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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 1 - THE DAGGER

A/N: I come bearing a brainchild. One I love deeply but am unsure of how it will be received! Straight off the bat I had planned for this to be something that satisfied those Din cravings we’ve all been having through a healthy dose of smut on the regular. BUT I wanted some background? Some context?? In my head we’ll have a few interactions i.e. chapters before the events of The Mandalorian and then kick off all guns blazing. Therefore, this pilot chapter is short, slow, and not a lot happens. (I should be in sales obv) but let’s get the ball rolling and see where it takes us!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language, slight detail on wounds and their treatment.

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

6ABY, Derelkann, Klatooine.

The first time you met him, he’d been caught with a dagger laced with raquor’daan venom.

You had been locking up the side entrance to the voluntary medical center you spent your time at while on Klatooine when there was a resounding clatter. One of the many piles of discarded junk was toppled by an armored leg; equally armored arms braced by the side of the center while the imposing cut of the figure steadied himself. You could just about hear the labored pants, distorted by the modulator of his helmet; a sound familiar enough to you to know it wasn’t from exertion, but pain. Once you’d determined he wasn’t an immediate threat, weighing the possibilities as quickly as you could, you walked deeper down the alley towards the male. It was dark, the only light coming from the streetlight at the front of the clinic and that which was reflected from the man’s helmet but still you went.

“Are you hurt?” The helmet snapped around to stare at you and you immediately held up your hands, instinct screaming at you that to startle this man would be like cornering a cantankerous reek during mating season: a bad idea.

An even worse idea when you realized that your cornered reek was Mandalorian.

Even though you couldn’t see his eyes through the tinted t-visor, you could feel them on you; watching, calculating, assessing what danger you might pose all in a split second before he pushed himself from the wall with a grunt.

“This is a clinic?” He rasped, your eyes instantly following his left hand as it moved to grip above the dull grey tasset that protected his right hip. Trying to smother the pain with pressure, or stem blood loss. You couldn’t tell with his glove and the dark duraweave in the way.

“Well?” He bit out impatiently, jarring you back from trying to assess him from a safe distance.

“Oh, oh yes, yes this is one of the New Republic’s medical outreach centers in the Outer Rim. Please,” you indicated to the door for him to follow you but instead his visor tipped to the left and right marginally. You frowned; he was trying to avoid being seen. Was he wanted? After six months on Klatooine, you had learned to stop asking questions of your patients, so you said nothing. Neither did he as he walked towards the door you had been in the process of locking.

You kicked back into gear. Even though you had mentally unwound for the evening after a twelve-hour shift, you were quickly able to refocus your mind and sped up to keep pace with the Mandalorian. A task, he would probably hate to know, that wasn’t as difficult as it might have been if he was unharmed. His movements were stiff, and it was obvious that he was trying to force his body to walk fluidly despite the obvious pain it was putting him in.

The side door opened onto the main corridor that encircled a number of examination rooms, operating theatres and wards, all pointing inward so that the same power generator could be used for the entire clinic from where it sat in the center. A common feature of New Republic operations; efficient and cost effective if not always the best option. It explained why it was so dim, despite being an all-hours clinic. If they put the majority of the technological functions of the center to rest at night when it wasn’t busy, there were less fear of it being temperamental during the day. Or Maker forbid, a full power outage.

Opening the door to the closest examination room, you quickly pulled off your jacket and tossed it onto the nearest unused flat surface, pointing to the exam table in the corner, “Sit down before you fall down. A diagnostics droid will be here in---”

“No droids.” He hissed; his helmet once more twisting to glare at you even as he lowered himself heavily to sit on the table.

“No droids? Look, the quickest way---”

“You do it. I don’t want any of those things near me, got it?” His words were slurring slightly, and any argument died on your tongue when you realized trying to argue your case was just going to waste time. He was losing consciousness.

You knew you could treat him without the assistance of droids, it was more for convenience and time. But even still, you had spent four years as a combat medic for the Rebel Alliance on the frontline, you knew a thing or two about getting things done quickly.

“Belt. Tasset. Off. Now.” Was all you said as you got down to business and pulled one of the drawers to the side open. You pulled a pair of gloves on before you flicked the examination light on, the sudden glare hurting your eyes momentarily as you approached the large warrior on your table.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” You warned as you adjusted the settings on the light to focus itself to the optimum location for you to get a better look. The duraweave above his armor was dark, blood no doubt but it looked dry. You could feel your skin humming with the anxiety of not knowing what sort of injury was waiting for you underneath that gloved hand but knew better than to try to remove the armor yourself. You might not be a Siniteen, but you weren’t stupid either, to try remove a Mandalorian’s armor without permission.

You could hear the heavy exhales from him through his nose as he pointedly stared away from you, as if his sheer willpower alone would be enough to deter you from your demands.

“Fine.” You bit out and immediately slapped the hand covering his side, the added pressure making the man grunt and his hand instantly retract from the contact on instinct before growling at you in an unknown tongue.

You tuned him out as you lifted a side of the single tear in the duraweave to reveal an angry and inflamed cauterized laceration, the swelling alone telling you how botched the job was. But it was the faint black veins that were slowly growing from the point of contact that worried you. You’d seen this kind of wound before, on Sriluur. It was commonly used in gang warfare that had engulfed the planet since the fall of the Empire.

“Fucking hell, what idiot cauterizes a poisoned wound?” You muttered to yourself, feeling around the edges of the gash lightly and earning a shaky exhale from your patient.

“Are you calling me an idiot?” The Mandalorian bit out as he turned his helmet to look down at you again, his hands fisted at the side of the table. The jolt of pain had revived him slightly.

“If you’re the one who cauterized it, then yeah. I’m surprised you haven’t already killed yourself accidentally with this level of carelessness.”

You stood before the warrior could respond but you heard his snarl through the modulator as you quickly began grabbing the supplies you’d need.

“I’m not going to tell you this won’t hurt because honestly, it’s going to massively suck. It would have been bad enough if you’d shown up with an open wound infected with raquor’daan poison, but we’re going to have to reopen yours if we want to be able to extract the poison.” You threw a sterilized scalpel into the metal pan that hovered beside you, along with gauze, several saline syringes and bactaspray before you walked back over to him.

The armored warrior said nothing and stared at you, a flash of awareness running through you suddenly; that he could so easily kill you, wounded or not.

The silence stretched for several long seconds before the Mandalorian reached down to unbuckle the utility belt around his waist unhurriedly and dropped it beside him so that it wasn’t in either of your way. It was a blatant challenge when he leaned back on his hands, his visor staying trained on you as you narrowed your gaze; the belt could come off, but the tasset stayed on.

In another situation, the act might have been almost erotic, with his fingers unbuckling the belt deliberately slow as if daring you to speak to the contrary. Silent, yet commanding your undivided attention as he made himself comfortable on the table. But alas, the man in front of you was poisoned and that tended to skew the situation away from sexy.

You arched a single brow, picking up the scalpel as you accepted the proverbial gauntlet thrown to you.

“Buckle up, pal.”

***

You were a demon. Hell spawn sent to torment him in his dying moments, doomed to have no peace before the end.

At least, that’s what Din told himself as you set the wicked sharp blade of the scalpel against his skin. The skill with which you sliced open the recently closed wound before he could even blink was both inspiring and chilling. He didn’t know what he expected a medic on Klatooine to look like, but it certainly wasn’t you. You looked much too soft, too young but the unwavering focus in your gaze as you gently pulled the seams of the wound apart told him of an inner steel.

His inner lamentations over demonic medics and soft eyes distracted him fabulously from the pain of the wound he’d received on Sriluur while picking up a quarry up until the hellion squeezed one side of the wound, making him shout at the blend of white hot agony and surprise at which the pain came.

“Fucking hell!” he growled, shifting under your ruthless touch.

“Stop moving, Mando. The poison needs to be pulled out and since you don’t want droids we’re doing it the old fashioned way.” You didn’t raise your eyes to him, even as he glared daggers at the top of your head, a hiss of pain leaving him again as you pressed along the exposed flesh towards the edge of the wound again, his head spinning at the expelled blood, the crimson laced with inky black.

A moment of relief followed as the medic cleaned the wound with the saline solution before she wiped it down and repeated the process of squeezing the poison out followed by a clean.

“Almost there… hang in there. You’re doing great.” Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; the generic medical praise made his stomach churn. It was obvious you had slipped into autopilot, rehashing the same comments that made most patients relax while you shifted to try get the opposite edge. This one being significantly more difficult to clean as the piece of armour that he had flatly refused to take off, was making it awkward to move around.

“Son of a druk throwing skrog!” If he wasn’t in pain, he’d have chuckled at the absolute filth coming from your mouth, putting a pirate to shame while you blew a few stray hairs that had fallen from your tie and into your face during your attempts to shift yourself to better clean the wound. As it was, he just leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, reciting the Creed in his head to distract himself.

He couldn’t decide if you belonged fighting in a shady cantina or leading a triage camp on a battlefield. All he could determine, was that you had a mind that didn’t falter at the lack of technology or use of droids (a rarity these days), you had a mouth that’d make even Paz Vizsla blush and the spine to tell a Mandalorian to remove his armor without the least bit of hesitation. In a word; you were dangerous, and Din never saw the need to experience more danger than he already did, thank you very much.

He tilted his head when he heard you release a breath and sit back on your haunches, running the back of your hand across your forehead, eyes bright as they looked at your work. In what Din could only explain as being delusions brought on by overexposure to raquor’daan venom, a moment of attraction flashed in his mind, kindled when you looked back up at him before he wrangled the feeling away.

Dangerous. Definitely dangerous, he warned himself heatedly.

***

You let out a sigh of relief when the blood from the Mandalorians wound ran clean. It wasn’t a definitive answer to whether you had gotten all the raquor’daan venom out, but it was the majority. At least now you could sleep easy knowing some bactaspray would be able to handle the rest.

You rinsed the wound once more with saline and dried it gently with a clean pad before spraying it generously with the bacta.

“Now then, at least I can say a Mandalorian didn’t die on my watch.” You commented cheerfully, your more easy-going side surfacing now that the immediate danger had been dealt with.

The warrior was silent above you as he watched you peel open a bactapad to cover the wound for extra protection.

“Don’t cauterize it again until you’ve given the bacta at least eight hours with direct contact. That should kill off any of the poison I may have missed and will keep it sterile.” Pushed yourself to your feet, pulling off the stained gloves and throwing them into the pan to be disposed along with all the soiled gauze and pads you had used.

“You’re looking for light pink at the edges.” You told him as you continued to clear up your supplies, “If it’s still angry and swollen at the edges after twenty-four hours you’ll need to return to a medical facility. But I’ll throw in some antibiotics, so you hopefully don’t have to, raquor’daan venom is potent after all. I wouldn’t take any chances if you’re going to say you think it’s overkill.”

You smiled as he lowered his hand, having lifted it to interrupt you, no doubt. You could hear him grumble a bit while he pulled his belt back around his waist, grunting softly as the weight settled on his hip.

“How does it feel?” You probed from the sink, turning your head to look at him as you washed your hands.

“Better.” Was all you got from him but from what you could tell, he was a man of few words anyway.

You nodded and turned back to turn off the tap and started measuring out three days of antibiotics, keeping him in your peripheral as you saw him get to his feet, rolling his shoulders back and turning to look at you.

“Thank you. I appreciate the help.” He rasped awkwardly, obviously not accustomed to actually being helped in these kinds of situations. He fished out a pouch of credits when you approached him to hand him the antibiotics, causing you to frown.

“These medical centers were set up to offer free medical care to those that need it.” You mentioned as you moved out of his way to lean against the table he had been sitting on not five minutes prior.

“I… can only offer you my gratitude then.” He said, nodding to you once more before heading towards the door.

“One more thing Mando.” You called as he opened the door, the beskar helmet turning slightly to indicate he was listening,

“Try not to get yourself killed by accidentally sealing venom into your body again, yeah?”

You laughed at the indignant snort that left the man as he left without a word, his voice trailing back as he walked away,

“If I do, I know where to go.”

And with that, he disappeared back the way he came, no indication that one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy had even been in your examination room.

He was like a tornado, arriving and disappearing in a flash, the wreckage left behind not immediately obvious but when you would look back in the years to come, you’d laugh at how naïve you had been to think you could assist a Mandalorian and still remain an insignificant player on the grand stage of the galaxy.

#the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #din djarin imagine #mando imagine #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin fic #mando fic

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cyhyr · 3 years

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KakaIru Maze 2021: Decoding Ancient Lost Languages

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

WC: ~4540

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Mysterious Injuries, Old Gods, Sacrifice, Poisoning, Curses, Hospitalization, Hopeful Ending, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Hair Loss

A/N: *~*Throws Confetti*~* I. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT. I'M. DOING.

I did the barest amount of research for this fic. *~*More Confetti*~*

Read on The Archive

Normally, Iruka would balk at the idea that he should be carried through the front gates after a mission, no matter how gruelling. He has an image to uphold, and what if one of his students were to see him broken and weak after one of his missions? He’d either never hear the end of their worry or, worse, lose their respect as a strong shinobi capable of teaching them.

So no, this situation is far from normal.

He holds on tight around Kotetsu’s shoulders and buries his face in his teammate’s hair. His back is on fire, carved wounds shifting and worsening with each step. Some kind of curse-seal, or a time-released jutsu; whatever happened, Izumo couldn’t use the mystical palm jutsu to heal it, not without causing further excruciating pain and making the wounds ooze and seem to cut themselves deeper into Iruka’s back.

They had cut their losses and abandoned the mission. Iruka’s fūinjutsu was vital to its success anyway, and he was—is—in constant agony.

Thankfully, they enter the village just after nightfall. Iruka can feel a bit relieved over that—most of his current students are home and inside at this time, so the chances of being seen by any of them are slim. He bites his lip to stifle a cry as Kotetsu pushes off a rooftop a bit harder than usual and it shifts him too much.

They’re halfway to the hospital when the ANBU team flank him and Kotetsu, escorting them the rest of the way. One of them, Cat, runs close enough to talk.

“Report.”

Iruka can’t. Kotetsu responds, “An injury that responds poorly to normal medical field ninjutsu.”

“Is he awake?”

Iruka nods, knowing Cat will see.

“Iruka-sensei, can you speak?”

He shakes his head.

Kotetsu says, “He’s been in too much pain to do much more than nod or shake his head.”

“Rokudaime-sama wants you and your other teammate to report directly to him once Iruka-sensei is admitted to the hospital.”

Kotetsu fumbles another step. Iruka grits his teeth and groans, holding back a scream. “Sorry, Ru,” he mumbles. To Cat he says, “Of course, ANBU-san. Izumo’s checking us in at the gate. I’ll collect him and report, once I drop Iruka off.”

Iruka doesn’t remember being admitted. He does remember Sakura’s startled cry as he’s placed face-down on a gurney and his wounds are finally able to be seen in harsh fluorescent lighting for the first time. Gods, he’s tired of being face-down in hospital beds.

Will something, anything, have the wherewithal to fucking strike him in the chest for once, please?

He passes out.

A hand is holding his own gently as he wakes, extremely disoriented and floaty on painkillers. He blinks his eyes open and turns his gaze to the man beside him. Iruka smiles faintly. “K’shi,” he slurs. Oh, they have him on the good drugs.

“You are never leaving the village again,” Kakashi whispers harshly. He bows his head and kisses Iruka’s hand in his own and continues, “Hokage’s orders.”

“I‘ll go rogue,” Iruka mutters, closing his eyes. “What’s in my IV?”

“From what Sakura tells me? Everything.”

“That explains.” Iruka stops, trying to think of the rest of his sentence, but a fresh flood of painkillers just flowed into his arm and he hums instead.

“I heard from Kotetsu and Izumo what happened,” Kakashi continues. “Are you able yet to talk about it as well?”

“Nope.” Iruka nuzzles into his pillow. He’s feeling really floaty and he’d like to go back to sleep.

Kakashi chuckles. Iruka receives a kiss to his hair and a tighter grip on his hand. “Sleep, then, my love. I’ll see if Sakura can get you on something less strong, enough that we can talk soon.”

“‘Kay. Love you.”

He falls back asleep.

When he wakes the second time, there’s a different kind of energy in the room—a different sort of love in the air, and Iruka knows it sounds crazy but he can just tell, even with his eyes still closed, when he’s around Kakashi or if he’s around Naruto.

Now, it’s Naruto.

Also, he can feel the carving in his back, so whatever they’d had him on before they’d lowered the dosage or put him on something else entirely.

“Hey, Naruto,” Iruka says, opening his eyes.

