how their cadou fuck up their symptoms but he has a flare for the dramatic.

Fuck this post and fuck google for making me write it over and over again.

[marsbutterfly]

Hiiiii! I just binged all your writing on AO3 and I love all your work, especially the one with poor Hange hallucinating. I'm not sure if requests are open right now but if they are, I'd love to make one! I'm sorry for being hyper-specific but I just had my wisdom teeth removed, they had to hammer and drill to get one of them out that grew wrong and, I'll spare you the details but it took over an hour for the one and I'm sore and swollen to say the least and not looking forward to having to eventually eat something, and I wonder how Hange would take care of a reader that just had their wisdom teeth removed.

Please feel free to ignore this if you're not interested, and regardless thank you for your time and sorry for the wall of text! Hope you have a great day!

Note: Thank you so much anon, I appreciate your support <3 It makes me really happy! I hope you are all right now and that your mouth healed up ok. This is a mixture of a short fic and headcanons. I hope you enjoy! <3

Tooth Ache

Summary: When you get your wisdom teeth removed, Hanji tries her best to take care of you. Modern AU!

Warning: Mentions of blood.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

“Come on, baby.” Hanji says as her torso reaches over you, struggling to fasten the seatbelt. You shift your body to the left gently, trying your best to help her but the effects of the laughing gas having yet to leave your body.

All you can do is giggle, watching the messy brown hair dangling in front of you. Without realizing what’s happening, a heavy weight is lifted from your body and your lungs can expand to their full capacity once again.

You look around confused, trying to understand what just happened, only to shift your eyes to the left, watching as Hanji starts the car. The sound of the engine roaring makes your heart beat slightly faster, a hint of fear rushing through your veins.

Before any words form, a warm, gentle hand brushes against your exposed thigh softly and the feeling is enough to soothe you. 

Body resting against the car seat, you take your fingers towards your mouth, touching the area around it as you try to make sure everything is still there. The piece of gauze that sat in your mouth now lies in between your legs, a few blood splatters following closely behind.

“Hanji, did you give me cranberry juice?” You ask, not realizing what that hot liquid was. She holds in a laugh, eyes shifting from the road to you for a second as she reaches for a small pill bottle sitting in the cup holder.

“Not yet.” She replies, handing you a decently sized pill and a small, cold box of juice. “But here, why don’t you drink this?”

You grunt in annoyance but still obliged to her request, earning a bright smile in return. 

The car falls silent, only the sounds produced by the vehicle fill the void. Your eyes wander outside, green leaves dance atop of the trees while an old lady’s blonde hair flows around in the wind, reminding you of last night’s dinner.

“Can I have some noodles when we get home?” You ask with stars in your eyes, knowing that Hanji has never once denied you anything at all.

“No, love. I’m sorry.” She replies, eyes focused on the road as you enter your neighborhood. In that moment, her words felt like a knife going into your skin, destroying your heart as a consequence. 

“But…” Tears form in your eyes and your bottom lip quiver.

“It’s for your own good.” She says, right hand squeezing your thigh before you push it away and all she does in response is sigh. 

Grabbing your phone from the glove compartment, you speed dial your most recent caller. A few seconds pass before Eren answers the phone and the image that welcomes him is the desolated, groggy mess behind the screen. Tears flow down your face as you try to speak through the gauze pads in your mouth.

“Hanji won’t let me eat noodles.” You say, earning a quiet giggle out of the brunette driving the car. “All I want is to eat my noodles.”

“It’s for your own good, Y/N!” He replies, a smile on his face as he tries not to laugh. From his end, you can hear two other voices but, in your current state, you don’t realize they are coming from Mikasa and Armin.

“That's what I said.” Hanji replies, reaching for your phone. “Now hang up Y/N.”

“NO!” You scream, pressing your body against the door and moving the device barely out of her reach. “I want to show Eren my lipstick.”

“Lipstick?” The camera shifts angles and now Armin’s face fills the screen. “Uhmm… Y/N?” 

You pull your head back, fingertips gently brushing against your chapped lips until the warm liquid touches them. In response, you let out a giggle. “Oh no. I think it’s blood.”

Hanji’s laugh echoes through the car as she pulls into the driveway. Once the vehicle comes to a full stop, she places her left arm against the window, fingers pushing her glasses up as tears of laughter stream down her face. 

You shoot her a confused look, trying to understand why she’s laughing. In response, she reaches for your phone once again, finally being able to catch the device from your hands and immediately hanging up the call.

“Come on, baby.” She says, removing her seatbelt and unbuckling yours. 

You reach for the handle to open the door many times but your hand simply slips right past it. After what seemed like an entirety, you’re able to hook your hand on it and open it, little do you know Hanji is actually the one to let you out.

Your vision is fuzzy as you try to step out of the car, everything spins around and you look at the sky. A pair of sturdy hands begins to guide you towards the entrance to the house and you smile gratefully.

Hanji seats you on the couch before handing you a cold compress. You stare at it for a few seconds, wondering what it is that she expects you to do with it. 

She laughs and sits beside you, your knee touching hers. “Like this.”

The cold compress against your cheek feels godly and it relieves some of the pain you are in. You instinctively let out a moan.

“I’m gonna go get your meds and be right back, ok?” She says while getting up.

“Otay.” You reply, humming to a random song you heard on the radio early that day. Unknowing to you, Hanji’s eyes glow as they watch you from behind the couch, her heart beating slightly faster as her cheeks blush.

A few minutes go by and when she returns, you are still moving your head and feet to the melody you sing. 

She hands you a cup of cold water and you happily take the pills from her hand. 

Your eyelids become heavy and you rest your head on her shoulder, feeling as her hand goes through your hair gently. You smile through the bloody gauze pads and she giggles.

“Hanji…” You whisper, calling her close to you with your finger and she leans towards you, “I want noodles.”

“Not this again!”

Headcanons 

Hanji is not a good driver so it takes her a couple of days to convince you to let her drive you to the appointment instead of asking Armin or Mikasa to do it.

She nearly sleeps for too long the day of your procedure because she spent the night before worried sick, even if you’re just getting your wisdom teeth out.

Once it’s done, she has to control herself and not give in to your every request like she usually does. No solid food, no milkshakes, no moving more than you have to.

Hanji sets alarms for every 8 hours so you won’t miss a single dose of your pain medicine and, if the pain is too bad, she gives you an extra pill. Not only that, she constantly reminds you of when to change the gauze pads.

You always have fresh ice to apply to your cheeks and Hanji kisses them every chance she gets.

She can’t cook for shit, she tries but when the house ends up smelling like burned soup, she immediately calls Levi, who shows up with at least 3 days worth of food. For you and for Hanji.

When the anesthesia wears off, she pulls up her phone and shows you the embarrassing videos she took while you were high. Of you singing terribly to whatever is playing on the radio, your conspiracy theories on how your dentist was an alien or simply videos of you begging her to give you solid food.

She brushes your teeth for you when you can’t, always making sure to go around the extraction sites and scrubbing your tongue.

The day after the surgery, she rinses your mouth out with warm water and salt, even if you can do it yourself she keeps saying she’ll do it better than you, so you simply let her.

Hanji always makes sure your head is propped up while you’re lying down, even when you beg her to let you put your head down, she won’t let you. Instead, she sits behind you and props your head on her chest. You can hear her heartbeat so you can’t complain.

Once you are healed, she buys you an insane amount of junk food and you suggest going on a picnic with Levi and Erwin to eat it all. She agrees and immediately picks up the phone as you run upstairs to take some medicine so you won’t throw it all up.

[creepypocky]

I hope it's not too much trouble but 👉👈. Could you maybe do a Toby x Reader, where Toby crashes at the reader's place to get patched up from a messy mission. It was an emergency and the Reader is someone he can trust. While the reader patches up his gashes in the bathroom, he can't help but say "fuck it" and go in for a kiss. Toby immediately retracts when he realizes what he's done, but to his luck, Reader also wanted a kiss. Can it be introverted fem reader? If it's okay with you 💗

Yess babe, I can do this.

So sorry this took a couple days to get to! My computer internet was out for awhile!

Forgive me if this isn't the best, I'm still getting better at writing actual fics. :)

Warning: So much fucking fluff

|| Ticci Toby x Reader - Crawling Back To You || 🖤🦇🥀⛓

Raindrops that fell from the night sky lightly pattered against the window, and there you were, a nose in your book as the candle on the table beside you flickered. It was a very quiet night, yet a feeling of suspense filled the air, barely noticeable but there. This was a usual occurrence, where you just sit in the comfort of your own home since after all, it’s your favorite place away from all of society and problems.

Suddenly, you hear the door behind you swing open and you quickly close your book and put it down, making your way to the familiar form. You see toby breathing heavily and you quickly shut the door as he takes off his cracked-ish goggles.

You had met Toby a few months back by accident when he thought you weren’t home, he was going to kill you but ended up being too tired and instead got to know you. He told himself he would kill you the day after but he just couldn’t somehow. Eventually months passed and during that time frame you two became fairly close, but how close, is the question.

“Toby! My god, take off your shirt, it’s soaked.” You said in a worried tone, making him huff and rip his shirt off his body. He looked frantic, violently twitching and cursing under his breath. He almost seemed to almost not even notice you were there as he grabbed at his head in anxiety.

“What the hell happened?!” You ask, but your curiosity is cut pretty short as you notice the blood gushing out of the wound on his abdomen. You frown and grab his large hand, making his head shoot up and your eyes meet his, and he almost immediately calms down from your gaze. “Hey, it’ll be okay.” You say softly. He never once looks away from you, only a few seconds pass before you see him slowly nod and his twitching comes to a stop, making you smile at him.

You take him to your bathroom where your medical supplies is. “I... I thought I told you to be more careful.” He looked up at you with his brown eyes and they were filled with an emotion you couldn’t even recognize. You almost forgot what you were doing as you stared into them. After a few seconds though, you clear your throat awkwardly and open the medicine cabinet to take out the peroxide. You also grab a cloth and soak it under the warm tap water so that you can press it against his wound. You knew he couldn’t feel pain but you still knew he could bleed out.

You notice his nervous twitching going from his hands to his neck, and as you’re cleaning the gash on his abs you look up to see his face unexpectedly close to yours.

“(Name)... T-Thank you.” He says quietly, making you smile at him and nod. “No, I mean...” He trails off, making you raise a brow at him curiously. “What-”

You suddenly feel his cold hand on your face and the next thing you know, you feel his chapped lips caressing yours, and you simply just stand there in shock as you keep pressing the rag to his wound. 

It was clear to you now, of course. All the random visits, the disappointed feeling you couldn’t help but have when he ever had to leave, the kindness and trust he constantly showed you despite being a serial killer, you were in love with him. You had fallen in love with him a long time ago.

Before you were able to finally kiss back, he pulls away from you and you see regret in his eyes. Guilt immediately fills you as you examine his expression. “I.. I’m so-”

You cut him off by quickly grabbing his face and pulling him back to yours, moving your lips against his and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for him to kiss you back. He finally does after a few seconds and you let out a breathy sigh into his mouth as he moves his hand down to feel the back of your neck and push you closer to him, making you wrap your arms around him as you continue to move your lips together.

Eventually, the both of you pull away for air as a string of saliva connects the both of you and you breathe heavily from the tension. Your cheeks are heat up as you see the passionate look in his eyes. You forehead presses against his and and close your eyes in the sensation, the both of you have just completely forgotten about his injury and just hold each other lovingly. “Toby...” You whisper, your words catching in your throat as you meet his affectionate gaze again.

“I love you, (Name).” He says with a genuine smile that you’ve seen from his often lately, making you let out a happy laugh as you bury your head in his neck, softly kissing it as you take in his musky scent. He rubs your back soothingly as you say his promise back to him.

