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valeriehalla · 6 months ago

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I have gotten a lot of messages saying that they really love the presentation of CURSE/KISS/CUTE. Often the commenter in question can’t say what exactly it is about the formatting that they appreciate, but that it just reads well and looks good. Well!!! Allow me to bare my wealth of secret knowledge for you once and for all:

I sorta just did some research into book typography...?

Here’s something you should know about web development, alright: typography on the web is really, really bad. The tools we have at our disposal—HTML and CSS—are incredibly powerful, but they are set up to fight you every step of the way towards Good Typography. When you know what you’re looking for, you can fix all the common issues quickly and easily. But it’s not easy to know what to look for, because

problematic typography is overwhelmingly the norm on the web, and

good typography is invisible.

Here’s a screenshot from CURSE/KISS/CUTE episode 0:

Now, I don’t want this post to come across as prescriptive. It is not my intention to tell you, “This is what good typography looks like, so follow my lead exactly.” I made a lot of choices with the typography of my web novel: many of those choices would not make sense in other contexts. What I want to convey to you is what those choices are, so that you will know they’re available to be made.

I mentioned that the web “fights you” when it comes to good typography. What do I mean by that? Well, check this out:

This is how that passage of text renders “by default.” In other words, this is how a web browser would render that text without any input from me about what styles to apply. It kind of sucks ass! But it also looks pretty familiar, right? This is not that far off from how a lot of websites—even websites full of prose (looking at you, AO3)—render text.

I think the most illustrative thing to do here would be to walk you through my thought process and show you, step by step, what decisions I made to turn this unstyled text into the styled version you see in the novel.

So, first things first:

1. We have got to shrink that text column.

Computer monitors... are wide. They are wider than they are tall. They are so wide, and they have so many pixels. This means you can fit a lot of characters on them. If you wanted, you could just have a wall of characters from the left side of the screen all the way to the right side. Talk about efficient!!

You should never, ever, ever do this.

This is one choice that I actually will make a prescriptive statement about, because it’s supported by quite a lot of research: fairly narrow text columns are more legible. Specifically, research seems to support the idea that a width in the range of 50 to 70 characters per line is the most comfortable for people to read*. Every font is different, so it takes a little doing to turn that “characters” figure into a pixel measurement; I went with 512 CSS pixels for the maximum width of my text column:

Isn’t that just so much nicer to read already?

*A commenter reminds me that I’d be remiss not to point out that the research on column width legibility isn’t completely conclusive. You do want to limit the width of your text columns, but going over the 70 character-per-line recommendation isn’t necessarily the end of the world, and you might have good reasons to do so. I did not: as mentioned, one of my goals was to mimic book-style typography, and books by nature have fairly restrained column widths, on account of they’re books.

2. Picking a font.

I’m not going to give you the blow-by-blow on how I decided what font to use. The short story is that I asked some designers, and one of the recommendations I got was the free font Crimson Pro, which I took a liking to immediately:

It’s just an all-around attractive serif font, but one thing I really like about it for use in a novel is its highly-visible quotation marks. They’re just kinda jumbo! They’re real big! Easy to see! In a novel, those things aren’t just ornamentation. It makes a great deal of practical sense for them to stand out just a bit. It also has a fairly large x-height, unlike a lot of the more traditional options, which is good for legibility on a computer screen.

3. Adjusting the line-height

Web browsers default to a line-height of about 1.2em, which, as you can probably tell, is quite cramped. If you go and Google “optimal line height for legibility”, you’ll get a number of results right off the bat suggesting 1.5em. Sounds good! Let’s do that:

Well... hmm. That’s definitely an improvement, but between you and me, it actually looks a bit too spacey to my eyes. I wonder why?

I’ll cut to the chase: the 1.5em recommendation makes some assumptions about the font you’re using. In Arial, the letter “A” is about 0.6em tall; in Crimson Pro, it’s about 0.5em. That means that there’s no one-size-fits-all solution to spacing your lines, because different fonts have different amounts of empty space baked in. How annoying!

Let me tell you something about the kind of nerd I am. When I had this realization, I grabbed some books off my shelf and pulled out a literal micrometer. I started measuring the line-heights against various font features to see if there were any patterns I could spot in professional typesetting. Here’s what I found:

Almost every book on my shelf spaces lines such that the distance between one baseline and the next is about three times the x-height. How cool is that? I clapped my hands like a seal when I put this together.