In the chair beside his head, the blond bundle sits, knee twitching. With his bandaged arm crossed over his other and his head bowed in thought, he almost looks like the adult he’s so close to being, instead of the teenager he still is. They argue good-naturedly about it all the time; Naruto insists that he’s an adult, but at eighteen, he’s still technically a teenager and Iruka reminds him of it as much as he can.

“Iru-nii! How are you feeling?”

“Like someone took a carving knife to my back,” Iruka scoffs. “Also, strangely drained.”

Naruto nods. “Sakura-chan said that the new pain medicine has the side-effect of making it feel like you’re chakra-exhausted. But,” he frowns, “she also said that the dose should be strong enough that you wouldn’t be in too much pain when you wake up.”

“It’s bearable, Naruto. You…” He sighs, “You didn’t see me when I came in, did you?”

He shakes his head. “I was out with Kiba and Shikamaru. Kakashi-sensei told me about you this morning, when we got back. You’ve been drifting in and out for, like, three days!”

Iruka buries his face in his pillow and groans. There goes his hope that the carvings won’t scar.

“He says he’ll be by later,” Naruto adds. He shivers comically. “I still don’t see why you’d pick him of all people, Iru-nii.”

Iruka smiles. “You have a different experience with him as his student.” The smile fades and he asks, “Has there been any progress made on fixing my back?”

Naruto sobers. “See, that’s the thing. Every time Sakura tries to get close with some kind of medical ninjutsu—or even with normal healing balms and stitches—the cuts react violently. Like there’s some bad chakra embedded inside them.”

“Has anyone had a Hyūga come and look at it?” Iruka muses. “If there’s chakra in the cuts, then a Hyūga would see it with the Byakugan.”

Naruto jumps up. “You’re a genius! I’ll go and check with Sakura-chan!”

Iruka watches him leave and sighs fondly. Kakashi did well with him, he thinks, and then closes his eyes and drifts.

At least he’s able to move around on his own now. Iruka washes his hands in the bathroom and then braces his palms on the sink. It’s been almost a week, and no one is any closer to figuring out how to fix his back.

Having a Hyūga look at the wounds didn’t help. It nearly blinded Hinata. Iruka still feels horribly guilty about it, but she can still see and activate her Byakugan, so he’s been told multiple times to let it go.

What she had seen made everyone uneasy though. A slimy discharge of chakra oozing from the wounds, bright and powerful enough that Hinata had to close her eyes against it.

Sakura has a small team of medi-nins on his case, researching at all hours. Two days, and they still haven’t found anything.

Iruka’s frustrated.

Kakashi visits every night and Naruto most mornings. It’s nice, but he’d rather be back in class with his kids.

He had to get a blood transfusion last night. His back hasn’t stopped bleeding, and the blood loss finally caught up to him.

Iruka turns his back to the mirror, takes off his shirt gingerly, and looks over his shoulder at the carvings. He frowns—it looks odd. This is the first time he’s gotten to see the wounds, and he can’t imagine no one's noticed…

He leaves the bathroom and hunts around in the stack of drawers by his bed. “Ha!” He finds a pad of paper and a pencil, and heads back into the bathroom.

It’s difficult, transcribing the still bleeding wounds onto paper through a mirror while looking over his shoulder. It’s even harder once the dose of painkillers he’s on fully metabolizes and he’s not yet done. Twisting his upper back, stretching and sitting on the edge of the sink so he can see his lower back—it aches.

A voice comes from the other side of the door, along with a soft knock. “Iruka-sensei? Is everything alright?”

Sakura.

He places the pad and pencil on the counter and slides the door open. “Sakura, has no one realized that the wounds are words?” he asks.

She looks startled. “Huh?”

“Could you please clean them for me again, and check that I’ve transcribed it correctly?” Iruka reaches back inside the bathroom and gives the pad of paper to Sakura. “I’m sure Rokudaime-sama will be interested in this.”

Sakura finally catches up. “Yes! Um, let me get you another dose of painkillers, and a flush kit. If you could sit back down, Sensei? I’ll be right back!”

Iruka just about collapses onto the mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. Finally, some answers are on the horizon.

“It’s no language the cipher corps recognize, nor is it a code in our archives.” Kakashi has his arms crossed and a shoulder leaning against the window. “But they do agree with your assessment—it’s definitely a message of some kind.”

Iruka sighs, picking at the hospital food. “Validation is nice, but I was hoping for an end to this pain.”

“I know, love. Me too.”

“When can we expect word back from Sasuke?”

“If it is Otsutsuki, Sasuke should arrive as soon as possible, per my order. If not, he likely will only return a messenger hawk with the information.” Kakashi leaves the window and comes to sit on the mattress beside Iruka. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Iruka hums and leans against his partner, resting his head against Kakashi’s collarbone. It’s not comfortable, but it is comforting. “I miss sleeping with you,” he whispers.

Kakashi kisses the top of his head. “I miss you too, love. The house is too quiet without you.”

Iruka stares at the encoded characters transcribed from his back. He’s… discomfited. He’s been staring at the words for almost a half-hour, trying to make sense of it.

It doesn’t change.

Iruka knows this language.

Not… not well enough to read it outright, but enough that with the characters cleaned up and a fresh copy in his hands, one that was written down while the scribe (himself) wasn’t in immense pain, he recognizes it.

“Iru-nii!” Naruto steps in for his morning visit. “How’d you sleep?”

“As best as can be expected,” Iruka mutters. “Naruto, can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? Sure!”

Thank the gods he still has his moments of dull-headedness. “In the office at home, I have a scroll with the Uzumaki clan seal on it. It’s the only one, middle shelf. I need you to get that scroll for me please.”

“Nii-chan, why do you have an Uzumaki scroll?”

Iruka sighs. “Go get the scroll, and I’ll explain when you get back, okay?”

Naruto leaves through the open window, his footing unsteady. But he leaves and that means that Iruka can breathe and take the time to think of a way to tell him, when he gets back, about how he found out that they are actually distantly related.

Actually, no—how is he supposed to—shit. Iruka drags a hand down his face.

Hey Naruto, oh this old scroll? Found it in the archives after Tsunade-sama left office! It was in a box marked with my parents’ names on it. Yeah, turns out that my father was a refugee from Uzushio, just like your mother! Oh, and funnily enough, Umino is also a branch family of the Uzumaki!

That’s… not going to go over well, is it.

Break a thing for fragments. Break the fragments for dust. Break the dust, and break what remains. Here is fire.

To forge a sword, to fight, to curse your enemies on the eve of battle. This is the story of blood and its exits.

A word that sanctifies the change that comes when the seared skin peels. Words spoken in ritual to inspire an unmerciful Change. To speak them aloud is to hear the sword hiss.

All these things share certain patterns.

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

…

Iruka wakes gasping, not realizing that he’d fallen asleep. He pats his lap for the scroll Naruto had brought him, and startles as he realizes that it’s not there. It—It had been there just, just a little while ago, hadn’t it???

“Mercy is found only in shadow,” he mutters to himself, looking around his room. “Mercy is found… There!” The scroll, the one with the Uzumaki clan seal, is rolled up and tucked neatly away on a table on the far end of the room. Iruka gathers his strength and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He tries to stand.

And fails.

He catches himself on hands and knees, and then feels his elbows weaken and give way. His cheek hits the tile and he hisses. He tries to push up again, but can’t…

Can’t…

…

The Altar holds a spark.

Freol is the mouth, the door, the flame, the altar, and the reward.

Knife and sword shed blood for Freol; what is spilled is hers. Fires burn for Freol; what is consumed is hers.

“Iruka! Iruka, please, wake up!”

“The breath of Freol brings change and endings,” Iruka slurs, barely awake and compelled. He can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t speak anything other than this ancient language. “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’ Let those who gather near Freol be blessed and cursed. Mercy is found only in shadow. Mercy—”

“Naruto, tell me Sasuke has gotten back to us.”

“He hasn’t! And-and Kurama has no idea what Iru-nii’s saying, either!”

Kakashi shakes him, taps his cheek. “Iruka, come back, please.”

Iruka tries to say I’m sorry Kakashi but what passes his lips is a murmured, “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’”

Sakura stands in front of him solemnly. “We gave him a high enough dose of tranquilizer that he shouldn’t even dream, Kakashi-sensei. My team—”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop her from speaking. He knows he doesn’t look good, knows he hasn’t been home in over forty-eight hours, but he can’t… he can’t stop. Iruka… “What about the scroll that was in his room?”

“Naruto said Iruka-sensei had him collect it from his home office,” Sakura says. “But no one can read it. We have been able to determine that it’s in the same language as the carvings he transcribed from his back, though.”

Kakashi looks up. “The cavern he and his team had been in—where were they?”

Sakura turns to the map hanging up in his office, and points, “East of here, near a village on the coast. Naruto mentioned—”

“The scroll is from Uzushio,” Kakashi muses, “and it has an Uzumaki clan seal on it. I’ll bet we’ll find more information about all this in the ruins of Uzushio.”

Sakura nods. “But Kakashi-sensei, you can’t—”

“I know.” He sighs. “Take Naruto and go. Find out what’s causing this. Find out how to fix it.”

She nods again and turns to leave.

“Sakura,” he calls out, softer. She stops, but doesn’t turn back to face him. That’s good; he might not be able to say this to her face. “This part comes not from your Hokage, but from me, personally. Please. He’s… Iruka’s everything. Please, find something.”

She gives him a thumbs-up over her shoulder, and says, “We won’t let you down, sensei.”

Kakashi watches from the windows as the nurses check Iruka’s vitals and change out his fluids. She bows to him when she’s done and then turns to leave; Kakashi holds up a palm and says, “Wait.”

“Hokage-sama?”

“How… How is he?”

She smiles softly, gently. “We’re taking good care of him, sir.”

“That’s all Sakura told you to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

He sighs. “Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her smile turns just the tiniest bit mischievous. “A higher budget for the hospital in the next fiscal quarter wouldn’t be remiss, Hokage-sama.”

He waves her away, “I’ll see what I can do,” he says with as much humor as he can muster. She leaves, and he goes to sit in his chair by Iruka’s side.

They had to intubate him today. Kakashi couldn’t get away from the desk long enough to be here for him; not that it mattered, because they were keeping him sedated even before shoving a tube down his throat. But it matters to Kakashi because he can’t…

He can’t do anything.

He’s stuck here, managing the village, while his students are out looking for answers to whatever mysterious illness his partner has fallen to. And all he’s good for is holding Iruka’s hand, and maybe going and lobbying for an increase in the hospital budget.

His hair is limp and matted from long weeks in the hospital. Kakashi runs his fingers through the ends of brunet strands and hopes that, when Iruka wakes up, he’ll let Kakashi wash his hair.

“Please get better,” Kakashi murmurs into the clasp of their hands. “I need you. Please.”

“Sakura-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting real sick of goddesses thinking they can ruin everything, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

Mercy is found only in shadow.

“He needs another blood transfusion.”

“Take mine,” Kakashi offers. “We have the same blood type.”

“Hokage-sama—”

“Just take the damn blood,” Kakashi snaps. “Whatever he needs, please, just. Just do it. Take it.”

The nurses bow. “Yes, sir.”

Footsteps in the hall, rapidly approaching, signal Kakashi to a messenger. He stands up and crosses to the door just as Shikamaru slides it open, panting from his run.

Shikamaru turns to the nurses and says, “He needs a bone marrow transplant.”

The nurse looks at him, startled, and says, “Whyever for?”

“Naruto sent ahead a messenger.” Shikamaru glances at Kakashi and finally catches his breath. “The one word Iruka-sensei had said, Freol? It’s the name of an ancient deity of the Land of Whirlpools, one whose purview is to change its followers. One of the ways it does this, as Sakura describes it, is through a kind of radiation poisoning.”

“But that doesn’t explain the,” Kakashi gestures vaguely, and then ends helplessly, “speaking in tongues.”

“The message said they’ll explain that part when they get home,” Shikamaru says. “Naruto and Sakura are on their way back, arrival is estimated at thirty-one hours.” He turns to the nurse. “Can we perform a transplant?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Normally, I’d say yes. But Iruka-sensei doesn’t have any close blood relatives, and if his own marrow is compromised as you say we can’t assume an autologous transplant will be effective.”

Kakashi’s heart stops. “But—”

“But,” the nurse continues, “we can start him on a treatment regimen which will increase his white blood cell count. We’ll start checking in with frequent blood tests. We can also start on a broad-spectrum heavy metals sequestration; we’ll cover Iodine, thallium, caesium, plutonium, and curium. They’re the most common.”

Kakashi motions to her, and says to Shikamaru, “She’s my favorite.”

“You shouldn’t have favorites, Kakashi-sama.”

He groans. The nurse smiles and says, “I’ll go order those tests and treatments,” and then ducks around Shikamaru and leaves.

Kakashi holds the scroll open on his desk, reading the translation Sakura and Naruto brought back. It’s a puzzle in its own right, but coupled with the Uzumaki scroll Iruka had kept in their office, Kakashi finds himself even more thoroughly confused.

“I understand how you came to the conclusion of radiation,” he says. “But I don’t understand how this is supposed to explain why Iruka began speaking the language. Because that is what happened, isn’t it?”

“That’s where a little bit of Iruka-sensei knowledge comes in handy,” Naruto says. He steps forward and points to a line near the bottom. “‘Many others can open the way. Few can place a seal where there was none before.’ And then I remembered this one, off-hand comment Iruka-sensei had made when we were kids. That the people from Uzushio were really good with fūinjutsu.”

“And that has to do with Iruka?”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto groans, like he’s the genius and Kakashi is being deliberately stupid. “Umino is an Uzushio family! ‘Few can place a seal where there was none before’! I’ve seen him do that, just, poof, barrier seals.”

“Naruto, I know he’s from Uzushio. What does that have to do with his condition?”

“Freol,” Sakura says. “When he and the other chūnin got close to that cave. She recognized him as one of hers and marked him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because the same thing happened to Naruto when we got close.”

Kakashi stands up, vaults over the desk and puts his hands on Naruto’s shoulders. “You’re alright?”

“Kurama beat her up and kept me safe,” Naruto nodded. “But I could hear her. She said something like, ‘the flames will consume, or change, or seal at my whim.’ She was angry.”

Kakashi sighs and drops his hands. “And even Kurama doesn’t recognize this goddess?”

“Actually, once they came into contact, he did recognize her,” Naruto says. “Freol was a protector of the Land of Whirlpools, he says, a creator of soldiers superior to ninja.”

“Superior?”

Sakura interjects, motioning back to the scrolls on his desk. “Right here, see. ‘Hers is the flame which hides in the flesh and the soul and twists both into something new.’ But also, this line, ‘What is left behind is Changed, and may Change others in turn.’”

“Kurama was able to tell us about Uzushio as it once was, back in the warring states,” Naruto continues. “That there would be those who would willingly sacrifice themselves to Freol, for the chance to Change into something more. Something different.”

“A superior soldier,” Kakashi muses. “And this Change. This is what’s happening to Iruka.”

Both of them nodded. “That’s what we think.”

“How do we stop it?”

“That’s the thing,” Sakura’s face falls. “I don’t think there’s a way to stop the process once it starts. Freol marks those she wishes to undergo the Change, and then… Well, all of the writings we managed to find say that the sacrifices either come out stronger, or their families seal their bodies into stasis, or—”

She stops, choking on tears she fights back with every bit of training she’d gone through.

“Or they die,” Kakashi finishes in a soft, defeated voice.

All three of them stand silent in the office for a long time.

Kakashi finds himself sleeping in Iruka’s hospital room most nights. The treatment is hell on his partner’s body—the windows are covered with heavy curtains now, to keep out the sunlight which could very easily burn his skin on the medication; hair which was once limp and matted is now starting to fall out every time Kakashi pulls a brush through it; his lips are chapped and broken around the tube, his skin dry and thin everywhere else. The nurses had to change his IV from his arm to the back of his hand today, because the veins in his arm are becoming too thin to support the needle.

He’s dying.

Iruka’s dying, and all Kakashi can do is hold his hand and watch.

And, gods, the last thing they said to each other… Iruka was speaking a different language and Kakashi was begging him to wake up.

Will he really have to watch Iruka die, knowing that he’ll never get to hear I love you from those lips again?

Kakashi buries his face in his arms, carefully arranged over Iruka’s thigh. He used to have such thick, muscular thighs; it’s barely skin and bone now.

Alone, with only his dying partner to hear—or not—Kakashi lets himself cry.

“I’m going to try something.”

“Naruto, please—”

“No. Kakashi-sensei, Iru-nii is strong. And Freol won’t pursue him if he goes through the Change, right?”

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

“He’ll be stronger, just like the other sacrifices who survived. Kakashi-sensei, all Iru-nii needs to do is survive.”

“The Change—”

“We’ll deal with it when we’re on the other side of this!”