The rain kept pattering against the windows as usual, but at least the heartbeat you two shared in each others arms lightened the atmosphere.

~~~

Hopefully this is what you wanted! Thank you so much for requesting this, I smiled writing this. :)

[alch3mic]

Beast taking care of sick s/o (writing prompt)

you: And don’t even think about coming over!! 😤

bonehead: too late im already at the store ill be over soon

you: Omg I’m fine! I can take care of myself so just go home!!

bonehead: if you say so

Stars above he was just way too stubborn sometimes! It really made you wonder what you saw in such a single-minded brute like him..

....

Okay, well you certainly saw a lot.

He was sweet, incredibly charming, very thoughtful and always knew just what to say to make you laugh. That's why you loved spending so much time with that dork.. but today...

The two of you technically already had plans to meet with some friends today for a night out on the town, that is until you woke up a few hours ago with a killer headache and a throat dryer than the desert that no amount of water seemed to satisfy. Despite your best efforts to push forward and go about your day, it was no use. It was too hard to even leave the bed much less spend a whole night out so you just had to cancel.

Of course Sans being the ever observant skeleton he was, thoughtfully asked why and you just merely responded with 'I'm not feeling great'.

Now THAT was the understatement of the century.

Hell you were practically sweating bullets now with a fever threatening to constantly shove you over the edge of dizziness, but still you... you just..

You just didn't want to trouble Sans anymore than you probably did.

Having to cancel your plans already put you in such a sour mood that all you wanted to do was just lay down and wallow in your own misery.

Alone.

By yourself.

With no one else around.

Not even your big, loveable boyfriend.

.....Dammit.

You finally set your phone down with a huff, burying your face back into your pillow as your whole body ached in pain.

Ugh, you felt like absolute garbage.

Plus you just turned Sans away! You knew it actually wasn't really all that much trouble for him to go around town with that teleporting ability of his.. but still!

You felt like such a jerk, all because you were still frustrated about canceling your plans and your head was such a clouded mess of illness and emotions.

..And now you missed him.

Great. Just great.

Maybe if you weren't so stubborn you'd text him again saying 'Just kidding! Please come over. I miss you so much!' but oh boy would he never let you hear the end of it.

..Or maybe he'd take some pity on you because you're not feeling well.

....Knowing him he'd probably just say something funny, like a joke or a cheesy pun that'd have you smiling in a matter of moments.. like..

“honey, i’m home~!”

..Yeah.. something goofy like tha-

...Huh?

"HUH?" you sat up, quickly regretting that decision as your head spun in circles.

Ugh, okay maybe you were even worse off than you thought. Now in your desperation you were imagining hearing your boyfriend down the hall, like he'd just stepped through the front do-

"ah, there's my little beauty."

....!

"Y-you-!" you choked out, glancing at Sans as he stood in the doorway. "What are you..!"

"you said go home right? well i'm home now sugar, so don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, alright?" he said with a wink, throwing his jacket on to your desk before sitting on the edge of your bed.

"That's not what I.."

His touch silenced you as he gently brushed the back of his hand against your forehead, the cool feeling of his bone a very welcome relief to the heat swarming your brain.

"stars yer burnin' up something fierce doll.. why don't ya lay back down for me and relax a little, hm?"

"...Ok.."

The amount of concern and tenderness in your tone made you too weak to resist, carefully easing yourself back to laying down in your bed. Luckily Sans' cold hand followed, carefully moving aside some messy strands of hair as he lightly stroked your cheek.

"that's a good little kitten.." he murmured gently, making you flush a bit more. "i gotcha some stuff that'll hopefully help. gotta admit i don't really know a whole lot about human illnesses but thankfully the ol' internets always got some answers.."

Your eyes felt a bit heavier listening to the rumble of his voice beside you, barely catching the sounds of him rustling through a bag until he placed something even colder against your cheek, making you squeak.

"hehe... yer too cute."

"S-shuddup.." you muttered, grasping on to whatever he was handing you.

It seemed like a sports drink of some kind, the coldness and bright color reminding you of just how dang thirsty you were.

There was a bit more rustling as he pulled something else from the bag.

"..Cold medicine?"

"heh.. yeah i uh, wasn't sure what'cha got so i figured grabbin' the most common thing would be alright... no good?"

"No! That... that's great actually," you said, taking the bottle from his hands and giving it a lookover as a small laugh sipped out. "You just had to buy the most expensive brand huh?"

"hey, nothin' but the best for my kitten," he said, gently reaching out to place his hand on your cheek again.

You giggled, setting down the medicine before grasping on to his arm and settling into his touch.

"Thank you Sans.." you said softly, closing your eyes for a moment. "..I'm sorry I had to cancel tonight."

"didn't i say not to worry your pretty little head sweetheart?" he chuckled, his thumb now lightly caressing your flushed skin. "besides, we got plenty of opportunities to go out again. what matters right now is that you focus on gettin' better.. so is there anything else ya need?"

"Just you," you muttered gently, your eyes feeling heavy again.

Luckily you didn't miss out on the slight flush of red that found its way to his cheekbones, that goofy smile that you've come to love so much now on his face.

"Stay with me?"

"always."

check out my other writings | feel free to drop me a ko-fi!

[bigskydreaming]

I kinda wanna fucking scream, so here, have a offline bullshit rant post.

So I’ve literally been trying to get my stupid fucking meds for over a MONTH now at this point, which I’m sure you can all see like, my mood is just wooooonderful these days. Not an excuse, casual reminder that yeah you do gotta take care of your own space so if my mood is dragging anyone down, I’m totes on board with blocking or unfollowing or y’know, burning me in effigy or something. Okay maybe not that last part. But still. You get it. And its not even that like, I need mood stabilizers per se, lol, so shout out to the armchair diagnosticians helpfully peppering my inbox still in their quest to oh so slickly be like ‘hey you’re a hot mess, take your hot messness away from tumblr’ like lol, didn’t ask.....nah, its mostly the perpetual lack of sleep and chronic pain issues that I have zero distraction from when my specific combo of meds isn’t able to let me actually weaponize my ADHD properly and power through that. Its a whole thing. Whatever. Just go with it.

POINT IS. So I’ve been trying to do this for over a month now, first obstacle was even just getting the money together for my refill appointment which is a whopping $150, because I have to pay out of pocket for mental health stuff these days because I had to switch my insurance over to something that paid out more heavily for physical benefits like my jaw surgery.....and because of the pandemic, and how many psychiatrists in my area and that I could actually reach aren’t taking new patients during the pandemic since most of them are conducting business virtually still, like, I have barely any resources for seeking out and trying new psychiatrist offices in the meanwhile that might charge less and I’m kinda stuck with the one I have because the last thing I can afford is to have like, NO psychiatrist at the moment, y’know?

So first I had to have that to even BOOK the appointment, which took forever because rent and food are a joy to accrue when you can barely manage to function as an actual employee of the capitalist machine ahfsklhflkahflakf, but so then I did that and like, got an appointment put on the books for August 19th. That was the soonest they could fit me in back when I paid them for my appointment about a week and a half ago. No, two weeks ago now? Eh, time is fake. ANYWAY, so that wasn’t gonna work for me, so basically the entirety of last week was devoted to constantly calling and trying to check in every other hour to see if they had any sooner cancellations I could take, because for whatever fucking reason, they just ‘don’t do’ a cancellation list wherein they call the next person on the list once they have a cancellation. Whatever.

So finally got a cancellation slot with a virtual appointment last Saturday night at random as fuck 8:40. Okay cool. Most of my refills are fairly simple, no real changes, but two are controlled substances so like, they have to do their due diligence and go through the proper protocols before giving me another prescription to one or whatever. Fine. Okay.

So I call the CVS they sent the prescription for my ADHD med to, the very next morning. One of the controlled substances, and the key med to like....making me functional instead of a rambling disjointed whirlibird of a thought emitter. Problem is, that medication is on back order. Won’t be in until Tuesday. Ugh. Okay, fine. Nothing I can do about it, because while the specific provider I spoke to in order to GET my refill prescriptions was taking an appointment the night before, the actual offices that schedule appointments and connect patients through to their providers was closed for the weekend, so I couldn’t even ask for them to send the scrip somewhere else.

SO. I go back to the CVS on Monday, hoping that maybe it came in early because not like I can do much else in the meanwhile. Course its not there, but oh well. I toy with the idea of calling to ask my provider to send the scrip to a different pharmacy (only had it sent to this one cuz its within walking distance to me, and since I can’t drive for medical reasons and Uber’s are expensive as fuck, just for errands, like, even though walking is sooooo not fun for me physically, like it is what it is). I decide against it because here’s another fun fact about this controlled substance....for security reasons, pharmacies don’t have to tell people over the phone if they have it in stock or not. Like, they won’t just say no we don’t have it in stock - I mean, they WILL say that, but that doesn’t actually mean anything because that’s what most of them say about that particular medication no matter whether or not they DO, and then just cite security protocols, so you have to actually GO to the store in question to ask them and even get a real answer to whether or not they even HAVE it in stock to FILL a prescription if its sent over. And no, the provider won’t just send scrips into several different pharmacies at once and just be whichever has it in stock can fill it - because again, controlled substance.

SO. I decide its not worth it to try getting the scrip sent over somewhere else, because I’d have to at least waste money on an Uber to even travel to various pharmacies and even check if they CAN fill it sooner than this one, when at least this place will have it in tomorrow. Its just one more day at this point.

Except then I go back on Tuesday. Oh sorry, don’t know why that other person told you we’d have our order in today, our shipments of that medication don’t come in until Wednesdays.

So I go back Wednesday. Success! They have it in stock. I go to pay, pulling out my goodRx coupon that was just printed out that morning, specifically citing the price for CVS at Target. The pharmacy manager says sorry, we don’t honor that coupon here for controlled substances like this one. I say: record scratch? He’s like yeah, that’s at the discretion of individual pharmacies, and we don’t honor that price for this specific medication, because we don’t want to attract customers only coming here to get that medication filled for that price. (This pharmacy is right at the edge of Inglewood and Culver City, for anyone who is familiar with those neighborhoods. The implications are exactly as they appear to be). So I’m like, what’s the regular generic price? He quotes me something that’s $180 more than the coupon, and thus $180 more than I have since I was focused totally on getting THIS amount ASAP, so I could get these meds so I could do more work and make more money. You see the train of thought. I’m like well that’s awesome, I don’t have anything close to that. Hey. Weird question. Why did nobody I talked to the past three days in a row that I’ve walked into this store in person to request this refill, like, mention this little tidbit about not honoring this coupon so instead of waiting for a backorder that would do me no good, I could have been spending that time having my prescription transferred somewhere that WOULD honor it?

He’s like, well did you mention to any of them that you’d be using a goodRx coupon for this particular medication? I said, yup. He said, you sure? I said well the specific process each time was I came in, I asked if this medication was in, they said what’s your name and date of birth, I provided that info, they said are you paying out of pocket, we don’t have valid insurance info for this on file for you, I said yup paying out of pocket with a goodRx coupon, they said *clickety clack of the keyboard* nope, sorry, we won’t have this medicine in until Tuesday, I mean Wednesday. 

He’s like, well you must be misremembering or they would have told you at the time that we don’t take GoodRx coupons on this medication. I’m like, dude, it was you. It was literally you that I spoke to two of those three times, right here at the counter, in person. I’m gonna go ahead and trust my memory of those interactions and what was said there over yours since you don’t actually remember having talked to me two times in the last three days. He’s like, I gotta go help another customer. There is no other customer. I leave. Fun day for everyone.

So then I call around town to at least check which CVS will actually honor the coupon I have and the price that I can afford to pay it at. I don’t bother asking if they even have the medication in stock because I know its not guaranteed to be a CORRECT answer, but at least I can see who accepts this damn coupon. Also, reason I’m only trying big brand pharmacies instead of smaller, hole in the wall ones is because again, controlled substance, and I know from experience that the bigger brand pharmacies are at least more likely to have that med in stock whereas most smaller ones tend to run out very quickly as they usually only get enough for their existing/regular customers and a little extra.

I find a CVS five miles away - not walkable, gonna have to Uber. Call my psychiatrist office again to ask them to transfer the scrip, front office says they’ll send the request to my provider, who usually checks and fulfills such requests in 24-48 hours. I’m like okay cool, can I get a phone call to let me know when that happens, so at least I know when to check back to follow up if it hasn’t happened yet for whatever reason? They’re like no, the pharmacy will send you a text or call when they get the prescription sent over and you can take it from there with them. I’m like okay, but I’ve done this a bunch of times and know from experience the pharmacy does NOT in fact always call or text, so is there a certain time to follow up to inquire if the provider has already sent the scrip and the pharmacy SHOULD have it by now or if the delay is on the provider’s end? Front office is like yeah no. I’m like, swell.

So that was yesterday. I call the pharmacy (which I still don’t even know if they have the medication IN STOCK to fill the scrip even once they GET the scrip, and won’t until I can actually Uber out there, but one thing at a time at this point) at like 9 pm, they’re a 24 hour pharmacy, and they’re like nope, we got nothing (this is after spending an hour and a half on hold to even TALK to someone at the pharmacy). Called them again today at noon, still nada. Technically I have another 29 hours before the window in which the provider is supposed to send the refill scrip to this new location, before I can be like, okay so they still haven’t done it, can we send him a nudge or another request. The 24-48 hour window will only actually EXPIRE after their offices close on Friday meaning it’ll be Monday before I can even actually REACH someone again to ask them to send the scrip again, if the pharmacy hasn’t ACTUALLY gotten it by Friday night, and pessimistically, I’m not super inclined to assume that they will at this point. 

I’m antsy, irritable, hungry because I don’t even know for SURE sure if the new pharmacy will ACTUALLY honor the coupon or say no sorry we don’t do that here either, whoever told you that was wrong, or if they’ll even actually have it in stock versus I’ll have to have it sent somewhere else AGAIN, so I have to pinch every penny possible in order to ensure I have the most money possible once my prescription IS filled in case the price is more than I expected again or in case I have to take Ubers there or further than I expected or basically....shit happens that I don’t expect. And this is what I’m basically spending all my time doing instead of working, because trying to get work done in this state is like....the harder I try to make it happen, the less it actually gets done, so I try and prioritize this and its roadblock after roadblock dragging out and wasting my time, and like yeah, I can post and shit while I’m doing this aka sitting on hold or walking around town trying to get shit filled because its fine if I ramble incoherently along the way in posts, but actual WORK work requires like....fucking coherency and succinctness and not having to stop and start every five minutes to call someone else, and oh yeah, being able to power through migraine spikes. And just.

I’m very annoyed about anything and everything to do with this shit. The hoops you have to jump through to even get the stuff that like....actualizes your hoop jumping ability, is just....*gnashing of teeth*

Anyway. So that’s my offline bullshit rant. Yay. The end.

[multiple-fandomimagines]

Breathe In

Pairing: Cullen Family x Female!Reader (Platonic), Quileute Pack x Female!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Reader is the youngest addition to the Cullen family. Being a human with severe asthma causes your family to be extra protective, especially if they aren’t always around to help.

Word Count: 4128

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experience, brief mentions of self-degrading thoughts

A/N: This is my first time posting my writing so feedback would be greatly appreciated! (Main account @hi-my-name-is-riley )

Being adopted into the Cullen family was nothing short of a blessing.

They quickly became the family you never had but had always wanted. Early on, you found yourself gravitating towards Emmett and Edward, the two quickly became your best friends.

It was not long after you had been adopted that they told you their secret. The revelation came after you saw Emmett uproot a literal tree and throw it at Jasper, who walked away completely unscathed.

The family made you feel loved. Your brothers were protective of you, as were your sisters. Carlisle would always find time to talk to you about school and how you were adjusting, while Esme kept the kitchen stocked with your favorite foods.

Being the only human in a family of vampires had its ups and downs. For instance, you always had help with your homework, and Alice was a fantastic stylist. On the other hand, you were still human, and that brought along human problems. 

When you were first adopted into the Cullen family, Carlisle was sure to inform everyone about your pre-existing health problems. 

Mainly, your asthma. 

You were diagnosed with asthma at an early age and had been able to use your inhaler and nebulizer, or breathing treatment, as you fondly called it, since before you could remember. But, just because you were used to your crappy lungs, didn’t mean that your new family was.

It wasn’t until a few months after you had been adopted did you have your first severe asthma attack. 

You were lounging on the couch doing your homework when you felt a tickle in the back of your throat. Hoping it would go away, you cleared your throat and drank from your water bottle, ignoring the occasional faint wheeze. 

Your chest gradually got tighter and tighter over the next couple of minutes, a wheeze now accompanying every breath you took. 

Rosalie, Emmett, and Edward, who were spread out around the room doing various assignments, looked at each other than at you in concern. They had heard you have small asthma attacks, but they had never heard you wheeze this bad.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Rosalie asked softly.

You were about to respond when your breath got caught in your throat. You made a choking sound before a cough violently ripped its way out of your mouth.

Cough after cough escaped followed by desperate gasps for air; your body jerking in tandem. Reacting on instinct, you scrambled for your backpack, ripped it open, and grabbed your trusty inhaler.

Within seconds, you were surrounded by your siblings, including Alice and Jasper who came running as soon the coughs started. They watched with pity as your face turned bright red, sweaty, and your eyes filled with tears. They asked you questions, but you were too focused on your breathing to answer. All they could do was watch.

It felt like hours until you were able to take a breath, but, once you could, you took a puff from the inhaler. This went on for several minutes, violent coughing and harsh breaths followed by the use of your inhaler. 

When the coughs started to subside, you looked up at the worried faces surrounding you, “Will one of you please help me to my room?” Your voice was hoarse as you gasped out the question. 

Strong arms lifted you from the couch and carried you at a human pace towards your room.

A pained look flashed across your face as you were hit with a second round of coughs, and you took another puff from the inhaler grasped tightly in your shaking hand. 

Emmett helped you onto your bed before sitting against the headboard and pulling you into his chest. The rest of your siblings filed into the room, eagerly waiting for any command or request. 

“There is a blue bag in my closet with a grey machine, some tubes, a mouthpiece, and medicine in it. Ple-” before you could finish the sentence, the bag containing your nebulizer was sitting in front of you. Blinking away the dizziness, you got to work setting it up. With shaky hands and a pounding head, you went through the motions that had become muscle memory: plug the tube into the nebulizer and the compressor, rip open the liquid capsules, squirt the medicine into the cup, hold the mouthpiece between your lips, plug in the nebulizer, turn it on. 

You paused as another round of coughs shook your body, you looked at Edward who understood what you needed and plugged the machine into the nearest outlet and flicked it on. 

The familiar taste of vaporized medicine hit your tongue, and you collapsed into Emmett’s chest, feeling the exhaustion deep in your bones. His cold, granite-like body cooled down your blazing skin and helped you stay elevated. As if reading your thoughts, he placed one of his hands on your forehead while the other combed through your hair.

“I thought Edward was supposed to be the mind reader.” You mumbled over the mouthpiece. 

“Shhhh. Just relax and focus on breathing.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, the whirring of the nebulizer lulling you into a light sleep. 