Adjusting the line-height to match what I observed in the wild gives us this:

It’s a subtle difference, but to my eyes it feels just right. It’s almost like magic!

4. Paragraph spacing...

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Probably the most controversial choice I made with CURSE/KISS/CUTE’s typography was to opt for book-style paragraph indentation rather than web-style paragraph spacing—like so:

I did this for a few reasons:

It’s what I’m used to. I’ve read a lot of books, and this is just the way that books are formatted. I think for something aspiring to the title of “novel”, there’s value in making it look the way a reader probably expects a novel to look.

A novel has a lot of paragraph breaks in it. A paragraph in, say, an encyclopedia entry might go on for half a page or more; whereas it is unusual for a paragraph in a modern work of narrative prose to run for more than a handful of sentences, especially in any scene with dialogue. Because paragraph breaks are so common, spacing between paragraphs in a novel results in a lot of wasted space. Also, subjectively speaking, the additional space seems to me to lend an undue amount of weight to paragraph breaks. I’m just starting a new thought; there’s no need for a 21-gun salute, you know?

Having said that, here are some good reasons you might decide not to do paragraph indentation anyway:

Doing it right requires a bit of extra legwork. Notice how the very first paragraph in the image above has no indentation. That’s because it’s the start of a new section, and the first paragraph in a section traditionally goes unindented. This is an easy detail to miss, and it can be difficult to wrangle CSS into doing it for you automatically.

Web users don’t expect it. For the first decade of the web’s existence, there was no good way to do paragraph indentation; by the time CSS rolled around and made it easy, paragraph spacing had already become the norm. And while CURSE/KISS/CUTE may be a novel, it is also, specifically, a web novel!

But it’s my house and I get to make the rules, so I went with indentation. Incidentally, there seems to be a dire lack of research into the question of whether indentation or spacing is more legible for readers—but the data that does exist appears inconclusive at best. So, the choice really does come down to vibes.

5. The tragedy of justification.

You’ll note that one way in which I did not make my web novel look like a paper novel is the text alignment. It’s un-justified: the right margin is ripsaw-ragged.

This is because it is not possible to justify text on the web.

Oh, you can try. Look right here: there’s a CSS property for it and everything. Just turn on “text-align: justify” and...

Nightmare! The interword spacing on that first line is almost as wide as the indentation!

Reader, I’m afraid that your web browser is simply too dumb. That’s not the browser’s fault: robust algorithms for justifying text without creating these distractingly huge gaps between words have existed for many decades, and modern computers are powerful enough to run them in real time with little performance impact. It’s just, uh—nobody has ever bothered to implement them into web browsers. It is the damnedest thing.

I tried, I really did. You can mitigate this problem a bit if you enable automatic hyphenation, but browsers are unfortunately also kind of dumb at hyphenating. Firefox, for example, will refuse to hyphenate any word containing a capital letter, so any sentence with a lot of proper nouns in it is a lost cause. I tried manually inserting soft hyphens with a text preprocessor I wrote myself, but still these overjustified lines plagued me: when the text column narrows, for example on a phone, even hyphens can’t save you. The line-breaking algorithm is simply too naïve to optimize for well-justified text, and that’s not something you can fix as a web developer.

As a result, my heavy-hearted recommendation is to never use text justification. It’s just too distracting.

6. And then some extra stuff just for me

I added drop-caps because it looks neat and I made the ellipses spacier because I think it looks good when it, uh, when they are spacier. I think that looks pretty good that’s just my opinion though.

That’s all! Hope you learned something bye!!!

#text #typography #advice...?#not a professional by any means by the way

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circeyoru · 5 months ago

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Twisted Killings

[Solo Leveling x Homicipher MC!Reader - Crossover]

Related Story: Idea 1 (Jinah's school dungeon break incident)

Note: This is different from {Other Other World} but the concept is the same where Reader/you are the MC of Homicipher and got sent into the world of Solo Leveling. There’s no particular pairing cause there are the Homicipher guys as your Pokemon already.

The Hunters Association was founded by an S-Rank Hunter, funded and sponsored by the same person who was now dubbed the Chairman, that person was Go Gunhee. He was well-respected and knew the world of power and authority not in terms of physical strength, but also the workings of corporates and those that are placed in higher power like the government or politicians.