Naruto places his hands on Iruka, and the Nine-Tail’s Cloak bubbles up around him.

The monitors, registering Iruka’s nervous system, don’t react. He’s in no further pain.

Kakashi feels the tiniest bit lighter. “I hope this works, Naruto.”

“It was Kurama’s idea,” the teen grins. “He remembered that normal healing jutsu wasn’t working before; but he was able to beat back Freol himself when she came after me. So letting Iru-nii use Kurama’s chakra as a kind of life support—it should keep Freol from making this worse at least, right? While he gets better?”

It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t work.

But it does.

Almost a week later, the nurses are removing the tubes from his throat, and Kakashi is pacing the room waiting for the tranquilizers to wear off. Iruka should wake up any minute now. Naruto’s plan worked. Iruka made it through, and his most recent blood test showed no abnormalities due to radiation. They stopped the heavy metal sequestration yesterday, but the white blood cell proteins will continue for a few days still, to help prevent further infection.

They still don’t know what kind of change Iruka’s undergone. At least, other than the physical.

His hair is gone. Sakura has assured Kakashi that it will grow back. It’s so odd, though, seeing his partner without hair. They’ve put a cap on his head to keep him warm—his body temperature has been fluctuating oddly the last day and a half, and in particular today he’s running cold.

Also, his scent has changed. He hasn’t told anyone about it yet, but Iruka smells different. Less like old parchment and a swift river, and more like… like a waterfall and the deep, loamy scent of rich, black earth. It’s not a bad change. But it’s significant. He’s already taken an overnight to summon the pack and have his ninken memorize Iruka’s new scent, just in case it’s permanent.

“K’shi?”

He’s across the room in a flash, holding Iruka’s limp hand and holding back tears.

“I thought—”

“My K’shi,” Iruka slurs, turning his head to face him and closing his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

The tears fall anyway. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Iruka hums. “L’ve you.”

He’s still on a considerable amount of pain medication, Kakashi realizes. He laughs wetly, leans forward and kisses Iruka’s forehead. “I love you, too. Rest, dear.”

“M’kay.”

And just like that, he is breathing slow and steady, his eyes close gently, and he is sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. Kakashi falls back into his chair with a huff and tips his head to the ceiling, still holding Iruka’s hand, and also, finally, finding an easy sleep.

#kakairu maze challenge 2021 #decoding ancient lost languages #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #KakaIru #my writing

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump day 3

Prompt: imprisonment

Warnings: medical trauma

read on AO3!

A Long Way Down

Bright lights pass in quick variables, and it takes Obi-Wan a moment longer than it should to realize he's lying on a stretcher, oxygen mask strapped to his face and wires and cuffs on every available piece of skin. He groans, catching the attention of Commander Cody who is running beside the stretcher.

"Not to worry, General, we are almost at the med bay."

That is exactly why I am worried.

He reaches up slowly to pull the mask off his face as the stretcher slows, looking up at his Marshall Commander. "Cody... what happened?"

"An explosion, sir. Tunnel collapsed," he pauses. Cody already knows his follow up question. "The men are okay. You... Force-pushed them out of the way."

Well, that explains why my body feels like it has been crushed under a ton of rocks... supposedly it has.

Obi-Wan has no memory of this, but from the grim looks on the faces of all the troopers surrounding him he suspects he 1. doesn't look good and 2. is as bad as he looks.

"How bad?" he asks as they guide the stretcher into the med bay and stop it next to a bed.

Cody looks at Helix, the medical clone who seems to be trying hard not to make eye contact with him. With the penetrating stare of both his Commander and General, Helix finally looks up from the datapad.

"We're gonna have to dunk you, General."

He blinks, letting the words slowly settle into his discombobulated brain. Usually, he would protest. Make a fuss about being fine, because usually, he is, and medical can put their resources elsewhere. Usually, they would lock the doors as soon as he enters-- he glances over and yes, they did. What am I going to do, run? Obi-Wan is fairly sure both of his legs are crushed judging from the odd angles they are at, so he isn't sure how they expect him to make a break for it.

But today, Obi-Wan just lets his head fall back and he stares at the ceiling. He cannot protest because the tightness in his throat won't let him. He's afraid to open his mouth again because if he does his words will turn into sobs and his men do not deserve to see their General cry.

He can feel Cody and Helix's surprise. He doesn't have to look at them to know they are now even more concerned for him now that he hasn't tried to raise hell about being taken to medical. But they also seem to be relieved, so at least he can give them that respite.

He stares at the ceiling as movement begins to happen around him. Medical troopers pulling at the needles and sensors, inserting new ones. It all fades into a blur of hands touching him gently but firmly, frequent pinches and jolts of sharp pain, and the cool stickiness of applicators against his skin. Obi-Wan just stares at the ceiling.

He is fairly convinced that every medical facility has the same designer. Even the Jedi Halls of Healing have walls that are stark white. Sterile white. So bright they rival the glow of the iridescent lights, which is a design flaw in his opinion. Obi-Wan has spent a lot of time seeing these ceilings-- but not because he has spent a lot of time in medical. There is a reason he doesn't like to end up in the med bay, and the reason haunts him every time there is even a prospect of him having to go to see a healer.

Seven-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi had feet too big for his body. It's like he began to hit a spurt, but only his feet realized that growth was the plan and the rest of his body was still figuring out how to stretch his small stature a few inches taller. It gave him the unfortunate nickname of Oafy-Wan, coined by his age-mates who he didn't exactly consider his friends. His clumsiness wasn't horrible, but it was distinctive enough to cause him a bit of trouble when practicing lightsaber katas and doing his physical activity tests.

On this particular day, seven-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi had already had a very bad day. He fell in the middle of a practice spar in front of everyone. He wasn't even doing an acrobatic move or anything, he just fell over his own feet. The roar of “Oafy-Wan” was the only thing he could hear as he stared at the floor in shock of how quickly everything had transpired. Despite Bant's sympathetic reassurance and his other friends trying to overpower the chant, he spent the rest of the lesson trying to make himself as small as possible.

His pouting continued through the day, even to their long-awaited field trip to the Senate Rotunda. He walked with his creche mates, tuning out of their excited conversation of seeing the massive Galactic Senate chambers and instead focusing on the speeders rushing past just meters away from them. He wished to just jump into one and speed away from it all. Despite his prior excitement for this journey out of the Temple, he now wants nothing more than to go back to his dorm and curl up in his bed.

"Don't trip, Oafy-Wan," a familiar snide voice rings in his ear. He turns to see Bruck Chun, one of his age-mates that often leads the cause against him, sneering at him. "It's a long way down."

They're walking along a more narrow section of the street. Just a few meters to the left there is a deep chasm that goes into the lower depths of Coruscant. So deep he cannot see the bottom.

Obi-Wan brushes him away, in no mood to deal with him. "Get lost, Bruck." His arm presses into Bruck's side, pushing him away, which is not to the pleasure of his age-mate. Bruck's eyes narrow, and he jabs his elbow into Obi-Wan's back.

"Don't push me."

Anger surges in Obi-Wan's chest as he staggers forward. He whirls around and uses both hands to push Bruck into the wall of the building they are passing. A few initiates have stopped now to watch them, but as they stand at the back of the group the mass have not noticed their tussle.

"Funny, it seems I'm doing just that."

Bruck runs at him this time, his anger potent in the Force, and Obi-Wan suddenly has the clarity that maybe this isn't a good idea. He jumps out of the way of Bruck's charge, vaguely aware he is standing at the edge of the street now. Bruck skids to a stop.

"Coward," he spits, just as the Master leading their field trip calls for them to stop lagging.

Obi-Wan avoids Bruck's gaze as he passes by him, pointedly smacking his shoulder into his. Obi-Wan sighs, and turns to join the group.

As he turns, he finds himself suddenly caught in the air stream of a speeder that is too close to the sidewalk. He feels his small body lifted off the ground, and he flails in fear at the lack of anything for him to grab onto. A chorus of yelling erupts, most of them either calling his name or Master Vant. Obi-Wan can see the ground, and he tries to position his feet to land there, but another passing speeder sends him into a tailspin.

And Obi-Wan falls.

Even years later as a Jedi Master, Obi-Wan remembers falling down that speeder shaft. When he thinks about it he can hear the screams of his friends as they watched him fall. He can see them peering over the side. Master Vant running up and raising her hand to reach for him in the Force.

Had she reached him a moment earlier she probably could have saved him. But his downward momentum was suddenly ceased as he crashed against a speeder before she had the chance to cushion his descent. And he was met with horrendous pain and the taste of blood. Much like how he feels laying in the med bay now. Everything afterward was a blur.

"Are you ready, General?" Helix asks. Obi-Wan looks past him to see the bacta tank is all set up. Obi-Wan swallows hard, and he says nothing, but Helix takes that as a yes. His stretcher starts to float toward the tank, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the horrible memories come rushing back.

Choking. Obi-Wan expected to wake up in a reality beyond life-- he truly believed he would be returned to the Force, but instead, he woke up choking. He started to panic before he opened his eyes, and when he finally tried to find the reason for his restrictive breathing the initiate realized he can't see either.

He tries to thrash around, but his movements seem to be restricted somehow. Like he is tied up, but he can't feel bounds. His body just isn’t listening to him, which is even more terrifying. He tries to blink through the thick goo that seems to be covering his eyes, but it won't clear. It burns instead. He's trapped in a senseless prison, and he lets his panic radiate outward into the Force. He needs someone to hear him. Find him. Anything.

The Force responds with a collective feeling of shock. He repeats his plea for freedom, and finally, he hears something. Distant talking. Yelling, actually. Frantic. There is the deafening sound of suction, and then Obi-Wan is falling again. Slower than before but in his mind's eye he sees his friends staring down at him. Laughing at him. Oafy-Wan! They cackle. It's a long way down.

He hits the floor. The gel material that once encased him sloshes everywhere. His body curls into a ball and he feels many pairs of hands grabbing him and positioning him onto his back despite his protests. The touches are not comforting. Their goal seems to be to push him right back into the place he just escaped, and he begins to sob in terror. The voices are blending together as his vision begins to tunnel again.

"...sedative wasn't enough."

"How did he wake..."

"Get him back under!"

It was explained to him by one healer that his IV fell out of his arm. Another told him that the dosage was too light. A third said the adrenaline caused his metabolism to spike, making the correct dosage go quicker. Obi-Wan isn't sure why he woke up while in the bacta tank that day, but he suspects knowing the reason wouldn't have changed the panic he feels every time he has to take a dunk.

Obi-Wan grabs Helix's arm as he is about to inject his IV. The medic freezes and looks down at him.

"You have my correct doses from the Temple, correct? For the general anesthetic?"

Helix blinks before nodding. "Of course, General."

"And you know Jedi tend to metabolize quicker as well? You will have someone monitoring my consciousness?"

"Yes sir, we have detailed training from your healers on Jedi care. We will ensure you receive the right dose and don't get too much anesthetic."

He nods with wide eyes. His medic is slightly off in the reason for his inquiries, but it is comforting enough.

Even so, as the drugs begin to take him under he can't help but feel like he is seven again. Faded conversations of the medical troopers become the hushed words between Jedi Healers. The same fear of waking up within the tank again grips him with an iron fist around his already-intubated throat.

Never again could he look at a bacta tank and see it as an innovative medical advance. To Obi-Wan, it is a torturous prison that causes his fear to shamefully make an appearance.

He is positioned into the tank. The transperisteel doors close around him, and already he can feel his heart rate elevating. Why am I not asleep yet? Why am I still awake for this? Am I to do this conscious?

The bacta starts to fill at his feet slowly. He feels the urge to lift his legs and climb away from the rising gel, but his body has already separated from his mind. He cannot slam his fists against the doors and beg to be let free. Cannot scream with the tube down his throat.

As the bacta reaches his knees, he finally feels the heaviness reach his eyes, and Obi-Wan says a last plea to the Force to let him stay asleep for the entirety of his imprisonment.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #febuwhumpday3 #imprisonment #medical trauma #panic attacks #obi-wan kenobi #initiate obi-wan kenobi #i interpreted imprisonment very loosely as you can tell #star wars #ao3

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catrasredemption-moved · 4 years

Note

I got this idea from you feeding catra potions in the last couple prompts lol: what if catra built up some magic resistance (damage/healing) from dealing with sw, she-ra, and the princesses so much? thanks and hope you feel better!

“It’s like medication-”

“What’s that?”

Castaspella sighed inwardly, looking at the confused former Horde soldiers. Of course neither of them knew what medication was.

“It’s something you take when you’re sick or in pain,” Bow supplied helpfully. Catra and Adora exchanged looks.

“That doesn’t sound real.”

“And what does it have to do with magic?” Adora asked, looking back at Castaspella.

“Bodies develop resistance to medication when it’s used more. If you take something for pain on a daily basis, you’re eventually going to start needing more and more because the lower doses won’t be enough. How often were you exposed to magic growing up?”

“Uh... does Shadow Weaver electrocuting me every other day-”

“Yes,” Castapsella interrupted with a sigh. “That counts.” Everything she learned about Catra’s and Adora’s childhoods made her grateful that woman was dead. “Did it ever feel like her... punishments were getting weaker?”

Catra frowned, thinking for a moment. “Yeah, sometimes. She always ramped it up though, so I thought she was starting off low to make it hurt more.”

Adora’s grip on Catra’s hand tightened. “What does any of this have to do with She-Ra’s healing?”

“It’s the same concept. Bodies develop resistances to constant exposure, even to things that help them.”

“But I’ve only healed Catra once.”

“Uh...” Glimmer held up a hand, lips twisted into an uncertain frown. “I know we don’t like to talk about this, but that one time was kind of bringing her back from the dead.”

Castaspella blinked a few times, stunned. “Really?” Adora nodded once. She didn’t really like thinking about that. “That is... a lot of magic to pour into someone all at once. That’s a lot of magic, period.”

“She-Ra.”

“Even so...” The sorceress shook her head. “Magic seems to be a common factor in your life. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve developed a physical resistance to it. It’s a survival instinct.”

“So, what? Does that mean I can’t heal her?”

“Not with the amount of magic you would put into a broken arm, no.”

“Well, you’re not using bring me back to life magic to fix a broken arm,” Catra said firmly. “That’s dumb. I can heal the old fashioned way.”

“And what are you going to do while you heal the old fashioned way?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean are you going to stay here and wait for your arm to heal, or are you going to keep going out and trying to work?”

Catra didn’t immediately answer, which was really all Adora needed. “That’s our cue to go,” Glimmer said quickly, grabbing Bow and Castaspella. They disappeared, leaving Adora and Catra alone in their room.

“You can’t work with a broken arm.”

“I’m sure I can still organize things. I don’t need two arms to tell you where to carry a stack of wood.”

“And you’ll be happy with just telling people what to do?”

Probably not, Catra thought bitterly. She hadn’t been happy with just giving orders in the Horde, either. Isolation had driven her up a wall.

But this would be different. She wouldn’t be stuck in a control room, watching everything through a set of screens, stress and lack of sleep wearing her down. She’d be out there, watching, still helping-

Getting looks, being questioned, people thinking she wasn’t pulling her weight, they wouldn’t care about a broken arm, she could work through the pain, she deserved the pain, all of this was her own fault anyway-

Fingers brushed through Catra’s hair, scratching her ears, and jarring her back to reality. “Stop thinking,” Adora said quietly. She knew when Catra’s thoughts ran away with her - she saw the way her eyes glazed over, her breathing quickening slightly, her hands shaking.

“I can’t just not do anything, Adora.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. “There has to be a way to heal this faster.”

“Or you could just take the time off.”

“Would you take time off if you broke a bone?”

Adora hesitated, grimacing. “That’s different. I can-”

“Say you couldn’t heal,” Catra interrupted. “Would you stop?”

Her expression said everything. “We’re supposed to be taking better care of ourselves,” she said finally. “And each other.”

Catra huffed, flopping back on the bed. “This is so stupid. Why is my body so dysfunctional?”

“Because it’s been tortured and terrorized for as long as it’s been alive?” Adora suggested, lying back with her. “Please give yourself a break.”

“I don’t deserve a break,” Catra muttered. The fingers in her hair curled to tug slightly. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get for being stupid. You’re not supposed to be punishing yourself. And if you need a break, then you take a break.” Adora hesitated before adding, “I’ll take one with you.” Catra snorted. “I’m serious! We’ve both earned some time off. We can just be normal for a bit, right?”

“...Maybe,” Catra muttered, rolling to rest her head on Adora’s chest. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Even if this was all garbage.