~~~~

“How long has it been running?” A voice from over you asked.

“About fifteen minutes. But she put two of these capsules in.”

“You should’ve seen it, Carlisle. She could barely breathe, but she managed to put the machine together in moments while we all just watched.” Emmett’s chest rumbled under your head as he spoke. 

“If you thought that was impressive, wait ‘til you see me do it when I’m having an asthma attack in the dark.” You joked, the mouthpiece still in between your lips. 

“How’re you feeling Y/N?” 

Opening your eyes, you saw Carlisle sitting at your side with Esme not far behind him. You allowed Carlisle to remove the mouthpiece and click the nebulizer off. 

“It’s nothing I’m not used to.” You dismissed, “What are you doing here, aren’t you two supposed to be at some fancy doctor event?”

“You gave your siblings quite a scare,” Carlisle chuckled. “They called saying you couldn’t breathe and we left immediately.”

“But I had it all under control, there was no need to come home.”

“We didn’t know that Y/N.” Rosalie snapped, concern swimming in her eyes, “We just sat around and watched, not being able to do anything, as our baby sister couldn’t breathe!” 

“What she means,” Alice shot Rosalie a look, cutting her off, “is that none of us knew you could get that bad and it scared us.”

“I could hardly read your thoughts,” Edward mumbled. When you looked at him confused, he explained, “You were so focused on your asthma that your mind went into autopilot. I had no idea what you needed or how to help.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, feeling guilty.

“It’s not your fault. It’s ours for not being properly prepared.” Esme insisted.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, and, in the morning, we’ll have a family meeting on how we can help you in the future. Alright?” Carlisle asked. 

You nodded, and your guilt was replaced with sleepiness thanks to Jasper. You cuddled further into Emmett’s chest, who chuckled and resumed petting your hair. You drifted into sleep after your parents and siblings had wished you a goodnight. 

Unbeknownst to you, your family had all stayed in your room as you slept, not able to bring themselves to leave your side after the evening you all had.  

~~~~

When Carlisle asked what triggered your asthma, your family was surprised at your answer. 

Exercise? Asthma Attack. Allergies? Asthma Attack. Cold Weather? Asthma Attack. Laughing? Asthma Attack. Sneezing? Asthma Attack.

Lungs couldn't make decisions, meaning Alice was unable to see when or where you would experience your next asthma attack. If there was one thing your family despised more than anything, it was not knowing when you could be in danger. So, after that night, they had gone a bit overkill with the asthma thing.

While you taught your siblings and Esme everything they needed to know about your asthma (how to work your nebulizer, the importance of staying elevated, keeping your body cool, etc.), Carlisle managed to get an inhaler for each of your siblings on the off chance that you lost or misplaced yours, and there was an emergency.

These small pieces of life saving plastic became their prized possessions. At any given time, they had an inhaler on them, even when they weren’t with you. They carried them while hunting, shopping, in class, working on their cars, etc. 

Bella had even mentioned how, on multiple different occasions, she had felt the hard plastic of the inhaler in Edward’s pocket while they cuddled. (Talk about a cock block)

In the beginning, it was overbearing. You couldn’t blame them for being worried—you knew that seeing you that night had terrified them. That being said, having five inhalers shoved at you every time you so much as breathed funny got very old very fast. 

It took some time, but, after constantly reminding them that you had your own inhaler and promising them that you would go to them if it was an emergency, they eventually settled down. 

~~~~

It was a beautiful spring afternoon. It had rained the night before and left nothing but sunshine and a cool breeze. Your family had plans to go hunting that day—which meant that you and Bella were going to spend the day at the reservation. You enjoyed spending time on Quileute land. It meant you got to cook with Emily and mess around with the other wolves.

When word of the Cullens adopting a human reached them, they insisted on seeing you once a month to make sure that you remained human. You were nervous when you first met Sam and the others, your family telling you all about their secret and the treaty. But, to nobody’s surprise, you all got along amazingly—Sam, Emily, Paul, and the rest of the pack treating you like family. The only member of the pack you didn’t get along with was Jacob. Your family meant everything to you, and you were not a fan of Jacob’s need to be involved in your brother’s love life. But, for the sake of the treaty, the two of you acted civilly towards each other.

Edward had pulled up to the treaty line with the usual pained expression on his face. Jacob stood against the hood of his car on the other side of the line with an excited smile. Bella and Edward quickly said their goodbyes before she hopped out and went towards Jacob. Edward watched on with jealousy as he read Jacob’s thoughts. 

“Don’t worry Eddy, nothing will happen while I’m here. After all, I’m still a minor.” You teased him, leaning over the center console. 

Edward chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time with Emmett.”

You shrugged, not agreeing or disagreeing. Just as you were moving to sit back and get out of the car, Edward’s arm grabbed yours. Turning back, his eyes bore into yours.

“Be safe and have fun okay? We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Carlisle, Emmett, and I will have our phones on us so do not hesitate to call. Do you have your inhaler?” 

“I have my inhaler, phone, and I’ll do my best to stay safe. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“I always worry about you.” He huffed and kissed your temple.

You smiled at him, “Love you too. Now, go kill something big!” You exclaimed, sliding out of the car and heading towards Jacob and Bella. You didn’t need to turn around to know that he was rolling his eyes. 

Jacob pulled up to Sam and Emily’s house. The car was barely in park before you jumped out and scurried towards the house, Bella and Jacob’s banter making you nauseous. The house was abnormally quiet when you walked in, the only sounds coming from the kitchen. 

“Emily?”

The clamoring of pots and pans came to a stop, Emily peeking her head around the corner, a big grin plastered on her marred face, “Y/N, you’re here!” She pulled you into a hug, “The rest of the boys are out patrolling and enjoying the nice weather, but you’re just in time. I was about to start making muffins!” 

You were easily the closest to Emily, the two of you quickly bonded over your mutual love of cooking and baking. Time flew by as you and Emily gossiped and cooked up a storm, making enough muffins, cookies, casseroles, and trail mix to feed the pack. Before you knew it, the front door was opening and Sam, followed by Embry, Quil, Jacob, and Bella, stepped into the house. Greetings were thrown around before the boys dug into their food. 

You took a seat across from Bella, between Quil and Embry. You watched the two boys with a look of disgust as they tore into the muffins. Sam, Emily, and Bella laughed at your face, bringing the attention to you. 

“Got a problem Y/N?” Quil asked, purposely smacking his mouth near your ear.

You shoved him away, “With you? No. With the way you eat? Absolutely. Just ‘cause you two are dogs doesn’t mean you have to eat like it.” You teased, attempting and failing to hide your growing smile. 

The two wolves made eye contact over your head, exchanging silent words. 

“You asked for it,” Embry exclaimed before him and Quil attacked your sides, tickling you. 

“Say uncle!” 

“Never!” You squealed.

This went on for what felt like hours before Sam heard you begin to wheeze, “Boys stop torturing the poor girl and eat the food she helped make for you.” His command brought their actions to a halt. 

You sent the alpha a grateful look as you attempted to catch your breath. A wheeze had begun to sound from your chest. It was accompanied by a familiar tightness that didn’t immediately worry you but made you hyperaware of where you placed your bag. 

Just as you started to feel comfortable, a different set of hands grabbed your sides. The surprise of the attack combined with the onslaught of fingers tickling your sensitive sides caused your wheeze and chest pain to come back with a vengeance. You couldn’t see who the culprit was, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the burning in your chest as coughs and laughs competed to escape your body at the same time. 

“Paul stop! She’s having an asthma attack!” Bella’s voice echoed in your ringing ears. 

The hands on your sides retreated. Before you could register what was happening, your chair was turned around and Bella was crouched in front of you. 

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay. Where is your inhaler?” 

Taking a deep breath you managed to wheeze out a response, “M-my bag.”

You heard the sound of what you could only assume was the contents of your bag being dumped onto the table as you did your best to take steady breaths. Despite your attempt, coughs kept escaping. 

“It isn’t in here, Bella! What do we do?” 

Panic started festering in your stomach. How could you be so stupid to forget your inhaler? You swore you put it in your bag!

Bella stood from her spot in front of you, combing her fingers through her hair while she thought. She knew second hand how bad this could get, and Bella didn’t want to take any chances. Not only were you her boyfriend’s baby sister, but she considered you family, and when the two of you were on the reservation, you were her responsibility. The two of you looked at each other and you nodded, silently giving Bella the go-ahead. “Hand me my phone, I need to call Edward. Emily, take my place and try to get her to match your breathing.” 

Emily kneeled in front of you and looked at you with sympathy.

You avoided looking her in the eye, too embarrassed that she, and the other wolves, had to see you like this. You weren’t a pretty sight, bright red, sweaty, heaving for air, and sputtering out skull rattling coughs. 

As if sensing your embarrassment, Emily rubbed your back comfortingly, reminding you of Esme. She muttered what you could assume were words of support that you couldn’t hear over the ringing of your ears.

On the other side of the room, you faintly heard Bella talking to Sam. You only managed to make out a few words—“Emmett”, “inhaler”, and “treaty line”, but that was enough to make your panic slightly subside. You were going to see your family soon, and everything would be okay.

Next thing you knew, Sam, Bella, Paul, Quil, and Embry rushed out the door and piled into Sam’s car. Jacob picked you up bridal style, Emily making sure you were secure before he sprinted out of the house in the direction of the treaty line. In a last-ditch effort to calm your lungs, you did some breathing exercises that Carlisle taught you to no avail.

Your cough continued to get worse as Jacob ran, your face slowly going from red to a light purple as you struggled to get enough oxygen. Jacob’s hot skin pressed flush against your own, combined with your gasps for air, made you feel like you were burning alive.

You had never experienced an asthma attack this bad before. 

At that point, you were barely coughing anymore, just desperately choking for air. All you could think about was your family. 

Esme didn’t deserve to lose another child. 

The blue skies and green treetops blurred as tears started to stream down your cheeks. You were terrified that you wouldn’t make it to the treaty line. Panic overtook you as dark spots clouded your vision, and you continued to heave for air. You closed your eyes, accepting that you were going to die from an asthma attack in the arms of someone you didn’t even like that much.

“We’re almost there, little Cullen, don’t give up on me yet.” You could only respond with more pained sounds causing Jacob to mutter some swears before pushing himself to run faster. 

You were teetering on the edge of consciousness when you were passed into a pair of cold arms, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the drastic temperature change. A piece of hard plastic was placed between your lips, the familiar taste of albuterol on your tongue. Despite your instincts to inhale, new coughs pushed the medicine out over and over again. 

The sound of screeching tires and muffled voices registered in the back of your brain. You felt your body being rearranged, your back pressing up against a familiar hard figure before the plastic was placed back between your lips. 

“C’mon Y/N. Please breathe.” 

You did what the voice said, doing your best to breathe in when it told you to. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the ache in your chest started to subside. Opening your eyes, you took in Carlisle’s relieved face. Your father was kneeling in front of you with one hand cupping your cheek, the other holding your inhaler to your mouth, giving puffs every sixty seconds. 

“There you are.” He whispered. 

Looking around, you noticed your back was against Emmett’s chest, his hands on your neck and forehead trying to cool you off. Edward was kneeling beside you, your shaky hand held firmly in his own. Behind him stood Bella, worry evident on her features. On your other side, a few feet away, on the edge of the treaty line, were the wolves, all in varying degrees of distress. Paul looked the worse out of all of them with tear streaks staining his cheeks. 

“Breathe in,” Edward whispered. 

You did as he said and Carlisle gave you another puff. 

“Can you say something please?” Emmett begged after another moment, fear obvious in his voice. 

In all your time with the Cullens, you had never heard Emmett sound that desperate before, and you felt guilty knowing you caused it. You swallowed hard, throat raw, “I-I’m sorry.”

You spoke at a barely audible level, but that didn’t stop the supernatural creatures around you from letting out huffs of relief. 

“You have nothing to apologize for darling.” Carlisle’s thumb wiped away your tears.

“Your inhaler fell out in my car. You couldn’t have done anything.” Edward informed you, lightly squeezing your hand. 

“It’s not your fault Y/N. It’s mine, I’m so sorry.” Paul apologized from across the invisible line. 

Growls emanated from your brothers, their dark eyes trained on the shifter. You could feel the tension between your brothers and the wolves, but Carlisle was quick to stop anything from getting out of hand. 

Handing the inhaler to Edward, Carlisle stood up and headed towards the wolves. Their conversation was quiet and short, Carlisle no doubt expressing his gratitude towards Jacob for getting you to your family so fast and then telling Sam that he’d send you with an extra inhaler to keep at his house next time you visit the reservation.

You looked at your brothers in confusion when they softly chuckled at something Sam had said. Turning around, Edward looked at Bella, “Giving commands to pack alphas now, huh?” 

“Badass,” Emmett smirked. 

