#shrapnel reacts

[inkdrinkerworld]

Logan and reader fighting about one of them being reckless in the field? 👀

Went with Logan x Scott’s sister!reader for this🤭 angst to fluff, canon level violence, Scott and Logan mentioning death but no actual death

“You were stupid and reckless! How the fuck did you think that was smart?” Logan’s voice rings out in the jet, his heart racing as he looks at the many cuts and bruises all over you.

“You do stupid shit all the time Logan. I had to make a call, and if I had to do it again I would.” Your voice is steady even as Scott cuts you a look.

Sure, jumping between two of the Sentinels was stupid, but you banked on Scott being near you and your own molecular alteration powers to fry them- and you were right.

Your brother wouldn’t even look you in the eyes, he kept his eyes on the gashes on your body. The wounds that soaked through your suit and had you pressing onto them.

“You could’ve fucking died. Do you get that?” Logan wants to punch something, there’s too much anger in his body right now and he needs to dispel it.

He’s hoping that something else pops out so he can jump out of the jet and attack it. He needs to do something with his worry other than yell and scream.

You roll your eyes, turning to look at him and hissing as you do, the gash on your side bleeding a bit more.

Logan reaches for you, claws out and slashing away part of your suit to get a good look at it. For a split second, even when you’re arguing, you can’t help but think about how much he cares for you.

What he finds is mottled skin, purple and black bruises forming around your cuts. “Fucking kidding me.”

Scott gulps a breath, his eyes sting. “I think there’s a first aid kit somewhere. I’ll go look for it.” Your brother’s voice is rough from unshed tears and you want to comfort him, but he’s gone before you can say anything.

As Logan presses his hand into the wound to keep it from bleeding, you sigh and touch his arm.

“I can die at any time Logan. It doesn’t matter if we’re fighting Sentinels or if I’m in the school. I can die at any time.” You’re not good at dispelling concern, but you also won’t apologize for doing what you did.

“Bub, that already scares the fuck outta me. Scares the fuck outta Scott even if he’s acting like he’s not affected. I’d burn the fucking world down if you died, do you get that? If I thought I could just even the score a little bit, I wouldn’t fucking hesitate princess.”

You mull over his words, thinking about how you’d react if something happened to him or Scott. How broken and lost you’d feel if you lost them and you sigh.

“I won’t apologize for doing reckless shit. Our entire job is reckless shit,” Logan huffs, a little smile playing on his lips. “But I understand. I’d do the same if something happened to you or him. I’m sorry you were worried.”

It’s the best he’ll get and he’s taking it. Logan’s lips press against your forehead and temple.

Scott comes back with all the necessary supplies, “I’ll stitch you up.” He says softly, Logan giving you one last kiss before going to clean all the shrapnel out of him.

Scott doesn’t say anything for a while, only when he’s pulling the last stitch through does he mutter; “I’m glad you didn’t die but please don’t make me look at you do that shit again.”

Scott almost never gets teary, so to hear the rawness in his voice has you stunned. “I won’t Scotty,” you hug him as best you can with such fresh stitches. “But I knew you had me. Knew you wouldn’t let me die.”

He laughs, flicking your forehead. “You’re a piece of shit.”

You shrug, smiling even wider when Logan comes out the bathroom with a change of clothes for you. “C’mon bub, let me clean you up and get you outta that damn suit.”

[opencommunion]

"Issam Hajjaj, 27, survived the massacre and spoke to Mondoweiss. 'We were running away from bombing and killing. In all directions, there was either bombing, an Israeli tank, or Israeli gunmen shooting at anyone in their path,' he explained. 'While we were running away from death, I saw dismembered bodies on the road as a result of the bombing, and I saw those who left their loved ones under the rubble and fled to save the rest of the family. We did not know from which direction death would come for us.' ... 'During our escape, we saw bodies being loaded into cars heading to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital. Women were screaming in the streets, and children were crying and screaming,' Hajjaj recounted. 'I saw a family that was fleeing together. A shell fell on the father and killed him in front of his wife and young daughter. After the mother got up and carried her daughter, she discovered that her husband was killed; she left him on the ground and fled to save her daughter and herself.' Hajjaj explained that the targeted location was two buildings near Al Awda Hospital in the Nuseirat camp, but to reach these two buildings, the Israeli army destroyed an entire residential square. 

... Tawfiq Abu Youssef, an 11-year-old child, sits in Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis where he was referred to for treatment. His face is bloodied and his eyes are swollen blue after he was pulled from under the rubble of their home in Nuseirat. He says he doesn’t know how he escaped death. ... 'Before our house was bombed, we saw people in the street across from our house on the ground cut up. We saw missiles hitting the people fleeing in the streets, how they cut them off, and how the planes bombed everything moving in the streets – cars and people. The street was full of people, and suddenly, all of them… They were on the ground, and smoke and blood filled the place. Everywhere we looked, shelling and shrapnel were flying.' ... The operation was carried out near a central market, where Amjad Abu Laban, 43, was selling some food items on the road. He survived death but suffered various injuries to his hand and foot. He says that everything started at once: planes, tanks, shooting, and people were in the middle of bombing and death and did not know how to react or where to turn.

'Intense bombardment began in several areas in front of us, around us, and behind us, and people began falling to the ground by the dozens near Al-Awda Hospital in the Nuseirat camp. Before our eyes, we saw bodies being torn apart and scattered on the roads, and we saw soldiers hidden in civilian clothes and in people’s cars running and killing everyone they met on their way without distinguishing between a child, a woman, a young person, or an old person. We saw the bodies of our brothers cut up, without heads, lying on the ground,' Abu Laban told Mondoweiss. 'These massacres that occurred before my eyes cannot be described.'

In the same hospital, Mahmoud Al-Hawar, 27, lies on his back as a result of an injury to his leg. Al-Hawar witnessed the massacre as he bravely attempted to save his family and neighbors from the bombing. 'The planes bombed our neighbors’ house, and there was a girl under the rubble screaming to be saved. I went with my friends to try to save her, but the rubble was heavy, and we could not dig her out or even lift it to reach that girl, so we waited until the civil defense team arrived. A large number of young men gathered to try to rescue them. But the planes bombed us,' he told Mondoweiss.

Al-Hawar recounted that he felt the missile hit him and his group of friends and they were thrown to the ground. Minutes later, Mahmoud regained consciousness and found himself covered in blood and saw his friends next to him, on the verge of death. 'Before we were bombed, if I told you that I saw more than 10 drones above our heads, you would not believe it. We were looking at the sky and did not know what was happening.' After the bombing, Al-Hawar tried to stand up to save himself and his friends. 'I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t. I was covered in blood. I looked at my leg and it was cut off. I looked at my best friend next to me, and I found him taking his last breath.'

Their injuries were all severe, and when someone arrived who could take them to the hospital, the five friends were placed on top of each other in a small transport truck, with Al-Hawar underneath them all. 'I was in pain from my injury, but I was feeling more pain because I could hear my friends pronouncing their martyrdom and taking their last breaths. All my friends were dying above me, and I was hearing and feeling everything. They were all killed. Some of them were martyred on the road before my eyes, and some of them died later.'

Al-Hawar agreed that the scenes he saw of the dead in the streets will never be forgotten. 'I have not slept since the incident. I cannot sleep. I cannot forget anything I witnessed and saw. I cannot forget the people who were running in panic and fear, searching for their relatives and families amidst the destruction and dismembered bodies.' Rescue teams are still working in Nuseirat with limited capabilities in an attempt to recover the bodies that remained under the rubble. Many residents remain missing due to the massive bombing in the area, and the many homes that were demolished, some on top of their residents. Many others were killed in the market as they tried to meet the needs of their families."

[storiesfromgaza]

It is very important to read this and share it

Today the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor Observatory stated that Israel dropped over 25,000 tons of explosives on the Gaza Strip as part of its ongoing extensive war since October 7th, equivalent to two nuclear bombs.

The Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Observatory, based in Geneva, highlighted the Israeli army's acknowledgment of targeting more than 12,000 objectives in the Gaza Strip, setting a record in the number of bombs dropped, surpassing 10 kilograms of explosives per person.

With the advancements in bomb quantity and effectiveness, while maintaining a consistent amount of explosives, the quantity dropped on Gaza could be equivalent to twice the power of a nuclear bomb.

Additionally, Israel deliberately employs a mixture known as "RDX" (Research Department Explosive) commonly referred to as "the science of complete explosives," with a power equal to 1.34 times that of TNT.

This means that the destructive power of the explosives dropped on Gaza exceeds what was dropped on Hiroshima, taking into account that the city of Hiroshima covers an area of 900 square kilometers, while Gaza's area is no more than 360 square kilometers.

Furthermore, Israel has been documented using internationally banned weapons in its attacks on the Gaza Strip, particularly cluster and white phosphorus bombs. White phosphorus is a highly toxic incendiary substance that rapidly reacts with oxygen, causing severe second and third-degree burns. The Euro-Mediterranean team has documented cases of injuries among the victims of Israeli attacks that resemble the effects of dangerous cluster bombs, as they contain small high-explosive submunitions designed to penetrate the body and cause internal explosions, resulting in severe burns that melt the victims' skin and sometimes lead to death. These submunitions also cause peculiar swelling and toxin exposure in the body, including transparent shrapnel that does not appear in X-ray images.

The Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Observatory has emphasized that Israel's destructive, indiscriminate, and disproportionate attacks constitute a clear violation of the laws of war and the rules of international humanitarian law, which stipulate the obligation to protect civilians in all circumstances and under any conditions. Killing civilians is considered a war crime in both international and non-international armed conflicts and can rise to the level of a crime against humanity.

The 1899 and 1907 Hague Conventions, along with the 1949 Geneva Convention in its latest formulation, established fundamental human rights during wartime to limit the deadly health consequences of internationally banned weapons, some of which could lead to the "genocide" of civilians.

Article 25 of the Hague Regulations concerning the Laws and Customs of War on Land prohibits "attacking or bombarding towns, villages, dwellings, or buildings which are not defended."

Article 53 of the Fourth Geneva Convention states that "any destruction by the occupying power of real or personal property belonging individually or collectively to private persons, or to the State, or to other public authorities, or to social or cooperative organizations, is prohibited, except where such destruction is rendered absolutely necessary by military operations."

According to Article 147 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, the destruction of property that is not justified by military necessity and on a large scale is considered a serious violation that requires prosecution. Such practices are also classified as war crimes under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.

The Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Observatory has called for the formation of an independent international investigative committee to assess the magnitude of explosives and internationally banned weapons used and continue to be used by Israel against civilians in the Gaza Strip.

This committee would hold accountable those responsible, including those who issued orders, made plans, executed actions, and took measures aimed at achieving justice for Palestinian victims.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Just Protective

Jay Halstead x Reader

When the intelligence unit has to work a case with major crimes where your ex fiance just so happens to run the unit tasked to the case Jay begins to overthink every interaction between you and your ex. He's never been a jealous man but he knows for certain your ex is always just too damn close to you.

You woke up and felt an arm around your waist holding you back against a broad chest and smiled sleepily. Trying to get up before Jay was impossible, the man slept too light and when he did sleep he held onto you like he was afraid if he didn't you would float off.

"Jay?" You called lightly, turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. His eyes were still closed, long lashes kissing the freckles that were splashed across his cheeks. He was always fucking gorgeous but like this? Actually relaxed and peaceful? You'd never seen a better sight.

After a moment a smile slowly slipped onto his face "Baby, you do know staring is a little creepy" you faked hurt, pretending to try to squirm away from him "If I'm creepy then let me go" he pulled you back closer, shifting the two of you so that you were now on your back and he was holding himself up over you with one hand while the other grabbed your chin to force your eyes up to his "Never" he swore before his lips brushed gently against yours.

A light moan escaped your lips when his tongue slipped past them and he groaned against your mouth. Your hands moved up his chest then over his shoulders to trace the muscles in his upper back, nails biting in just enough to make him roll his hips down against yours. He broke away from your lips and looked down at you with a smirk "Now baby, we've talked about this. If you want something just use your words princess"

God you would've killed anyone else for calling you princess but when Jay did it made you fucking throb. You cut your eyes towards the clock and saw there was still nearly two hours before you had to be into work. You looked back up at him and felt your heart flip from having the full attention of those blue eyes on you "I want you" you whispered and his smirk only got deeper. He leaned down to let his lips trail across your neck, clearly enjoying the little shiver it made your body give "You've got me so you're gonna have to do better than that"

He bit down on the top of your right breast, just hard enough you moaned and arched your back off the bed. "What do you need sweetheart? Just tell me and it's yours" he spoke with his mouth against your flesh, teasing every inch he could gain access to. "I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me. Please" when you added the please he closed his eyes and groaned lightly "Fuck baby you know how to get me"

You followed Jay into the precinct, smiling at Trudy when she only told you good morning and Jay cleared his throat "I'm right here Sarge!"

You laughed and patted his shoulder "It's ok honey. We see you. I'm just her favorite" you winked at Trudy then headed for the stairs leading up to intelligence.

Jay grumbled behind you "You're everyone's favorite" you looked over your shoulder at him when you got to the palm scanner and grinned "But just remember you're my favorite" he stepped up to open the gate when it popped and whispered in your ear "Especially when I do that thing you were begging for?"

You felt your body react even before he left a kiss just below your ear and gently tapped your lower back "C'mon Detective. We gotta get to work" "You're horrible you know that?" You laughed and he shrugged "You must like it"

Around ten a call came in to summon the unit to the north side. A small grade explosive had gone off in a shopping complex leaving four dead, twelve injured and numerous businesses completely gone.

________________

You walked through the debris with Hailey as Matt marked out the numerous spots shrapnel had hit from the makeshift IED. Whoever it was had used a pressure cooker hooked up to a cell phone. They'd packed the pressure cooker with nails, metal and anything else they could find with some C4.

"This is just chaos" you muttered, and she nodded "We have no idea where to start" right as she spoke you saw Hank answer his phone and knew from the set of his shoulders it wasn't news he liked.