#askbox fic #catradora #Mystery Person #Sam Answers

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megalony · 4 years

Text

The Evans boys- Part 5

Here is the next part in my Chris Evans series, I hope everyone will like it, thank you all for the amazing feedback so far.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog

Series taglist: @ihearthockeyy @lizzyclifford13-blog @may-machin @tessa-bl @ifilosemyselfagain @shamelessfangirl-3 @boos-ramblings

Series masterlist

Summary: Chris and (Y/n) have four boys together and are finally expecting a girl, but their family is hectic and things get harder when (Y/n) becomes ill.

Enjoy.

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

(Y/n) didn't need to open her eyes to know that it was Chris who had entered the room and who was now sitting beside her, one hand rubbing soothing circles into her lower back as he held her hair from her face with his other hand. He didn't say anything as he sat and waited for her to finish throwing up but (Y/n) could feel the worry radiating off of him.

Last week hadn't been such a good week for them both because (Y/n) hadn't gotten much better since being in the hospital and hadn't managed to eat very much at all. This led to (Y/n) having to stay in for another week but this week had been a lot better. (Y/n) had more energy and was eating better, she felt almost back to her old self, especially since the painkillers were taking away most of the pain from her slipped disc in her back.

With how much better she looked and felt, the doctor was sure she could go home tomorrow and that made (Y/n) overjoyed. She was desperate to go back home and be with her boys again and try to get back to a sense of normality.

"Are you alright?" Chris spoke quietly when (Y/n) sat back up from hunching over the sick bowl, feeling like she had emptied her stomach now.

"Yeah, I've been like this all day." Moving the sick bowl from the bed, (Y/n) leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a few moments. She was desperately hoping that this was just an uneasy feeling that would go away soon so she could still go home tomorrow. If the doctor saw (Y/n) like this and worried then she would make (Y/n) stay in for longer. "How are the boys?" (Y/n) turned her head to look at Chris, hoping he would oblige with the change of topic. She noticed the look in his eyes as he watched her for a few moments before relenting and giving in.

"They miss you, Milo's been sleeping with me and Luca sneaks in too at some point in the night. They're with mum today but they want to come down tomorrow to pick you up."

Chris couldn't help but smile as he spoke, it was normal for Milo to want to stay with (Y/n) and Chris but since (Y/n) wasn't at home he made it his mission to stay with Chris during the night since he claimed there was more room now. Luca on the other hand just wandered in when he thought Chris was asleep and there were the very rare occasions that Charlie and Levi would come into Chris and (Y/n)'s room but that was only to watch tv.

For the last two weeks, Chris had been coming to see (Y/n) everyday, splitting his time between being home with the boys and being at the hospital with (Y/n). He'd bring the boys with him to see (Y/n) every other day so they knew she was alright and could talk to her, especially for Milo's sake because he was only four and he didn't understand why (Y/n) wasn't at home like she always was. Chris knew that (Y/n) was desperate to come home, it had upset her a lot when she realised the hospital weren't going to send her home after a week of being here.

Now that (Y/n) could hopefully come home tomorrow if the doctor said it was alright, the boys were really excited and were all desperate to come down to the hospital tomorrow to pick (Y/n) up.

Moving around, (Y/n) pushed herself so she was sitting up straighter as opposed to laying at an angle which wasn't really helping her back very much.

"What's up?" Chris asked after a while, narrowing his eyes when he noticed (Y/n) kept moving and shifting like she had an itch that she couldn't scratch but her expression showed she was either very uncomfortable or she was in some kind of pain. He knew for a fact that the medication she was on was working for her slipped disc because she had been moving about a lot these past two weeks and she was able to sit and lie down and get up with no pain at all.

"My back hurts, I don't know how to sit." Leaning forward, (Y/n) moved her hand to add a little pressure to her back to see if it would relieve the pain she was beginning to feel but it didn't help. She didn't know how to sit or lay to try and relieve the pain that wasn't too bad but it was noticeable.

Just as Chris was going to say something, he cut himself short when (Y/n)'s hand scrunched up in the bed sheet and her eyes snapped closed. He could see her muscles tensing and pulling tight like elastic bands like she was trying to lock herself in place and become a statue. Chris himself froze, unsure what to do or what to say because he didn't know what was happening or what the sudden problem was.

"Doll, what's wrong?" Chris stood up as he rested his hand on her upper back, not daring to move his hand lower in case he touched any part of her back that was in pain.

"I-... I think my water just broke." (Y/n) didn't dare open her eyes as she spoke, afraid of what Chris' expression and reaction would be. They were only thirty four weeks, (Y/n) wanted to be at at least thirty six or thirty seven weeks before thinking about labour because it would be safer that way. Having their girl now when neither (Y/n) or the baby had been well wasn't the best idea.

Chris didn't think twice before he reached over and pressed the emergency button to get help as he sat down on the bed beside (Y/n) who looked beyond irritated as if the baby had planned this.

"I can't go home now." (Y/n) whispered the words under her breath but Chris managed to hear them. Even if this turned out to be a false alarm or they managed to stop the labour, (Y/n) would still have to be kept in for observation now so her chances of going home were gone.

(Y/n) just knew this wasn't a false alarm, she had done this four times now and that was definitely her water that had broken. With the last two labours they had been rather quick and swift so there was no doubt that it would be the same this time around. (Y/n) didn't want this to drag out like it had done with Levi where she'd been in labour for almost two days, she couldn't go through the pain for more than a day, not with how her back was already beginning to burn.

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

"Can't you give me something else to take the pain away, please?" (Y/n)'s watering eyes locked with the midwife who was perched on the edge of the bed but when she shook her head with a saddened look, (Y/n) let a sob bubble past her lips.

"You're already on a monitored dose of morphine-"

"Well it's not working." (Y/n) bit back in a volatile yet powerless tone before she let her head fall back against the pillow, looking like her neck had suddenly broken and snapped backwards. The pain never got lesser or was something that (Y/n) could get used to but it was always a little but easier to deal with each time. It was easier to push through the pain and know when to push and how to breathe and what position felt easier or more comfortable. It was always easier when the time of labour got shorter with each birth, the shorter it was the better (Y/n) felt.

But this time it did not feel easy and the pain was worse than what she remembered from when she had the boys. Her lower back was ignited with pain to the point (Y/n) couldn't even feel her legs, they didn't feel numb or full of pins and needles, they just felt like they weren't attached to her body anymore. The midwife could stab her leg with a needle and (Y/n) wouldn't have felt a thing.

(Y/n) could barely feel the contractions anymore from how much pain her back was in. The baby had to be pressing on (Y/n)'s slipped disc or be very close to it for the kind of pain that (Y/n) was feeling which the morphine couldn't take away. She was desperate to have any form of pain relief but the midwife wasn't allowing her to have anything else and it was physically crippling (Y/n).

"The head's almost born now, this will all be over soon and then we can give you something to make sure the pain stops." The midwife patted (Y/n)'s leg but she couldn't feel the touch and her words weren't as calming as the midwife seemed to think.

(Y/n) tried to straighten out her back but the moment she was lying flat on the bed her chest seemed to convulse and she had to push her back up so her back wasn't pressed against the mattress and to keep her spine curved rather than straight. Reaching a shaking hand up, (Y/n) covered her eyes to try and stop the tears from falling but she couldn't stop them from escaping, nor could she stop the sobs that wracked from her lips.

"Doll, lying down isn't gonna help, let's sit you up and get you comfy cause you're so close now. You know exactly what you're doing here, it'll be over in half an hour." Chris gently leaned his temple against the side of (Y/n)'s head as he hovered his lips over the shell of her ear. He felt to the point of tears himself because (Y/n)'s pain was crippling him when he knew there was nothing he could do to help.

"I can't... I n-need the pain to stop." (Y/n) didn't care anymore, she let the tears run down her face and her cries to break her words apart because the pain was excruciating. Her back was overpowering everything else to the point it wasn't the labour that was hurting anymore, she could have sailed through this labour with no problems if her slipped disc had recovered or never have happened in the first place.

Lowering her hand, (Y/n) dared to open her watering eyes and look over at Chris who was sitting on her left, his own eyes glossing with unshed tears.

"Yes you can, you're so close now doll." Moving his arms, Chris slowly wrapped his arms around (Y/n) before he eased her so she was sitting up instead of lying down which was only going to add more pressure onto her back which she didn't need. The moment he got (Y/n) sitting up, he moved so he was sitting on the bed just behind her, allowing her to lean back into him as he kept his arms around her.

A sob escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she snapped her eyes closed and leaned forward to try and see if it would help. She leaned her head to the side, burrowing her face into Chris' arm as she grabbed his hand tightly in hers. Every part of (Y/n) started to shake and she could feel the sweat sticking to her skin like a second layer that she wanted to scrub away.

When the head was born, Chris curled his frame around (Y/n)'s, pressing his head into her neck and kissing the skin as he held her a little bit tighter to try and calm her down. But he knew his touch wasn't going to be enough to make (Y/n) forget or come to grips with the pain that she shouldn't be going through.

"Almost there, doll."

"One last push for me (Y/n), and she's here."

(Y/n) felt like her mind was a tv and the signal was cutting out causing breaks and pauses in the audio that she was listening to. Chris and the midwife's voices seemed to cut out and turn to white noise like her ears had tuned out of the station as she focused on letting her body do what it had done four times before but she felt overwhelmed and controlled by the pain.

She didn't realise she'd started to cry rather badly until she heard Chris quietly humming in her ear to calm her down. (Y/n) dug her nails into Chris' hand to try and ground herself as she tried her best to hold her breath until her breathing calmed down and her heart no longer felt like it was going to combust or break free from her chest. When she managed to open her eyes and concentrate her blurring vision, (Y/n) realised another midwife had come into the room and was holding their girl in her arms.

"I- is she b-breathing?" (Y/n)'s voice was meek and quiet but her eyes were focused on watching the midwife who was stood close to the couple. Their baby on one of her arms as her other hand focused on rubbing the newborn's chest.

"She's breathing but not very well, she's in shock." The midwife began switching from rubbing the newborn's chest to rubbing forceful circles on her back to try and get her lungs to open up and take a proper breath.

When the newborn finally managed to take in a proper breath it was croaky and sounded very desperate like she was a fish gasping for breath out of water. Small coughs escaped her pale blue lips and she started to move, but Chris could clearly see the very small newborn was subtally shaking.

"I'm going to go and clean her up and let a doctor check her over since she's still in shock but I'll bring her back as soon as she's okay." It wasn't as if she was giving the parents very much choice before she slipped out of the room with their first girl in her arms. Chris felt (Y/n)'s chest quake and her breathing change like she was trying so hard not to scream or burst into a fit of sobs. She was in agony but she still wanted to hold her baby girl and take a first look at her. They always got to hold the boys before they were taken to get cleaned up and weighed.

"Alright (Y/n), if we can get you laying on your side I'll give you a steroid injection for your back."

(Y/n) felt like being rude and asking why she couldn't have had that an hour earlier when she had almost passed out from the pain but she didn't hold the energy to fight with the midwife or to even talk at all. Her tear stained face was full of pain and desperation to have her baby in her arms but her expression didn't change or show relief at the midwife's words.

Her eyes locked with Chris' for a few seconds before he slowly moved off the bed, keeping his arms around (Y/n) so he could help turn her gently so she was laying on her side before he eased her so she was laying down instead of laying on him. Chris bit his lip at the sharp intake of breath and the whimper (Y/n) let out when she was laid down and he watched the way her breathing increased and her eyes closed for a few seconds. But once her back stopped pulsing and seemed to relax, (Y/n) opened her eyes again to see Chris was sat down in the chair that was pulled as close to the bed as he could manage.

Chris took her hand in his own and pressed his temple up against hers, forcing a smile to try and keep (Y/n) calm.

"This won't hurt for too long and it should act fast." The midwife's voice was calm as she stood on the other side of the bed behind (Y/n) and slowly pushed the needle into her lower back. Both Chris and the midwife were surprised at how calm (Y/n) was considering the needle was going into her spine, (Y/n) didn't flinch or jerk or try to pull away and Chris saw how her expression hardly changed, if a little wince here and there.

When the midwife finished, she set the needle down before she looked at (Y/n)'s back again and started adding light pressure to the columns between her spine. "Do you feel any numbness in your lower back?"

"A little, it's more my legs that feel numb." (Y/n)'s voice was quiet and she clearly sounded tired and rather fed up. Her body couldn't stop shaking from both the shock and the blinding pain and she felt dizzy but she knew that was normal. (Y/n) had gone through this enough times to know what was a normal reaction and what wasn't.

"Is that bad?" Chris lifted his head up so he could lock eyes with the midwife, his eyes full of desperation for this not to be a sign of something else that was wrong. (Y/n) didn't need any more problems or pains or complications and he didn't think he could handle anything else.

"Not necessarily, the slipped disc might be pressing on a nerve or it could just be a reaction to the morphine and the labour. We'll monitor you every few hours just to be sure." Her voice didn't sound too concerned which was a relief to both of them. The slipped disc should be almost healed but the baby and the labour could have caused it to press on a nerve which was a bad thing. But it could just be because of the labour or the different medications (Y/n) had been on over the past two weeks that were reacting.

The midwife did a few more checks before she was satisfied and left the couple to have a few moments alone.

"You did it, doll. I'm so proud of you." Chris slowly and methodically carded his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair, brushing it out of her eyes before he leaned over and stole a quick kiss from her lips. (Y/n) managed to smile when he pulled back but her eyes were glossing with tears again.

"I want to see her."

"I know, they'll bring her to us soon, I promise."

#chris evans #chris x reader #chris evans imagine #dad! chris #the evans boys #captain america

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aquilaaqua · 3 years

Text

The time Keyla and Michael gets drugged (again), Saru gets called out, everyone is so done

Or Keyla and Michael go to a courier outpost to get intel on Osyraa, rescue a Transworm, get drugged with the truth drug. Saru gets called out on his behavior towards Michael. Dr. Culber and Book are the awkward witnesses. And everyone is just done.

(This is supposed to set after Terra Firma Part 2 even though it is not out yet.)

Discovery’s newest mission brings them to a marketplace outpost in the Beta quadrant. Book had intel that Osyraa is sending someone there to obtain a component for a weapon she plans to use against the Federation. Naturally, Admiral Vance sent Discovery��over to stop the trade from happening and capture Osyraa’s men for intel.

On the bridge, everyone was preparing to jump. But no one can ignore the tension between their captain and their science officer, or rather Michael was acting coolly to Saru and Saru was trying to pretend that it was not affecting him. And no one other than Dr. Culber knew why. Detmer and Owo exchanged concern looks as they watch Michael address Saru tersely. Bryce and Nilsson were quietly speculating the reason behind Michael’s sudden coldness towards their captain. Tilly shifted nervous looks between her superior and friend, wondering if she should say something to either of them. Rhys threw looks at Michael from his station. And Saru paid no heed to the bridge crew even though he should have.

“Spore Drive is ready Captain.”

With the go ahead from Stamets, Saru motioned for everyone to stop chattering and get ready.

“Black Alert.” With those words, the ship jumped to the planet where the outpost is located. Once there, Michael and Detmer will go down to find Osyraa’s men. Book would have gone with them but Osyraa has an alert out for him so it was risky for him.

Frankly it was also risky for Michael and Detmer too since the former had a hand in destroying their salvage facility and the latter attacked the Viridian. But they were counting on Osyraa not knowing the pilot that nearly destroyed her flagship and Michael was the only one who can get them into the facility as a courier.

Once out of their Federation uniforms and in casual clothes, they transported onto the surface. Michael made her way to the entrance of the outpost with Detmer following closely behind her.

“Follow my lead and act like you belong there. But I think you’ll fit in well. And most importantly, if you find a drone hoovering near you, get away from it. It’s likely they’ll spray you with drugs that make you get high and speak the truth.” Michael laid out the ground rules.

The last part made Detmer smile slightly. “Speaking from experience?”

“You have no idea. And don’t asked Book.” Michael sighed. Entering the facility, they were stopped by one of the Andorian guards.

“Michael, here to cause trouble again?” The guard sneered at them.

Detmer tensed behind her but Michael only offered the guard a smile. “Not today. I’m introducing a new pilot who wants to become a courier.”

“Oh really?” The Andorian guard eyed Detmer skeptically, or specifically, her cybernetics.

“I’ve got my pilot’s license at 12. And my cybernetics let me react faster than a normal pilot.” Detmer leaned in and gave a conspiratorial smirk. “I even stole and piloted Cleveland Booker’s ship.”

This caught the guard’s attention. “Wait, Cleveland Booker? Weren’t you two working together?” He glared at Michael.

“Not anymore. Not since he ditched me on the moon of Dolres. I was tracking down his ship when I found her.” Michael gestured at Detmer.

“And Booker?”

“Dunno.” Detmer shrugged.