“She’s family,” Bella said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You went to speak when another round of unforgiving coughs racked your body. A whimper escaped your lips at the agony that accompanied it. Carlisle was in front of you in an instant. Edward gave you another puff, your hands still too shaky and weak to hold the inhaler on your own. 

“I want to go home.” You whispered as tears fell down your cheeks.

Emmett pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before gently standing up, taking you with him. You looked over his shoulder and gave a feeble wave bye to the wolves, who returned your wave with soft smiles and small waves of their own. 

Carlisle opened the door to Edward’s Volvo for Emmett and you while Edward started his car, and Bella took the passenger seat. He made sure you were comfortable before closing the door and speeding over to sit in the backseat with you. Edward toed the line between safely speeding and recklessly driving as he expertly swerved through the winding roads. 

Sat cradled in Emmett’s lap, coughs continued to plague you. They weren’t as bad as earlier, but they still hurt.

“Esme, Rose, Jazz, and Alice already have your breathing treatment and anything you could possibly need set up and on hand. You’re safe. Everything is going to be okay.” Emmett muttered, saying the last part for both your benefit and his. 

It wasn’t long before Edward pulled up to your family home. The car door was yanked open and you were taken into Jasper’s arms who sped you into the living room. He set you gently on the couch, handing you the mouthpiece of your breathing treatment before clicking it on. 

Looking around at your family, you couldn’t help the fall of fresh tears. 

“Oh, honey,” Esme muttered before taking the spot on your right, tucking you into her side. Carlisle positioned himself on your other side, rubbing your back.

You couldn’t help the thoughts and feelings that plagued you as you looked upon your perfect family. 

You’re a burden. A hassle to be around. They shouldn’t have to worry about a weak human like you.

Before you could begin spiraling to a truly dark place, Edward broke the silence, “Don’t think like that,” Your eyes locked with his, “You aren't a burden and neither is your illness or humanity. You’re our family, and nothing will change that. We love you.”

Your siblings echoed his remarks, and Esme squeezed you closer, kissing your temple. “You brought a light into our family that wasn’t there before. No illness is going to change the fact that you have blessed this family, and if you don’t believe me, then I’ll just have to convince you.” 

“I love you mom,” You whispered, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. It was the first time you had called her that, and it was a moment that none of you would forget. 

 With a soft smile, you snuggled closer to your mom and attempted to fight the exhaustion that plagued your mind and body in order to finish your breathing treatment.

“Go to sleep Y/N. We aren’t leaving any time soon.” Jasper joked.

You nodded, and, with a little help from Jasper, you dozed off in your parent’s arms, the mouthpiece still between your lips. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better family. 

[chokemeanakin]

Heyyy first wanna say that I love you!! 💜❤️🤎🧡💙🤍💚🖤

Next, I’ve been really sick lately, like haven’t been bail to take down food for a solid week, and in and out of hospital for the last two weeks, so could you please write up an Anakin small fic or head canon or just anything with a really sick reader, but she finds it hard to exsept help? Your fives have been keep me alive I swear haha

Okay LOVE YOU💖💖

YOOO IVE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR WEEEEEEKKKSSS you literally read my mind !!! 😆😆😆 (also I’m so sorry that you’re terribly sick, I’m sending you all my love and I hope you get better soon. I love you too boo thang ❤️) HERE WE GO:

(Also fun fact whump is my area of expertise so if this gets to be really long I apologize — it’s just hard for me to narrow stuff down, anyway, enjoy)

Anakin x Sick (fem) Reader Headcanons:

Gif from @swprequels

The minute you get sick, you immediately shut yourself into your room and hide from the world.

You hate people seeing you at your worst, most vulnerable state. So weak, and needy, and messy and in pain. You’ve always been the type to push people away, no matter how sick you get, because you just can’t let them see you like that.

But like.... imagine you’re new to the temple or something. You haven’t been there for very long, and you still don’t really know your way around. And you wake up at night with the worst stomach pains, like writhing around in bed and crying and begging higher powers for any kind of relief sort of pain.

And you somehow manage to wrench yourself onto shaking legs and dig through the bathroom cabinet, only to find that you have no medicine that can help you.

The next logical step is you go to the medbay, but you have no idea where that even is. And so you’re left to drag yourself down the halls to the only other person who you can think of to help you, the only other other person you want to see right now.

Anakin opens the door shirtless, rubbing sleep out of his bleary eyes. You wish you could feel worse for waking him up when he was obviously sleeping, but your stomach is twisting and turning and a layer of cold sweat is forming over you and you need his help. So you swallow your pride and stand there as he asks, “Y/n? What’s wrong, baby?”

He doesn’t hesitate as he gently ushers you into his room, holding you up as he leads you to the bed. You’re glad, because you don’t think your legs can hold you up for very much longer. And he’s kneeling in front of you, taking your face in his hands and wiping away your tears as you clutch at your stomach and tremble beneath him.

“I-I don’t feel good,” is all you can manage before wincing at a particularly painful stab, shuttering as the nausea worsens.

He’s so worried, eyes scanning over every inch of you. He’s less soft now, and more action as protecting you and figuring out what’s wrong is his first priority.

“What hurts?”

Everything hurts, but you settle with the most pressing offender. “My stomach.”

His eyes drop to your arms, which are wound around your middle like you could squeeze the pain away. You’re hunched over, shivering violetently, skin pale in the darkness. Very obviously sick, although now he has to decide whether it’s bad enough where it warrants a visit to the medbay. His heart twists painfully.

“When did it start?”

“A couple hours ago.”

“Did you eat something?”

He’s rubbing his thumb along your cheek, capturing each cold tear as they’re occasionally squeezed out of your eye.

“Not that I know of,” you whisper. “I had the same as everyone else.”

“Okay,” he says after a moment, then stands. He keeps one hand gently cradling your face as he reaches behind you and pulls the blankets back. “You wanna lie down?”

You want to say yes, but suddenly you’re hit with a particularly excruciating twist of the stomach, and you know it wouldn’t be a good idea. If you move even slightly, you’re pretty certain you’ll be spilling your dinner all over the floor. The thought has you moaning slightly, curled even further into yourself, shaking your head. “Can’t.”

“Alright. That’s okay. Do you think you’re gonna be sick?”

A terrible wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you force yourself to nod.

Anakin doesn’t even have to ask to know that you won’t be able to make it the bathroom. He wouldn’t want to subject that to you anyway, knelt on the cold tile floor before the toilet. No, he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

So he takes his garbage can and makes sure it’s clean before setting it on the floor or in front of you, in case you need it quickly. You’re hanging your head, sweating and shivering and whimpering every so often as the pain builds and builds and washes over you in waves.

“It’s okay,” Anakin sits beside you, hand rubbing your back in grounding circles. “Focus on your breathing. It’ll pass soon.”

You stay there with him like that for a long while. At one point, you’re begging him for some pain meds, or anything that can take the pain away, but he has to refuse because you’re just going to throw them up anyway. He feels awful saying no, because you begin to cry again and lean forward.

He senses it right before it happens. With lightning reflexes, he snatches the bin off the ground and holds it under you just as you begin to get violently sick.

It’s not pretty, and that thought is knocking at the back of your mind as you clutch onto the rim of the bin, emptying your stomach over and over and over, barely able to catch a breath before you’re hit with another round.

Anakin sits right next to you through it all, dragging his fingers along the nape of your neck to gather your hair over one shoulder, rubbing soothing line and circles into your back, hushing you and telling you to let it out, that you’ll feel better once it’s over.

He’s right about that. Throwing up scares you, and you hate it with everything in you, but for the time being you feel a little better. Once your food stops forcing its way back up and you can finally breathe, there’s a moment where the awful stabbing pain in your stomach is quiet and you can open your eyes and lift your head.

“You think you’re done?”

You take a moment to assess your nausea, not wanting to be hit with a surprise attack and make a mess all over the floor. But for the time being, your stomach has settled and now you’re left as a trembling, weak, shell of a human, barely able to sit upright on your own.

You nod and wipe your mouth, disgusted with the contents now on the back of your hand. Your pajamas have been soaked in sweat, and you’re sure you look absolutely disgusting. You’re too weak to care a whole lot, but the shame still bubbles up in your chest.

Somehow he’s got a glass of water, and he’s handing it to you so you can swish and spit. “Small sips, angel.”

Anakin sets the bin down, running his hand over your hair once more before standing. The loss of his warm presence has you shivering violently, teeth clacking together. “You want a bath? Or do you just want to go to bed?”

You don’t think you’d be able to sleep with your clothes stocking to you like this, so you choose the bath. He kisses your forehead once, saying, “I’ll go run it now. Stay here in case you get sick again.”

You nod and he leaves, the sounds of the faucet turning and water splashing into the bath sounding from the bathroom. He comes back to help you up, hands fitting right onto your disgusting sweaty and vomitty body as he half carries you to the bathroom.

And then he helps you get undressed, lowers you carefully into the water, kneels by the side of the tub and holds your hand.

Your eyes are closed and your head is pounding, achey and queasy and tired. You know you have to wash up, but you can’t seem to lift your arms.

So he does it for you 🥺

Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, gently rubbing it into your hair, using his hand to shield your face as he carefully washes it out. Running his hands over your arms and the top of you chest with soap, lathering you up and then rinsing again. And then he’s squeezing water out of a cloth, running the damp material over your face to clean it of sweat and sick.

And when he’s done, he stands and promises to be right back as he takes the bin full of vomit to the communal bathrooms, dumping it out in the toilet and then washing it in the showers. It’s early hours of the morning so no one is there, but he’d do it even if people were looking at him like he was crazy. 🥺

And when he comes back, he helps you out of the bath and bundles you up in a big fluffy towel. Runs it over your skin and dries you up, and helps you stand as you request to brush your teeth.

And then he brings you back into the room and helps you dress in some of his clothes, a pair of his sleep pants that he has to tie the string extra tight so they’ll stay up, and roll the cuffs up to your ankle about 10 times until you can walk without tripping. And he’s also got some sleep shirts that he’s never worn, and you swim in that also so he rolls up the sleeves until you can see your hands.

And now all you want to do is fall back into his pillows and go to sleep, but he asks you to hold on a while longer so that he can get you some meds. And he has you take some pills, encourages you to drink some more water, (“slow, baby”), and then he helps you lie back and get comfortable.

And if you wake up later in the night to get sick again, he’s waking up right along with you, holding you and hushing you and being the sweetest person you could ever ask for.

In instances like this, you can’t help but need and accept his help. And he doesn’t mind giving it, in fact he wants you to come to him. Anything that brings you pain, he’ll destroy.

And he’ll make sure you eat as much as you can, and that you’re drinking water. Constantly asking you how you feel, if there’s anything he can do. Runs a cold cloth over your face to soothe the fever, and massages your aching muscles until you’re all better.

The voice he uses when you’re sick 🥺. He knows that any noise can hurt your head, so he lowers his voice and it’s so smooth and deep and rumbly. So soft and gentle 😭 the sweetest voice bc his baby is in pain and he just wants to take it all away 🥺🥺

In other cases where you’re sick, like you have a cold, you’re more stubborn. You shut yourself away as soon as you get the first symptoms, denying any hint that you might be getting sick, until suddenly he realizes he hasn’t seen you in days and stops by to find you buried under covers, surrounded by tissues, all lights off in your apartment, sleeping fitfully.

And so he’ll sigh a little, clean up your apartment and then sit and watch over you. When you wake up, you’ll groan and burrow deeper into the covers and demand he leave. But he’ll just tell you to be quiet and drink this water.

Demands you tell him the moment you feel sick next time, even though he knows you never will. And then when he gets you some medicine and food, your cheeks are red with embarrassment and fever as you bashfully accept them.

But ofc you’ll get over it soon because Anakin’s here now and you might as well be miserable in his arms. So you push the covers off your overheating body and reach across the bed for him, practically falling into his lap from where he’s sitting on a chair by your bedside.

And he just simply catches you and strokes your hair and hushes you as you bury your wet eyes and flushed cheeks into his chest, sniffling pathetically.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he’ll promise, and hold you in his warm arms and rock you until you fall asleep.

Getting sick on Republic Cruisers is the worst. When that happens, you’re either on your way to or back from war. And so usually people are busy and running around, or exhausted and beat up. The ship is cold and everyone has their own problems to worry about, but you feel like ass and you just want to be alone with Anakin.

He feels awful when he sees you, and will order everyone out of the pilot’s room. And then he’ll clear the passenger seat off, urge you to sit down, wrap you up in as many blankets as he can find, and when he can only find a couple, he’ll sacrifice his Jedi robe. And you’ll nuzzle deep down into the cacoon of blankets and inhale the scent of Anakin’s robe, fall in and out of consciousness as you’re lulled to sleep by the soft sounds of the ship.

Anakin wishes there was more he could do for you in these instances, but the food isn’t good and there’s not usually any medicine. So he’ll keep a hand on your knee, or let you hold his hand in your lap as you sleep, and he’ll send a little surge of peace and soothing energy through the force and into you.

Will 100% find an excuse to carry you off the ship when you land, and then spend the rest of the day lying with you and tending to you and trying to make you feel better 🥺

He’s so caring and so protective and sweet. His gentle side really comes out, because his #1 thing is that he needs the people he loves to be safe, so if an illness is hurting you he will do anything he can to take the pain away.

Yes, he can’t take care of himself sometimes. But the minute you’re feeling a little under the weather, suddenly he has a PHD in medical science and he’s nursing you back to health like an expert 🥺

Also he’ll never deny you kisses when you’re sick, even if you warn him he might catch it, he just hushes you and kisses you softly on the lips. Then on the chin, then the nose, then the forehead.

Will always brush off your inability to accept help. If you say “no” or “leave me alone” or “I’m fine go away” he’ll just roll his eyes and plant himself there. Bc no matter how stubborn you can be, he’s even more.

And when you keep apologizing, obviously feeling awful for having him take care of you, he’ll just hush your worries and hold a tissue to your nose and go “blow.”

And then he’ll stay with you and watch over you until you’re all better. And even when you get back into the swing of things, he’ll watch over you like a hawk while you’re recovering 🥺🥺

You might get shy and ashamed and embarrassed when he tries to help you, but he doesn’t mind. You’ll just have to come to accept the fact that he’s always going to be there for you, to help you and hold you and make you all better ❤️

Sweet boy is so good to you 🥺🥺🥰

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[mandospace]

Fooled Around (Din Djarin x Reader)

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Din x female reader inspired by the song "I Fooled Around and Fell In Love" by Elvin Bishop?Hope u can do it 💕

Requested By: @pepperlen

Word Count: 4,680

Warnings: Some mature content (mention of sex and brothels), extreme pining by our one and only Mando

A/N: I have never written an entire fic in one character’s POV, so I hope it turned out okay! My requests are open for both Din and Boba. I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The galaxy was immense, the stars and planets innumerable. People of all races were still trying to understand just how big it was, to what depths the black and empty space stretched out before them. Sometimes, the distances between each point of light were immeasurable, too far for any humanoid to comprehend, no matter how hard they tried. Within the galaxy, there were trillions upon trillions of souls- each with a name and story to tell. One of those souls was a lone bounty hunter that traveled the immense space between the points of light.