Kevin and Jay were taking witness statements while Adam and Kim had gone to the hospital, so you nudged Hailey and nodded towards Hank "What's that about?" she followed your line of sight and shook her head "I don't know but I don't like it because it doesn't look like good news"

------------------

Hank kept the news tight to his chest until the unit made it back to the precinct. You and Hailey were pouring over surveillance footage while Kevin and Jay compared notes with Adam and Kim. Hank walked out of his office and to the board at the front of the room “I got a call from the ivory tower, this is gonna be a joint task force”

“Who are we getting stuck with boss?” Adam asked. “Major crimes” Hank replied and you had to stop yourself from spinning around in your seat to face him. No, there were multiple units in major crimes. What were the chances? “Well when are the blowhard dickheads gonna get here?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at Hank before you heard the gate at the bottom of the stairs pop and an all too familiar voice say “Well hello to you too Y/N”

You turned around completely to see Trudy was leading the unit from Major crimes up and dead center of them was Javier Deacon. Your ex fiance. You clocked Adam and Kevin sharing a look before Kim cut her eyes at Hailey and mouthed something. “This is gonna be fun” you heard Jay mutter and looked over at him to see he was standing next to Kevin’s desk with his arms crossed, staring Javier down. Yeah you’d rather chase the bomber down solo then be stuck between those two.

Hank cleared his throat “Welcome to intelligence. Don’t get in our way and we’ll play nice” then cut his eyes at Jay “Well most of us will play nice” Trudy nodded “Have fun kids” then headed back downstairs. Javier waved a hand towards the board “Well Voight, catch us up and let's get to it”

“If he puts his hand on her fucking chair one more time..” Jay hadn’t meant for it to slip out but Kevin cutting his eyes at him told him it had. “You good man?” he asked and Jay nodded “Yeah” 

You and Hailey had clocked a partial on a car that was at the scene the correct amount of time before the bomb went off so now trying to run down the full tag number and owner was the current task. You were focused on your screen but Javier was standing over you with a hand on the back of your chair and would lean across to point at something on your screen every now and then. Every single time he had to fight the urge to break his hand.

He didn’t know where this was coming from. You’d broken things off with Javier, saying that your careers were going in different ways. Translation? Your career had started going better than his and he’d had a man fit like a little bitch. 

Maybe that was why he wanted to punch him every time he looked at you like you were still his. Did he not realize you were taken? You and Jay didn’t exactly take PDA to the extreme at work but your phone wallpaper was a photo of the two of you and if he was observant enough to be a detective he’d see how your eyes kept flicking up to Jay’s every now and then with a small smile.

“Got ya” you muttered and pointed to Hailey’s screen with a smile. “Voight!” Javier called out and you cut your eyes up at him and said something too low for Jay to make out but when the other man laughed he nearly broke the damn pen he’d been holding. 

Voight walked over to your desk “What ya got?” you pointed to your screen “Lyle Peterson. He was the main investor in one of the bigger businesses that was a full loss. I dug a little deeper and as it turns out he was golfing buddies, Mark Owens who was a co-owner of another business, and his kid went to school with the other business owner Robert Sanchez’ kid” Hank shrugged “What’s that got to do with anything?” Hailey motioned to her screen “If they made it to the end of this quarter all three businesses would’ve went bankrupt but if something happened that was covered by their insurances there would be a full payout”

“Ok, pick all three up and lets see who will roll on who first”

You walked back into intelligence pushing Mark Owens in front of you. Javier had gone with you and Hailey to pick him up. One of his crew had gone with Kevin and Jay to pick up Peterson, one had gone with Kim and Adam for Sanchez while the other had stayed back with Hank.

The plan was to purposely let them see the others were there before beginning interrogations. You walked him past where Kevin was cuffing Peterson to a table in interrogation one “Shit sweetheart he wasn’t supposed to see him” Javier told you and considering you were working you decided to let the sweetheart comment go. You shrugged “Let him know if he doesn’t tell us his side his buddies damn sure will tell us theirs”

Jay heard Javier call you sweetheart and it took everything to remember he was on the job. Why hadn’t you corrected him? You would later, wouldn’t you? He shook his head to get his mind on the task at hand. He could deal with Javier later. He trusted you. 

After a full confession of how they’d botched the timer and never meant for anyone to get hurt Adam, Kevin and one of Javier’s men walked the three down to booking while everyone else finished up the paperwork and Hank made phone calls.

You signed off your report and walked to the breakroom to refill your coffee. Jay had been sitting at his desk silently watching you but when you walked towards the breakroom and Javier followed he was on his feet and moving without thinking. A part of him wanted to storm inside but that small part kept him just outside, listening if he was needed but wanting to know exactly where he stood in your heart.

__________

You had just put your hand on the coffee pot when you heard Javier’s footsteps enter the room behind you. “What do you want Javi?” you asked without turning around. “You look good” he said so you nodded, making your coffee to your taste before turning around to face him “I know. Doesn’t answer my question”

He ran a hand across the back of his neck which you knew was a nervous habit and still knowing that pissed you off. “I miss you” “Good for you” you bit back. You told Hank you’d behave for the case but the case was officially over. He took a step towards you and you raised an eyebrow “If you like all your bodyparts where they currently are, I’d stay right there”

He had the nerve to let a smirk slip onto his face “You loved me at one time” you nodded “Loved. Past tense” he rolled his eyes “I see no ring on your finger. No photo of a man on your desk” you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh “Oh my god you are a fucking idiot!”

A look of confusion crossed his face “What do you mean?” you waved a hand around “I don’t need a photo of the man because his desk is across from mine! I’m with Jay!” “Halstead?” he asked, curling his lip in disgust and you felt your anger fire to life “I fuckin dare you to say one bad word about that man in my presence”

“You love Halstead?” he asked and you smiled “More than I ever thought of loving you” he huffed “He can have you. You’re too career hungry anyways”

__________________

Jay leaned against the wall and gave Javier an amused grin when he stormed out of the break room. When you walked out of the room next he grabbed your arm “C’mere” he pulled you behind him towards the back hallway until you were out of sight of everyone else. The moment he was sure no one else could see he gently pushed your back against a wall, gripping your hip with one hand and tilting your chin up with the other “You love me huh?”

You nodded, eyes wide “Of course I love you Jay. I just hadn’t said yet but that asshole pissed me off” he grinned “I love you too baby” he leaned closer to barely brush his lips against yours. “Oh c’mon Halstead. I know you can do better!” you teased and a gasp left you when his hands went to your thighs gripping them tightly before picking you up where you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist.

When he kissed you again it was tongue and teeth and had you whimpering into his mouth within moments. He pulled away and smiled when you chased his mouth “Better?” you nodded “Much” he laughed lightly “Good because as soon as we get home I’m spending the rest of the night showing you just how much I love you” you groaned lightly “Fuck Voight and his paperwork. It can wait, let’s sneak out the back” he shook his head “You’re so bad” you pulled him back for another kiss before saying “And yet you love me”

[garbinge]

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty. 

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08. 

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money. 

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs. 

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?” 

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh. 

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders. 

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.” 

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report. 

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative. 

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut. 

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds. 

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras. 

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away. 

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed. 

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him. 

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head. 

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes. 

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over. 

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. 

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.” 

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated. 

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.” 

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face. 

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him. 

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.” 

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you. 

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back. 

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist. 

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER. 

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you. 

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements. 

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked. 

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you. 

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out. 

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you. 

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him. 

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.” 

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

[gomzdrawfr]

Bear with me here I am going to word vomit of an AU I thought of (and I literally just woke up) Idk if I have the time to write, draw or even animate this bUT

A ghostprice au where Price goes blind

Here’s a scene I had in my head, imagine a blackout panel, with a typewriting sound effect in the back that reads:

Patient Information: Johnathan Price, birth date, weight, height, number, address (something along those lines which are meant to hint this is a beginning of a medical record)

and then white blurry speech bubbles appearing from left and right

“What?”

You voiced out, or rather, Price voiced out (you are in Price’s POV)

All the speech bubbles seized, and for a moment it’s just darkness and much quieter whispers

“…Laswell?”

“John, you’re up, easy now”

He hears her from his left, but still there’s total darkness, and he furrows his brows, hands slowly reaching up to pat his face, or scratch it— there’s nothing on his skin, so he’s not being blindfolded, and there’s no sac or bag covering his head— but there is layers of something covering his eyes that he tries to pull off, managing to peek through a bit, he thinks he’s opening his eyes but—

Still black

“…?”

And then we cut to a shot of Ghost’s face, eyes wide with realization that Price can’t see anymore.

The last panel reads:

“Diagnosis: Traumatic Optic Neuropathy” (aka vision loss”

- end of scene

More rambles:

Thinking about maybe from a mission an IED went off before anyone could react— well technically Price reacted first by pulling Ghost away, which resulted in direct exposure to the blast, followed by a concussion

Ghost immediately got on his feet and dragged Price away while also making sure all units were still available, he looks down and he sees laceration and red

Well okay I haven’t figure out the clinical part but Im thinking maybe some blood pools around the corner of Price’s eyes (if, say, the laceration cut across his eyelids), it wouldn’t be as dramatic to the point where there’s blood trickling down his eyes per see cuz Idk if I plan to make the shrapnel penetrate into the cornea (in this case it would be extremely severe cause of trauma, I shall have some mercy on him)

Maybe amongst the panic he saw how Price’s left eye slowly turned red (internal bleeding) and all his alarms went off and quickly get medical on it

Of course he was praying that it wasn’t as serious, maybe it was superficial and maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him cuz it was dark and the hallway had red lamp all over

Also i just realized this is prob quite inaccurately portrayed bcuz the bandages that covers the eyes are usually tightly sealed, and that his action of ripping them off is prrrobbaaably not good since infections and increasing the pressure around his eyes are just going to make this worse (like reopening sutures or whatnot) but i think it could work (shhh ✨fiction science✨)

But nope, Price is blind, and that automatically puts him unfit for service and Ghost knows that this isn’t going to go well for the man

We always joked around saying Price is old but imagine if he’s mid 30s, prime in his years and definitely still had a lot of kick in him— only to be forcefully ripped away from it

The devastation, the angst, the anger, the unfairness of it all, the never ending cycle of guilt from both Ghost and Price

DO U FEEL IT?!

Anyways *ah hem* if you’ve read this far and would be interested to develop this yourself whether with fic or art go ahead! I sure as hell won’t be able to bring out the sheer desperation and agony from this sort of au or story so yeah XD

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

[jasmines-library]

Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after an accident takes your life, your brothers manage to find a way to bring you back. But it leaves you with a set of prominent scars that you struggle to come to terms with. But your brothers are there to help you realise that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Warnings: Death, description of wounds and scars, self hate.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

An accident that had cost you your life. Your brothers had raced towards you, trying to haul the debris from the exploded building off of your body, but they were too late. You were dead. Still chest, blank stare, stone cold dead.

For a while, no one dared to move as Bruce cradled your bloody body. Not one of the boys attempted to hide the tears that rolled down their cheeks as you lay there devoid life in a pool of your own blood. The shrapnel had embedded itself if your back, and had sliced into other parts of your skin. You could see from the gash on your hand and on your cheek where you had tried to protect your face in vain.

The sight made Damian queasy and so he was the first to turn away, trying to burry the thought that he would never see the way you smiled with your eyes or simply hear your voice again.

Jason was the last to move. Long After Bruce had hauled your body away and his older brother had tried to pull him away gently by wrapping a strong arm around him. But all he could do was stare blankly at the crimson that stained the ground. It should have been him. He was the one who was supposed to be on patrol that night. But he bunked off and you took his place instead. His stomach knotted, tightening around him like a noose. He promised himself that he was going to find a way to bring you back.

And he did.

He didn’t want to tell his brothers what he was trying to do at first. But they caught on quickly after Jason was unable to hide the dark bags under his eyes any longer and they threatened to tell Bruce if he didn’t let up.

They were hesitant at first, but soon the four of them spent their free time delving into books and research. For a short while, their efforts seemed in vain and there were more frustrated sighs drifting across the room than words. But in one glorious moment, the words finally floated into Jason’s ears.

“The Lazarus pit.” He read from the screen what illuminated his small face in the dark. He had managed to find it after getting in contact with his mother and wracking his brain for something she had accidentally mentioned in passing. Talia was reluctant at first, but with Damian’s charm she was quick to give in. “My mother knows where it is. We can bring y/n back but…”

Tim, who had crowded round his little brother squinted. “But what?”

“She’s not going to be the same. The pit it-

It messes with your mind. And it might not work at all… there’s a time frame.”

Jason shook his head and pulled on his coat. “It’s better than nothing.”

~

The four of them carried your body gently towards the swirling green liquid. The pit was hidden in some sort of cave that had been dug out into some sort of lab.

“So this is it, huh?” Dick asked as they lay you down gently next to the pit. He could hardly bring himself to look at you. Your beauty was still obscured by the nasty gash that still hadn’t closed. He was so gentle as he manoeuvred your fragile body, as though just his fingers grazing along your cold skin would hurt you.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

“Keep your guard up. We don’t know how she’s going to react when she wakes up. She might be scared and confused.” Headed Damian who had practically recited his mother's words after committing them to memory.

There was little else said as they eased your body into the green liquid, watching as you floated just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the chemicals to take effect, stitching your skin back together and bringing more structure back to your bones and more life back to your skin.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, flailing and splashing the substance of the edge of the pool as you dragged yourself out of it. Your clothes clung sticky to your skin. Your eyes were wide and didn’t settle on anything long before they were darting to the next thing and the next after that.

When Tim reached out to you your instincts kicked in, and you gripped his hand to flung him over your shoulder which caused him to let out a grunt as he collided with the stone.

Your mind was racing at a million miles an hour. You were scared. You didn’t know where you were or why every inch of your body was drenched in a dull but persistent ache.

“Y/n?”

You froze calming down for just one brief moment. You knew that voice and its gentle lilt. It was a voice you could picture a face with. Dark haired with stern eyes, but behind the facade was really a gentle boy with a soft spot for his little sister. You turned, tilting your head at the boy.