“He’ll try to get it back, especially if his precious Grudge is still onboard.” Michael casually mentioned. “Anyway, in exchange for using the ship to capture Book, I also promised to help her become a courier.”

The guard looked thoughtful at Michael’s unspoken implications. “Where’s the ship?”

“Hidden for now. I can’t exactly fly it out in the open.” Detmer pretended to be annoyed. Still skeptical, the guard eyed them but allowed them in.

“Osyraa has someone here today. And I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear what you two have to say.”

“I did not come here to deal with the Emerald Chain today.” Michael snapped, though inwardly delighted that the plan was working.

“Were you under a rock?” The guard scoffed. “Osyraa has an alert out for Cleveland Booker. Something about having information about the Federation and whatnot. Why he would work with those murderers is anyone’s guess!” He spat.

Detmer tensed beside Michael who stood firm. She crossed her arm and still refused to budge. “So she wants to use his ship to lure him out too? I have dibs on killing him.”

“Work that out with her representative. You’ll find him at the Transworm meat stall.” The guard grunted. He smirked at Detmer. “Who knows, she might help your friend there get her courier’s license faster.”

“Fine.” Michael gritted out. Tossing her head at back, she subtly winked at Detmer. “Come on, the sooner we can get over this, the sooner I can strangle Book.”

Detmer struggled not to laugh as she nodded. “Right.”

Once inside, Detmer released a relieved breath and whispered, “Oh my gosh! I didn’t think that would actually work.”

“But we’re not clear yet.” Michael murmured back. “Let’s hope we end this mission smoothly.”

Not even an hour later back on the Discovery, Owosekun’s console beeped with a notification. She frowned as she tried to make sense of it.

“Sir, Lt. Detmer and Commander Burnham are back. But they transported straight to Book’s ship…and they brought a Transworm with them.” She said bewilderedly at the last part. Saru sighed in exasperation as he got up from his chair. With her track record, he should not be surprised that Michael brought back a lifeform that needs saving. He is surprise that Detmer didn’t stop her though. Oh who was he kidding, nothing will stop Michael when she makes up her mind on anything.

“Lt. Nilsson, you have the chair. I’m going to see what Commander Burnham has done this time. Ensign Tilly, you’re with me.” Saru sighed and transported down to the shuttle bay. Once they was gone, the remaining bridge crew exchanged tired looks that said ‘Here we go again’.

When Saru and Tilly arrived at the shuttle bay, everyone except for Dr. Culber had been shooed out for their safety. Book was telepathically communicating with the Transworm to coax it into a cargo pod.

“What is going on here?” Saru demanded.

“Sh!” Dr. Culber quickly shushed the captain. “Don’t startle the Transworm. Book needs to focus to keep it calm and getting it into the cargo pod.”

“Where are Michael and Keyla?” Tilly whispered to the doctor.

“Inside the ship. I’m waiting for Book to get the Transworm to safety before moving them to the medical bay.”

“Are they injured?” Saru asked.

“Book was not clear on that.” Dr. Culber slowly shook his head. “But he thinks it’s best that I lock them up in the medical bay for a while. His words, not mine.”

Once the Transworm is secured, Book ran over to get the doctor but froze when he saw Saru and Tilly.

“Um, Captain Saru. Now is not a good time for you to see them.”

“Are they injured?” Saru asked without preamble.

“Not really, but it’s best that you don’t see them right now. Doctor, you should go in and check on them.”

“Mr. Booker, while Michael and Keyla are on your ship at the moment, my crew is under my care and I demand that you give me an answer right now. Why is it not ok for me to check on them?”

Book hesitated to give an answer, so Dr. Culber spoke up, “Mr. Booker, I understand that you are reluctant to tell him. But if they are not in dire need of me, he is not going to let up.”

Book sighed and gestured for them to follow him. “They got doused in a drug that is used to make people speak the truth.”

The Discovery crew blinked at that. They were expecting something more serious. But Dr. Culber then understood the implications of what Book was saying. He held up his hand to stop Saru and Tilly.

“Why don’t I see them privately and bring them to the medical bay. I will give you a report when the drugs are flushed from their bodies.”

“I believe there is nothing wrong in seeing them right now if it is only a small matter. And I need to know where is Osyraa’s men and if they managed to prevent the transaction.” With that, Saru strode ahead with Tilly while Book and Dr. Culber exchanged weary looks.

“How bad is it?” The doctor quietly asked the courier.

“From what I got from Michael, the drone that is supposed to spray that stuff exploded over them as they were transporting Lulu back. So, full dose, and their high, and emotional.”

Dr. Culber quirked an eyebrow at him. “Lulu?”

“The name of the Transworm. Once Michael and Keyla are off, I need to take him to a Transworm sanctuary.”

“Got it.”

The group soon arrived at the kitchenet where Book left the two ladies. They found Michael unconscious in Keyla’s arms and Keyla a sobbing mess while clinging to her friend.

“Are you alright?” Dr. Culber asked as he rushed to the pilot’s side. “How’s Commander Burnham?”

“Sh!” Keyla hissed at the doctor. “She’s asleep.”

“Alright.” Dr. Culber slowly nodded and lowered his voice. “What about you?”

“We talked, heart to heart.” Keyla pointed at the others. “You are my witness. I have forgiven Michael for the Battle of Binary Stars. We are friends now and sworn sisters.”

“I’m glad for you, Lt. Detmer. But we need to know what happened on the surface? Where is Osyraa’s men?” Saru cut in.

“He’s up here. In the cargo pod.”

“Oh.” Book froze, understanding what Detmer said. “Lulu ate him, didn’t he?”

“Yes. But,” She waved at the piece of machinery on the table. “We got the part he was trying to buy.”

Saru glanced at Tilly and nodded at the equipment. “Take it to engineering and find out what it is. It might give us an idea of what Osyraa’s weapon is.”

“Yes captain.” Tilly nodded and transported to engineering with the part, inwardly dismayed that she would not find out what happened on the planet until later.

“Now, Lt. Detmer, would you care to explain why didn’t Commander Burnham stop the Transworm from eating Osyraa’s men?” Saru demanded, his voice rising slightly. Keyla shot out of her seat, but not before passing Michael to Dr. Culber. She marched over to Saru and got very close to him with a fierce look that made him take a step back.

“That’s because, the Transworm had escaped and ate him before we even set foot in the marketplace!” She snapped.

“Saru, I respect you as a captain and friend, but you need to stop antagonizing Michael!” She punctuated each word with a jab of her finger at him. “Yes, she broke your trust by leaving to save Book and get that black box. But you should know her long enough by now to know that she would have done it anyway. Her martyrdom complex makes her try to save and protect those close to her! She also said that you didn’t want to save Captain Georgiou in the first place! I know that she’s not our Georgiou but from the mirror universe. And I'm pissed that neither of you thought to tell me earlier. But she has done nothing but care for Michael this entire time. And you want to repay that by letting her suffer from her illness and eventually die painfully. That’s why she’s so angry at you! And by the way, why was she punished for going rogue but I’m not? Tilly said that I was supposed to be ‘punished severely’ for going rogue, even though it was pretend!”

“Lt. Detmer!” Saru snapped at her. “Cease this at once!”

“It’s the drug. It’s making her more emotionally truthful.” Book unhelpfully supplied. “Adrenalin will knock it out.”

“I’m not done yet!” Keyla sneered at the Kelpian. “Saru, Michael came here a year earlier than we did. She’s changed. We’ve changed. It’s time you stopped denying that and accept it. She has friends and people she loves in Discovery and out of it. The only thing that hasn’t changed about her is her willingness to risk her life for us and uphold the Federation’s principles.”

Saru took another step back, this time in shock at his helmsmen’s words, perhaps even ashamed. Keyla suddenly slumped forward and Book rushed forward to catch her as Saru was still motionless from shock.

“What’s happening to her?” Dr. Culber asked Book as he helped her sit down again.

“Adrenalin crash? I don’t know. I don’t know any cases where someone gets accidentally doused with the full amount.”

Sighing, Dr. Culber tapped his badge. “Dr. Culber to medical bay. Prepare two biobeds and be prepared to receive.”

Turning to Saru, he gave the captain an even look. “Sir, I know that you have questions and will want to discipline Detmer for her…outburst, but I have to ask to hold that off until I flush the drugs from their system.”

“…Right doctor.” Saru slowly nodded. Dr. Culber tapped on his badge and he and the two incapacitated crewmembers transported to the medical bay, leaving Book and Saru to stand awkwardly.

Saru turned to Book with a scrutiny look. “Is there anything you would like to add?”

“If Michael was conscious, she would have said the things she never wants to say to your face and regret it later.” Book said bluntly.

“How would you know what she would say?” Saru could not help but snark.

“We talk.” Book emphasized the word. “Something I think you need to do with her.”

Saru tilted his head then shook it with a sigh. “What are you going to do with the Transworm?”

“There’s a sanctuary for Transworms but I’m not going to tell you where it is. Now that Michael is safely in your ship’s medical bay, I’m going to drop Lulu off.” Book moved to the console to prepare for the trip.

“Mr. Booker.” Saru suddenly spoke up, making Book turn back to face him. “I don’t say this enough, but thank you for being there for Michael when we couldn’t.”

Book slowly nodded in acknowledment. “Michael is a good person, perhaps too good for your Federation.”

“Oh my gosh.” Keyla buried her face in her hands once she was situated on a biobed. “I can’t believe I said that to Saru.”

“I know.” Dr. Culber hummed as he scanned her.

Keyla lifted her head at him and smirked, “But I don’t regret it.” Placing a hand over her heart she sighed in relief. “You were right. I feel better now that I got a lot of things off my chest.”

“And I can’t believe it took being douse with truth drugs for you to heed my advice.” The doctor teased her. He then sobered up and nodded at Michael who he now can see had tear tracks. “What did you talk about with her?”

“About the Shenzou. Georgiou. My implants. Coming to the future. My PTDS. Her conflicted feelings.” Keyla eyed him. “I meant what I said. We talked it out and I’ve forgiven her since she stood up to Admiral Cornwall to save Quo’nos.”

“I know.” Dr. Culber said again with a soft smile. He injected the contents of a hypospray in her neck. “This should help flush out the drugs. Let me know if you have any side effects.”

“Will do doc.”

They looked up when the doors swished open, revealing Saru. Dr. Culber opened his mouth to admonish him but the Kelpien held up his hand to forestall him.

“I’m not here to rile up Lt. Detmer or Commander Burnham. I only wanted to see how they are doing.”

“The drugs should be flushed out of their systems in an hour.” Dr. Culber reported. Keyla adverted her eyes, feeling ashamed for her outburst earlier.

“Thank you, doctor.” Saru blinked at the doctor. He then turned to Keyla and lowered his head. “I won’t punish you for your words earlier as you were clearly under the influence of the drugs. But every word you said is correct. I have been antagonizing Michael.”

Keyla blinked in surprise at him. Saru continued, “I sometimes forget that she spent a year without us. Perhaps in my desire to ignore my guilt for leaving her alone and pleasing the admiral, I forgot who she is at the core.”

“I’m glad that you understand, but I’m not the one you need to say it to.” Keyla jerked her chin at Michael.

“Michael and I will have a talk once she is awake and preferable clear minded.” Saru promised.

“Good.” Keyla nodded and laid back to rest.

“I leave them in your hands doctor.” Saru nodded at Dr. Culber who was trying not to smile.

“Of course.” Dr. Culber nodded back. Once Saru transported away, the doctor let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps there was hope for Michael and Saru’s relationship to heal after all. XXXX

I did this after Terra Firma Part 1 but I’m setting it after Part 2. As such, I’m not including Georgiou. But I got frustrated at Saru after his first reaction is to not save Georgiou and Michael looked so betrayed.

Lulu is based off one of my favorite cats from Kittisaurus/Cream Heroes on Youtube. He eats everything and would do anything for food, like how a Transworm would eat people indiscriminately. So I thought it was fitting.

#star trek discovery #star trek disco spoilers #michael burnham #keyla detmer #saru (star trek)#hugh culber

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Photo

Title: snowbound pt 1 of 2/3

Theme: snow

Fandom / Character(s):Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Earth!FemaleReader.

Warnings: First up. I preface with two strong warnings.. I am not a medical professional in any capacity. Second, I am only kind of a casual Star Wars fan, so Idk how things work in their universe as compared to here on Earth. The actual warnings here are blood!tw and injury!tw. Again, I remind you. I am neither a veteran star wars fan nor a medical professional. So, some things may be entirely wrong. And Ben Solo is most likely written totally OOC as he is not a character I am used to writing, by any stretch although i love him with my whole heart... Anyway... The warnings are: Blood!TW, Injury!TW, OOC fandom character and a strong dose of hurt comfort / fluff in the next parts I kind of hope i get to do for this. This part is so long because I was using it to sort of set things in motion..

Word Count: 2k. Listen, I was setting things up and got carried away, rip me.

Listen... You all just don’t fucking understand how much I love Kylo/Ben... I know, I know, he’s a bad guy. Anyway, this is me doing something I’ve literally been dying to do, a scenario in which Ben somehow winds up Earthbound just in time for the holidays...This is my daily entry for my bb @champbucks over on the @12daysofchristmas challenge blog...

OH YEAH.. for the sake of a timeline here.. This part takes place around the end of November/beginning of December. Part two will take place two and a half weeks later and part three will take part a day or so, maybe two, after part two. Trust me, this needed to be said.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

So, here’s the thing.. There really isn’t anyone on my Star Wars masterlist and like... I haven’t really written anything Star Wars related... Until now. So, if you want to be tagged in my star wars stuff, click the little link below or send me an ask/dm on my main and I’ll happily add you.

@champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“What the hell?”

The boom from outside had the windows to my grandma’s old cabin rattling and I quickly sat up just in time to look out the window at the head of my bed to see a bright flash of blue as it disappeared beyond the treeline across the road.

,, Curiosity killed the cat, remember?” my brain nagged at me the whole time I was slipping on the jeans I’d worn earlier in the day. That nagging only grew as I slipped on my warmest boots and by the time I had my daddy’s old shotgun loaded and I was heading out the door, I wasn’t entirely sure if going over to see what the hell was going on in the woods across from my house was a good idea or not.

I mean yeah, the odds were that some idiot kids were racing around Deadman’s curve and one crashed.. Or a drunk trying to drive home on an icy road hit black ice and lost control… At the thoughts of what probably happened, I stopped in the middle of the road and felt my back pocket.

As soon as my fingers grazed the cool weight of my cell phone, I took a deep breath and started to walk towards the woods on the other side of the little country road.

My eyes were adjusting to the semi darkness, so when the wrecked craft came into view just a few feet into the trees, I had to stop and really stare at it, rubbing my eyes.

“What the fuck?” the words left my mouth in a soft gasp as all the breath left my body. I knew exactly what I had to be looking at by now… And rather than turn and walk away, back to my grandma’s cabin, I kept moving closer. Pushing through bushes and trees and overgrown weeds and dead grass as I made my way towards the clearing to get a better look.

I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, because everybody knows there’s a damn good reason we have a military base on the outskirts of our little town and we all know they’re not testing weather balloons out there.. I knew that if this were a military thing, there would most likely be a cover-up.

So I did what anybody would and I pulled out my camera, recording the crash site and taking a few pictures of the craft as I walked around it slowly.

I froze completely when I heard a wounded groan.

Now, I’d assumed that whoever crashed whatever this… Thing.. Was… they’d gotten the hell out of dodge as soon as the crash was over.

,,Or they were dead on contact because the impact was really hard.’’ my brain finished. I glanced all around the clearing that the craft crashed in the middle of. Everything was silent. Almost deathly silent, as if something had come along and sucked up all the sounds and background noise. I shivered and hugged myself, swearing under my breath about not having the presence of mind to stop for a jacket or grab my first aid kit on my way over here...

A scream died on my lips when I felt a strong grip wrap around my ankle as soon as I stepped closer to the wrecked craft, bending down to peer inside, my phone out and ready to call for emergency services.

When I looked down, after I dove away as quickly as possible, of course, I swallowed hard and tried to find words.

“Help.”

As he said it, I got the distinct feeling that this was not a word he enjoyed saying, not at all.

I could only nod and when my brain finally felt it had enough time to process what was going on, it kicked into overdrive.

“Can you pull yourself out?” I finally managed to ask the question.

“Trapped.” the word came on the heels of words that were totally unfamiliar to me, yet somehow I knew instinctively that this guy had to be swearing up a storm and in immense pain.

I guess tonight’s one of the few reasons I’m glad I went into the medical field instead of becoming a horror novelist or a starving artist like I used to want to when I was a kid. Tonight my years of school and training and the experience I’d gotten thus far as an intern at the hospital in town was all going to come in handy.