Din lost track of how many planets and towns he has been to. The number ranged in the hundreds, if not thousands. Each planet and town was all the same though, even if their topography differed greatly. Every planet held small backwater towns where the scum of the galaxy seemed to hide, evading their captors. In those backwater towns, there was always a lone cantina that sat on the edge of town. Locals and vagrants alike frequented the establishment, where there was always an old bartender. At that bar, drunks of every race tried to drink their worries away in the same liquor every night. Desperate people wandered amongst the booths, looking for work, money, and sex. Sometimes, all three if you met the right type of person.

No matter the planet or town, it was always the same. The lone hunter had fallen into a pattern, one that he upheld almost as strictly as his Creed. Pick up a job, track down the bounty, capture the scum, and haul them back to the Crest. Depending on the job or planet, sometimes Din would wander back into the cantina looking for something to keep him entertained. Sometimes it was fighting amongst the drunks- eager to release his pent up adrenaline from the hunt. Other times, he looked for other means of releasing the tension that constantly laid beneath the shining beskar. More often than not, this release was found in the company of women who too were looking for company.

He wasn’t proud of the numerous one-night stands that he had during the length of his career. It was nothing personal- both participants looking for an escape from the dreary life the galaxy offered. No questions were asked of either party, both just eager to feel something besides the numbness that surrounded them in their everyday lives. While Din wasn’t proud of his many encounters, he certainly wasn’t ashamed of them. Each was a necessary means to an end- a way to break the tediousness that was bounty hunting. A way to feel something besides anger and violence.

When the kid entered Din’s life, his well-adhered schedule was practically thrown out the window. He was no longer the lone bounty hunter that jumped from planet to planet in search of quarries or release. Now, he was a single father that fended off the remnants of the Empire that was hell-bent on taking his foundling away from him. Din was tasked by the Armorer to reunite the foundling with his own kind- even if he had no clue what kind of creature the small green foundling was. It was declared that they would be a clan of two: branded in the Mudhorn signet on the tempered beskar of his pauldron. Wherever he went, the child followed; even into dangerous situations.

After too many close calls with the little womprat, Din started to realize that he couldn’t do this on his own. When foundlings are taken in, the whole covert would raise and care for them. Show them the ways of the Mandalore: how to fight, how to protect the covert. Din didn’t have his fellow covert that he could rely on to help raise and protect the foundling. He was always out-matched in terms of fighting and raising the kid. When it came to fighting, Din couldn’t be as ruthless as he needed to be when he was constantly concerned for the child’s safety. When it came to raising the kid, the little green booger seemed to out-wit him at every turn. How could he discipline the small child that had Din wrapped around his tiny little clawed finger?

He couldn’t rely on the covert that seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Mandalorians were rare already, and the only ones he knew had vanished without a trace. Kuill was Din’s next option before he remembered the early demise his close friend had met because of his relation to Din. Cara was on Nevarro, wiping up the last remnants of Empire scum. Greef had resumed his position at the Guild; and besides, Din didn’t want the kid anywhere near him. Peli was running her hangar on Tatooine, too busy scamming pilots out of their credits over small repairs. He had quickly exhausted his very short list of allies that he could trust with the kid. It had become apparent that he would have to look for outside help.

Din wasn’t looking for anything specific in a caretaker, just someone that seemed competent enough to handle a child. He wasn’t even actively looking for someone when you literally stumbled into his life.

He was in one of the many familiar backwater towns of Dantooine, leisurely strolling through the open-air market that lined the town’s only street. The kid was nestled in the pouch Din had draped over his shoulder, dark eyes peering over the burlap sack. They were in town looking for some supplies, food and medicine mostly. The child had eaten up Din’s entire stores, though he wasn’t sure how he could eat that much. He was only a 50 year old baby, after all. 

When they were landing on the outskirts of the small town, Din had noticed that there was a local brothel that appeared on the holo-map. It had been months since Din last had any form of release- caring for the kid and evading the Empire had taken up his entire time. Even though he desperately wanted to relieve some stress, Din couldn’t. The kid was too important to risk taking his eyes off of him for even a moment. 

Distracted from the tension and stress that lingered underneath his beskar, Din didn’t realize that he was on a collision course until he collided with your body. You had been carrying a basket full of fruit that was piled high above your head, hence why you didn’t see the intimidating hunter in silver beskar. When the two of you collided, you fell onto your bottom with a groan, fruit rolling out of your basket and onto the dusty ground. Din just looked down in shock at you, surprised that he didn’t even see that you were right in front of him.

“Do you ever watch where you’re going?” You groaned, rubbing your backside in pain. 

He just looked at you, blinking slowly behind his helmet. You were beautiful, even though you were scowling up at him. Your hair was tousled from the fall and dirt was coating your clothes. The sun was bringing out the highlights in your hair, and Din longed to card his fingers through it. He had barely known you for two minutes but Din was already fantasizing about the feel of your skin under his, the soft breaths that would leave your lips. Stars, it had been too long.

“Hello, Dantooine to Tin Man?” You were waving your hand in front of his visor, trying to get some type of reaction out of him. “Mind helping me with this?”

All he could do was nod as he dropped to his knees and started to help you pick up your spilled fruit. Your hair had fallen into your face when you bent over and he wished he could tuck it behind your ear. He silently chastised himself. He hadn’t even said a word to you and there he was, dreaming about touching you while you were picking up the fruit that he spilled.

“So, what’s your name?” Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts as you looked up at him. Din couldn’t breathe when you locked eyes with him- even though you had no way of knowing where his eyes laid under the black visor. Your eyes, though, were mesmerizing. “So you’re the silent type, then?”

Din cleared his throat and offered his hand. “I’m Din.” What was he thinking?! He had never revealed his name to another living being voluntarily, and yet here he is, freely and openly giving his name to a beautiful girl he had just met.

“(Y/N),” you smiled and took his hand in yours. He was shocked at how small your hand looked in his, but even more shocked at the overwhelming sense of rightness that flowed through his veins at the sight of your hand in his leather-clad one. “Oh Maker, who’s this?”

Din hadn’t realized that the kid crawled out of his satchel and started to waddle over to you. He moved to pick up the kid and put him back in his bag, but you had beat him to it. You easily swooped the kid up into your arms, setting him down on your lap. The kid just stared up at you, offering a toothy smile. “Are you hungry, little guy?” Riffling in your basket, you picked out the juiciest looking fruit before handing it over to the child. “There, enjoy that, little guy. He’s precious. Is he yours?”

“Sort of,” Din admitted as he shuffled to his feet. He offered you a hand to pull you to your feet which you gladly accepted. The kid was still cradled in your arms, munching on the fruit. Since your hands were full and the kid looked too happy in your arms to take him away, Din picked up your fruit basket instead. He was amazed at how easily you interacted with the kid. You hadn’t even known the small child for more than five minutes but the little womprat was utterly enamored with you. It had taken Din weeks to gain that level of trust with him and yet here you are, plucking another fruit out of the basket in Din’s arms and feeding it to his kid. “Do you want a job?”

Confusion flashed across your features before a blush settled on your cheeks. “Look, sir, I’m not that kind of girl...”

Embarrassment flooded Din’s system. “No! You misunderstood me. I would-” he almost said ‘I would never ask for that’ when he realized that he has asked for that in the past. He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the awkward tension. “What I meant was, you seem to be really good with the kid, and I need some help looking after him. I can’t provide for the both of us when I am constantly worried about him.” You just stared up at him, the child wiggling in your arms while he reached for your necklace. “I could pay you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about food. I would just need you to look after the kid while I hunt after bounties.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Din regretted telling you that detail, afraid that it would scare you off. Bounty hunting wasn’t the life for everyone.

“Yes, but I-”

“Do you travel the galaxy?” You eagerly asked, eyes shining bright at him.

“Of course, I often have to go to lots of different planets to track down my quarries. Why-”

“I’ll do it.” You had cut him off again, but he didn’t care. You had just said ‘yes’ to him without really knowing him at all. You were either crazy or a very trusting person. Maybe both. “I’ll meet you at the south edge of town at sunset with my things.” Handing the child back to him, you swapped the kid for your basket of fruit. You started to head off in the direction of what Din assumed was your house before you turned around to look at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Din was puzzled at the girl that was smiling back at him. The sun caught your hair, illuminating the soft highlights hidden within the locks. He wanted to reach out and touch it again.

“For giving me an adventure.”

___

For the past three months, Din has been in an almost constant state of agony.

He thought that bringing you on board would be a good thing: a much needed help in raising the kid. And it was a good thing, for the most part. You were always helpful, willing to do more than was asked of you. Many times Din would come back to the ship and you would have a warm plate of food waiting for him, the kid already asleep in your arms. The first time you did this, Din had to explain his Creed and why he couldn’t eat in front of you. You had nodded along, taking in his words before walking out of the hull and up the ladder leading to the cockpit. Before you had shut the doors, though, you called out to him and told him to eat his food and not to worry. You would take care of the kid and put him down for his nap. That miniscule kindness that you had shown the lone bounty hunter shook him to his core- a warmth seemed to have spread over him and his heart stammered in his chest. You did that for him every night, for every meal.

Not only that, but you were amazing with the kid. Suddenly the rambunctious little green womprat would mellow out any time you walked into the room. He would be fussing in Din’s arms, crying about something and you would just walk up to the hunter, take the kid into your own arms, and he would immediately calm down. It was like a sixth sense you had- you always knew the right thing to do to get him to calm down. When you started to sing the child to sleep every night, that’s when the warm feelings inside of Din’s chest turned to white-hot agony.

It was his favorite kind of torture, listening to you sing softly to his kid. Din was never in the room when you did this, he always kept far away because of his fear. Your voice was so soft, so melodic that if Din heard it directly, he would surely fall even harder for you than he already had. He would gladly succumb to your siren’s call and let you lure him to the vast depths of the ocean.

He wasn’t used to this, feeling something for another person. Sure, Din had cared for other people before, namely the little green foundling in his care. But he had never felt this deep, aching pull inside of him. Whenever Din was with other women, it was to get over the stress and tension that came with his bounty hunter life. The feelings he felt for those women were purely physical, purely surface level. A temporary lust that would dissipate the next morning after he had released his frustrations. Din had never felt these feelings that were emotional, deeper than any he felt before. When he looked at you caring for his kid or making dinner for the three of you, his heart would stop in his chest. With every smile you gave him, Din felt those at first insignificant, warm feelings grow and burn until they developed into a raging fire. He felt like he was swallowed whole by flames and every glance or touch you gave him was only adding kindling to the fire burning in his heart. If your little smiles and touches piled twigs onto the fire, he couldn’t imagine what feeling your lips on his would do to him. He would probably combust into a flaming inferno.

Din tried to ignore the white-hot agony being around you brought. He tried to reason with himself that he wasn’t that type of man. The type that brought home flowers to their lovers just because. The type that would rush home from work just so they could wrap their arms around their lovers and kiss them. The type that would actually want to settle down and start a family. Every time he looked at you though, he imagined what it would be like to have that type of life instead of the violent one he lived. He imagined that he would come home from work, and you would be cooking dinner for the three of you just like you do now, except things would be more permanent. The three of you would actually have a house- he didn’t care on which planet, you could choose any one and he would gladly build the house for you from the ground up. The child would attend the nearby school and make friends with kids his own age- well, kids that were actually kids and not 50 years old and still a child. He imagined that you would be cooking his favorite meal, that he would be able to come up behind you and kiss your neck and pepper kisses across your face because he no longer wore the helm of a Mandalorian. He imagined that you would laugh at the feeling of his stubble tickling your skin before you would turn around in his arms and truly kiss him. You would hold his face against yours and on your left ring finger there would be a simple band of beskar wrapped around it. He imagined that he would have a similar band on his own finger- a symbol to the galaxy that you were his and he was yours. He imagined that he wouldn’t be able to pull you flush against his chest because of your rounded belly, swollen with his child...

“Din?” 

Reality came crashing down around him at the sound of your voice. The image of the two of you in his mind faded and was replaced with the very real image of you staring at him, a worried expression etched on your face.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry, Cyare.” Din cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to call you that affectionate Mando’a nickname, but it just felt right. He hadn’t meant to do a lot of things, namely fall for you.

“I asked if you could pass me the wrench.” Wheeling yourself out from under the ship, grease had smeared across your cheek. Just like you were an amazing caretaker for his son, you were also an amazing mechanic. The place where the ship needed maintenance was too small for Din to get under, but you were just the right size.

Din grunted in response and handed you the wrench. The tips of your fingers just barely grazed the tips of his leather-clad ones, but it was enough to set the Mandalorian on fire with desire. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t deal with the agonizing feeling of being this close to you but not being able to touch or hold you like he wanted. Before he could do something stupid, like ruin the only friendship he’s had in decades, Din bolted up from the crate he was sitting on.

“I’m heading into town, I’ll be back later.” Din didn’t pause to listen to your concerned questions on if he was alright. This wasn’t the first time he had just bolted mid-conversation. 

The Razor Crest quickly disappeared behind him as Din trudged into town, looking for a distraction. It was all the same, each town he visited. He didn’t even need a map to find his way through the dust-covered streets. His feet just took him to the nearest cantina that sat on the edge of town. It was loud inside the bar, music blaring and people laughing. Din didn’t pay attention to any of the people- he just trudged to the corner booth and sat down. His head was swimming with thoughts of you. Even miles away, he could still smell your sweet perfume. It had somehow lodged itself in his helmet’s filters. He would have to change them out soon if he were to ever be able to focus on a hunt.

“You here alone?”

Din glanced up at the woman standing before him. She had some drink in her hand and a lazy smile on her face. Her hair was pulled up into a knot on the top of her head and was the same color as your hair. In the dim cantina lights though, Din was almost positive that your hair would look prettier, much prettier. It was always so shiny, smelling so good.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded gruff through his vocoder. He wished he could drink something, but he wouldn’t be able to in this crowd.

“Want some company?” The woman smiled at him, and all he could do was shrug. People could do what they wanted, it was a free galaxy, after all. “What brings you here?”