This establishment had a few key focuses or purposes as the Chairman would say. One, to be a pillar of support for the citizens and Hunters alike, a neutral party that would strive the benefit of the country. Two, to be a shield against the outside force that aimed to take advantage of the weak-hearted or lower-ranked Hunters. Three, to be a monitor or eyes for all things related to Hunters and Gates. And finally, four, to be the weapon that keeps those with ill intent in check, namely the Hunters who have awakened and fancied themselves a god among mortals.

However grand the goals are, they were nothing when it was only one person within the Association. One person can’t be the one to change the world―at least Chairman Go knew he didn’t have that power and capability to do so. Perhaps one day, he’d meet someone of that stature, but right now, his focus was on the foundation of the Association.

Recruitment was easy and hard. There were those that would follow him to the ends of the Earth, and then those would oppose this establishment. Talented individuals usually find themselves independent and prideful, not wanting to work under someone and listen to orders. It was the restriction that made it all the more difficult to recruit such individuals. The Association was set up to be an honourable and praiseworthy organization, so mingling with this would be like turning into a priest or a nun. To be professional and righteous.

“It’s not much but I can offer you a home.” Go Gunhee spoke softly, his hands behind his back as he stood in the rundown abandoned shack in the forest. “A place to work and a place to strive.”

“I have no interest in that.” Your figure perched on a small hilltop of stacked wooden furniture pieces, the rain droplets slipping through the cracks to drip onto your raincoat. The hood of your dirty raincoat shadowed your face, leaving only a bandaged mouth and nose to the intruder that followed you all the way here. You gripped onto your crowbar as you glared down at him. “Leave before you regret ever following me.”

Your tone was borderline threatening for anyone who heard it. However, it serves as a warning. The rain washed away the blood and gore of beasts that you and your companions hunted for you to feast on, their corpses were still littered around and the flesh was still present. The smell of the forest overpowered that of the slowly rotting flesh, but that wasn’t the point. Focus on the beings surrounding the man he couldn’t dream of ever defeating or purging.

An obsessive red man with a wide inhuman grin to the side behind you holding a red umbrella over you, his form glitching and distorting from time to time as if holding himself back from attacking―Mr. Scarletella.

An amused silver-haired man with a dirty lab coat of sorts grinning ear to ear with his head tilted while his hands were behind his back, from your perspective, tortuous tools were held in case of any threat perceived―Mr. Silver.

An on-guard doglike man with long black hair and dressed in black standing on the slop before you, his usually crawling form and childish grin gone with an aura of alert in his position―Mr. Crawling.

From the shadows of gaps that made your perch, you knew an observant and calculating man’s eye had been watching everything but never said a word or made a move―Mr. Gap.

Then, there was the one closest to the human. Your guardian and rock in the worst times, dressed in a worn-down cloak with his hood covering his entire face to the point one could only see darkness, he wielded a menacing executioner’s axe that was half of his size as if prepared to cut the human down―Mr. Hood.

If one were to ask, are there more to your crazy, overpowered, and disturbing companions? Let’s just say there was more to you than meets the eye. These weren’t all of your cards.

From just the atmosphere of the place, one could tell the ringleader wasn’t as harmless as their appearance would show. Gunhee, the leader of an honest institution, couldn’t believe himself, but if he was given another chance, he wouldn’t change anything and would make the same decision over and over. He raised his hand as an offer was presented to you. “Be my association’s officer. You wouldn’t be put into a suit and follow the standard procedures. I will offer you a playground to hunt and kill if you would be my weapon.”

The air shifted, and a grin formed on your face. It was as if it were a synced-up connection, and your companions all grinned alongside you. The crowbar in your hand was swirled around until it was thrown at the Chairman, who was unfazed by it all and stood his ground. You skipped down the hill, patting Mr. Crawling’s head on the way down to Mr. Scarletella’s envy. You stared at the bold man while you retrieved your signature killing tool, Mr. Hood had already stood protectively close to you. In a swift move, you pointed the curve tip in his face with a crazed expression. “If this is a trap… Know that your death won’t be quick and painless.”

“We are to be partners, I believe we benefit from mutual trust.”