Because the lack of military vehicles or police by now only meant one thing to me.

The military either didn’t know yet so this gave me a chance to finally do something about the way they were polluting the water supply and making people sick or… Nobody knew about this.

Laughing softly at the thought that I might’ve stumbled onto an alien crash landing, I bent lower, peering into the smashed window and I dug around in my jeans pocket until I found my dad’s old pocket knife.

“I’m gonna.. I’ll try to cut you out, okay?” I muttered. He grunted, a light pained scowl playing at gorgeous and full lips.

I leaned inside a little, swearing as I felt shards of glass.. Or whatever the material was on the windows, digging into my hand..As soon as I got a good look, I realized that he wasn’t trapped by a harness or belt of any kind.

He was trapped because when the craft he was inside made impact, the damn thing basically folded like a soda can. I winced. Drawing a few sharp and shaky breaths, the fog from their warmth lingering in the air as I tried to stop and think.

I should be calling EMTS. I should be leaving him here because everything I’ve ever learned about accidents of any kind clearly predicates that if someone is hurt and you don’t know how fucking bad, you don’t move them.

But here’s the problem with that knowledge and my current situation… If I didn’t do something, then either that military installation was going to get away with the shit they’ve been doing the past few years since they mysteriously popped up on the outskirts, show up to finish this guy off in the time it took me to get help on the way… And then they might just do me in also because I had evidence and proof that they were up to something shady out there... Or… They’d find him and take him back to the base and do God only knew what to him.

,, but he might be an alien…” my brain gave me the gentle reminder and the counter argument arose almost immediately, ,, he can’t be. He looks like I do. He looks human. I can’t just turn my back and leave the guy… If he is military and they do realize what’s happened, he’s as good as dead… And I cannot live with someone’s blood on my hands.”

And with that thought, I proceeded to try and figure out the safest way I could to go about breaking years of protocol that had been drilled into my brain.

I started with the obvious. I leaned in, my body brushing against him as I raised my hand, pressing my fingers to his neck, feeling for the jugular so I could attempt to see if his pulse was steady.

He groaned quietly and I explained in a hushed tone, trying to keep him calm, “I’m trying to take your pulse… to make sure it’s okay to move you if I can get you loose. Because we’re gonna have to get you out of here somehow.”

He merely nodded. I almost asked if he spoke the same language as me, but that was a later question. I was still operating under the assumption that I was working with a very small time frame, either way.

Because even if the military didn’t know what happened out here, they would soon.. Because this just felt like something they would be aware of or become aware of. And I wasn’t going to let them get their hands on the guy, especially when he was injured and far too weak to fight them off.

Or so I thought…

,, where the hell am I? What happened? Need to.. Get out of here. Get back to the others.”

I heard it so clearly that for a second or so, I thought he might’ve actually spoken. I answered quietly, “You’re in Montana. Apparently, you crashed whatever the hell this thing is. If you’ll be still and stay calm sir, I’m trying to get you out of here. We have to hurry. If those damn military guys realize what happened and come down, we’re both probably fucked.” and continued checking him over.

I dreaded what I was about to have to try and do, because if there was any internal injury, I was about to make it worse. The goal, I decided mentally, was to move him as carefully but as quickly as possible.

He gritted his teeth and gave another long and wounded grunt as he seemed to pick up on my rush and started trying to maneuver his legs free from the part holding them in place.

“Okay, whoa. Easy, sir. Stop moving, damn it!” I said frantically, eyes widening as they settled on the dark depths of his eyes.

He glared at me, speaking in a calm but firm tone. “I have to get out of here.”

“And if you’ll go about this carefully, like I said before, you might actually live through this. I don’t know if you’ve been injured internally or not. I won’t know how severe your injuries are until I’m back at my cabin. I’m hoping that since you’re vocal enough to be an entire stubborn ass right now, that you’re really not seriously injured.” I snapped back because he’d snapped at me just seconds before.

He eyed me, almost wary. Almost as if he weren’t entirely sure whether to trust me. But I stared him down, firmly as I could. He managed to get his legs free and clear of the way they’d been pinned somehow and if I hadn’t thought the guy might be strong as an ox when he grabbed my ankle before, I now knew that fact beyond a shadow of doubt.

Oh, he grunted and groaned and growled in pain the entire time, but he seemed to be entirely too stubborn for his own good, too hell bent on getting himself out.

Once he was slowly pulling himself through the busted glass and lying on the snow, I cleared my throat. He winced and gritted his teeth as he pulled himself to a sitting position in the snow. The form fitting black garment he wore on his upper body was shredded in a place or two from the way he’d pulled himself through the window of the wreckage.

“Do you think you can walk? Because we need to figure something out.” I asked the question as I worked on keeping calm. But I was in a bit of a panic see, because internal injuries are difficult to spot and often, they go unnoticed until the person injured either dies or suffers massive complications. And I knew that me, moving him as little as I had and then him freeing himself from the wreckage somehow and all that movement… It was tempting fate, in my own opinion, but I was that determined not to let all this be covered up or to have this man’s blood on my hands.

He looked as if he were going to attempt it and I stood, holding my hands out to him to at least try to help him. But after the second or third attempt, the fight or flight response within me kicked in and I was… Growing impatient to get him indoors and both of us hidden away somewhere safely.

“I’ve got an ATV up at the cabin. It’s literally just across the road at the top of the hill… I need you to stay here and stay hidden. Are we clear?” I didn’t mean to bark it at him like an order, I guess I just assumed at the time that if he were a soldier who worked that base, he was used to it.

He bit his lip and eyed me.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” that firm tone, I won’t even begin to go into the effect it had on me, but I was the one who wasn’t injured and didn’t possibly have the US Armed Forces about to pop up at any second, so I had to act as if nothing he did or said had any sort of effect on me at all.

And god was it ever hard!

“Which one of us crashed a fucking piece of government property and is injured, sir?” my hand dragged through damp hair and tugged a little as I tapped my boot against the crunchy snow covered forest floor.

“ The ship is mine.” he corrected. I eyed him with a brow raised.

“Whatever you say. Either way, arguing semantics with you is not getting either of us to my cabin.”

The searing pain that shot through my palm as I rubbed it against my jeans had me grimacing, but I tried to ignore it. He stared me down, head tilted slightly.

“Alright. I’m going now.” I turned on my heels and I bolted up the hillside, hurrying so fast across the slippery pavement separating me from my cabin that I nearly slipped a time or two and I finally got to the shed that I’d parked the ATV under after riding it along the creekbank earlier to look for fallen trees I could use as firewood.

The keys were still in the ignition. I jumped on and fired it up, biting back a pained whimper as I curled my hand around the handlebar and that only put more pressure on the wound that I didn’t even realize I’d gotten trying to help the man out.

I shoved out the pain and focused on getting back across the road as quickly as possible. And in the back of my mind, yes.. I did find it more than a little odd that nobody had come down. The neighbors a mile away from me have to have heard… Then I remembered that Herb and Isla were out of town, in Kentucky with their oldest daughter and her family for the holidays.

,, c’mon lady luck, don’t fail me now.” the thought came and went and I took a shortcut through the treeline that I knew would put me straight in front of the crash site. Now I just had to hope to God that the guy was okay and he hadn’t left the scene.

Right as the crashed ship came into view, I spotted him trying yet again to use the wreckage to pull himself to his feet and I rushed over.

“You’re a stubborn one.”

“Trying to..” he took a few heavy breaths and grumbled before continuing, “Get back home.”

“And you can do that.. The second you’re at least partially healed, sir. I’m gonna…” I trailed off, awkwardly positioning myself against his side so that he could use me as a crutch and lean on me to get to the ATV so I could take him back to my place, “Lean on me.”

But the guy was an actual fucking giant.

And normally, in a non life or death situation, I’d have been absolutely mesmerized by… Pretty much everything about him. But tonight, I was too focused. Too intent on getting both of us to safety.

,, daddy always told me curiosity killed the cat. Now look what I’m smack in the middle of.” I thought to myself, grunting a little as he leaned into me heavily, my arm around his lower back and his arm around my shoulders as he clumsily tried to make his way to the ATV.

Once I got on and he managed to get himself on behind me, I took off. “Might wanna cover your face.”

And a minute or so later, as I parked the ATV right at my porch steps to make it a little easier to get him inside, he eyed me warily again, this time questioning, “Why are you doing this? Don’t you know who I was?”

“What do you mean was?” I asked the question, all the worst possible scenarios flashing through my mind. And that adrenaline surge from earlier that I had yet to come down from? A little more panicked.

He muttered something and shrugged, putting a shoulder around me again as he grunted and managed to get himself standing.

The light overhead on my porch caught on his bloodied pants leg and I grimaced. “Well, pretty sure that’s a broken leg.”

I kicked open the front door with my foot and helped him into my living room, letting him sink down onto the couch. After I got him all settled in, I rushed around my pantry gathering up my medical supplies that I kept on hand.

And I wandered back into the living room, taking a seat on the handmade heavy wooden coffee table in front of my old plaid couch. “You’re gonna have to… Take off the shirt..”

He eyed me, this curious gleam in his eyes that quickly vanished when I firmly repeated myself.

His eyes caught on my palm and he eyed my own smaller wound, then fixed his eyes on me. “You’re dripping blood on the floor.”

“And I’ll worry about that as soon as I’m totally certain that aside from a possibly broken leg and a few cuts and bruises, you’re fine.” I insisted, a firm tone of my own as I started to tug the ripped fabric up and over his body. I grimaced at the older scars and bit my lip as I surveyed the bruises already starting to form against pale skin. “Are you in any pain at all when you breathe?��

Bear in mind here. I am still only just an intern. So I haven’t actually had to deal with a whole lot in the way of injuries. The most I’m currently allowed to do is make rounds and do consults, checking in on patients to let their actual physician know what they might need or how they might be feeling on that particular day.

So this was all trial by fire for me.

One glance at his well muscled body had me definitely continuing to think that he was one of the guys from the military base and I made a mental note to maybe NOT turn down Carrie if she offered to set me up with one of the guys her fiance knew in the future as I had been doing.

He cleared his throat.

“A little.”

“Most likely dealing with a bruised rib or two. I’ll wrap those for now.. I’ll call in a favor with Dr.Albertson in the morning...I don’t think he’ll tell anybody.”

The man nodded, agreeing.

I went back to cleaning and patching the wounds I could patch and then I turned my attention to his leg.

“I’m going to have to cut your pants leg…”

“Or I could take off my pants.”

I eyed him as soon as he said it because truth be told, not only did he have me flustered in saying it, but also, I couldn’t entirely tell if he were being helpful at last, or if he were being a flirt.

As if to prove he was serious, he rose up slightly, unfastening the black pants he wore, working them down his hips and I have literally NEVER… ever.. Turned away and tried to still catch a peek as I did in that moment.

“Christ. You could’ve given me a second to turn.”

“Why?” he tapped my shoulder as he asked the question and I turned around.

My breath caught in my throat and I quickly had to refocus myself. Because if I thought taking his shirt off was a bit of a distraction… Then him sitting there pantsless was.. A bit more.

I bit my lip and my eyes settled on the lower portion of his leg. The swelling was bad. The leg was definitely broken. I sighed and clucked my tongue, shaking my head.

“I’m gonna have to call in that favor with the old man now. Because this can’t wait to be looked at. And I need to be sure you’ve got no internal injuries.” I stood abruptly, nearly doing so fast enough that I almost landed on top of the guy.

He eyed me and I pulled back and away from him, raising to a full stand. Walking quickly into my kitchen and sliding the pocket door closed behind me.

“Hey, doc? I know it’s late, but if you get this, can you please swing by my grandma’s cabin on your way home tonight? I need your help. And I need someone who can be trusted to stay quiet on what you’re gonna see.”

I’d just walked back into the living room when my cell phone rang in my hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d rather explain when you get here, doc.”

“I’m on my way now. Just grabbing my equipment.”

“Thank you, doc.”

“I always told you and I promised your grandma when you were knee high to a grasshopper. If you ever need me, kid, I’ll be there.”

I hung up and sank back down onto the coffee table, letting a deep breath escape my mouth. The adrenaline was starting to wear off finally and all I could do now was… Process everything. Try to figure out just how far up the proverbial creek I might’ve gotten myself.

The man shattered the silence in the room by clearing his throat and reaching out. I eyed him, a brow raised.

“What are you doing?”

“If you’re not going to do something about your hand, I’m going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s a little scrape.”

“There’s blood caked on it.”

Something in the look he gave me had me extending my hand. It almost felt as if I wasn’t in control of myself, though I didn’t realize this until much later…

His larger hand gripped mine carefully, holding it on bare legs.

“You still haven’t put any pants on, what the hell..”

“If you called that person and they’re going to come and examine me, doesn’t make sense to.” he didn’t look up as he answered, instead, focusing on swiping the cloth that I’d gotten as a spare in case I needed a clean one for his wounds. When the light overhead caused something in the wound to glisten, I tried to yank my hand free in a hurry, but that sensation was back in my mind and his grip on my wrist tightened to a point where I couldn’t move.

“Be still.”

That firm tone again, honestly, fuck him for it.

“Fine. But I feel like I should remind you, I am a medical professional. I could get this looked at when Doc arrives.”

“Well, I’m doing it now.” he stated calmly, as if I had no say in the matter. And when I opened my mouth to argue, to insist I could just wait the ten minutes it would take Doc to get to my cabin, nothing came out.

He gave me this smug look as he took my tweezers and worked them into the cut, making me bite my lip and take a few deep breaths.

When he finally got the shard free, I pulled my hand back, cradling it against me.

He eyed me, amused it seemed.

“I’ll clean it out and wrap it now, thanks.” I mumbled in a softer tone, giving him a small smile and thanking him.

Now, we just had to wait on Doc to arrive...

#12daysofchristmas #12 days of christmas #ben solo fanfiction #ben solo fanfic #ben solo imagine #ben solo imagines #trapped on earth au #my writing; ben solo #my fics; ben solo #my moodboards; ben solo

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mojavehearts · 4 years

Text

Fallout 4 Companions react to Strong having a crush on Sole

(REQUESTED!!) (im cackling like a maniac already)

(I know I used this before but...This IS Sole and Strong)

some are them realising it and some are helping him come to the realisation (some of the reacts even work together as one!)

Cait:

Cait watched as Strong stomped back and forth in front of Soles house in Sanctuary, at 4 am, on a Sunday. ‘’Oi buddy! can ya quit yer stompin?’’ she whispers out angrily, putting out her cigarette onto the side of one of the small shacks sole built Strong grumbles under his breath which makes Cait come striding up ‘’what is your problem?!’’ she was trying her best to whisper at least ‘’Strong doesn’t know!’’ he roars back she covers her ears and sighs ‘’Listen big guy, people are tryin to sleep and they cant with you stompin around’’ Strong grumbles again and points at soles door ‘’Strong cant be without master’’ ‘’what you like a lost puppy or somethin’? yer supposed to be a big mean ol’ supermutant’’ Cait scoffs, now leaning against soles house ‘’NO Strong does not want to be, without master near him, makes Strong MAD!’’ Cait’s eyes widen and she backs away slowly ‘’good lord, you better talk to MacCready about that...’’