“Work.” He didn’t mean to be so short with the woman. Din was just preoccupied with his thoughts of you.

“No,” the woman laughed, resting her hand on top of Din’s. His eyebrow quirked under his helmet. “I mean what are you doing here?” Her thumb started rubbing circles into his worn leather. His brow raised even higher. 

“Escaping, I guess.” Her thumb continued to rub over his hand. She gave him another smile.

“Really? Me too. What a coincidence.” The woman grabbed his hand then, intertwining her fingers with his. She pulled his hand until he stood next to her. “Why don’t we escape together?” Her hand started moving over his silver cuirass. Din knew he shouldn’t go with this woman, but as the thoughts of you started to swirl through his head, desire pooled low in his stomach. If he couldn’t have you, he might as well go with someone who wanted him.

So he followed her out the cantina’s back door and into the dark alley. The sun was just starting to set on the town and Din realized that he has been gone from you much longer than anticipated. You were probably worried, wondering where he was.

“Relax, baby,” the woman purred, running her hands down his chest. “Let me make you feel good.” The woman pushed him up against the alley wall and started to palm the front of his pants. It had been so long since Din had gotten the release he’d been craving. His eyes slipped closed under the helmet. 

The woman continued her ministrations, hands roaming over his beskar-covered body. His eyes stayed closed the entire time as he imagined that you were the woman that was touching him, running your hands over him. Her hand slipped into his trousers and cupped his growing length.

“(Y/N)...” Din moaned, eyes screwing shut even tighter. Your smile flashed through his mind, adding more kindling to his fire.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and removed her hand from his pants. “My name’s not (Y/N).”

Her voice broke the carefully crafted illusion that Din’s mind had conjured. His eyes opened to reveal the woman from the bar in front of him, not you. In this lighting, Din noticed that her hair actually wasn’t anything like yours. Hers was a much duller shade, lacking the shine yours held. Her smile wasn’t as radiant as yours. Din’s illusion shattered into pieces before him.

“I-I have to go.” Din adjusted himself in his pants before making his way out of the dark alley. The woman let out a disgruntled cry, but Din didn’t turn back to offer his apologies. Instead, he pushed his way through the crowd of locals making their way back home. The people that saw him jumped out of his path, terrified of the Mandalorian stalking through their town. He didn’t care, though. The only thought Din had on his mind was you.

By the time he got back to the Razor Crest the sky was black- only the stars lit his path home. With a press of a button on his vambrace, the ramp started to descend. He didn’t even wait for it to fully touch the ground before he jumped into his ship. His eyes swept the hull until they landed on you standing near the ladder leading to the cockpit- eyes wide with surprise.

“Din, where did you go?” 

He didn’t say anything, only slammed his fist against the button next to the ramp to close it. Din strided over to where you stood, pressing another button on his vambrace. The ship fell into darkness.

“Din, what are you-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Din had ripped his helmet off and tossed it to the floor. His gloved hands reached for your face and pulled you to him, crashing his lips against yours. Din could feel you freeze under his lips for just a second until you melted into his touch. A breathless sigh slipped past your lips and Din breathed in your sweet breath. His heart was slamming against his chest as he kissed you. Your kiss acted like fuel to an already raging fire that warmed him to his core. His left arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you tightly to his chest. Din’s right hand cupped the back of your neck, holding your lips against his whilst he drank you in. Your lips were so soft against his chapped ones and with every brush of his against yours, shivers ran down his spine. Your arms had wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to you. The way your fingers carded through his hair and lightly tugged made Din moan in pleasure. His grip on you never loosened as he continued to move his lips against yours. When you sighed for the second time, Din took the opportunity to lick into your mouth. He loved the way your tongue tangled with his. Din felt like he was a raging inferno- a star burning brightly in the dark limitlessness of space.

You had moaned his name against his lips when he pulled away for some much-need oxygen. He sighed your name into your skin, peppering kisses down your throat. His name continued to fall past your lips while his made their way back up your throat and to your lips. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Din breathed against your skin before capturing your lips once more. This kiss was shorter than the last but still held the passion shared in the first. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” you smiled against his lips as you held his face in your hands. Your thumb was rubbing soothing circles into his cheek, goosebumps left in its wake. “But why did you kiss me? Why now?”

Your question weighed on his mind before the answer became as clear as transparisteel. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since I’ve met you. I finally decided that I couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

Din could feel your smile against his lips. “I’m glad you became impatient, Tin Man.”

He felt a chuckle rumble through his chest at the nickname you had given him the first day you met. Din couldn’t see you through the darkness of the ship, but he was sure your smile was radiant and would surely blind him if he gazed upon it. He never meant to be the type of guy who fell in love. He always thought that he would be by himself, following his Creed until the day he died. The only future that had stretched out before him was one of loneliness and hunting. Now that the kid and you had entered his life, another path had revealed itself. One where he wouldn’t have to be alone. Instead his future was much brighter: fueled by your kisses and surrounded in the warmth you gave him.

“Me too, Cyare,” Din nudged his nose against yours, fingers grasping your chin. He tipped your face towards his and brushed his lips over yours. “Me too.”

[furiousgoldfish]

I haven't been writing a lot lately because my recovery has been taking a wild turn and in lack of anyone to talk to or therapy, I'll be writing about it here! I'll put it under a cut. There are some descriptions of recovery going very wrong, and also explanations of things I was wrong about.

So since the pandemic started I've been deteriorating badly, first I've been processing trauma extensively, having intense breakdowns and gradually it turned into depression from lack of stimulation, I've been completely alone for months without speaking to, or seeing anyone. I thought it was the isolation getting to me, and decided I just need to endure that, indulge in whatever coping I could and wait for it to end. And then things got worse.

Even as normally I was seeing some very slow progress in recovery; now it was going backwards; I was having less and less ability to get anything done, I wasn't able to force myself to do my job for months, I kept getting stuck in bed for weeks, chronic pain got so bad I couldn't move on most days. And, it only kept going worse.

My breakdowns stared to be about the present instead of the past; I couldn't handle being in pain all the time. As in before I would recover from a breakdown within a day or two, now it took 4 days to a week, and the trauma episodes would last for hours, so intense I'd find myself hoping I would die during it.

And then, I started losing all mobility and this seriously freaked me out. Everything above I've already experienced before, without long term consequences, but now my body was losing function in a way that felt permanent; I could no longer move for more than few minutes, and without extensive pain. Sometimes I would try to get up and end up collapsing and screaming from how much it hurt, I would move my arm and my whole body would experience a shock of intense pain. I was scared, I no longer knew what was going on, I was suspecting something more than ptsd was wrong. I've forced myself into physical activity, trying to fight this, I tried stretching, exercising, running, punching, and every single one of these activities made it incredibly worse. I thought I had broken my body by laying down too much. I no longer felt anything but terror and dread, and kept spiralling into scenarios of my own death; it felt inevitable, I wasn't going to survive without ability to move, nobody would take care of me.

I tried out medicine that helps relaxing, it had minimal effect. Then, in desperation to check if this was all ptsd, I attempted self harm, to see if it erases the pain. It did. It lowered the pain significantly It was a big relief, even though I wasn't happy with resorting to that, at least I could move around for a while, and I was grateful for that. Times couldn't be more desperate, and the measure felt fitting. I was still in a very bad shape, and the pain was only somewhat lessened.

It was about that time someone sent me the Complex PTSD book; I had wanted it for a while and immediately went to read it. I felt some relief reading it, and I was struck with the realization that I have not felt any relief in more than a year. It also surprised me with some of the exact descriptions of my behaviour, that I didn't realize was a symptom. I thought it was necessary and smart of me to live in hiding, to avoid interaction and never connect to anyone; it kept me safe. It turns out it's a regular freeze response to trauma; I got very called out for it. It also explains that a freeze response is what people use when anything else doesn't work, and it's true! I had been fighting, fawning and perfecting myself desperately prior to realizing that absolutely nothing helps, and froze to survive. It also described that freeze types are capable of surviving prolonged isolation because their brains produce hormones that relax the body as if they're going thru a moment before death; also true for me, I've been aware my brain does that, only I get that way too often, and it only helps me marginally because I'm too used to it.

Another thing I was very wrong about was my concept of my inner critic; I thought I had already won that battle, because I did not allow any voice in my head to criticize me (my alters can drag me affectionately), and I generally didn't experience a lot of shame or guilt for what I was going thru. The book describes inner catastrophizer, which is an extention of the critic, and it causes you to spral into extremely negative scenarios of your own demise. Now that.. was happening to me every single day, I saw myself dead around every corner. But I always thought my fears about that were perfectly reasonable. I had been tortured into suicidal state as a kid and nobody cared, I barely escaped with my life from there, I was living illegally, in hiding, without a normal job or regular income, without close friends or any family, with ptsd i couldn't get diagnosed for, without ability to work due to ptsd, in a capitalistic society where being able to work is only thing between you and dying. I had, by that point, gained many skills of survival, but it still felt very reasonable to fear that I would die if I don't get better soon.

The book described people who had families, jobs, social circles, friends and community, who spiraled into deep fear of becoming homeless and dying on the street; somehow their spiraling was exactly the same as mine, and it made me realize that it was, in fact, a symptom, and not reflection of reality. Because I was spiraling even when laying in my bed or eating or sleeping, knowing I could still afford rent for months because I arranged my life to allow myself to lay down a lot. I kept fearing my parents were coming to end my life, even when I arranged my entire existence specifically to prevent this from happening. And even if I was sick and without a real job, I had in fact, survived for 5 years after running away, I wasn't getting worse at it. My spiraling into death scenarios was a symptom of being trapped within a flashback.

The book guided me to try to challenge these fears, I immediately went for it, had a breakdown, screamed "I can't" for like an hour, had additional few breakdowns afterwards, and miraculously, recovered from them in only few hours. And then, I woke up from my flashback.

I won't describe what the flashback was, because it's too gruesome and horiffic, but it was in fact, bad enough to warrant every single bit of that pain I was experiencing, and a very convoluted, complex trauma. I was waiting to be killed in that flashback. Whats concerning is, I've been trapped in that same flashbacks for more than a year. After I broke my way out of it, it felt like I woke up to being alive for the first time in years. I got out being frozen in bed.

For 5 amazing days, I was able to do whatever I wanted. Chronic pain? I didn't know her. It was absoluely exhilirating to get to move again, I was not getting tired either, I was out there making up for months of doing nothing and I was not collapsing at any point. I felt actual joy again, and hope, and being free from pain was so extremely good, that alone made me ecstatic. I was able to create, to be organized, to take care of myself, to follow a checklist, to focus, I was a Normal Person for those 5 days.

And then, predictably, I was getting back stuck in that flashbacks and my levels of terror and dread spiked again. I went to re-read the book, and it took me a few days to really figure it out again, I don't know exactly how the book works on me, I feel like it says just the right keywords to trigger me into realizations and causes breakdowns that set me free. I found myself able to stop some spiraling, but sometimes I can't, that flashback holds immense power over me and is actually mixed with 10 other near-death scenarios that are too extreme for me to process, so this will keep happening. I did break free again, and got to experience additional few days of movement and happiness; I also started working extensively with my child alter, who was until recently extremely suicidal and dangerous to work with.

I am still kinda lost in all of this, and unsure whats going on, but I do believe I wont get trapped in a flashback again for a whole year. I became so anxious and helpless due to isolation, I forgot how to fight trauma, I forgot I actually had to do it. I used to do it constantly in the beginning, but it had made me suicidal back then to face all this, so I tried to just let it heal naturally, which I believed would eventually happen; but it didn't, I got trapped and suffered without knowing how to get out. I also believed my own spiraling was a reflection of reality and not trauma, and that fueled it a lot.

It explains very eloqently in the book how inner catastrophizing comes from being massively neglected; children who are not looked after start to realize just how unprotected they are, so their own sense of danger becomes hypersensitive and starts to lock on possible dangers everywhere. This is then further aided by media that points out every possible bad thing that could happen to a person, and the child who isn't guided by adult who could actually make a reasonable distinction between real and unlikely danger, will clock it all as absolute possibilities and be on alert. It's also fueled by the line of disasters and dangers that happen to them in the context of their own home, and for me, the strongest factor was my parents constantly convincing me that I would die without them. Even though I proved this wrong, and understand they did it precisely because they knew there was a lot of survival ability in me and that's why they worked so hard to destroy it, the fact that it was brainwashed into me under circumstances of torture still makes it impossible for me to fight it.

Maybe one day I will be able to.

I'm writing this because writing things down helps to make sense of it all, and I need to find my way thru this. I also hope someone else will see themselves in what I'm describing and it will help them find a way forward. Complex ptsd is the only book I found that speaks from the point of view of a person who survived cptsd, healed from it, and had so much experience with other traumatized people they're able to draw parallels and create patterns and statistics out if it, it was that more than anything that convinced me of their words, and gave me hope. The book also warns many times of how essential it is to reduce inner critic and catastrophizer before getting other recovery work done, other therapy might only do further harm before this work is done. It was true for me.

If you wanna read this book, here's a post with the links!

[qitwrites]

growing pains 

Fandom: Boku no hero academia 

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

OR

5 times the Bakusquad tells Bakugou they love him + the one time he says it back

(AO3)

Ashido is many things. Book smart isn’t one of them.

No really, she’s got so much going for her with her dancing, her strength, her versatile quirk, her perky attitude and even her distinctive appearance, but she’s not one for the books. She doesn’t like them, and they clearly don’t like her back.

Her grades thoroughly reflect this hate-hate relationship.

Ashido tries though, she really does- even if it’s just cramming a few days before the exams, she tries to study. Yao-momo had even gone out of her way to help, but it just doesn’t do the trick. She knows she needs to get her act together and figure this out because she can’t be a hero with a failing grade, and the anxiety and fear starts taking its toll, leaving her restless and upset.

So, when Bakugou sees the pink-haired, pink-skinned pain-in-the ass sulking in the common room, he’s horrified by the words that leave his mouth-

‘Want my help?’

Ashido doesn’t even glance at him at first, choosing to stare at the wall forlornly. She slowly looks up to catch his eye, looks around, realizes that they’re all alone, snaps her eyes back to his and her jaw drops.

‘Me?’ She points a finger at herself. ‘You’ll tutor me?’

‘What did I just say dumbass?’

‘I just- BAKUBRO, THANK YOU!’

‘Shut the fuck up and get your shit. We’ve got our work cut out for us. And raccoon eyes?’

Ashido turns to look at him, eyes bright and shiny.