“Jason?”

~

You couldn’t bear to glance in the mirror anymore because they were all your gaze could settle on. Pale and spidering the scars crawled up your back and along your neck to your cheek. The pit had worked to some extent and although your mind was seemingly recovering and readjusting, the pit had failed to completely heal your skin, leaving a scar in its wake. Damian said it was something to do with the time scale. Something to do with the fact that the Lazarus put worked better on the dead the shorter they had passed.

You still couldn’t quite come to terms with that word. Dead. It sat in your mind like a weed. No matter how many times you plucked it, it always wormed its way back through the cracks.

For the first few weeks of being back at the manor, you spent a lot of your time trying to cover up the angry lines. The ones on your back were easy enough. You had just resorted to wearing a hoodie. Usually one of the boys’. They gave you a sense of comfort. But after a while, you began to miss wearing your own clothes. You missed being able to express yourself without it feeling wrong. So, there you were, standing in front of your full length mirror in your favorite top, staring at the scar.

There was a soft knock on the door before it peeled open, whining on its hinges and Jason saw you standing there. He couldn’t help the small grin that ebbed onto his lips.

You immediately tried to cover yourself. “Get out.”

���I-“ Jason didn’t want to move. He often feared that it he took his eyes off of you for too long then you would vanish again. Which meant that he was checking in on you much to your dismay. He was so proud of how far you had come in just a few short weeks. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

You recoiled. What? “Jason. Don’t look at them.”

You were about to pull on a hoodie when Damian’s voice peeped round the corner. He had grown impatient and set off with Tim to drag you to movie night. Dick went with them too, unable to shake his worry. Since you came back the four of them were constantly on edge, even if they didn’t care to admit it. “Is she coming or- whoa.”

Tim nearly squealed at the sight of you. “I thought I’d never see that top again.”

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

“Because…I don’t like people looking at them. They’re disgusting.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Jason was practically outraged at your words.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes brimmed with tears and your voice wavered. “Look at them, Jay!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with them.” Dick shrugged coming to sit next to you. “Do you?”

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

Dick rolled up his top to reveal a long scar along his solar plexus. “Do you see anything wrong with this one?” He asked. Jason then pulled up the hem of his red top and shifted round on the mattress to show you the ones that littered his back. They were pinkish and resembled various different shapes. Or those?”

You shook your head. “No…it’s just. They’re everywhere.”

“So? They’re beautiful y/n. You’re beautiful. Does having a scar make Jason any less of a person that he was before?” Tim asked. You shook your head meekly. “Your scars don’t define you. No matter how much you think they do. You’re still the same gentle girl you were before.”

“Besides,” Damian chimed, “I think they’re really cool. Like lightning.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. Your brothers always had a way of bringing light to a dark situation. It was just something that they did; they helped without thinking no matter the cost. You were glad to have them by your side, even if they did get a little annoying at times.

Although it took a little while, and a bucket-load of tears, your slowly began to embrace the scars. You began to express yourself in new ways that you hadn’t done before. In ways that brought a beaming grin to your face. And to your brothers. They were unbelievably proud and their hearts swelled. But it was one thing that you had learnt that really stuck out to you. That they loved you, just the way you were.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

[the-artist-grimm]

Hello! So sorry to bother, I know your inbox must be full but I was reading your latest post and couldn’t help but notice you writing this

“And once Aym died and she saw how grief-struck he’d looked, heard how he rasped out Anthea’s name, watched as he reached out a trembling hand to the Lamb's collapsed, wailing form not to hurt but to comfort, she realized there was more going on.”

And it made me wonder even more how exactly the entire fight sequence went down between them all. I thought that Narinder would make the first strike after the twins deaths, but is it Anthea that does so out of grief or rage?

Anyways I love your content! Its great! Im normal about it!

Anthea strikes first yeah-Narinder had ordered them to sacrifice themself, then the twins to fight at their not so much refusal but more-so asking what the heck was going on (while he'd initially hoped the cages would be enough to encourage Anthea to lay down their life since he was betting on their self-sacrificial nature, when that didn't work he had hoped their love for the twins would get them to stand down instead). But after Baal got killed on accident via knocking Anthea off balance to ensure he'd get hit, then Aym doing almost the same via intentionally aiming for the cages with magic to force Anthea to counter (which unintentionally the curse they chose, an ice-based shield one produced a lot of shrapnel that pierced his stomach), he kinda broke a little? Like with Baal, he froze up in shock and didn't know how to react when Aym immediately went on a mana rage, then when Aym died as well that's what made his brain finally snap back and realize 'oh god what just happened my kids just died'.

Like he only asked Anthea to lay down their life because he was convinced they were going to betray him (see his overview here). And while at the moment he still thought as such, the shock of just losing his sons and now watching the love of his life break down covered in their blood had him just acting off instinct-Anthea's crying, comfort them now.

He reached out a hand, but the looming shadow just triggered a 'Fight' reflex, which was amplified by both their own grief and the Crown's desperation to defend its bearer in the wake of a threatening situation from its POV. Narinder nearly gets his hand blasted off with a curse launched on reflex, and it snaps him into realizing 'oh ok we're fighting now' which the battle goes from there. Narinder's chains had fallen off with each bishop's death so only his collar which was bound to the metaphysical one remained, so he was able to just jump into defense.

Which as a side-note (also see their overview here) Anthea doesn't actually remember much of the fight, like with losing the twins it was like losing their family all over again but worse since this time it was them who killed them, and the grief, confusion, and anger just took over. Combined with Red giving them essentially a massive adrenaline boost to make sure they could fight things just went downhill from there. Had Narinder not reached out his hand like that things might've gone a little differently-but because he spooked them battling it was.

All Anthea could see during that battle was red until Narinder was mortal size and their blade was pressed into his throat-and it was only at seeing how terrified he'd looked in that moment and the fact that they still loved him they snapped out of it. From there they sent him back to the cult, the two had an argument over who planned to betray who, and then they ignored him for the next few months.

So TLDR, the final battle is just a long chain of people making really bad split-second decisions (Baal tripping Anthea thinking he'd just get a simple cut to get Narinder to call it off, Aym following his brother's lead and miscalculating the possible results, Narinder reaching out a hand out of shock, Anthea getting spooked), and them snowballing into more.

(also thank you! :D)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact) Furina and a Bodyguard!Reader

No one requested this, I wrote this at 3am in a slight angry haze at the lack of Furina content on the internet. The file is literally called "FINE I'LL DO IT MYSELF" on my phone. Also, POST-ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!

Furina was beside herself the moment she saw (Y/N) collapse onto the dirt, their injuries finally taking hold of their body.

She remained stuck in place like a statue, trying to process the fact that only a few minutes ago, she was taking a stroll barely on the outskirts of Fontaine, her bodyguard close at hand.

Then, a group of rogue Meka ambushed the two. With barely enough time to react, (Y/N) managed to push her out of the way of an incoming shot, and leapt into the fray with a fury unlike anything she had seen.

And all she could do was run behind cover until the sounds of shrapnel flying and bullets whizzing had stopped.

When there was nothing but silence remaining, she poked her head around the log she had been hiding behind.

(Y/N)'s pristine blue uniform had been reduced to tatters, blood and bruises plastered all over the skin that was showing.

Furina's heart dropped when she saw what they did.

They didn't bother to try and stop their own bleeding, frantically looking around their surroundings until their eyes locked with Furina.

Seeing her completely unscathed, they smiled before it vanished, alongside their consciousness.

(Y/N) got hurt because of her wish to walk outside the city for some fresh air. Even though she insisted that their presence wasn't required, they still tagged along anyway, something she was quietly thankful for.

Even though she wasn't the Archon of Fontaine anymore, that didn't mean all the targets on her back magically disappeared. And it was for that reason, (Y/N) had sought her out. To accompany her would give them, Clorinde, and Neuvillette some peace of mind, knowing that she'd be alright.

And they were right to worry after all.

Disgruntled treasure hoarders unleashed the Meka on them, and though (Y/N) had stopped the attack and those responsible, they were bleeding out on the floor because of Furina.

And now, the chances of them dying were climbing fast.

Furina didn't even realize her body began moving, she felt lightheaded as she suddenly grabbed their shoulders, feeling her mouth call out their name, but the only sound she heard was the ringing in her ears.

After a few moments, the chirping of the birds and wind blowing faded back in, hearing her own frantic movements as she opened (Y/N)'s bag to grab any kind of bandages to stop the bleeding.

(Furina) "A-Are these the bandages?! I-I think this is it!"

It seemed damp and had a strange scent, but she did not hesitate to start trying to wrap it around (Y/N)-

Immediately, (Y/N) cringed in pain, their body recoiling from the contact of the "bandage", inadvertently causing Furina to yelp out in surprise.

Her mismatch colored eyes darted to what she was holding and read the label.

(Furina) "What the-Alcoholic wipes?!"

Why in the Archon's name did they have towels wrapped in alcohol, are they stupid?! That's for drinking, not for healing!

With a newly added sense of annoyance for such a egregious blunder, she finally found the proper bandages (after triple checking the label), and began stopping the worst of their bleeding.

(Y/N)'s breathing was still heavy, but their body seemed to relax, and the pained expression on their face appeared to lessen ever so slightly.

Furina couldn't help herself, letting a hand gently caress their face, any comfort earned fading fast the moment she literally felt their blood on her hands.

(Furina) "You…You idiot!"

Any sign of her usual eloquence was completely absent as she felt tears running down her cheeks.

She was nobody now, no one important that was worth dying over.

Yet here (Y/N) was, having risked their life just to protect this nobody.

Furina had every intention of yelling at them for such a stupid stunt, but first she had to get them to safety.

…Oh Gods, she had to get (Y/N) to safety.

Furina looked at (Y/N), then herself. She repeated this motion three times before puffing out her chest and rolling up her sleeves.

(Furina) "Don't you dare die on me, (Y/N)! I will never forgive you if you do!"

She shouted, knowing fully well that they weren't conscious enough to reply.

She knelt down behind their head, arms reaching underneath their shoulders, and she lifted them off the ground.

(Furina) "HNNNNGGG!-"

…Or at least, attempted to.

Furina only managed to get their upper half in the air, before struggling to even budge.

(Y/N) wasn't exactly the heaviest person in Fontaine, but there was no way in hell that she was going to drag them away like this.

Furina exhaled loudly before her eyes trailed down to their legs.

Then, Furina had an idea.

Granted it was an awful one but…-

(Furina) "WHY…ARE…YOU…SO HEAVY?!"

If anyone could see the former Hydro Archon at this moment, she was currently dragging a battered and bleeding body by the feet, grunting in stressed effort all the while as their body left a small trail in the dirt as she vanished into the wilderness, body in tow.

…

Furina was completely out of breath as she nearly collapsed herself, getting (Y/N) to a cave behind a waterfall, the area being surprisingly clean, apart from the rocks scattered amongst the dirt.

And considering the current state of (Y/N)'s clothes, more caked on dirt wouldn't really be that noticeable.

Thankfully, the cave appeared to be bug free, given its location and how small it was, much to Furina's relief. She wasn't sure if she could handle a spider crawling on her beloved retainer.

She'd probably injure them further trying to slay the foul beast.

(Y/N)'s body was resting against the cave walls as Furina knelt beside them, diligently checking their temperature with her hands on their forehead.

Before she could question what to do, (Y/N)'s eyes twitched before finally fluttering open again, making Furina's emotions take over.

(Furina) "YOU'RE OKAY!"

She screamed out, crushing them in a hug and making them yelp in pain. Furina didn't register that and held onto them with a crushing pressure similar to a Ruin Guard's fist clenching.

(Y/N) "ACK! FUR-…INA!"

They barely choked out, finally feeling air renter their lungs when she let go.

(Furina) "You absolute cretin! Why did you allow yourself to become this injured?!"

(Y/N) opened their mouth to say something, before realizing how puffy and red her eyes were, new tears running down her cheeks.

(Furina) "You…! You made me so scared, I thought I would lose you! I-…I!"

(Y/N) "I'm…sorry.-"

NO! Why were they apologizing?! How dare they, this was HER fault!

Her emotions threatened to completely pour out right then and there, but she could barely hold it back.

What happened instead, was (Y/N) wiped away one of the tears with their thumb, their motion so gentle, it made her pause for a brief moment.

When they moved to wipe away the other tear, she grabbed their hand and put it against her cheek, shutting her eyes fiercely and leaning into it.

(Furina) "Don't you ever do that again…! I'm not your boss, you don't need to-"

(Y/N) "Maybe not. But you're still my friend."

…Friend?

Furina paused for a moment before shaking her head violently and letting go.

(Furina) "No, I'm not! You're friends with the other Furina! I'm no one now, and-"

She feels the cuff of her wrist grabbed by (Y/N)'s hand putting it next go her.

(Y/N) "As far as I'm concerned, there's only ever been 1 Furina I've cared about."

Her heart skips a beat at their words, making her previously pale cheeks flushed with pink.

(Furina) "You…!" Sigh "Promise me that you'll make it, then."

Her voice becomes softer, Furina leaning into their hand as it drops to their lap.

(Furina) "Promise me that you won't die, because of me."

(Y/N) smiled as they pulled out their rapier, psuedo-posing as much as they could while sitting down.

(Y/N) "I'd never die for you, Furina. I'll live instead, for you."

…Live for her.

She didn't like the idea of anyone doing anything of the sort for her, but…this was a better alternative.

She averts her gaze, focusing on the waterfall as her cheeks darken in, hearing their promise.

(Furina) "…Do well to remember it, (Y/N)."

Why was she feeling this way?

(Y/N) had protected them plenty of times before, Clorinde included.

And yet…this one felt different.

Was it because she was no longer keeping up a persona? Or…perhaps…?-

(Y/N) "Speaking of which, thank you for saving me. I'm actually surprised you managed to get the bandages on me without it falling apart."

Furina squawked as soon as she heard that jab, making her blush disappear in an instant, replacing it with an insulted expression.