Curie:

‘’Ah monsieur Strong!’‘ Curie waves strong over in a chirpy tune ‘‘How have our experiments gone so far? any pain? some memories? violent tendencies more than usual?’‘ Curie had gotten some data from some ‘hospital’ of sorts from New Vegas and was testing the medication in does on Strong so far nothing was different of course Strong was already more ‘Put Together’ compared to many supermutants and it had been a very small dose, ‘‘No strong want stop, making head fuzzy! weak!’‘ Curie nods and checks her chart ‘‘When does this usually happen or is it all the time?’‘ Strong stomps his feet slightly ‘‘If Strong is near master it becomes fuzzy! want to stop! need to be strong and protect Master’‘ Curie stops writing down in her notes and freezes ‘‘Oh Mon dieu’‘

Codsworth:

Codsworth is what he calls ‘Smart for an old bot’ he knew from the get go, hes still full of old world ideals so he isn't to keen on it, considering supermutants are known as violent brutes as well, but he warmed up to Strong (well as much as one possibly could if they weren’t sole) and it became quite entertaining for him to watch over a cup of tea and a nice book (he makes the tea for show, sadly he cant drink it) as strong ‘somehow’ gets red when with Sole, it really makes Codsworth rethink many things

Danse:

Danse...Isn’t exactly a fan of supermutants in general, that's just the way he’s wired (haha get it...Ill go)

Strong would always try to size Danse up, whenever he would talk to Sole Strong would be there, either watching intensely with a violent glare or just interrupting whatever he could, so he went up to him and asked what his problem was, guessing it was because he used to be brotherhood and also because...Danse obviously wasn't a fan of him. Strong just stares him down and points a thick green finger to Danse’s chest poking it into him slightly ‘’Sole needs real man, not metal man’’ and walked off leaving Danse to be (the gif above)

Dogmeat:

You know that thing dogs do when they cover their eyes with their paws and or ears as well?...Yeah just that

Deacon:

One word nine letters Terrified

Deacon thought it was kinda cute at first when he would watch strong follow Sole around, in that scary sort of way...in that way where little girls sing ring around the rosy or your child stands beside your bed in the middle of the night and says nothing, but then he noticed things...different things, like how he would rarely let anyone else around Sole, and that one time where they went to the third rail and that person tried to hit on sole and he chucked a tantrum and set the third rail on fire and- OH MY GOD

Piper:

Piper was making her usual rounds around Diamond City, trying to question whoever she could about her new piece ‘’Mirelurks and their MireQuirks’’ when suddenly she saw strong browsing the general supplies store she was confused why he was here alone, things may have changed since Sole came into play but he might still get given a hard time, he scratches his chin and Piper moves closer to greet him ‘’Master friend, Strong need gift for Master, Master gave Strong milk of human kindness’’ Piper thought this was very normal in fact and did help him pick out something, but then he turned to her and said ‘’How do humans show ‘E fec tion’ ‘’ and she froze ‘’Oh wow buddy i’m not the one for that um...Maybe Nicky can help he was married once well- when he was- when he wasn't- wait was he him- yes of course- um - but its- well-’’ Strong had enough of her blubbering and scoffs already walking off to see valentine, Soles gift in hand. Piper breathes out and then in deeply but then starts laughing softly, it was kind of cute really, but she didn’t think Supermutants could feel ..Love?, Piper had already found a new, and better article idea. SCORE

Preston:

Preston sighs softly, wiping the sweat away from under his hat, taking it off to fan himself with it he noticed the ground rumbling slightly beneath him ‘’Strong that you?’’ Preston turns to the direction of the rumbles and places his hat back on, sure enough he was met with big green mean fighting machine, strong. ‘’You know master, what does master like, besides blood and fighting’’ Preston purses his lips in slight confusion an audible ‘huh’ leaving his throat ‘’Strong want say sorry for Third Rail on fire, Mack Ree Dee says I should show sorry with actions’’ Preston scratches the side of his face and stares at the ground for a minute ‘’why don't you go to diamond city? check out the stuff there I’m sure they would like anything from the surplus store’’ Strong grunts in agreement and stomps away again behind Strong stood MacCready with a tilted head and raised eyebrows Preston looks at him completely confused until MacCready takes his two fingers and draws a heart, Preston stands there dumbfounded his gun falling from his hands

Valentine:

It was a slow day for nick, seemed not many people needed help nowadays guess he had Sole to thank for this time off, but he was getting a bit restless with all this sitting around waiting for something, he felt kind of bad for wishing for things to happen but he was sick of the small ‘Lost my cat’ or ‘forgot where my nuka-cola truck was’ and sick of the fact all of those were deacon in different wigs, so when his door opened he was pretty excited he turns his head up quickly and is met with strong slowly trying to squeeze into the door, he struggled for a few minutes before sitting down, and then breaking the chair, but he still sat in place on top of the broken chair on the floor, nick chuckles and rubs at his temples why was the world against him ‘’Strong, great to see you...What do you need?’’ strong was quick to speak ‘’Paper send me but before that pwes ton and then before that mac ree dee and then before him irish lady, and now im here help strong now metal man!’’ nick rubs the lower part of his face and sighs ‘’so...Paper? sent you specifically?’’ strong nods with a grumble ‘’Alright..tell me what you need’’ it was better than seeing deacon in a long blonde wig talking in a high pitch voice about his cheating husband for 5 hours ‘’Strong been told to come to you because you were married and I need to know E fec tion’’ Nicks eyes widen slightly, the pupils whirrling vibrantly this had to be one of deacons tricks ‘’Affection? for whom’’ Strong slams a big green fist on the desk, breaking it, nick pretends the desk is still there for sanity sake and rests his arms in midair ‘’For Master! who else would be good enough for E fec tion’’ Nick could die at that moment ‘’Alright Deacon you can come out now’’ Strong roars angrily ‘’Bald man at settlement!’’ oh god so this was...Serious, nick takes a looooonnngggggg drag of a cigarette and sighs ‘’Alright...ill help ya’’

X6-88:

(petition for me to just use Raymond Holt gifs for X6 considering they are basically,,The same person like the personalities are spot on omg)

All of the companions where sharing their opinions/outlooks on Strongs growing affections on sole/if Sole would return them and all that, Hancock threw in a few sexual jokes (making everyone groan in different tones) while everyone else already knew X6 did not, and he found it obscene

‘‘x6, what do you think about it?’‘ Curie asks with her eyes full of curiosity, as always.

‘‘Absolutely...Not’‘

‘‘What do you mean ‘Absolutely not?’’ Piper asks with a joking scoff

‘‘it is ridiculous at best, there is no way’‘ the other companions sigh at him ‘‘hey it could be a real blossoming love my guy, they will have gorgeous half green babies’‘ Deacon says with a mouthful of carrot X6 looks at him in distaste and turns in his hair ‘‘X6! don't ignore us, stop being a grumpy pants you aren't in the institute anymore! love is real!’‘ Mac says excitedly X6 slowly turns his chair back and stares at him through his glasses

‘‘It might be, but not between sole and the supermutant, now before you complain, i am once again turning in my chair’‘

he will come around

MacCready:

‘’MACK REE DEE!’’Strong stomped up to Mac at INCREDIBLE speed ‘’whoa there strong! you could flatten me buddy’’ he chuckled but he was literally terrified for his life seeing strong run like that ‘’Loud lady says you can help me’’ strong says bluntly ‘’help with what?’’ now mac was interested ‘’I told her I didn’t want to be without Master and she tells me to see you little man’’ MacCready rubs his neck in confusion why would she send strong to him over nothing it was only natural that he would be if he considers Sole his Master ‘’After fire in Third Rail Master was upset at Strong, STRONG CANT STAND IT’’ Mac nodded slightly ‘’uh well...Sometimes a good ‘’hey I’m sorry’’ and some affection, maybe a hug and a gift can work?’’ strong seemed to like that idea ‘’I GO NOW’’ he roars ‘’whoa buddy wait! do you want me to tell Sole you’re leavin? I’m on my way to have dinner with her now’’ dinner!? Strong’s alarms went off in his head and he picks Mac up by his jacket snarling slightly ‘’Dinner?!’’ Maccready stares at strong, confused and terrified ‘’Um yeah...The thing people do to eat? she wanted Duncan and Shaun to meet formally? you were invited remember?’’ ‘’oh’’ strong slowly and gently (for a supermutant) and slightly dusts Mac off and turned away MacCready laughed softly at how strange he could be and then stopped dead in his tracks ‘’Wait what the fu- ‘’

Hancock:

Once the institute was defeated Hancock and Sole both came up with the idea to have a party for everyone at the third rail, all of good neighbour was decorated from top to bottom with funny decor, synth scraps, all of that (much to x6′s dislike, he still went) everything was fine and dandy, everyone was partying it up, Magnolia switched It up for the night and was singing some upbeat party tunes, and then some random stumbled up to Sole, Hancock watched for a distance he knew Sole could handle themselves so he just watched silently, it was chill and all until Strong war cried, threw the person into some lit candles which then got caught on a decoration and set it on fire and then in shock some people bumped into each other and started fighting AND THEN as everything was going to shit Sole had to jump up to Strong to avoid the fire as it pooled around them, the way strong held onto Sole, told him enough whether supermutants could feel that kinda thing or not wasn't his business. Putting out his cigarette he sighs and decides to help in the chaos as Deacon walked into the third rail ‘’ I BROUGHT PIZZ- aaaa???!’’

BONUS

Sole:

Sole was sitting at dinner with Mac, Duncan and Shaun and turned towards the empty spot they had reserved for Strong with a sigh. They just continue to smile and eat, until the door gets fireman kicked down (I cannot stop with that) and strong appears Sole stands up and strong walks towards them, a pretty sweet looking belt in hand he throws it at sole and they catch it ‘’is this for me strong? well thanks! I-’’ then Strong picks them up and awkwardly hugs them to his body sole struggles a little bit against him ‘’is this about the third rail? its alright strong I told you that I was just busy’’ Strong ‘’I’m trying to do human E fec tion’’ sole goes silent and then smiles softly ‘’thanks strong that’s really nice of you to do that for me, but you don’t have to I like you the way you are’’ strong slowly puts sole down and sole pats him on the arm

Mac and Duncan just looked at each other awkwardly and kept eating the whole time

Bonus Bonus

Maxson:

(I hope this was okay!! thank you so much for requesting I had a BLAST doing it!! xxx)

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Pulse VI

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Scott Tracy

Part 6 of my entry for @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Touch. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This one kinda reads like it could be the end... but it isn’t. Not quite. All medical stuff in here is vaguely researched, based on my own osteology knowledge (I have a masters degree in human bones so I like to think I have some idea what I’m talking about), and also some good old-fashioned “it’s set 40 years in the future so let’s handwave and call it medical advances”. Mostly the latter.

Gordon hated hospitals. He hated the overwhelming whiteness of everything, the inescapable stench of disinfectants, the memories that stirred up whenever he was inside one for too long. But for all that he hated it, for all that his memories were fighting to get to the front of his mind, he couldn’t leave, not now.

When it had been him here, trapped in a hospital bed with an unco-operative body and uncertain future, Scott had stayed. Scott had been there through it all, determined to help him in any way possible and horrified at the mere suggestion that he leave – abandon – his brother to this whitewashed hell. Now, the roles were reversed, and no matter what was brewing in his head, Gordon would sooner be back in that bed himself than abandon his big brother.

Scott always had a presence to him. Already tall, if more Gordon’s litheness than Virgil’s tank, Scott could command a room effortlessly, and Gordon had got used to that, used to lounging in Scott’s shadow because it was nice there. Other people complained about siblings stealing the limelight, of always finding themselves second-best. Gordon got that, had felt the same way once upon a time until he realised he could find his own limelight whenever he wanted – Scott certainly hadn’t shadowed the gold medal that had pride of place in his room. He understood better now, knew that Scott would never stifle him, and with no parents the security of his biggest brother filled a hole that would have otherwise stayed open and raw.

The man laying in the hospital bed didn’t seem any bigger than Gordon himself. He was still unconscious, had been ever since they’d moved him onto a stretcher to the sound of agonised screams, but after an emergency surgery and anaesthetic no-one was overly concerned about that. He had no head injuries, a stroke of good luck amongst everything else and sleep was a good aid for healing; while he was sleeping, he wasn’t hurting – although the cannula supplying a strong dose of morphine was no doubt also helping that one.

Still, unconscious or not, Gordon insisted on holding his hand. No-one else questioned it, not that there was anyone else around too question it. Virgil and Kayo, while far better off than their eldest brother, had been confined to Tracy Island for the time being. Neither were pleased about it, but not even Kayo was brave enough to oppose Grandma when she declared that they were to stay put for now.

Gordon wasn’t stupid – he knew that not even Grandma would have been able to enforce her rules on Virgil if his older brother wasn’t convinced that Scott was still in good hands. Just because none of them spoke about his accident much didn’t mean none of them remembered it. For all his medical prowess, Virgil wasn’t the brother best suited to handling Scott once he woke up. That was Gordon, miracle Tracy, never walk again Olympic Champion. Virgil’s reluctance obedience to Grandma’s demands made it clear that he was all too aware of that.

Alan had kept himself together remarkably well up until the topic of how they were going to get everyone – and everything home. After finding Scott and Kayo, helping Scott through a panic attack, and everything else he’d faced down in the rubble of a building, it was the idea that he was best-suited to pilot Thunderbird One home that pushed him too far.

They’d ended up all piling into Thunderbird Two, with Gordon at the helm while Kayo big-sistered the tearful youngest and Virgil hovered over the motionless eldest. EOS had taken responsibility for the other two Thunderbirds on the scene, returning them straight to base as Thunderbird Two stopped off at their usual hospital – why oh why did they need a usual hospital as well as Grandma, Virgil, and their hospital-grade infirmary on Tracy Island – in New Zealand on the way home. John was down from space, although Gordon hadn’t seen or spoken to him yet. With Scott out of action, it fell to the second-eldest and, more importantly, Alan’s partner in space, to comfort the distraught teenage astronaut.

So Gordon was here alone, fidgeting lightly with Scott’s calloused fingers as he waited for his big brother to wake up. The room looked just as he remembered it – he didn’t know if it was the room, if Scott was lying in the very same bed he’d spent too many long, dark months, but it looked it. Gordon was careful not to look around too much, not to check the view out of the window to see if it was identical to what memories he had of the hospital. Many, particularly the earliest ones, had been repressed, squashed into a corner of his mind to never see the light of day again, but many was not all, and Gordon remembered enough. If he let himself think about them, there’d be another Tracy panic attack, and that was the last thing any of them needed. So he didn’t, carefully watching his eldest brother instead.

With his focus almost entirely on his brother, it was immediately obvious when Scott woke, blue eyes blinking up blearily at the (white, too white) ceiling. He should call for a nurse, hit the call button and inform them that their patient was awake, but Gordon stayed his hand and waited. This… this was personal. He already knew the diagnosis, had heard it from faceless doctors and forced himself through all the medical jargon he’d hoped to never hear again. Scott would take it better from him than some unfamiliar nurse with genuine-sounding but rehearsed lines.

Like Virgil, unhappily back on Tracy Island with a broken arm and Grandma’s soup for company, Gordon hoped Scott would trust that he knew what he was saying. That he understood. Normally, that wouldn’t be a hope, it would be fact, but in circumstances like these, nothing was for sure.

“Hey there, bro,” he said quietly, lightly squeezing Scott’s hand to get his attention when blue eyes cleared and he judged him to be aware enough of his surroundings.

“Gordon?” Those same blue eyes focused on him, and Scott frowned lightly. He didn’t ask what had happened, but that wasn’t Scott’s thing.

“The one and only,” he confirmed, a small grin forming on his face. He let it, determined not to be all doom and gloom while Scott filtered through his memories, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in the way that made him a fantastic commander to work out what had happened and why he was in a hospital. It didn’t take long, and Gordon squeezed his hand again the moment he saw his eyes widen in fear.

“My legs-” Scott started, face rapidly paling, and Gordon pulled himself closer so that he was in Scott’s line of sight.

“You’re on the good stuff,” he said firmly. “I doubt you can feel much of anything right now.”

That got Scott’s attention fixed on him, although the colour didn’t come back. With wide eyes and pale skin, he looked much younger, but Gordon refused to let that bother him. Back injuries were bad, and he knew Scott remembered much more about his own hospitalisation than he did. It didn’t take a genius to see that was compounding the already instinctive fear of losing sensation in his lower body.

He’d take a leaf out of Alan’s book and collapse on another big brother later – Virgil would no doubt be available; John would have his hands full with Alan for some time – but right now Scott needed him, and Gordon wouldn’t, couldn’t, let him down.

“I’m not as strong as you,” Scott said, and to anyone else that might be a non-sequester, but Gordon was fairly sure he could follow the jump. He was already thinking of the worst, already remembering when Gordon had got the fateful news from the doctors. Gordon wouldn’t be surprised to find out that that had been playing through his mind right from the start, maybe even had a hand in the panic attack Alan had been left to field alone.

Not if you talk like that, was on the tip of his tongue, a retort honed by years of verbal sparring with brothers, older and younger. But contrary to popular belief, Gordon did think before he spoke, and he knew without a doubt that a lightly scolding retort was the last thing Scott wanted or needed right now.

“I didn’t think I was strong enough, either,” he said instead. Scott knew that – had been the one there for most of his breakdowns, when he shouted and screamed and cursed the world, or curled up into a metaphorical ball of depression (would have done it literally, if his inability to do so hadn’t been the whole reason for it in the first place) – but right now Gordon suspected he needed a reminder. “You’re not alone, Scott. You stayed with me when it was me stuck in that bed, and I’m going to stay with you now.”

If he was hoping for a quip back – I’d hope so, too – it didn’t happen. It was too soon, the whole situation too raw, for that. But Gordon wasn’t done.

“However, I have some not so bad news for you,” he continued. He couldn’t call it good news, when there was nothing good about the whole thing, but it was far, far, better than anything he’d been told when it was him laying immobile in a bed. “You don’t get the dubious honour of nasty doctors coming in and telling you you’ll never walk again.”

“What?” Scott demanded. “But- my back? My legs?”