‘Tell anyone about this and I’ll kick your ass.’

Ashido beams. ‘It’ll be our little secret!’

To her credit, he sees her try. She’s distracted and constantly jumping up and down, too jittery to be in one place, but she also pushes herself to focus, to really absorb the material. Bakugou’s rough with her, the way he is with Kirishima, but he’s generous with the praise too, or as generous as he’s capable of being. It makes him feel all kinds of gross, disgustingly soft and gooey things when Ashido’s eyes go warm with pride when he pays her the smallest compliment.

They work hard for the two weeks leading up to the exams. Kirishima joins them for every session in addition to the stuff he does with Bakugou separately, and between the three of them, they manage to cover most of the syllabus quite thoroughly.

The day before the exam, Bakugou sees the nerves rolling off Ashido.

‘Oye!’

She flinches and turns to look at him, throwing him a sheepish smile. ‘Yes, Blasty?’

He bristles at the nickname but recognizes that there’s no malice, no intention to mock, nothing really- just a nickname meant for a friend. She isn’t provoking him- she’s just nervous and falling back on old, comfortable habits.

He grunts, ‘You nervous?’

Ashido chuckles. ‘Course I am! Don’t wanna let you down, you know?’

Bakugou smacks her lightly on the head with a roll of practice sheets.

‘Who do you think tutored you? Don’t underestimate our sessions. Get in there and fucking obliterate those stupid tests.’

Ashido’s smile grows more confident, and she gives him a huge thumbs up, bumps hips with Kirishima and jogs over to her seat. The bell rings, and the exams begin.

The tests are not bad. Bakugou notes that a good majority of the papers contain material that he’s covered with the two properly, and works his way through the problems, the equations, the literature, all of it. In the very back of his mind, in a place he barely refuses to acknowledge, he hopes that they’re doing ok.

A week after their final exams, Bakugou is walking back from the training centre when he sees a ball of pink approaching him at an alarming speed.

‘BAKUBRO!’ Mina hollers, arms raised over her head as she outright sprints at him.

Bakugou furrows his brow, chest expanding as he gets ready to yell at her when she interrupts him-

‘I passed EVERYTHING!’ Her smile is humungous, wide and warm and genuine to its core. ‘AND I ACTUALLY DID WELL!’

Bakugou doesn’t even realize he’s smiling back, that feral, triumphant grin he has when he beats someone during training or takes down a villain. He’s proud of himself, and he realizes, with a surprising amount of acceptance, that he’s proud of her too. Really damn proud.

He’s a bit slow to realize that she hasn’t stopped barreling towards him though.

‘RACCOON EYES, DON’T YOU DA-‘

Ashido collides right into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Bakugou curses the entire way, but Ashido out-laughs him, her body shaking with joy.

‘Thank you!’ She beams down at him, pulling him into a warm hug. ‘You have no idea what this means to me.’

Bakugou wants to push her off, wants to stand up, spew out some curses and stomp away, back to his room.

But he’s also proud. He’s also happy for her. He’s also glad she did ok. That she worked hard and was determined to make him proud and that she isn’t going to get held back or expelled or something.

So, he blames it on the summer heat when he not only doesn’t push her off but rests a hand on her shoulder, gives her a quick pat, counts to 10 and THEN shoves her away.

Ashido pulls off easily enough, still laughing. She bounces back to her feet, dusts off her track pants and offers him her hand. The blonde looks at it, huffs, and takes it with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

Ashido yanks him to his feet with a strong, firm grip and her eyes go soft and warm and radiant.

‘Thanks again, Bakugou.’

‘Tch, whatever. Fuck off.’

Ashido giggles. Her phone suddenly starts ringing and she pulls it out of her pant pocket.

‘Oh, it’s my parents, I gotta take this!’ She starts walking back to the dorms. ‘Let’s go out this weekend, get some food at the mall. My treat!’

‘I don’t want to fucking do-‘

‘Bye babe. Love you!’ And with that, she’s gone, her laugh echoing around the courtyard.

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

---

Bakugou knows for a fact that Sero is 90% memes and 10% tape.

He has no scientific evidence to back up this claim of course, but he’s definitely right.  

The thing about Sero is that the longer you spend time around him, the more you can appreciate his stupid sense of humour, his great taste in mangas, and his ability to make the people around him smile.

Bakugou hates him completely, or so he tells himself. There’s no scientific evidence to prove on the contrary either, thank god.

So, with his shitty sense of humour and his easy-going nature, it’s natural to find Sero with a smile on his face. Not the kind of sunshine happiness that Kirishima has, but more of a mellow, easy joy. His body language exudes a relaxed vibe, immediately making the people around him lower their guard, and he shares a love for healthy food with Bakugou, earning him the blonde’s begrudging respect.

Bakugou finds the tape hero sitting at the kitchen island on a Tuesday night. It’s past Bakguou’s bedtime, but he’s hungry enough to warrant a midnight snack, though he’s not expecting any company. Turns out, neither is Sero.

‘Oh, hey.’

Immediately, Bakugou’s shackles are up. Because Sero isn’t smiling. He isn’t teasing him, there’s no humorous lilt in his voice, no mischievous glint in his eyes, nothing. He’s hollow almost, his skin pale and his eyes sunken in. Even his breathing seems off, too fast and too shallow all at once.

‘What are you doing up?’ Bakugou asks, quirking a brow.

‘Could ask you the same.’

Sero is barely looking at him. He has his phone in a vice-grip, and he looks like he’s going to throw up.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

Sero jolts at that, eyes darting all across the room, and he can’t seem to look at Bakugou. Can’t seem to sit still or calm down. Bakugou can taste his anxiety, and it’s making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He feels protectiveness - strong and vicious and ridiculously overpowering - all the way in his toes.

‘Nothing, ha, I’m fine.’

‘Tapeface, I’m not fucking blind. If you don’t want to fucking talk about it, fine. Just don’t lie to my face.’

Sero finally looks at him, and he looks lost and scared and helpless. Bakugou’s never seen him like this, and the protectiveness surges.

‘I- I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. I’m not sure, you know, how to talk about it. I don’t even know what to do.’

Bakugou grunts to show him he’s listening before turning around and slowly pulling things out of the fridge. He remembers Sero’s love for fruits and soy and all things healthy and decides to make some Mapo Tofu. Not because Sero will like it or anything, the blonde just really likes Mapo Tofu, ok?

Bakugou begins the task of pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets and gets to prepping the ingredients. He keeps himself busy and fills the space with the comforting sounds and smells of food because he is an expert at being unable to talk about his feelings. To articulate his thoughts sans anger and rage and panic. And he finds that it's easier, even if only a little, to talk when the focus isn’t just on you. When there’s stuff going on, when there are other focal points. It’s less scary.

‘My mom is getting surgery.’

Bakugou pauses in his movements. He stays still long enough to indicate to Sero that he’s listening but goes back to work so the focus is still on the food, so Sero will continue to speak. His voice is uncharacteristically soft and so pained, and something in Bakugou churns horribly. He works more softly, so he can hear everything.

‘She’s had medical issues all my life, so it’s nothing unexpected. She gets surgery pretty often, but it’s never any less scary.’

Bakugou can’t even imagine what that’s like, to have a parent regularly undergo medical treatment and surgical procedures.

‘It’s the first one since I got to the dorms. I’ve never been this far away, and I can’t-‘ Sero’s voice chokes. He breathes deeply and continues ‘-I can’t calm down. I begged them to let me come home but they refused, said I need to see this UA thing through, do my own thing, all that.’

Bakugou continues to cook. The kitchen smells warm and spicy, and the sound of sizzling spices saturates the space between them, and he thinks he can sense Sero calm down a little.

‘I get it. I do. They're right and logically, I can accept that. I just. Fuck, this is horrible.’

Bakugou doesn’t offer any words of comfort or advice because what does he know? He has no idea what Sero is going through, and anything he says might sound insincere or plain insensitive. So instead, he cooks. He cooks the meat, mixes in the spices, and tastes the broth. He works fast and efficient, his movements practised. When it’s done, he plates up two bowls, and sets one in front of Sero, taking the seat next to him. Sero’s at the head of the table, so Bakugou ends up on his right.

Sero stares at the bowl and then looks up at Bakugou.

‘Mom makes me Mapo Tofu when I’m upset,’ he grumbles by way of an explanation. The blonde proceeds to douse his serving in extra chilli oil and peppercorns because he made the overall dish at a much more tolerable spice level. NOT for Sero or anything, just because. You know. For the fuck of it.

Sero stares at the bowl of food silently before picking up the spoon.

‘I haven’t told the rest because I couldn’t find a way to talk about it.’

Before Bakugou can figure out a way to respond to that, Sero continues, ‘I’m glad you know, is not so bad to have someone to talk to. Or at, I guess.’

Sero digs in, and after the first bite, his eyes light up.

‘Holy fuck,’ he breathes, ‘this is so good.’

Bakugou smirks, digging into his own bowl and humming in agreement. It’s probably the best Tofu he’s made so far.

‘Shit man,’ Sero says in between big bites, ‘I freaking love this. And you. But mostly this. But also, you. Like 65-35? Maybe 60-40.’

The blonde snorts and Sero’s grin gets wider. They eat in relative silence, with the occasional comment from Sero and the sounds of them kicking each other playfully under the table. When they’re done, Bakugou rinses the bowls in the sink and joins Sero on the couch in front of the TV. It’s gotten ridiculously late, but he doesn’t want to leave him alone.

Sero rubs the back of his neck. ‘I uh, I don’t want to go to my room right now.’

Bakugou leans over the couch, grabs two throw blankets from a bin nearby and flings the yellow one at Sero.

‘Play that cool documentary on speedcubing,’ he barks out, tucking himself under his own red blanket. Sero gives him a wide-eyed look before navigating to the right piece on Netflix. He gets comfortable under the throw, and they fall asleep to the sound of people solving Rubix cubes at inhumane speeds.

Shoji finds them like that in the morning and gently shakes them awake. Sero’s phone has a message from his parents, telling him everything’s alright, and that’s the only reason Bakugou forgives him for gathering the blonde in a big, warm hug before the sun is even up.

He crawls into his own bed 5 minutes later, and his heart feels lighter than ever.

Maybe an antacid will help with all of these stupid, horrid feels.

---

Bakugou doesn’t like people.

As a general rule of thumb, he dislikes them almost instantly. People are loud. They’re invasive, annoying, clingy, and they never smell good.

People are also cruel and selfish and use you as they please.

Bakugou doesn’t like people; until he comes to UA.

Because the people in UA are loud, invasive, annoying, clingy, and never smell great either.

But they’re kind. They’re smart, driven, capable, funny. They work hard, they play hard, and they’re mostly selfless. They don’t flock to him simply because he’s got a great quirk or something. Truth be told, they’re all pretty formidable themselves. Grossly underdeveloped and years away from being at his level, but Bakugou knows that with time, all of his classmates will reach insane heights. They wouldn’t be in UA otherwise.

So Bakugou tries. Mostly because his stupid squad won’t leave him alone, but he tries.

When people hang out in the common rooms, he’s downstairs with them. If there’s a stupid Christmas party, or it's someone’s birthday, or the class wants to go out shopping or to play in the pool, Bakugou tags along with them more often than not.

There is a compromise though. With a social battery as small and easily drained as his, it isn’t uncommon for the class to find Bakugou chilling in a corner with his headphones in, simply taking in the vibe rather than actively participating. There’s no bad blood over this though- they kinda get it. Not everyone is as friendly or as vibrant as Kirishima or Kaminari. They’re honestly just glad he’s there at all, so they do their best to make sure he’s included while letting him set his own pace.

Bakugou’s in one of his recharging phases when he spots Jirou.

The earphone jack hero is wandering around, looking a little worse for wear. There are people from both 1A and 1B milling around, talking and laughing in the common areas, and the energy in the room is almost stifling. The blonde doesn’t miss the way Jirou covers her ears at one point.

From what he can tell, Jirou is an ambivert. She enjoys the company of others often, but she’s also perfectly fine being on her own, with a book and some music to keep her company. Right now, she seems exhausted, her own social battery running dangerously low.

Bakugou catches her eye. She gives him a small wave and he sticks his tongue out at her, pulling the skin under his eye down on one side. It’s petty and dumb, but he sees her huff a laugh and slowly meander towards him. Bakugou goes back to closing his eyes and tipping his head back, enjoying the familiar texture of the common room couch and the sound of the music in his ears drowning out everything else.

He feels the couch dip next to him, close but not too close. Jirou doesn’t touch him, doesn’t bother him, doesn’t shake or poke or otherwise engage him. She just sits there, stock-still.

When his eyes slip open again, Bakugou sees that she’s got her hands in her lap and she’s mimicking his posture, comfortably seated on the couch with her head tipped back. Her signature headphones are nowhere in sight though, and her eyes are open and red.

Distantly, Bakugou wonders if she’s forgotten them. That would suck ass- he’d be lost without his own pair. And Jirou’s relationship with music is on a level no one else can fathom- it’s literally part of her DNA, her quirk, her identity.

Bakugou isn’t sure what compels him to do it- maybe it’s because they both like bugging the hell out of Kaminari. Maybe it’s because Jirou is no-nonsense when it comes to hero work, which he can respect. Maybe it’s because, beneath all the teasing and smart-ass comments, Jirou has often looked out for him, advocating for the need for personal space when the idiot brigade drains him.

Whatever the reason, Bakugou finds himself pulling out his right earbud and holding it out for her, a silent invitation.

It takes maybe 4 seconds for him to feel the bud lifted gently from his fingers. Jirou is careful to not jar his own earbud when she adjusts his in her right ear, and Bakugou moves to raise the volume a little.

It is a bit annoying, yes, to have one ear open to the noise around them, but it’s not unbearable- far from it. He’s got some reggae on right now, a genre he indulges in when he needs to calm down and just relax his body.

When he turns to look at her, Jirou’s got a smile on her lips. Her feet are tapping to the beat effortlessly, and her fingers are mapping out the tune on an invisible fretboard. She opens her eyes and looks over at Bakugou, and her smile widens, crinkling the edges of her eyes.

Thank you, she mouths, flashing him another blinding smile. It makes Bakugou huff.

‘Whatever,’ he murmurs under his breath. The look in her eyes could not be mistaken for anything else- unadulterated gratitude and a heavy dose of love.

These gooey feelings are going to give him an upset stomach, Bakugou’s calling it right now.

---

Bakugou doesn’t even notice the pattern till Kirishima points it out to him.