(Furina) "Excuse you, I saved your LIFE! I do not need these kind of back-handed comments!"

(Y/N) "I can tell with how tightly these bandages are wrapped around me. It feels like I'm losing circulation.-"

(Furina) "Would you prefer I leave you to have your guts spill out onto the grass?! Hmph! The audacity you have, is this how you repay someone saving you from certain doom?!"

Furina's eye twitched involuntarily at their teasing smile.

(Y/N) "I recall you making very similar comments before. Remember when I accidentally allowed a smidgen of my own blood taint your hat?-"

Furina had gone on a nearly ten minute long tangent of (Y/N) not doing their job properly by letting even a sign of the fight linger on her clothes, in front of a crowd no less.

(Furina) "T-THATS NOT FAIR! I was a completely different person!"

(Y/N) laughed hearing her voice crack, making her pout and cross her arms.

Putting the teasing aside, (Y/N) gave her a genuine smile as they closed their eyes, trying to ignore the pain from laughing too hard.

(Y/N) "…Thank you, though, Furina. I'm just glad you didn't come under any serious harm."

Furina gave a smile back as well, one softer than anything they had seen before.

While it was true, Furina is a different person, or rather she's now allowing herself to be just herself: one thing remained the same.

A smile better suit Furina.

(Y/N) "Give me a few moments so I can regain my strength. I'd rather not get dragged again."

(Furina) "Dragged-I DID MY BEST!"

(Y/N) eyes glanced down at themselves, seeing more dirt than the blood and soot previously on them.

They were going to need one hell of a bath to clean this off, not to mention the tailoring needed. Chiori was probably going to kill them herself, not the injuries.

(Y/N) "I know you did, Furina…"

Maybe they should get her to lift something other than macaroons and cake in her life.

[mumms-the-word]

Ascension, Return

Pairing: Gale x You (Reader POV) Summary: You watch as Gale restores the Crown of Karsus and temporarily becomes a god before disappearing to return the crown to Mystra. And you can only hope, now that he is a god, that he will return. ao3 link A/N: I was thinking the other day about how in the ending for an Origin run for Gale, regardless of how he plans to deal with the crown business, he always shows up as God!Gale in front of Mystra before agreeing to hand over the crown or deciding to stay a god. And it got me thinking...wouldn't a romanced Tav who is expecting him to give up the crown see him ascend? So anyway I wrote this to get those thoughts out there. As usual pic of my Tav Dani because I keep forgetting to ask to borrow people’s better pictures

It doesn’t take long for you and Gale to make plans to retrieve the crown from the depths of the Chionthar River. The sooner you get this over with, the better, you think, and yet something about this endeavor has you on edge. You secretly wish you can just leave the crown down below the waters…but then, anyone could get it down there, with the right spells or the right technology. You can’t risk that.

You don’t want it in Mystra’s hands either, but what choice do you have? She, at least, is a goddess interested in balance, neither evil like the Dead Three, nor entirely good and thus subject to extreme corruption. There’s no telling what she’ll do with the crown, but she has offered one thing in exchange—a cure for your lover’s affliction.

He’ll be free of the dark hungering orb at last.

It’s enough to convince you. You retrieve your worn bedrolls from the Elfsong and shoulder your pack, ready for your next little adventure—a small boat ride to the other side of the river, and a few days spent with Gale as he searches the murky waters.

You join him on the banks of the Chionthar, well away from the bustle of the city as it is trying to rebuild, watching over him as he sits, eyes glazed with concentration, guiding simulacrums to walk the riverbeds and floors of the river, combing through the mud for the crown. He could have let his simulacrums search without him guiding them, but he wants to be sure, to search closely. He doesn’t want to waste his time turning away simulacrums who bring back scraps of metal, shrapnel from the Iron Throne, or bits from the carnage of the fight against the Netherbrain. So he looks through their eyes, seeing nothing for hours but hazy water, mud, and river plants.

Though you long to lie back and watch the sails of fishing vessels drift by like clouds on the breeze, reveling in a hard-won moment of peace, you don’t want to miss a moment where he might need you. You do not want him to be caught unawares by some curious animal, or worse, a lingering enemy. So you sit and watch, your stomach twisting into knots as you face what you know will be inevitable—the moment when he finally finds the crown.

It takes all of two days of searching. After hours upon hours of looking, he stiffens, his physical body reacting to something beyond your sight, and you know at last that he has found it. You both stand as his simulacrum emerges, dripping water, with the cold bronze of the crown in its hands. 

The Crown of Karsus.

It’s so much smaller than you remember. When you faced it on the top of the Netherbrain it had easily been the size of a large carriage. Here, on the banks of the Chionthar, it’s no bigger than a normal crown. It looks innocent. Harmless.

But you know better.

The power it releases…you are no stranger to it. You readily recall the metallic taste on your tongue as you drew near it atop the Netherbrain and the way its very aura tried to drive you to your knees. Its power is weaker now, pulsating from the bronze metal like a faint heartbeat, but you know that it won’t stay that way.

You glance at Gale, wondering what you’ll see in his face. Dark hunger, perhaps, or something bittersweet. Reluctance, dread, or tired resignation. But his expression is surprisingly neutral. He doesn’t step forward to take the crown just yet. Instead, he studies it with his eyes before taking a deep breath through his nose and turning to look at you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

You blink, a little taken aback. “Of course,” you say. “Always.”

“That’s gratifying to hear. It will take me some time to restore the crown and the Netherstones to their original state, fit enough to give to Mystra. The process will be necessarily delicate, given the orb I carry. I should ask you to keep a safe distance. A city’s worth of space, perhaps, just in case, but—”

You cross your arms. “I’m not leaving your side, Gale. I’m here with you, for good or ill.”

He smiles then, as much relieved as he is amused and resigned. “I know. I expected as much. But I thought it best to offer or warn you regardless.” He takes a deep breath. “Very well, then. We stay together. I just hope you’ll be patient with me.”

You reach out and take his hand, threading your fingers between his. “I will be. I’m here for you. Take all the time you need, my love.”

He gives you a grateful look, squeezing your hand affectionately before leaning in to brush a sweet, gentle kiss against your lips. You let him pull away, slipping out of reach, and watch with bated breath as he steps forward to accept the crown, the mark on his chest glowing brighter and brighter as he nears and finally takes the crown in his hands.

You don’t know what you expect. A light show, perhaps. A wave of dark, Netherese magic, or a black hole effect. You steel yourself to the fear that he will simply evaporate or fall to his knees in pain.

But nothing spectacular happens, aside from his mark glowing brightly. To your eyes, the crown acts as little more than a normal crown. To him…

You see his chest expand with a deep breath, the orb flaring brighter, watch him blow the air slowly through his lips, his face tense. But without the tadpole in your heads, you can’t guess at what he’s thinking or feeling. He closes his eyes, simply breathing, concentrating. Fighting, perhaps. Wrestling with some unseen force. The glow on his chest dims slowly until it is only a faint purple tint on his skin. Only then does he finally tighten his hold on the crown and turn back to you.

You get the sense that he has just won a silent, unseen battle within himself. It occurs to you too late that putting the crown and the orb in close proximity might actually hurt him. But it seems that the danger has passed...for now. If he’s in pain, he isn’t showing it.

“Come,” he says. “Let us make sure we’re a safe distance from the city. Just in case.”

His words don't inspire confidence, but you say nothing. You merely follow him back to your camp further up hillside. You know he has work to do.

———

You give him time. That’s all he asked for. Time to concentrate on the magic. Time to manipulate threads of the Weave. The Mystran Weave and the Karsite Weave. Sometimes you think you understand what he’s doing, but more often than not, you don’t. The magic he is performing is beyond your comprehension, guided by notes in the Annals of Karsus which lays open in front of him. You suspect some of it comes innately to him, an understanding born from carrying Netherese magic for so long. The rest must come from Karsus himself, written down as instructions or incantations. You give up trying to understand and simply make yourself useful. Or you try to, anyway.

All you can really do is linger nearby, keeping an eye out for anything that might interrupt his work. You barely interrupt him yourself, save to place some food and water near him with a soft reminder that he needs to eat to keep his energy up. He’s not a god yet, you tease, but the words taste sour on your tongue.

Yet. But soon.

You don’t feel ready for it. You know it’ll only be temporary. You hope so, anyway. But you’re still not ready.

The day passes by without you noticing. Gale sits with the crown, working, weaving, an illuminated aura around him filled with heavy magic. You leave him to his work as the sun moves slowly overhead toward the horizon, painting the sky in tones of orange, red, and purple. You lay down to watch the swirls of violet and indigo magic that gather around him as night falls, until in your exhaustion, you close your eyes for a moment to rest.

You don’t know when you drifted off to sleep, but you’re awoken in the early hours of the morning by his hand on your shoulder. You stir, blinking groggily up at him.

“It’s time,” he says softly. He helps you sit up, hands lingering on your arms, your hands. The crown isn’t with him, but sits on top of his pack several feet away. “I’ve done all I can. The stones and the crown are together again. Functionally the crown is complete, but…there is one last step I need to take.”

He kneels in front of you, dark eyes searching your face in the dim firelight. No, you realize. Memorizing. You feel a sudden knot in your throat and though you are seated safely on the ground, it feels as though a yawning void is opening up around you, threatening to swallow you whole should you tip too far to one side.

This feels like a goodbye.

“Once I put on the crown, the magic of the orb will finally combine with that of the crown. And I will…change,” he explains quietly, while you try to calm the surge of fear that grips your heart. “The magic of the crown and orb will become one and give me the power at last to meet with Mystra as an equal.”

An equal. He doesn’t say as a god. But you both know the truth.

You can scarcely breathe. You want to trust him. You want so desperately to believe in him. And he is looking at you so lovingly, but the very air seems tinged with sorrow. Nothing is certain. Nothing save his love for you, and even then, the tiniest doubt worms its way into your head and your heart.

Once he is a god…will he even remember to come back to you?

“And then?” you ask, your voice no more than a whisper.

“And then…I will hand the crown over to Mystra. And hope she keeps her word.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I trust you, my love.” You use the words, saying them out loud, to dispel your doubts and fears. You do trust him. With your life, with your heart, with your all.

If only you could trust Mystra. Can she be trusted to cure him? Can she be trusted to let him return? And if he does return, can she be trusted to let him return unchanged? Chosen or not, will he still be Gale Dekarios, the man you love? You don’t know. But you hope so.

He smiles at you and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, his fingertips trailing along the line of your jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He leans in for a kiss and you, selfishly, wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly to you as your lips move against his, wanting to never let go. You rise to your knees, following him as he tries to pull away, kissing him deeply, tangling your fingers in his hair, until at last you are both breathless and you have to hide your face in his shoulder. You cling to him, reluctant to let him go just yet.

“Just come back to me,” you whisper. “Whatever happens.”

His arms tighten around you and you feel the bob of his throat as he swallows with difficulty. He strokes your hair and your back, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your head. You can feel it in every touch and breath he takes. He doesn’t want to let go yet either. 

“I will, my love,” he whispers back. “I swear it.”

It’s enough for now. It has to be. You could delay this day for a thousand days and still never be ready to let him go. But you have to. If he wants to be whole again, free of the orb, perhaps even free of Mystra…he has to do this.

You reluctantly loosen your hold on him and sit back on your heels, meeting his dark-eyed gaze in the early hours of the morning. He takes your hands and lifts them to his lips, brushing kisses against your knuckles, turning your hands over to kiss the center of your palms. Each touch of his lips to your skin is a reverent confession of love and longing and it only makes your heart ache more.

Please don’t let this be goodbye.

“Wait for me,” he says.

You cradle his cheek in your hand, gazing earnestly at him, soaking in every detail of his handsome face, committing it all to memory. “I will, my love. I swear it.”

He smiles at you then, full of love and happiness. He steals one last kiss from your lips before finally pulling away and standing, taking several steps back.

You stand too, preparing yourself for what is about to happen, even though you scarcely have any idea. You expect some of what you expected before, with light shows and waves of magic at best, disintegration and death at the worst, but now it feels even more real. Even more likely. You don’t know what will happen, so you brace yourself for the worst, heart pounding in your throat, gut churning with dread, and hope, desperately hope, for the best, even though you don’t know what that will look like.

You hold your breath as he moves several paces away from you and bends to pick up the crown. This image, too, you commit to memory. The way he looks illuminated by the firelight, the lights of the city glimmering behind and below him, the stars glittering above him. The sight of him with the crown in his hands, contemplating it with an expression of deep gravity. The crown looks small and harmless, despite the sharp curls and the soft glow of the purple, orange, and pink Netherstones that are now set once more in the bronze. But he looks serious, regal even, with it cradled in his hands. Like a king mulling over the weight of his position and the choices that lay ahead. He is beautiful. Heart-achingly beautiful. You wish this moment could stretch on forever, if only because it means not losing him to the crown. To godhood.

He turns to give you one last lingering look, your eyes meeting over the distance between you, before he slowly raises the crown to his head and settles it over his brown and gray locks.

The effect is instantaneous. A blast of magic blows outward from him, kicking up wind and dust and flashing bright enough to rival the sun. You cover your eyes, shielding your face, the light blinding you. Suddenly the air feels electric, tasting of metal and ozone, as though you’re about to be struck by lightning at any second. Wind swirls around you, picking up speed, a cyclone of power and magic with you caught in the edges. You struggle to stay on your feet, your body resisting the pull into the vortex. What little you can see is naught but a haze of magic, purple, blue, and inky black, rushing around you and mixing with the wind. Threads of blue and silver lightning dance around you, passing close enough to make your hair stand on end, shocking you when you take an unsteady step backward. The vortex of wind, lightning, and magic threatens to suck the very air from your lungs until, with crack like thunder, everything around you stops.

The air grows still. It is as though you suspended in time. Held fast by magic. Your ears are ringing with the sudden silence.

You cautiously lower your hand. You have to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, the sight of Gale causes a flurry of emotions within you.