Gordon squeezed his hand again, sitting back in his chair to get comfortable again – or as best he could. How Scott had managed to stay in the things for so long once upon a time, Gordon didn’t know.

“Let me start from the top,” he said, once he was settled and Scott was looking at him with burning curiosity – and hope. A spark in those sky blue eyes that hadn’t been there even two minutes ago. It was a spark Gordon knew would see him through. He had faith in Scott, even if Scott didn’t have faith in himself right now. “Somehow, you didn’t break your back. At least, not completely. Your fifth lumbar vertebrae took some damage, which is going to take time and probably another surgery to heal-”

“Another?” Scott interrupted. “How many have I had?”

“Just the one, so far,” Gordon assured him. “They had to remove some of the chips that came off before they caused any more damage than you’re already dealing with. That went fine, by the way, and they were also able to confirm that your spinal cord hasn’t taken any damage, so depending on how well your vertebrae heals up there should be little to no lasting complications in the long term.”

Relief warred with confusion on Scott’s face and Gordon fell silent, sensing a question. Thankfully, Scott didn’t need further encouragement to ask the obvious thing.

“If my back’s not broken and my spinal cord is fine, why couldn’t I – can’t I – feel my legs?”

“Because your body’s response to things where they shouldn’t be is to swell up, and that swelling put pressure on your nerves,” Gordon assured him. “It’ll take a while to go back to normal because typically it’s squishing the important ones that control your legs, and longer for the nerves to repair themselves from being squished up, so you are going to be stuck in bed or in…” Gordon still hated it, still refused to have anything to do with it, although as long as he wasn’t the one using it maybe he could face it, “that thing for a while, and then there’s all the PT from the inevitable lack of use for a while, but unless something goes wrong with the surgery, you should be okay.”

Scott didn’t respond, and Gordon abandoned his uncomfortable chair in favour of perching on the edge of the bed, reaching over so that he was holding both his hands.

“Scott?” Sometimes, silence was good. Right now, silence was not good. He wanted to know Scott had heard and understood what he’d said. Needed to know.

“I’m… not paralysed?” his big brother asked slowly, shakily, as though he couldn’t quite believe it. Gordon couldn’t blame him; good news on the medical front from the outset was a rarity for the Tracys. Usually it was bad news which they promptly decided wasn’t going to win.

Privately, he shared Scott’s concern that it seemed too good to be true.

“Not as it stands,” he assured him out loud, unable to stop himself from grinning. What was the point, anyway? Even if Gordon couldn’t really qualify you’ll be bed-bound and then wheelchair-bound for a couple of months as good, it was still better than any of them had feared and expected when they’d found out Scott couldn’t feel his legs. “That doesn’t mean the next few months are going to be easy, because they won’t” – PT was its own brand of hell after extended forced bedrest – “but I’m here for you – we’re all here for you – and you’re going to get through this.”

Finally, he got a small smile from Scott.

“Shouldn’t a doctor be telling me all this?” he queried, and Gordon shrugged unapologetically.

“I’ll let them know you’re awake in a minute,” he said, leaving I thought you’d rather hear this from me unsaid.

“In that case, Nurse Gordon, please go and call a doctor,” Scott retorted, and Gordon heard the underlying gratitude loud and clear, even as he protested that he was at least a Doctor, thank you very much, to a noise that could almost have been a chuckle from his big brother.

You’re right. Thank you.

Part 7

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #john tracy #kayo kyrano #grandma tracy #eos #pulse

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ Thief (Joshua Hong)

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ☁

Word Count: 3,105 ☁

Pairing: Reader, Joshua ☁

World: Seventeen ☁

Prompt: “I stole your purse and you chased me until I was hit by a taxi now you’re helping me to the hospital and you refuse to leave my side, wait you’re not pressing charges?? Why? I’m a thief – what do you mean you feel guilty?!” from [this] list.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You leaned against the cold brick of a nearby building, staring up at the dark gray clouds. You couldn’t understand why you had to do this. If that bastard wanted other people’s money so bad, why couldn’t he steal it himself? You knew you didn’t have a choice though; he’d kill you if you didn’t return with some type of income, whether card or cash, he never cared. Honestly, you believed he didn’t even care about that money. He was probably just hoping that you’d get caught and be sent to prison; he’d finally be rid of you, then.

You pulled up your hood to shadow your face as you walked down the street, keeping your eyes peeled for any potential victims. It was mid-winter at this point, so the people passing by were bundled up in heavy coats and thick pants. This made things easier for you – with so much padding, the chance of them noticing their missing wallet was much slimmer than it was in the summer or spring.

“One Americano, please.”

Your eyes fell on the man standing in front of the coffee shop. A hat covered his head while a mask covered the lower half of his face. Honestly, it struck you as quite suspicious. Being a person that prefers to hide from prying eyes, you were easily able to recognize that this guy didn’t want to be seen by others. Was he a criminal or something? You really didn’t care. Your focus was on the wallet held in his hand.

The barista handed him the drink and he pulled out a card from his wallet, using it to pay for his drink. As soon as his hand fell to his side, you sprung into action. You were like a blur pushing through the people heading in the opposite direction, and they stopped and stared, wondering what was happening. Your heart pounded in your ears.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Just before he slipped his wallet into his pocket, you reached out and snatched it from his hand, ignoring his cry of surprise. You wasted no time and took off down the street feeling a sense of satisfaction bubbling up in your stomach. You’d take his cash if he had any, but if he only had his card, you could easily grab some food before he decided to cancel it.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Your head whipped around to see the man following you, closing in. “Shit!” You tried to increase your speed, but the ground below was covered in a thin layer of frost, not providing enough traction to increase your speed. Still, you forced yourself to continue forward. Your attention stayed locked on the man chasing you, making sure that you knew the distance between you at all times. Unfortunately, you didn’t pay half as much attention to where you were running.

“Watch out!”

Your attention whipped toward the taxi that was barrelling straight for you. You didn’t have enough time to react; the driver didn’t either. You remember a hot flash of pain as the taxi collided with your side, sending you sliding across the road. You heard a sickening crack as your system flooded with adrenaline and pain. It hurt to breathe and the sounds around you blurred together. You could faintly hear screams and cries of passing pedestrians. Honking of cars nearby, oblivious of what had happened.

The very last thing you remember was the blurred faces of two people leaning over you. They were saying something, but your brain couldn’t process the words.

Your world went black.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You felt… high; like you were floating on a cloud. You could feel the prickling of pain in the back of your mind, but it was almost completely brushed over by the high. Life felt good at that moment like there was nothing for you to worry about. No abusive step-father. No thievery to survive. Just a complete feeling of calm and content.

You felt a tingling on your arm and you forced your eyes to open. It wasn’t painful but damn were your eyes heavy. It felt as if they had been sealed with cement. A groan passed your lips as the effort it took.

“Oh, you’re awake!” A cheerful voice spoke. It was clearly a woman and she sounded happy, but her voice was soft like she was talking to a child. “The doctor will be pleased to hear this!”

The doctor? What?

Your eyes finally focused and the first thing you saw was a nurse standing over you with a smile. She held a chart against her chest. “Where am I?” You managed to croak out. Your throat was dry, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“You’re in the hospital, dear. Let me get you some water, I’m sure you’re thirsty!” The woman disappeared.

You tried to force yourself to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side made you drop back down with a groan. The high was starting to wear off – or maybe the pain was just getting stronger. You honestly didn’t know which, nor did you care.

The nurse returned and clicked her tongue. “You shouldn’t move too much, your body is still healing!” She pushed a button on the side of the bed and the head started to rise until you were in a sitting position. “There. Now, drink some of this, it’ll help.”

The woman clearly didn’t trust that you had the strength to hold the paper cup on your own, instead choosing to hold it up to your mouth for you. The water was cold and it felt amazing as it slid down your throat. Just that little bit and you felt heaps better – though the dull stinging of the pain was still there.

She noticed you scrunch up your face and patted your shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s time for the next dose of your pain medication.”

You watched her as she pulled out a syringe from her pocket and inserted into the I.V attached to your left arm. Oh, you hadn’t even felt that there. Even now you don’t feel it. Normally the tape would drive you nuts.

When she finished, she smiled at you again. “I’ll send for the doctor so he can explain. In the meantime, try not to move around too much, even if you don’t feel pain. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to push this red button here. It’ll call the nurse on duty – that will be me for the next five hours.”

You watched her until she disappeared into the hallway. The room was silent, interrupted only by the beeping of the machine and the gentle dripping of your I.V. The small TV mounted to the wall was on, but the volume had been turned all the way down – thank god. Who wants to listen to the home shopping network while in the hospital? And why the hell were they selling plungers?!

Your palm found your forehead. You didn’t know what was happening, why you were in the hospital to begin with and you were teetering between not giving a shit because of the pain medication and freaking out because you couldn’t remember anything.

Well, that’s not completely true. You remember your name. And your age. Actually, not that you were using your brain, you remembered everything up until the point you decided to rob some suspicious guy buying an Americano. After that, though, things are fuzzy. You blamed the drugs, really.

Heavy footsteps reached your ears as the doctor entered your room. He was tall and full of muscle. He actually resembled Ricky Kim quite a bit – or maybe that was just how you were picturing him in your drug-infused mine.

He smiled softly. “It’s about time you woke up, kiddo. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Well, that explains why you felt like you had been in a desert without water.

“The nurse tells me that you don’t know why you’re here. Is that correct?”

You nodded.

“Well,” The man pulls up a chair next to your bed. “You were hit by a car and rushed to the emergency room. You were injured, but nothing fatal thankfully. You suffered a mild concussion from your head hitting the ground. Three broken ribs from the impact of the car. Your right arm was cut open pretty bad, as well.”

You glanced at the arm in question to find it wrapped tightly in a clean, white bandage from elbow to wrist.

“Are you feeling any pain?”

“Just my ribs.” Your voice was much more clear than it had been earlier.

He nodded, satisfied. “We’re going to keep you for a couple more days to observe your injuries. Currently, the main thing we’re concerned about is the concussion. You had no I.D on your person, but your fingerprints came up in the system.”

You were praising the hell out of the meds at that point. If not for them, you would have cringed at the mention of your prints and there’s no way you would have been able to keep a straight face. Honestly, you weren’t surprised; you knew that bastard wasn’t good for his word, even as a child.

Wait… if they knew who you were, does that mean…?

“Did you contact my family?”

“We’re required by law to inform family members that there an incident. However, we weren’t able to find any family in your file.”

You sighed loudly out of relief, pulling a confused look from the doctor. You scrambled to make up a story as to why you had reacted that way. “Umm… my mom is sick. Like, really sick and I try to keep the stress off of her as much as possible… No idea why she’s not in the file, haha, that’s so weird…”

He clearly didn’t believe you but didn’t press the issue. “Well, I’ll do my best to get you all healed up and back to her.” He pulled the bedside table within my reach. “You should probably give her a call, though.”

“Yeah, yeah… totally…” You cleared your throat, reaching for the phone. You moved as slow as you possibly could before pulling away when he finally left the room. “That could have ended badly…”

You turned your gaze to the opposite side of the room where you had a beautiful view of the city. Only, the city isn’t what you focused on. Underneath the window was a pale green couch and lying on that couch was a body. The person had their back to you so you couldn’t see their face, but the body outline that peaked out from the white blanket didn’t seem familiar to you at all. Were you hallucinating?

“You’re a lucky one.” The nurse appeared at your side, making you jump in surprise. She chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine… what did you mean by I’m lucky?”

“Well, that boy has stayed by your side since you arrived. He’s been pretty worried about you, constantly asking if your condition has changed.” She smiled fondly. “He’s quite the sweetheart, and cute too!”

You stared at her blankly, having no idea what the hell she was talking about, but not wanting to ask. He must be part of your missing memory.

For the next two hours, you lied in bed – not like you had any other options there – and watched the only decent channel you could find. There was a Weekly Idol marathon running, and you had to admit, the MC’s are hella funny.

Movement caught your eye and you looked over to find that the man was moving. He slowly sat up, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head. His light brown hair was slightly messy from sleep and fell lightly over his forehead. A silver cross was pierced on the top part of his left ear, but he didn’t seem to have any more piercings in. The nurse wasn’t lying – this boy was cute as hell. But who is he?

As soon as his warm brown eyes met your own, the room around you seemed to fade out of focus. It was replaced by the memory of the accident resurfacing. You remember snatching this man’s wallet and taking off. You hadn’t expected him to chase after you – your targets rarely did, usually just screaming for help and calling the cops. But this man was different. He chased you, and he kept up easily despite the frost-covered ground. You remember vividly how close he was to catching you, and you remember vividly how stupid you had been to not pay attention to what was in front of you. You had been too focused on getting caught and ran straight into the street in front of an oncoming car. Because of the light dusting of frost on the road, the car hadn’t been able to stop in time.

You’re sure that, if the man hadn’t been paying attention to the road, he wouldn’t have hit the brakes at all and you most likely would have died then and there.

“Miss? Miss, are you okay? Do I need to call the nurse?” A worried voice broke through the memory, bringing you back to reality. The man was now at your bedside, hand lightly on your shoulder as he looked at you with a worried expression.

“No, no, I’m fine.” You muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit at the close proximity. “I just… remembered.”

He backed away a bit, but still looked at you worriedly. “What did you remember?”

“I stole your wallet. You chased me. I got hit by a car.”

He bit his lip and looked down at the ground.

You cleared your throat and shifted slightly in the bed. “Soo… are you gonna call the cops now?”

“Why would I do that?” He asked, confused.

“I stole your wallet, remember? I’m a thief.” You stared at him blankly. “The nurse told me that you’ve been here since I arrived. You were waiting for me to wake up so you could press charges. It’s fine, just get it over with.”

“No, I’m not going to press charges.” He responded softly, sitting down on the couch. “I stayed with you because I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay, and… I wanted to wait for you to wake up so I could apologize in person.”

You deadpanned. “Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You wanted to apologize to me for robbing you. I’m clearly not the only one with drugs in their system.”

“You got hit because I chased you.”

“No. I got hit because my dumb ass wasn’t paying attention to where I was running.” You couldn’t believe this was happening. This guy couldn’t possibly be for real. “I’m alive, so it doesn’t really matter who is at fault, right?”

He smiled and it lit up his face. “I guess you’re right.”

His guilt seemed to transfer to you because you started to feel it the more you thought about it. This whole mess happened because of you – because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your step-dad and tell him to shove it. You looked down at your hands. “I, uhh… I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

“Why did you do it?” He asked softly. His voice held no anger or disappointment, just curiosity. “Do you need money?”

You chuckled bitterly. “My life isn’t easy, but our money is comfortable. So no, I didn’t need it.”

“Then why?”

“It’s… complicated.”

He reached over, resting his hand over my own. It was warm and comforting, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Please tell me.”

As strange as it sounds, you felt like you had to tell him. After all, you stole his wallet, made him feel guilty and took three days of his life. You felt like you owed him something – even if that something was nothing more than an explanation.

With a sigh, you leaned your head back to stare at the white ceiling of your room. “My step-father is kind of a douche. He hates kids, and since he doesn’t work and is always home, he makes me and my younger brother leave. He usually makes us do things we shouldn’t – like stealing. If we refuse, he blows up and hits us. He used to be a cop, so he’s hella strong. Neither of us can take him, even though we’re pretty strong too. We’ve gotten used to his beatings, but it’s just easier to do what he says. It’s a pain trying to hide the bruises and keep up with the lies.”

His grip increased, but it was still gentle somehow. “That’s horrible!”

You shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“What will happen when you’re released?”

“Punished, probably.”

“Then you can’t go home! We can call the cops -”

“No!” You sat up quickly only to groan at the sharp pain that shot through your ribs. “If I call the cops, it’ll only make things worse. It’s our word against his. Everyone that meets him loves him. And on the off chance that they did believe us – I’d be on the street and my brother would be put in the system.”

He bit his lip in thought, trying to figure out a solution to your problem, but you knew better.

“Look, I appreciate your kindness. I appreciate you not pressing charges. And I appreciate you staying here with me. But here is where we go our separate ways. There’s nothing you can do for me. I’m sure you have a life to get back to. A family, a pet… a girlfriend. You should go.”

He wanted to protest, but a sudden thought made him change his mind. He smiled softly, grabbing his coat, along with the hat and mask that he had been wearing that day. “I do need to get back to work. Don’t give up hope. Things will work out for you, I know they will.”

As much as you wanted to scoff and tell him that he had no idea what he was talking about, you just forced a smile back. This guy had been too kind to you and you couldn’t bring yourself to be rude. And then it hit you.

You didn’t know his name. You wanted to ask, but he had already gone.

You slid down the mattress with a sigh. “Not like it matters. I’ll never see that guy again. He was so cute, though.”

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