It goes a little something like this- Bakugou feels off during training, or maybe doesn’t do as well as he’d expected on a test or project, or something just doesn’t go right. So naturally, he’s in a piss poor mood.

The squad’s antics don’t do much for him then, doesn’t really raise his spirits or anything, and he usually goes back to his room, slamming his door shut and pacing around like a caged tiger.

And that’s when his phone rings. The caller ID reads Pikachu.

‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘Bakubrooooooooo,’ Kaminari croons, and Bakugou wants to break something.

‘Fuck of-‘

‘You ever wonder if cereal is soup?’

All the fight drains out of Bakugou, leaving only confusion in its place. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, I mean, is cereal like a sub-category of soup or something? Wouldn’t that make sense?’

‘Dunce-face, what the fuck? That doesn’t even make sense? You don’t cook cereal?’

‘Yes, but you could eat it with a soup spoon. That should count for something.’

‘I hate you. So much.’

‘Aww, love you too bro. Ok, gotta go, byee~’

Bakugou stares at his phone, shocked and confused and annoyed.

But no longer angry. No longer pacing about, no longer in a foul mood.

Another time, after a particularly bad bout of training, ending with aching forearms and snarls of frustration because he needs to get better but it’s not happening fast enough, Bakugou wants nothing more than to scream into a pillow and maybe eat some hot sauce.

Again, he gets a call from Kaminari.

‘Wha-‘

‘Do you ever just think about pizza and cry?’

‘Huh?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I think humanity reached its peak when it invented pizza, you know? And that makes me cry. Such perfection.’ He can picture Kaminari making a chef’s kiss gesture, and it pisses him off.

‘This is why you called me? Are you fucking with me?’

‘It’s really an honest question Bakubro. Don’t you ever tremble at the sheer magnificence of pizza?’

‘Delete my number.’

‘No can do. Gotta go, love you, bye!’

And again, he’s gone, just as quickly as he arrived. And again, Bakugou is left feeling baffled and miffed but no longer angry, no longer itching to scream and claw and break something.

He still eats some hot sauce though.

Kirishima is with him after one of his bad days, sitting on his bed and trying to pacify him.

‘It’s ok, it-‘

‘Shut up, Shitty hair! Fuck-‘ His hands tremble with the need to just do something, vent somehow, to break the tension in his spine. He doesn’t want to snap at Kirishima, which is why he never lets him tag along when he stomps away to his room after a bad day, but the redhead can be ridiculously caring sometimes and Bakugou doesn’t want to hurt him.

He doesn’t know what else to do though.

‘Shit, I- you need to leave, get out before I-‘

His phone rings. Pikachu, it says.

‘Dunce-‘

‘I’ve decided that, in the event of an apocalypse, you and I are teaming up together.’

‘Wha-‘

‘I know you’d much rather team up with Kirishima, cause he’s so strong and handsome and he’s your best friend, but he’ll be fine. I, on the other hand, will die immediately. So, it’s just you and me Blasty.’

‘Fuck right off, why would I-‘

‘We could name ourselves the atomic blondes.’ Kaminari suddenly makes a whooping noise. ‘Damn, that’s perfect Bakugou! I gotta print tee shirts right now, we’d look amazing.’

‘I am not wearing anything that matches you, miss me with that shit.’

‘I promise it’ll be black, and like, soft, with skull patterns or something.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I gotta go anyway, but you’re stuck with me Bakubro. Anyway, bye, love you!’

They end the call, or rather, Kaminari cuts it before Bakugou can get an insult or two in there, and when he looks back at Kirishima, he sees a big, goofy smile on his face.

‘What?’ he grumbles, tossing his phone on his bed.

‘He does that often?’

‘What, call me and say really random, really stupid shit? Yeah, all the damn time. I need to block his ass.’

‘Kinda sweet though, huh?’

Bakugou cocks his head. ‘What’re you talking about? It’s a fucking pain.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t seem as mad anymore.’

‘I-‘ And yet again, Bakugou is disgruntled and confused and irritated at himself, for getting swept up by Kaminari’s pace, but he’s not angry. All the fight has mostly bled out of his limbs, and he feels more or less normal if only a little on edge. Nothing too difficult to deal with.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Bakugou breathes. Kirishima’s smile is a tad wider, and he scoots over on the bed, making some space for Bakugou while he pulls out his laptop, ready to load up some shitty videos.

‘Tell him about this and I will never speak to you again,’ Bakugou grumbles finally, settling in next to Kirishima, leaning most of his weight into the redhead.

He feels Kirishima’s chest rumble with laughter.

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

Bakugou wonders if anyone’s ever tried to harness the power of feels to run turbines or some shit, because this stuff’s turning out to be overwhelmingly powerful.

---

In terms of quirk compatibility, Bakugou has found his perfect match in Kirishima.

The blonde’s quirk is perfect for offence. Granted, it’s exceptionally versatile and he can handle his own just fine, but with Kirishima, he feels invincible.

Red Riot is unmoving, unabashed, and utterly unbreakable. He knows Bakugou inside out, knows his moves, his tactics, his signals. They fight like a well-oiled machine, adjusting and improvising with ease. Fighting alongside Kirishima, alongside Red Riot, is like breathing. They almost dance around each other, and between taking down villains and conducting search and rescue, they’ve made themselves a formidable hero pair even before graduation.

So, it’s not uncommon for them to be paired up even when they’re working and interning under different heroes. They’re that good.

They’re on a mission together when things take a turn for the absolute worst.

Most of the pros are down, caught in the crossfire or too busy protecting the civilians to engage in combat. There are fires blazing everywhere, smoke congesting the air around them so much that Bakugou can barely breathe.

Riot stands next to him, breathing slightly laboured but otherwise unhurt. Bakugou has a cut on his forehead, blood running down his face, but he feels ok. Good enough to rush into battle and do his part in subduing these shitty villains.

But experience has taught him better than to run in with no plan, even when he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to rush into the action. Experience has taught him that without a moment to catch his breath and restructure the plan to achieve their goals, he’ll be doing a lot more harm than good. It’s frustrating as all hell, but he’s a hero in training. You learn this stuff on the job.

‘What do you think?’ He asks the redhead.

Kirishima straightens out his back, hands on his hips. ‘The elemental quirk user will probably be the biggest pain in the ass.’

Bakugou nods. ‘It seemed like a water quirk. We need to get her away from the buildings, away from the piping. There was also that shitty smoke user, he’s the reason the air is barely breathable.’

‘Yao-momo’s masks would’ve come so in handy right now,’ Kirishima muses with a smile.

Bakugou grunts in begrudging agreement but doesn’t comment further on it. ‘There should be three other villains, all with high-level quirks. I’m not sure which other pros will free up to help, but we have to isolate them, move them towards the construction site,’ Bakugou points somewhat East of their current location, ‘as per the plan.’

Kirishima nods in agreement and catches Bakugou’s eyes and the blonde’s breath hitches.

They don’t talk about it, but here’s the other thing- they’re probably going to get hurt, maybe even fatally. Not because they’re weak or they want to or anything, but the villains seem endless. They’re fucking strong too, and even with an army of heroes, the villains seem to come at them harder and faster the longer this battle goes on. Bakugou can feel his own stamina start to vain, and he knows Kirishima will hit his limit too, slower than the blonde but still. There will come a point when Kirishima’s skin won’t harden and Bakugou’s blasts will lower in intensity till all he can manage are sparks.

And even then, he knows they will fight with their fists and their bodies and their teeth. That’s what heroes do- they put everything on the line, for the people and for justice.

More often than not, they lose their lives for it.

Well, for what’s it worth, Bakugou could not have asked for a better partner by his side in such shitty, dire times. Kirishima’s soft smile seems to reflect his sentiments.

‘Hey, Katsuki?’

The hero code of conduct frowns upon the use of personal names in costume. You have a hero name for a reason, and it helps preserve your sense of anonymity and privacy, even if it’s pretty useless at its job.

For Kirishima to name him, and first name him at that, just goes to show how serious the situation is.

‘Yeah, Ei?’

‘Make me some hotpot when we get back, ok?’

Bakugou inhales deeply, coughs because of the stupid smoke, and his fists clench tight enough to leave crescent moons in his palms.

‘Only if I’m in the mood, Shitty Hair,’ Bakugou retorts, his voice far too soft for the King Explosion Murder hero. But that’s ok- here is only Eijirou, Katsuki, and the world burning around them. Soft is ok here.

Kirishima’s familiar belly-deep laughter gives him a boost of energy.

‘Let’s kick some ass.’

Bakugou feels, for one glorious moment, like he can take on the entire world.

They take their first few steps before Kirishima steps in front of him, blocking off his path. When he looks up to catch his eyes again, the blonde’s protests and insults die in his throat.

Kirishima’s gaze is trained on him as he slowly reaches forward and grabs Bakugou’s right forearm with his right hand, fingers digging into the muscle. It’s a firm, solid grip, reassuring and warm and so very familiar. His eyes are bright, bold, and wine-red. And they’re so full of love, brimming with the kind of affection, respect, and adoration that Bakugou never thought he’d be subjected to. Kirishima opens his mouth as if to say everything his body is already telling Bakugou.

‘I know,’ Bakugou interrupts, voice hoarse. Because he does know. The redhead is his best friend in the entire world, his person, his rock. ‘I know, Ei.’ His own fingers wrap around Kirishima’s wide forearm, gripping tight with calloused, too hot fingers.

Kirishima flashes him another soft smile past his headgear before letting go. He waits for Bakugou to catch up and they walk together, side by side, equals.

When they see the first villain, doing her best to uproot an entire building, Bakugou casts one last look at Kirishima, sees his positively feral smile, and charges with the force of a wild beast.

There are no feels there, just adrenaline, rage, and trust so thick, even concrete would crack under its weight.

---

When you’re training to be a hero, things can go wrong.

Accidents happen. People don’t move out of the way fast enough, or there’s a domino effect of some sort, or the aftershocks of one attack reaches a place it shouldn’t.

Bakugou’s switched up his training partner, choosing to train with Iida to fine-tune his aim and work with a fast-moving target. His blasts hit the mark sometimes, but not always. The gym is huge, so they aren’t really risking anyone with their training; at least, that’s how it is for a while.

But then, Bakugou takes aim and blasts at Iida, Iida dodges swiftly, the attack takes out a portion of the rock formations in the gym, and suddenly there’s a landslide headed right at Hagakure and Kaminari.

Bakugou doesn’t even think about it; his body moves before his brain catches up, and he’s suddenly in front of the two, arms raised to obliterate the debris when he realizes that a portion of the mountain had been laced with explosives for someone else’s training, and his quirk would make things exponentially worse. With the last few moments he has, Bakugou shoves Chargebolt and Invisible Girl away roughly and gets buried under the avalanche of debris.

The last thing he thinks he hears is a chorus of voices yelling Bakugou before his vision goes black.

---

And that’s what Bakugou remembers when he wakes up to white. White walls, white curtains, white sheets.

Unfortunately, the noise isn’t white. It’s annoyingly and stupidly loud.

‘There are too many of you here,’ Recovery girl says, sounding exasperated. ‘He will be fine, he just needs to regain his strength.’

‘Sensei, a whole section of a mountain fell on him, how can he just be fine?’ Jirou questions, sounding severely distressed.

‘Plus, this happened while he was saving me,’ Kaminari chips in. ‘I’m not leaving him.’

‘I have a secret healing quirk of my own,’ Ashido bullshits. ‘He’ll feel so much better when he hears my voice. I have to stay, it’ll be a crime for me to go.’

‘I can tape his wounds?’ Sero offers sheepishly.

He can hear Recovery Girl’s sigh from the other end of the room. ‘And you?’

‘He’s my person.’ Kirishima says it like it’s enough of an explanation.

Recovery Girl clicks her tongue. ‘Overdramatic, the lot of you. Play rock paper scissors or something, but I’m only allowing one of you to stay. The rest of you are going back to the dorms.’

The room bursts into noise again and Bakugou’s head feels like it’s splitting open.  

‘HOLY FUCK, SHUT UP!’ The blonde roars from his bed. ‘I LOVE YOU GUYS, BUT IF YOU DON’T STOP YELLING, I WILL BODILY THROW YOU ALL OUT THE DAMN WINDOW.’

His own yelling does more harm than good to his throbbing head, but the noises stop completely so at least it did its job.

He’s alone for a blissful second before a crowd of five idiots surroundS his bed. Kirishima’s face peers into his, smile wide and eyes crinkled around the edges.

‘Hi, how you feeling?’

‘Like someone ran me through a garbage disposal and then put me in a microwave.’

‘Such details, much prose,’ Sero quips, earning him a chop from Ashido.

‘Blasty my love, can we do anything?’

‘Yeah, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.’

Jirou squeezes his calf from the foot of the bed. ‘You gave us a real scare there.’

‘I’m fine,’ Bakugou grumbles.

‘He will be,’ Recovery Girl reiterates, pushing them away and standing next to him. ‘I’ll do another bout of healing once you’ve recovered some of your strength. You can go back to the dorms before bed.’ She turns to his classmates. ‘Only one of you.’

They look at one another and everyone but Kirishima starts shuffling away reluctantly.

Kaminari lingers behind before quickly giving Bakugou a gentle hug. ‘Thanks,’ he whispers into his ear before pulling off and following after the others. Bakugou rolls his eyes and curls onto his side, yelping when he puts some weight on his tender side.

‘Easy,’ Kirishima mumbles, easing him onto his back. When Bakugou is finally comfortable, Kirishima drags one of the chairs lined up against the wall next to the bed and plops down, exhaling. Bakugou opens a tired eye to look at him and sees Kirishima with a stupidly smug smile on his face.

‘What?’

‘You love us, huh?’

Bakugou had hoped they hadn’t caught that, even though he’d screamed it loud enough for the entire building to have heard. Apparently, a cliff falling on you doesn’t stop you from blushing.

‘Fuck off, you were hearing things,’ he says anyway, because what is Bakugou if not in full denial about so many things?

Kirishima’s laugh is loving not mocking, and he puts his hand on Bakugou’s elbow.

‘Good to have you back Kats.’ He gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘Get some rest huh? I’ll be here when you wake up.’

Bakugou gives him a weak glare, but he can’t muster enough rage and anger because the absolute worst part is, he meant it. Because apparently being a rage-filled hero in training doesn’t make one impervious to feels.

Bakugou feels so betrayed by his own thoughts and emotions.

But right as he loses consciousness, he finds himself wondering if he minds all that much and he decides he doesn’t, almost not at all. The answer doesn’t really surprise him either.

He falls asleep to a cool breeze brushing over his skin and the sound of Kirishima humming under his breath.