He stands before you as something…more. A god in all but name. He’s taller, you swear he must be, or else his very presence makes him seem bigger. His skin has turned a shade of hard silver, his hair ashen gray. The mark of the orb stands out in stark black on his chest and when he turns his head to examine his hands, his body, you see splintered blue lightning crackling at his temples and down the sides of his face. His brown eyes now glow blue-white with magic, any trace of his former warmth consumed by the light of the power within him. He’s striking, awe-inspiring…

And you can’t help but fear him, just a little. 

On instinct you have the compulsion to kneel, but you don’t. You force yourself to stay on your feet and look at him, really look at him, and try to find the man you love behind this new godly veneer. He has to be in there somewhere. He has to be.

“Amazing,” he murmurs, and his voice is layered two or three times over with a strange echo, one that gives you unpleasant shivers. Even his voice carries tiny waves of power. You already miss the warm tones of his mortal voice with its Waterdhavian accent.

He flexes his hands, raising them before his face, his expression one of wonder and awe. With but a gesture, he summons threads of the Weave together in glyphs and effects you can barely make sense of, though you feel the thrum of magic deep in your chest and know, instinctively, that he is capable of snapping your mind with a thought or destroying you with a word. He smiles, and the effect is strange. He looks like himself but he doesn’t. Something about it seems wrong to you. Uncanny. Familiar and unfamiliar.

The pit of dread in your stomach grows.

But then he catches sight of you, waiting, watching breathlessly, nervously, hoping that he’ll remember his promise to you. His smile fades and for the briefest moment you catch a glimpse of the man you love. Even his blue-white eyes, shining eerily from his familiar face, can’t hide the love he has for you.

He lowers his hands to his sides. “It is done. The crown is fully restored once more.”

You nod. You haven’t the faintest clue what to say next. You’re still trying to make sense of the man-god before you.

He smiles again, and something about it is both patronizing, as though he pities you for not understanding, and sincere, an echo of his mortal kindness and patience. He presses a hand to his chest. “Well, I’d best be off then.”

“Wait—” You reach out as if to stop him and he pauses. Your hand hovers uncertainly in the air before you lower it to your side. "One last kiss, before you go. Please."

His smile softens. "I can deny you nothing, my love," he murmurs. He crosses the distance between you with a strange grace he didn't have before. Before he was elegant, but at times a little awkward. None of the awkwardness remains in him now.

You look up as he stops in front of you, his fingers curling beneath your chin the way he does when he wants to lift your face or guide your lips to his. You stare into his glowing eyes a moment before letting your eyes flutter closed. His lips touch yours...and it's different.

There's a magnetism there now that wasn't there before. You seem drawn in as if by gravity. He tastes of metal and magic, his skin cold but not unyielding. Your lips tingle with each kiss and the moment you seek to deepen the kiss—you gasp as a blue electric shock drives your mouths apart, your teeth practically rattling, your lips suddenly hot, almost burned. You press a hand to your mouth, looking up at him in shock, but he's just as surprised as you are. He seems unharmed, despite the tiny sparks of white-blue lightning still skittering over his lips.

"Ah...what an interesting side effect," he says, touching his hand to his mouth. The lightning calms. "Are you all right?"

You nod, rubbing your lips lightly as the numbness from the shock begins to subside and the tingling begins to fade. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't unpleasant either. Still, you're wary of trying it again.

He watches you, looking torn, before a new resolve settles his features. "Then I suppose that is my signal to go. The sooner I depart, the sooner I can return." He takes your hand carefully, moving it away from your face, and presses a cautious kiss to the back of your hand. His lips impart another, smaller shock to your skin, but this time you're ready for it. Your fingertips go a little numb, but you manage not to wince.

"Wait for me, my love," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I won’t be long."

You step back, giving him room to do whatever he needs to do, and watch as he begins to glow, brighter than your eyes can stand. You keep your gaze on his until the very last second, when the light grows too bright to stare at. You blink—and then he’s gone, disappearing in a shower of starlight that fades too quickly.

You are left alone in the cool night, with naught but a dying fire for company. 

———

You don’t sleep. You barely bring yourself to tend to the dying embers of your campfire and stoke it back into warm flames. After that, all you can do is sit.

And wait.

And wonder.

And pray.

“Come back to me, my love,” you whisper into the cool night air.  "Please."

You half-wonder if he can hear you. If, on some level, you’re praying to him, the newest of the gods. You don’t know if that thought comforts you or worsens your dread. How does he think of you now, now that his mind is that of a god, capable of seeing beyond the constraints of a mortal’s limited view? If he hears your prayers, does he think less of you, or love you more? Will he remember his promise, or will the power he now holds tempt him to break it? You want to have faith in him—you do have faith in him—but doubt creeps in despite your best efforts.

Come back to me.

You recall what it was like to wait for him at Mystra’s shrine at the Stormshore Tabernacle. How he had explained that time runs differently in the Outer Planes. How he would only be gone for a moment. Each second that had ticked by during that time felt like a year.

Now, sitting on the hillside, every second that passes feels like an eternity.

The fire crackles. The lights of the city begin to dim. One by one the stars fade out, hiding from view as the black of night begins to lighten into the blue hues of pre-dawn. And still, he isn’t back.

Wait for me, he said. And you will. You’ll wait as long as you have to.

But what if…?

No. You can’t bring yourself to put your fears into words anymore. Doing so will only make them seem more real. More feasible. There could be a thousand explanations for why he isn’t back quickly. You just have to have faith in him.

You get up and begin to pace. You start breaking little sticks and twigs into tiny pieces to feed to the fire, piece by tiny piece, just for something to do with your hands. You pluck blades of grass one by one or count the stars you can see. And you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Your thoughts are your own worst enemy and you wish you had called an ally to come and sit with you. Even Scratch with his favorite ball would have been enough to quiet your heart and mind. But instead, you sit alone, the crackle of a fire the only sound to break the silence.

Your eyelids are heavy now and your body longs to drag you down into slumber, but you resist. You want to be there when he comes back. If he comes back. When he comes back.

You get up to pace again, rubbing warmth into your stiff fingers, amusing yourself with memories of him. His smile. His sly jests and silly puns. His hands on your body and his body against yours, yours against his. The smell of him, as much as you can remember. The way he looked during battles, magic crackling and swirling around him. The way he looked in your bed, fast asleep. Gale Dekarios in all his mortal glory, the man you fell in love with. The man you wish was at your side once more. 

Gods, but you miss him. You press your hands to your chest, feeling your heart beat beneath your palms. What is taking so long?

The first hints of pink and orange appear on the horizon as you turn to pace away from the fire again, your steps wearing a noticeable path through the grass. At this rate, you fear the sun will arrive before your love does. 

You contemplate how you’re supposed to face the whole of a new day alone when a flash of light illuminates the darkness behind you. You whirl, heart racing, to see a shower of starlight once more—and out of it steps Gale.

Mortal. Human. Alive.

“Gale!”

You fly into his arms, which he is already holding out wide for you, nearly toppling you both into the ground with the force of your embrace. You both stagger, but you don’t let go, and his arms around you are as fierce in their hold on you as yours are around him. He practically lifts you off your feet. You can’t put into words how much it means to you that he’s solid your arms—warm, breathing, alive in your arms.

“You’re back,” you gasp, the tears in your eyes and clogging your throat making it difficult to speak. You don’t want to sob and make it seem like you doubted him, but the emotions welling up inside you are hard to suppress. “You came back.”

“Of course, my love,” he says soothingly, not yet relinquishing his hold of you. “You are everything to me. I could do nothing else.”

You untangle yourself from him to wipe the tears from your face and look at him, looking for any changes wrought by his visit to the Outer Planes or from his brief time at godhood. He looks like himself again, his lightly tanned skin flush with warmth and love, his dark brown eyes as rich and deep as ever. You comb your fingers through his soft hair, once more brown and shot through with hints of gray, rather than all over ashen as it was a while ago. Your fingers linger on his cheek, noticing for the first time that the dark vein-like threads that trailed from his eye to his chest are no longer visible. 

The mark of the orb is gone.

In its place are a series of faint scars in the same threads and shapes as the old mark, appearing just below his jaw and flowing down to form a circle over his chest. The tattoo-like color has faded away entirely and there is no dark bruise at the center of the circular marking. Any trace of Netherese magic is gone, leaving behind little more than scars faint enough to be missed by any who are not actively searching for them.

You trace the circular scar lightly with the tips of your fingers. “Does this mean…?”

“It does,” he says, pressing his hand over yours so that both of your hands are pressed flat to his chest. You feel his heart beating, his pulse perhaps a little elevated, but every beat strong and vibrant. “Mystra has cured me of the orb. Completely.”

You want to hate her, and perhaps you still do, and always will on some level. But in that moment you’re grateful and relieved too. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight, overwhelmed with happiness and relief and joy. Your love is cured at last. The threat of losing him to Netherese magic is at last put to rest. He is whole again. Restored. 

And he is yours. Not hers.

As dawn colors the sky overhead and spills pink-golden light over the both of you, you kiss him, reveling in the taste of him, in the warmth and weight of him, in his hands on you. Not a single spark of lightning threatens to drive you apart, so you deepen your kisses as much as you please. You simultaneously want to push him down into the grass and make love to him there and kiss him for an eternity you know you both don’t have and simply gaze at him in awe and wonder that even while he had godhood in grasp and a crown on his head, he gave it all up for you.

He gave up godhood for you.

You never realized you could love him more than you already did. But you do. Your every heartbeat sings love for him.

You lose track of time kissing him. It could be moments or hours. You don’t know nor do you care. But at last, when you finally pull away from him, it takes you a second to remember where you are, standing out on the hillside across the river from the city. The sun is rising over the horizon now, painting the world in gold and shifting the hue of the sky to a beautiful, cloudless blue. A new day is beginning. 

A whole future awaits. And it is yours to shape with your love at your side.

“What’s next, my love?” you ask. “Now that we have everything we both want.”

“Next? For us?” He chuckles and takes your hand, bringing it up to press a tiny kiss on your empty ring finger. “If you still want me, I believe we have a wedding to plan.”

“I will always want you, Gale Dekarios. Now and forever.”

“Is that a yes to planning the wedding? Because I’ll have you know that Waterdhavian weddings are quite the large-scale affair.”

You laugh, his humor clearing the air like the sunlight warming away the fog of a morning and the dew on the grass. “Yes. Come on, let’s find some food to eat and get started. I can’t wait to begin a new life together with you.”

“My love, that new life starts now,” he says, bringing you in for another kiss. You smile against his lips and allow yourself to be corrected. He is right, of course.

Your new life with him begins now.

[rogue-durin-16]

LUCKY LUZ

Request: omg you are my favourite writer, and I read your bob stuff weekly again and again ! If you feel like it, I was thinking prompt 7? With George Luz ? I’m a sucker for angst so like anything angsty with my boo George Luz.

Summary: Bastogne took a serious toll on Easy Company. At the loss of so many friends, George Luz started to tamper with his luck a bit too much for a certain medic's liking.

Prompt/s:

"We have a problem." "No— you have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps getting in trouble."

Pairing: George Luz x medic!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: mentions of death, survivor's guilt, self-destructive behavior, depressed George Luz (YES THIS IS A WARNING I'M GENUINELY SORRY)

A/N: you asked for angst? I'll give you angst. Also, it's been SOOO long idek if I'm gonna write the BoB boys right/as I used to, so bear with me while I try to get the hang of this again. Enjoy this request and remember they're open so feel free to send ideas <3.

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

In war, much like in any aspect of life, there would always be recklessness.

Little did it matter whether it was on the XO's, the Privates' or the civilians'. There would always be recklessness causing avoc amongst the carefully detailed strategies. It wasn't an excuse for whatever the outcome was, but it was expected and one could somewhat prepare to counteract it— to balance it out.

George Luz's behavior during our last days in the Bois Jaques was not recklessness.

No, it wasn't something as simple, so easily justified by inexperience, pride or short-temper. It was darker, more complicated, and way much worrying than recklessness.

'you think he's tryna kill himself?'

Spina's question, the one he had whispered to me in our foxhole a few nights prior, echoed in the back of my mind every day since then.

'Don't say that.' I had responded at the time.

Now George Luz laid before me, unconscious, with bandages under his winter uniform and I asked myself the same damn question.

Twenty Hours Earlier

"INCOMING!"

Lip's shouts were barely audible, muffled under the thunderous shelling of our position.

We had just managed to advance further into the Bois Jaques and towards the town of Foy, which seemed more and more unreachable each passing day, when that dreadful whistling hovered over us.

Foxholes barely dug and low morale after the loses we had endured the past couple of days, made it harder than usual to react on time.

Thankfully, German artillery hadn't zeroed us yet, so most of us managed to take cover.

If most of us managed, why was George still standing out in the open?

"LUZ! GET DOWN!" Someone yelled, but it didn't reach him.

"GEORGE!! DOWN!!" Lipton's throat sounded sore, but it did the trick and soon the Technician was crouching, yards away from me, helmet secured with one hand and his rifle up on the other.

Lucky Luz, an ominous, abrupt silence followed his delayed reaction as the shelling seemed to come to a halt.

"Woah," as if everything was fine, he snapped back into his carefree demeanor with a breathy laugh. "That was a close one, huh, Y/n?"

My immediate, impulse-driven reaction was to yell at him, although not even I could hear it.

Another deafening whistle.

Another explosion.

Maybe Luz was lucky himself, or maybe, just maybe, he was lucky we were willing to risk our lives for him.

Maybe he was just lucky I jumped out of my foxhole to pull him into it.

Maybe he was just lucky I wrapped him in a tight embrace to shield him from possible shrapnel the best I could.

Maybe, just maybe, he was lucky enough for me to feel his yelp despite not hearing him due to the explosions— lucky enough to have been dragged on his back instead of his tummy.

Lucky enough to be in a medic's foxhole.

The shelling stopped, this time for good. I halfheartedly let go of Luz, my gloves now crimson-stained.

My heart skipped a beat.

" 'M hit—"

"Christ— I got it." My covered palms instinctively found the left side of his ribcage, but failed to reach his wounded upper thigh.

"—fuck-" he hissed, jolting his head up in pain and consequently bumping it on my shoulder.

"LIP!" Before I could yell anything else, our Sergeant slid into the foxhole.

"WE NEED A JEEP OVER HERE! PERCONTE!" He shouted, pulling George towards him so I could move aside and properly fix him up. "It's alright, George, you're okay— right Y/n?"

Luz was not okay. We knew it.

But I couldn't exactly say that, specially just after he had been hit.

"Right, Y/n?" Lipton insisted intently, holding George in place while I ripped his jacket to have an easier access to the main wound. "Y/n?"

"Yeah- yeah, right." I mumbled, dusting the sulfa powder where he had been hit. "Sarge, I need that jeep."

Lipton sighed and looked over his shoulder. "Perco?!"

"They're comin', Lip!"

George was awfully quiet as he tried not to recoil due to the pressure put over his open wounds.

"It's alright." Lipton repeated, more to himself than to Luz.

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

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

"You're awake." She stated even before I could open my eyelids to see her standing by me, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

"How'd you know?" I question, squinting and blinking a few times before propping myself up in the poor excuse of a bed in which I had been laid to recover.

" 'Cause I know you."

"Where are we?"

"You got hit."

"I know."

"Then why on earth did you ask—"

"Dunno, I was hoping we'd be in heaven." I winked at her before completing my sentence. "Since you're my own personal angel."

Silence.

"You think it's funny?" I opened my mouth in agape, not knowing which was the right answer to that —because there was always a right answer with her— but I had no time to choose. "You think it's funny that I had to put myself in harm's way to drag your ass to safety?"

I furrowed my brows with a puzzled half smile and a sort of anger I couldn't describe brewing inside me. "You're kiddin' right?" A single breathy laugh escaped my throat. "C'mon Y/n/n, I thought you knew what you were signing up for when you volunteered to be a medic."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean if you don't know you have to 'put yourself in harm's way'," I mimicked her voice, which left her stunned. "Then, we have a problem."

"No. You have a problem." oh, she was mad. "I have an idiot who keeps getting in trouble." The medic was quite obviously trying not to yell at me.

"Okay, if you say so." I shrugged, trying not to let the turmoil of emotions the conversation was triggering inside me show through my careless facade.

"What are you trying to do here, George?"

"Nothin'?"

"Why are you trying to get under my skin?"

"It's just what I do best, sweetheart."

And it was true. For two years, I had been an awfully insufferable piece of shit.

How could I not? When that was the only way to get her attention back in Toccoa; the only way to stand up in the eyes of the prettiest woman I had ever seen amongst an entire Battalion of men.

Not that it took me anywhere per se, but at least we had forged a friendship based on sweet bickering, muffled laughs and knowing glances.

She used to laugh all the time.

Maybe I was no longer funny. Had I lost the one thing I was useful for?

Or maybe she was tired of me.

She did seem tired then, staring at me with a saddened, wornout visage.

"You're not okay." She nearly whispered. "I'm done letting you pretend you are."

"I'm not pretending—"

"You think I don't know what means being medic?" Her tone told me I had crossed the line. "You think I don't know I gotta get out there if someone cries for help, no matter how scared am I or how slim my chances of survival are?" Y/n tried to stay gentle, but she had had enough, which somehow scared me. "But no one screamed 'medic', George. You weren't down. But I still got out there to get you. It was not my job, do you understand?"

Shut up shut up shut up.

"Well if you're gonna complain this much then you should've left me there—"

"To die?"

Despite the crazing chaos that surrounded our little corner in the aid station, I somehow heard nothing but a deafening silence and the pounding of my heart.

"Do you wanna die, George?" I went livid, trying to look for a reply that wouldn't make me crack. "Is that what you're trying to do? Kill yourself?"

"Are you nuts?"

"Answer my question."

"I-" Scoff. "what d'you even—"

"Luz."

"I'm tired! I'm just tired and didn't react on time, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?"

"What I wanna hear is a good reason not to get you pulled off the line!" She shouted, stomping on the cold ground beneath us.

Oh, now people were staring.

She used to become so self-conscious about that; people giving her looks for raising her tone.

As she stood straight by my side, towering over my bed, there was not a single ounce of self-consciousness in her frame.

She was mad. Mad and hurt.

Hurt because I wasn't being honest with her. Hurt because she had been sticking up for me for an entire week because I just wasn't there; because I was, like she had just said, I was an idiot getting in trouble.

"So? Go on, then." The medic spurred me, gradually lowering her voice again. "Give me a good reason."

"You can't get the XO'S to pull me off the line, Y/n." I chose to respond, almost daring the girl.

She was holding back. I didn't quite know from what exactly but I knew she was holding back, and a part of me wanted Y/n to lash out.

I'm sure a part of her wanted, too.

Tension could be cut with a knife, and deep down I wanted to give her an answer but the truth was I couldn't find it, and if I was damn good at something, it was dodging the bullet.

"Listen if you don't have anythin' else to say," I shrugged with my brows raised. "Guess it's better for you to head out."

"Y'know what? I still have something to say." She spat through gritted teeth, yanking a stool that stood alone by a blooded stretcher. With a deep breath, she sat down beside me, which was the last thing I expected her to do. "You're a fuckin' moron. You've always been. But you've never been an asshole." She spoke intently, trying to get her point across despite me not being in the best place to listen. "You're not an asshole, George."

No matter how angry or frustrated she was, there was always an inherent sweetness in her tone whenever she talked to me, one that shook me to the core because how could someone be so lovely in such horrific setting? How could she be so lovely to me?

"And you're not gonna convince me otherwise." She firmly stated, staring straight into my soul to make herself clear.

'I see through your bullshit'.

"So quit it."

She remained expectant, waiting for me to say something —anything.

I couldn't.

She knew it.

With a defeated sigh, she reached out for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before getting up and out of the tent. It was her way to apologize because she had to leave. I knew that gesture too well.

Aldbourne, Early September

Laughter and soft music kept the good spirits high inside the crowded pub in Aldbourne; our small safe haven. The only place where I had seen Y/n loosen up completely.

She lit up the place, dancing with Penkala, telling stories with Guarnere, cracking jokes with Martin —her dry humor matched his perfectly.

It was, I think, while she held onto my arm, throwing her head back in a fit of laughter due to something Babe had said, that I knew I loved her.

Even with her head on my shoulder and my arm lazily wrapped around her waist, she remembered to check her watch. Ever the dutiful one.

"Jesus! Would you look at that?" She pulled away from me, her fingers gently clasping my forearm before giving me an apologetic smile. "Gotta head out already, boys."

"Oh, c'mon Y/n" Buck complained, but she repeated the gesture with him and he knew no amount of convincing would get her to stay.

"But we're just getting started!" Babe complained.

"Sorry, Heffron. I really gotta head out." She squeezed his bicep briefly when she walked past him. "You better not be late, Compton!" She yelled as a form of goodbye before waving at the boys filling the English bar, now a bit less merry. At least for me.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

"M'kay what else do we need?" I asked Gene, my trusted pencil in hand to write down the supplies needed on the back of a photograph.

"What d'you have so far?"

"Uhm... Morphine," I listed, raising a finger. "bandages, three pairs of scissors,"

"Sulfa powder." He added, going through the boxes we had left.

"Sulfa... powder..." I muttered with knitted eyebrows while I noted the words. "Anything else?"

"Let me check—" The medic stood up in his foxhole, his attention caught on a particular voice coming from our left. "Ain't that—"

"Yes it is. Fuck." I handed Eugene the photograph and climbed out the dug out patch on the frozen ground. A part of us expected to be wrong, but of course not. What had initially been tentative steps turned into fast stalking. "Are you kidding me?"

George's laugh died down and a wave of 'shit's came out of the group of veterans surrounding him, who quickly spread out.

"Missed me much?" The attempted playfulness was charged with masked fear. He let out a yelp when I grasped his forearm and dragged him away from curious ears. "What's that for?"

"Don't you dare act stupid." I hissed with a menacing index finger up at his face.

"Okay, Y/n, listen—"

"You went AWOL in this state. I'm not listening to any bullshit."

"Oh, c'mon" the dismissive eye roll only made me fume even more. "We've all done that."

"It's not the same."

"How."

"You're. Not. Okay. George."

"Oh and you are?!" I sushed him when he inevitably rose his tone at me, clearly forgetting we didn't know exactly how close we were to the Germans. "Breaking news, Y/n/n!" The belligerent tone in which my nickname had come out sounded so unnatural. "no one's okay!"

"Winters is expecting my final advice."

"On what?"

"On whether to pull you back or not." His mouth opened in agape, betrayal reflected all over him. "I wasn't bluffing when I said I'd get you out." There was a finality in my words, one that neither of us liked.

Since the current situation seemed to be leading to the one which had place in the aid station a couple of days prior, I turned heel and attempted to leave.

"Y/n wait—" George's digits yanked back the sleeve of my coat. "I don't want out!" His throat suffered from the rasping.

"Then why does it look like you do?"

I should have stopped pushing.

"YOU DIDN'T SEE IT!" He exchanged the whisper-shouts for a loud cry filled with anger and frustration and something that made his chocolate brown irises water.

"SHHHH!"

"DON'T SHUSH ME!" He was losing it. It wasn't the yelling that gave it away, but the push on my shoulder.

I shouldn't have, but I myself didn't have much patience left in me. Against better judgement, My gloves found the lapels of his coat and shoved him back against a nearby tree. "I don't wanna get shot, George, so tone it down." The softness in my pitch came out as a hard contrast to my actions.

It did the trick, though. After a gulp and a deep breath, George's tone lowered. "You didn't see it? Okay? No one saw— I- They- " My hands abandoned him in order to offer some space, hoping that would help him articulate his thoughts better. "There was noth- nothing left!"

"What's-" I tilted my head to the side, trying to make sense out of the unfinished sentences. "What d'you mean w—"

"And I was right there!" He pushed himself off the tree, an index pointing at his chest violently. "I had to see it! Right in front of me!"

"George, you need to slow down-" my palms raised in surrender, ready to grab the technician if necessary.

The tension he was building up made both of our hearts pound faster each passing second for more than one reason.

"First Toye and... And then that happened and I-I had to dig out the fuckin'- the goddamn cross! I was- There were... Parts of 'em—"

Oh.

"It was... I was looking for it all over and... it was all mushy and I don't know if it was... Dirt or... Jesus..." The man took a step back, consciously or not and his legs seemed to falter ever so slightly.

"Okay, I got you." clasping his forearms with all my might, I helped him hold himself upright, not without some staggering. "I need you to breathe, okay?" My eyes searched for his, unwilling to meet mines. So that was what had been happening.

"I don't want out." He stated with a shake of his head, making a single strand of hair wobble over his forehead. "I don't get to leave."

Sigh.

"Muck and Penkala," he flinched at the mention of their names. "They'd want you to leave."

"You don't know that." It was a murmur, much less intended to be said out loud than the question that followed it. "Do you want me to leave?"

No.

"I just don't want you dead."

"That wasn't the question."

I don't want you to leave me here. Alone.

"For god's sake George—"

"Why do you want me away so badly?" There was a sort of plea in the question, one that was breaking my heart. "Did you get tired of me?"

I love you.

"That's not—"

"If you're done with my bullshit I can just ask to switch platoons."

I love you.

"George I'm telling you—" I groaned, letting go of him. "it's not about that."

"Well whatever it is, I can just switch to second,"

"George."

I love you.

"they're short on people anyway."

I love you.

"I don't need you to switch platoons."

"Then what the hell do you need?"

I love you.

"I need you to be careful!" Now it was me who needed to be sushed. "You're gonna get yourself killed. And you're gonna get me killed!"

That hit a nerve.

With regained strength, George shortened the distance I had just put between us in order to try and breathe, a task that seemed to become more difficult each passing second.

"Then stop sticking out for me!"

I love you.

"It's not that simple!"

"Why not?"

"I love you! You idiot." Lucky me, Luz was way too perplexed to tease me about the red tinge bringing life to my cheeks. "I can't just... look away if you're doing something stupid."

Maybe I would have preferred the teasing over his unresponsive behavior. Yeah, I would have rather had a cheeky grin lighting up his face, instead of the lividness washing him out.

"I don't need you moved to another platoon," I attempted to redirect the conversation to a less pathetic outcome, and George didn't seem to oppose. "I just need you to be careful and take care of yourself." Still no response; my heart sunk deeper if that was even possible. "I've lost too many friends already. Can't lose another one."

"How long?"

"What'd you mean?"

"How long have you known?"

"I don't know." I folded my arms and recoiled from the man in front of me, actively avoiding to meet his gaze. "I think... Maybe Normandy. When we regrouped."

Normandy, D-Day plus 3

"Look who decided to show up, Floyd!" Luz and Liebgott went straight to the Sergeant walking a few steps ahead of me and Shifty, ready to compare their trophies and souvenirs.

It wasn't until Talbert folded his newly acquired poncho that the boys became aware of us.

"Well, would you look at that." Lieb smacked George's shoulder with the back of his hand before nodding in my direction.

"Sorry fellas," Floyd feigned an apology. "But I figured I just couldn't show up without our medic. Right, Luz?"

If there was a situation in which George would not match the banter thrown at him, that was the one. Instead, he stood still with widened eyes.

"What? Cat's got your tongue?" I questioned, approaching the group with the sniper trailing after me.

"Oh, she bites now." Lieb snickered. "That's fun."

Still no response from Luz, apart from the shocked expression. I was about to taunt him again when he shoved Tab aside and engulfed me in a hug, one that took me a hot second to reciprocate.

"Where the hell have you been?" He limited himself to ask, breath fanning on the crook of my neck.

"Missed the DZ by four miles." My explanation sounded restrained due to the tight embrace. "Took a while to walk 'em."

"Thought you didn't make it." He murmured, this time only for me to hear. "If you scare me like that again I'll kill ya."

Peeking over his shoulder, I caught the knowing eyes of our comrades. Either Luz was unaware or didn't care enough. I myself had other things to focus on, such as the butterflies in my tummy or the scary feeling swelling up my heart.

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

"Why didn't you tell me?" His question hid something I couldn't quite decipher, although the gleam in his eyes could be worked out as a clue.

I shrugged, trying to play off the conversation I had been avoiding for months due to fear. "Why would I?"

He shrugged too, and, after opening his mouth a couple of times without getting a word out, I assume he was at a loss for words.

"I feel like we went off the topic here." I stated, once more trying to redirect the conversation, and once more failing to do so.

"Did you mean it?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inhaled deeply. George Luz really had a gift for driving me mad. "Can we move on from that? 'Cause at this point we're dragging the conversation and I'm-"

"You should've told me earlier."

I finally met his eyes with an exasperated look.

"Would that change anything?"

"I could've done something about it."

"Like what?"

He hesitated for a moment, darting a quick glance at my lips I nearly didn't catch before closing the space between us, his hands cupping my cheeks with a featherlight touch.

Just like in Normandy, it took me a moment to react; only that this time I wasn't fast enough and George slipped away from my grasp and took a step back.

"Where d'you think you're going?" I snapped, once again clutching his coat, this time for a very different purpose than minutes ago.

As my mouth found his again, deepening the kiss with my fingers entangled in his unusually long locks and the sides of my coat bunched up in his fists, I wondered if I had really found out I loved him in Normandy.

All from sudden, the feeling that I had known it from the very first corny pick-up line he had thrown at me back in Toccoa washed over me.

Either by the long awaited kiss or by the overwhelming emotions, it was my turn to pull away in order to catch my breath.

"Could've saved me a lot of teasing, y'know?" He mumbled, letting his forehead rest on mine for an instant. "Having everyone and their mother poking fun at me was pretty embarrassing."

"You really are an idiot."

That tore a quiet laugh out of him. A genuine one. It seemed to be so long since that had happened.

"I love you too, by the way."

"Oh, I think I got the memo."

Another laugh. His stupid grin. His cheeky demeanor. All of it made him lit up a little bit. My thumb caressed his face, and it occurred to me that maybe what George Luz really needed was to feel loved.

Lucky him, I wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

[laswells-ashtray]

ALRIGHT LAST REQUEST BUT.. more young Price bull shittery(I was the one who made the first YP shenanigans). I find it hilarious how MacMillan handles him as if he were some feral cat.

How do you think he’d react to his superiors or another team’s captain disciplining John? The sergeant is gonna sass off to them either way, but what if someone oversteps to the point where his captain has to step in?

Also, I wanna see how you think he came across Nikolai. What does Mac think of the criminal pilot? lol

Sergeant John Price is an arsehole of the biblical variety. MacMillan is aware of it, anyone with ears who has ever made the mistake of interacting with John is aware of it. Despite it all, MacMillan is fond of him. In the same way one is fond of a stray cat. It's scruffy, grubby and smelly but you scratch behind it's ears anyway.

He knows John has a blatant disrespect for authority, he's been on the end of it so many times that it's starting to get funny. And he's fully aware of it extending to other captains or lieutenants, sometimes rightfully so, sometimes he's just being pissy. But John is his sergeant, what's most important is that the disrespectful little fucker is his disrespectful little fucker.

So, the day John kicks off at a lieutenant in a team they're working with, he isn't surprised. Hell, John's defending him.

"Captain, I think you'll find that my team is more capable for this situation so I should lead the entry." It's a daft lieutenant who has been getting on his tits all day, thinks he's Billy big bollocks because he has a few poxy bits of metal stapled to his perky little A cups. He's wrong, his team isn't more competent and they all know it but clearly, his captain is all but tonguing his hole if he has that level of overconfidence.

He doesn't get a chance to respond to him and he wasn't stupid enough to think he would.

John openly laughs at the man, rolling his eyes as he glances between the lieutenant and back to MacMillan. "Your team wouldn't know their bloody cocks from their coccyx if you asked them about it. Only way anyone would let your team lead is if they wanted shrapnel lodged in their sac."

He can see the man clenching his fists when he looks over at John, the typical reaction for that level of disrespect especially in front of a group but the sergeant is right. Letting the lieutenant lead would end in avoidable injury for almost everyone involved.

What he doesn't anticipate is the other team's captain stepping forward and clasping a firm hand on John's shoulder with a grip that is undoubtedly painful and deliberate. Captain Penfold, new to the position and smug about the rank as if it was anything but more work. MacMillan had interacted with him once years ago when he was a barefaced wee dickhead and had spent the rest of the night drinking to forget having to have interacted with him.

"Sergeant Price, I'd recommend you watch how you talk to my men before I have you written up for insubordination. Talking to a higher-ranking officer like that would've earned you a black eye where I was trained, I wouldn't be surprised if one of my soldiers offered you the same and I wouldn't feel inclined to stop them."

MacMillan is aware of two things, he inherited his mother's temper and his father's lack of tolerance for smarmy Englishmen, especially the ones who think talking with that fancy fucking accent makes them the most intelligent in the room.

Grabbing the man's collar and all but yanking him off of John doesn't take much thought, and it takes even less effort. He pulls the bastard close to him, staring down at his fuck ugly face and into those big beady eyes, highlighting the height difference that the other captain had been oh so testy about.

"David, if you so desire than I can assure you, I'll let you take that warehouse all on your own. Prove your talents that you're so eager to brag about. But if you put a hand on my sergeant again or if any one of your soldiers do then I can assure you that you won't be left with a black eye, you'll be left with a tight wee hole for your lieutenant to ram his prick in as he so eagerly desires and your own measly cock stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet. Now, I want to hear that diplomatic apology that the fancy rich-boy school you went to taught you to hand out or you can promptly kiss my fucking arse and handle this mission yourself. You twisted wee knob gobblin' shitebag."

God bless the captain because he tries to defend himself, he does. But MacMillan isn't in the mood to fucking listen.

"I'll leave you standing there, dicks in the wind. If I need to discipline my sergeant or any of my soldiers, I'll do so as I see fit but until that cunt at your side learns his fucking place then I see no issue letting my men point out the flaws in his poxy fucking plan. Do I make myself fuckin' clear, Captain?"

John tries to pull him back and it should be enough of a sign that he's pushed it far enough but he stands firmly in place, grip tightening on the prick's collar.

"I work with you not for you and until you can make a plan that doesn't needlessly put my men at risk then we are done here. You can come and find me when you're ready to apologise and listen, until then neither you nor your lieutenant have a word to say to any of my men. And if you want tae play it up wae the brass then I'll let evdy ken exactly why your Da ended up in Barlinnie."

Only then does he let the other man go, taking a brief moment to enjoy the look of fear that passes over his face as he stumbles backwards. He doesn't bother listening to the dribble from the captain or the lieutenant as he drags John out of the room by the crook of his elbow.

They walk in silence as MacMillan leads them outside so he can smoke that fag he's been desperately craving since he stepped into the room with them all. He's surprised it takes John so long to ask when the young sergeants looks at him curiously.

"You've mentioned Barlinnie before, I thought it was a prison."

"It is."

"Oh. Oh."

Now, for MacMillan and his opinion's of Nik.

At first, the Scot thinks nothing of the Russian man. He's useful and he doesn't get on MacMillan's tits. Win-win. Then he catches John watching the Russian one day when he thinks no-one's looking.

They've never had the talk but John's never mentioned a bird at home and he's seen him slip off with another bloke "for a smoke" when they were at a bar, the lad came back with his fly down. He knows, he thinks John knows he knows but they never talk about it.

"Stare at his arse any harder and you might burn a hole through his jeans, John boy." He takes great joy in the way the younger man jumps at the sound of his voice.

"I wasn't- Don't blood call me that, I'm a grown man." A grown man who struggles to tie his own tie, aye right.

"Talk to him, lad." He wants John to be happy, wants him to succeed so that one day he has a sergeant that is as much of a pain in the arse for him as John is now but more importantly he wants John to have someone. The younger man might be a fanny on the best of days but he's one of the most efficient men that he has and he needs something other than the job before it gets him killed.

That line of thinking lasts approximately two weeks. Then the incident happens.

"John, are you- Jesus, Mary, mother of fuck. Put it away. In my fucking office? You clatty bastard."

"Mac, you were supposed to be away-"

"Take the Russian and get your bare arse off ma fuckin' desk. You little deviant."

"Yes, sir."

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Angel - Part 5

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers?

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Reader is enhanced, has wings and has powers connected to electricity.

Chapter Summary: The reader takes the rescue mission in hand but will Bucky's self loathing lead to problems?

Chapter Warning: Mentions of an abusive childhood, injuries, blood, drowning.

Being enhanced made you different, but how it made you different was also interchangeable from person to person. Jean Gray had once tried to explain it to you, but science and DNA was never your strong point. The one part you did understand was that for some that the DNA activation that made you mutant (or enhanced to be politically correct) was caused by a crisis and your body reacting. Yours was the need to protect yourself as a child. It had started with the flickering of lights when you were upset. With parents like yours that was often. One violent outburst from your stepfather gifted you with static shocks. The next time electricity waved through your fingers. He kept his distance for a few months until your mother heard of undesirables hunting out mutants. Some parents hid their children and others, those like your mother, offered you to them.

You jumped from your bedroom window in a bid to escape, hoping for a soft landing. But the landing never came and you found yourself in the air, your hoodie ripped from your back, and the bralette you were wearing underneath barely hanging on. Your mother had gasped as she rushed to the window to grab you.

At fourteen you had literally ‘flown the coop’. Eventually you found yourself at Xavier’s door. He and the X-Men had taught you to hone your skills but the damage of your life back home had always lingered and you didn’t stay anywhere long. Trust and fear fuelling your worries.

Your work as an AFH, Agent For Hire, led you to Barton and Romanoff, and in turn now, as you dipped through the storm it led you to your alphas. Now though, that wasn’t the priority. Getting them and Sam off the roof of the jet and out the water was. Your enhanced senses confirmed that Bruce was right, Sam was the worst injured. A broken wrist and ribs, a punctured lung, shrapnel to his leg, that although torqued was bleeding heavily. You were sure from his slowing heartbeat he was probably bleeding internally too.

Both Steve and Bucky were holding on to him, the latter yelling at him to stay awake. Each had an arm across him as they used their free hand to grip the jet. Steve’s head was bleeding heavily from where the emergency line cradle had hit him in the head and his breathing was laboured.

Bucky spotted you incoming. His brow furrowed with confusion. He’d seen a shadow fall from the jet and had thought he was hallucinating when he didn’t see any of the others or the emergency line. Now he realised that shadow was very much real, had wings and was about to land on him. You also smelt very familiar.

You gestured as you neared for him to move and he rolled his body away slightly allowing you space to slot him between him and Sam. You tapped his arm and then Steve’s for them to release him, as you slipped one arm under Sam’s shoulder blades and another under his legs. Steve failed to move and his grip tightened. Bucky yelled at him to let go. Steve looked up confused, face bloody, struggling to see you through the storm and the blood that trickled down his face. He loosened his grip slightly as he tried to focus and you used the moment to  shoot upwards into the sky. You were in the jet quickly after and placing Sam onto one of the beds that Bruce had set up.

You signed to Clint.

“Rogers next. Head injury.”

He relayed to Bruce as you jumped from the jet again. The sky lit up with lightning and your hair stood on end reacting as your body responded to the storm around and the static electricity around it. The waves grew higher and more violent as you neared.

Steve and Bucky were battered by the waves and the jet had now tilted slightly causing them to be further into the water than before . Bucky now seemed to be half on top of his Steve and you realised that he was now unconscious, his body going limp as you approached. Bucky was trying his best to keep them both on the roof of the jet and stop Steve falling into the depths of whatever ocean or sea they were currently being thrown around.

You stopped short of landing on the roof of the jet and hovered above them both, wings keeping you in the air. You tapped Bucky’s arm as you gripped the harnesses that usually carried Steve’s shield. He released him as you flew upwards and you caught Bucky’s voice on the wind, you made out the word ‘careful’ and you weren’t sure if he meant with Steve or yourself. You were sure he meant the first. Moments later you manhandled him onto another of the beds. Clint and Nat were quickly by his side as Bruce worked on Sam.

You started to run towards the back of the jet, ready to grab Bucky. You leapt as you had before, your wings having stayed outwards since the first rescue. Your eyes went wide as they locked onto the sergeant below. A huge wave had formed and as it dipped and turned, it pulled Bucky and the jet with it and turned him under the waves. You went to shout but nothing came out. You flew upward and rounded back to pick up speed. The jet resurfaced but there was no sign of Barnes.

You tapped on your glasses and they picked up the pulse of Bucky’s heartbeat. It was getting lower into the ocean and you needed to act quickly. You flew at speed downwards towards him, your wings angled to give you more speed. Nearing the water you put your arms in front of you for a diving motion and took a deep breath. The speed that you’d picked up in the air propelled you into the water and towards Bucky. His eyes were closed but one arm was reaching out in front of him like he had tried a last minute grab of the jet before being buried by the waves. With a few strokes you were able to grab the harness that wrapped around his upper torso and held his weapons. You kicked your legs and fought against the sea, battling to get to the surface. You’d never been this far underwater before and definitely hadn’t had hold of a two hundred pound super soldier in the water either. You decided to use your wings and pushed them into a flapping motion in sync with your legs.

You broke the surface with a gasp. The waves grew bigger by the moment and a brief glance at Bucky in your arms told you he wasn’t breathing. Looking up into the darkness you could make out the lights of the jet, the door still open and Clint hanging out of it waving a flare. Your vision was blurred by the water on your mission glasses but it was enough to guide you back to them. A heavy pull of the water let you know you were in the trough of a huge wave and you knew it was now or never. You wrapped your legs around Bucky’s and slipped your hands into the back of his harness. You pulled and pushed with your wings until you were out of the water and battling your way to the jet.

You landed in a heap, still wrapped around the alpha. You heard Bruce yell to get him breathing and pulled yourself from around him. With Bruce working on Sam, Nat on Steve and Clint lining up a beacon arrow to fire to the jet it was on you.

You pulled Bucky onto his back and checked his airways. His heart was slow but still beating. You blew two breathes directly into his mouth, as Clint quickly joined you. He slapped his face and yelled at Bucky to wake up. You blew another breath into his mouth and decided to shock him with a little static electricity.

Water splashed across your face as he began to cough and you pushed him onto his side. You hit him hard on his back as he moved onto all fours. He coughed up more water and you hit him again before he gasped and gestured at you to stop.

Bucky was confused. One minute he’d been watching you take Steve. Then he was underwater. Now he was on the jet but it smelt like he was at Coney Island.

You watched as he took deep breaths before he muttered that you should have left him. It was quiet enough for the others to miss it with the noise of the jet but you certainly didn’t it and your brow furrowed as you looked towards Clint.

“What did he say?”

You signed back, concern across your face.

“He said I should have left him.”

It was at this moment Clint lost his shit. He grabbed at Bucky and pulled him from the floor, attempting to manhandle him towards the bed waiting for him.

“Hey asshole, she just risked her damn life for you, so you can quit with the self loathing bullshit.”

“I didn’t ask her to do that.” He replied shrugging Clint off.

“No, but she did it anyway. Didn’t even have to ask her and she’s throwing herself into a fucking storm for you three idiots. You’d be dead without her, all fucking three of you. Is that what you want?”

Bucky went to yell back but coughed again and struggled to catch his breath. You listened carefully and could hear he still had water in his lungs. You signed to Clint, who in turn yelled at Bucky.

“You’ve got water in your lungs dipshit. Get on the bed.”

Clint pulled at Bucky’s shoulder and he brushed him off harshly. You felt the mood in the jet shift further and the start of a growl rumbled in Natasha’s chest. A growl from Bruce followed but it sounded more like the other guy. Clint rubbed his face in frustration.

At this point you had really had enough. You were wet, cold and hurt. You were drained. You needed another shower and a warm bed. You heard Bruce ask Barnes again to get on the bed and his response was a growl. Natasha went to react but for once she wasn’t quick enough, as this time it was you losing your shit. You strode towards Barnes and pushed out your wings as a show of force and intimidation. You were almost surprised that it worked and he staggered back in shock and collided with the side of the bed as you crowded him. You grabbed the harness and lifted him up, sitting him on the bed. You were purposely rough as you lifted his legs and pushed him further on to bed.

You signed angrily.

“Get on the bed and do as you’re fucking told Sergeant.”

It was as you stormed off towards the bathroom that Bucky realised he’d fucked up. It was you that smelt of Coney Island. Well, sugar doughnuts and cotton candy.

The stirring of his alpha confirmed it. You were his.

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @vicmc624 @elissanatok

[randofics]

I love your 'bots reacting to you reaching where they can't posts. Would you do one for the 'cons?

Here ya go darlin' hope ya like it!

------------------------------

Starscream

When you first met the con, he had been very xenophobic towards you. He wouldn't touch you, let alone go anywhere near you unless ordered by Megatron, and even then, he'd put up a fuss about it. So when he got shrapnel lodged in his turbine blades and knockout couldn't get it without invasive measures, it was up to none other than you to pry it out. He absolutely dreaded it, but he also couldn't fly without his turbine, so if you had to do it over knockout performing surgery, then so be it.

He transformed hissing in pain as the turbine blades flexed, making the shrapnel cut into them. Using a box as a step stool, you came level with the engine. You spotted the wedged metal and began to reach for it before hesitating. He could easily shred your arm. You'd seen the plane accident documentaries on a binge last year and knew well enough of the tornado force winds engines could produce. There had only been one man you'd heard of to survive being sucked into a military jets engine, and it had been through sheer luck. His vest strap snagged on the metal inside, stopping his body from being sucked further in, but his hand had been effectively shredded by the blades.

Starscream's voice broke you from your dark thoughts. "I'm not going to harm you, fleshy. As much as I'd like to, Megatron gave me direct orders not to."

That was only slightly reassuring, but you steeled yourself and slowly moved your hand forward between the first set of blades. With your wrist pushed between two of the thin blades, you reached for the mangled metal shard slotted through the second set. With your fingers firmly on it, you wiggled it, only making it move slightly. "Do hurry fleshy before I dislodge it with your arm still inside." His voice was slightly pained as you got a better grip on it.

"Going as fast as I can... aha!" You pulled the surprisingly long strip of metal from his blades and extracted your hand swiftly along with it. He let out a sigh of relief and expiramentally spun his blades. "That feels much better. Now I can go finish my work." Without so much as a thank you, he sauntered out however you did get a thanks from knockout.

Megatron

Megs wasn't a fun mech to be around, especially when you were his prisoner. But whenever the chance arose to get in his good graces, you took the opportunity. One day, when he returned to the nemesis after battle and he walked into his quarters, where he was also keeping an eye on you (Those good for nothing bots couldn't be trusted with a pawn like you). The door shut with a hiss locking behind him, and his shoulders relaxed he even let the slight hobble in his walk show, probably having forgotten you were there.

You watched as he sat in his desk chair and spun around to face you in your little cage. Your curiosity getting the better of you made you speak. "Lord Megatron, may I ask why you're injured?"

He let out an angered and frustrated growl, looking away from you. "Your autobot comrades got a few lucky shots on me, and I seem to have something lodged in my plating, most likely from the battle. He felt under one of the plates on his side, wincing slightly at a tender spot. "Was knockout not able to remove it?"

His optics flashed in anger, and he slammed his fist down on the chair arm. "I do not need his help with such a trivial thing! It will dislodge itself eventually." You held up your hands to placate him and just left it at that.

A day later and he came back in with an even worse hobble wincing as he sat in his chair. "You want me to remove that thing for you?... Lord Megatron." He sighed, pushing up off his seat and grabbing hold of your cage. He entered the pass code, and the door creaked open. You hopped out onto the table and motioned for him to show you which plate it was under. He leaned awkwardly over you so you could reach the panel of metal, and gently, you lifted it so you could get a better look.

A small rock (small to him anyway) was lodged in such a way that whenever he walked it ground into some of his finer components. "Ouch, that's probably like me getting a bone splinter in one of my joints. I'm surprised it wasn't bothering you this much yesterday."

"Quit your rambling and remove it, fleshy."

"Ok ok do you have anything I can use to knock it out? I'm not strong enough to pull it out by hand." You could practically hear him roll his optics, but he reached to a shelf above and grabbed a tiny object, dropping it next to you. It just looked like another piece of metal to you, but it was a proper shape and weight. You got back in position and aimed the object at the rock striking it once, then twice without much success. Megatron hissed as he involuntarily shifted and that stubborn piece of rock ground into the metal around it.

The third strike split it in half, and it fell away dropping to the floor far below. He stepped back, testing his flexibility, and you could tell it was still sore but not near as bad as it had been. He looked down at you, motioning for you to go back into your cage he locked the door behind you and had you toss the metal object outside. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"You're welcome, I guess?"

Knockout

Knockout was relatively friendly for a con and not nearly as xenophobic as some of the others could be. In fact, he was quite the opposite in that sense. He's very curious, maybe a little too curious about human anatomy and organ functions. But you could definitely get a few laughs from and with him. Eventually, your curiosity of their anatomy grew as you ran out of things to entertain you.

He was more than happy to explain things to you in the utmost detail. When you mentioned you'd love to get an in person look at a cybertronians inner workings, he happily volunteered for a light viewing. He transformed and popped his hood, revealing an alien, engine-esqe jumble of mirrored components where a normal engine would be. The metal wasn't sparkling like you expected with him, but it wasn't dirty either.

Your eyes sparkled with wonder as you tried to imagine how each piece would work, and without realizing you leaned over, your soft legging covered thighs smooshing against his red finish. Your hands gripped the inside lip of his engine space, letting you get a closer look at a smaller component that caught your eye. As if you were admiring a precious stone, you lightly grazed the edge of the glowing centerpiece's metal covering. Blue light shown through the purpose built air intakes on either side of the cover.

At your touch there, he shook like he'd been hit with an electric shock and slammed his hood shut as you jumped away. Clearing his vocalizer, he spoke with a very unlike him stutter. He also seemed a bit higher pitched than normal. "OK, that's enough of a ha-hands-on look for now. I-I need to return to my work, or Lord Megatron will be angry with me."

Jittery, he got back to work at his computer, leaving you to your own devices and wondering just what exactly that was all about.

"What in cybertron was that!? Their touch was so light, yet it was like I hit a powerline!" Perhaps it had been a bad idea to let you do that.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Could you do a platonic crew with a reader who has a devilfruit that gives them similar abilities to deadpool (aka any injury regenerates)- but unlike deadpool they can die if they gain enough damage, but the reader doesn’t realise/accept this and constantly risks their life for the crew cause they think they’ll be okay?

Yandere Straw Hats x GN!Reader

1.2k words

Warning for descriptions of serious injuries

“Dammit, let me out!”

You yank on the infirmary door again despite knowing what a waste of time it was. With an aggravated huff, you turn around and shamble back to the bed. Your body was in agony from the wounds you took on today. Even though your devil fruit was working hard to fix it, this would take time to fully heal and stop hurting. It’s probably best to lay down for a bit, you just wish you could do so in your own bed.

They’re all over reacting, and they know it. You’re borderline immortal, and sure, you cut it a little close this time, but you were fine now! The battle was over, it’s not like you’re in any danger. 

You’re aware that your devil fruit can be unsettling at times, it’s unnatural to see someone recover from what would be a mortal wound for anyone else. Even Chopper couldn’t help but look disturbed when they found you after you threw yourself over a bomb. The explosion mostly damaged your legs, even taking one off entirely. 

The worst part though was the piece of shrapnel that shot up and cut open your abdomen. If it weren’t for you manually holding the wound shut, your organs would’ve all spilled out onto the ground.

Chopper had given you some painkillers to hold you over until you finished healing, but they can only do so much against something this severe. You roll onto your side to grab the water from the bedside table, but an intense pain shoots through you, making you drop it on the ground.

The glass shatters on impact, and you drop your head back onto your pillow with a groan. As you attempt to slip out of the bed again to pick up the broken glass, the door is thrown open and Chopper rushes in, “I heard something break! What hap- Get back in the bed!”

He ran over to you and shooed you back into lying down, “You’re too hurt to be moving around like this!” 

“I’m already mostly healed, it’s not like I’m going to die,” you grumbled, annoyed that you even have to state this. Everyone on board is well aware of how your powers work.

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!” Chopper stopped picking up glass and snapped his head towards you. Tears were pouring down his face, but he forced himself to speak through them, “Y-You won’t know what is going to be enough to kill you until it’s too late!”

Now you just felt bad. You care about your crew, and making them cry is not something you ever want to do. Even if you have done so multiple times. Awkwardly, you reach out to put your hand on his shoulder, “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Chopper aggressively rubs at his eyes and sniffles loudly, “You n-need to stop d-doing this! I hate it, everyone hates it! We’re all-”

“Chopper.”

Both of you snap your attention to the door, where Luffy is standing. His hat is obscuring his eyes, but you can feel them on you regardless. What’s worse, he’s openly frowning. That’s never a good sign, especially not after you’ve landed yourself back in the infirmary.

The ship’s doctor walked out without another word, closing the door behind him. Now it’s just you and Luffy. He’s eerily silent as he approaches your bed and takes a seat at the foot of it. You can already guess where this is going. He’s going to tell you to stop acting like you’re the only one who can protect everyone else and to let others help. 

You’ve had this conversation with him many times. It’s not like you were intentionally trying to go against his words, you wanted to heed his orders and be a good crewmate, really! It’s just that whenever you are in the heat of the moment, you instinctively put yourself in harm’s way. You could take damage better than anyone, what else were you supposed to do?

“You’re done.”

Your blood ran cold in your veins, “Excuse me?”

“I said you’re done, we’re not letting you do this again,” Luffy stated plainly, like it was the most obvious conclusion to come to. 

You attempt to sit up, but the pain that shoots through you brings that to a halt. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you kicking me out?” You ground out.

“I never said that. You’re just done fighting, that’s it,” Luffy finally lifted his head enough for you to make eye contact with him, and you wish he hadn’t. The look in his eyes is so intense that your argument died on your tongue. “Is that understood?”

“Wha… What else am I-”

Luffy’s hand clamped over your mouth, you see anger flicker across his face as he grinds his teeth together, “Don’t argue with me! I’m sick of you never listening! I’m your captain, if I say you’re done, then you’re done!” His voice raises in volume with every word until he’s practically screaming at you.

Tears drip onto your face as he looms above you, hiccupping as his own sorrow overcomes him. “Why do you keep doing this? Why do you act like you’re going to survive no matter what? You almost died!” He abruptly lets go of your mouth and collapses on top of your body, clutching onto you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. His hat tumbles off his head and onto the bed beside you.

His weight feels uncomfortable on your recovering injuries, but you don’t say anything. Lightly, you bring a hand up to his head to gently run your fingers through his hair. This action only makes him hold you closer as his cries get louder.

You’re torn. As much as you want to be upset about his previous words to you, it’s impossible to act on those emotions when he’s sobbing on top of you. Your near death clearly bothered him more than you had realized. Were you really in the wrong for acting the way you did? If what you were doing was so great, why was it hurting all your friends so badly?

“I’m sorry,” you croak out as your own eyes start to tear up.

Luffy doesn’t answer. You’re not sure he even heard you over his crying. You can faintly hear hushed words being spoken outside the infirmary door, but there’s nothing you can do right now to hear it better. Your crewmates are no doubt discussing what to do with you now that Luffy was seemingly dead set on not letting you onto a battlefield again.

Hopefully, this was all said because he lost control of his emotions, and when he calms down he’ll change his mind. That had to be the case. I mean really, it’s not like you could just sit back and do nothing while everyone else risked life and limb. You’ll be more careful from now on, for real this time. You’ll take their feelings into consideration before acting so recklessly. It won’t happen again.

Although… it’s unclear if that’s because you’re going to change your ways, or if they are going to make you whether you want to or not.