Rumours circled in the Hunter’s community forum. After the Hunter Association’s official establishment, Hunters were promptly placed under control, guilds were formed and Hunters were organized into groups and ranks. The most unspoken attention was placed on the Hunters turned criminal or vice versa. Most, if not al,l were curious as to how the Hunter Association would handle that. Let them be sent to a prison? But their Hunter abilities could allow them to break out no question. Charge them? But as a Hunter, earning money had been the fastest among other careers. Monitor them? But with Gates running rampant and the lack of personnel, who would watch them 24/7?

A lone guild was sponsored by the Hunter Association and answered only to the Chairman. Its name was [Other], an exclusive guild that no one knew who its members were, including the guildmaster. Their activity, however, was renowned to all. In simple terms, they were the Hunter Association’s hired assassins or clean-up crew. Their typical work included acting as the strike team to clear unwanted Gates, though their infamous deeds were to pass judgment on those that defied the jurisdiction.

Simple terms?

Killing people.

The Other Guild was one of mystery. Its members and guild master are not only unknown, but recruitment was done in secret and one way. None could approach them or reveal relevant information about the guild itself and its master. Its activities leaked credibility to the point that some would brush it aside and claim that it was something the Hunter Association did to scare Hunters into being more moral and human, not to become the monsters from the Gates.

“It’s raining again…”

“I forgot my umbrella…”

“No football practice?”

“We should be moving to the indoor gym room.”

“I hate the rain, makes you all wet.”

You moved past the students chatting in the hallways with your school bag. Your eyes glanced out the windows to the school’s front gate, spotting a black car parked by the road. Just as you noticed the vehicle, your phone buzzed and you fished it out of your pocket to check the notification.

STUCK-UP SUNGLASSES GUY: We need to talk.

You left his message on read and placed away your phone. As you were about to walk down the stairs, your hand was called, and you paused to turn your head, spotting your classmate and star student Sung Jinah rushing towards you with an annoying object in her hand. You turned around and backed off to the side so others wouldn’t be staring or complaining about how you two blocked the way. Your eyes stared at her silently while she caught her breath. Once she did, she raised the object for you to take, “You almost forgot your umbrella; it’s pouring outside, don’t want you to be soaked and get sick.”

“I won’t.” You didn’t bother to explain which statement you were implying, nor did you thank her for her kindness. You glared at the object before snapping your eyes back to her, involuntarily making her flinch at attention, “Why don’t you hold onto it? You don’t appear to have one.”

Jinah shook her head and turned to her side to show your her schoolbag behind her back, “My brother packed me one just before I left home today. So I got myself covered.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. There went your plan to abandon the freak. You forced a smile on and took the object from her, “Too bad.” You turned to leave school not before saying goodbye to Jinah since she initiated one first. You mumbled, “See you never…”

In your hand was a plain red umbrella that you kept tapping the tip against the floor or any surface as you continued your walk. At the building’s entrance or exit, depending on your travel direction, people were opening and closing their umbrellas, waiting for the rain to lighten up, or just dashing into the rain with their bags over their heads to avoid being soaked. Stepping close to one of the pillars, you harshly swiped the umbrella at the stone structure. Anyone that was near you shuffled away from your radius. Your umbrella opened without issue, and you held it overhead before stepping into the rain.

You opened the passenger slide door without missing a beat and entered the car. You purposefully slammed the car door at the handle of your umbrella, and it closed before you brought it in. To your right appeared Mr. Scarletella with a blushing face and hearts for eyes; to your left was Mr. Crawling, who had been a good boy staying out of sight and patiently waiting for you.

“Guildmaster.” The driver and the one you titled as ‘stuck-up glasses guy’ spoke up. This man, Woo Jinchul, was basically Chairman Go’s right-hand man. An A-Rank Hunter who could have been a celebrity but decided to follow the worthy Chairman and his noble goals, but you’re not one to judge; after all, you are technically following the same man as well.

“Hm?” You hummed with a lack of concern or interest. You opted to play with Mr. Crawling’s hair, straightening it out while he purred and nuzzled into your gentle touch.

“This is serious.” You didn’t need to shift your gaze to know he was staring at you behind his shaded glasses through the rearview mirror with a firm glare that would have threatened your attention―had you been a normal human being that is.

“Just talk, I’m listening.” You’re not really. Selective attention and whatnot.

Jinchul clenched the steering wheel but relented within seconds and stated as calmly and professionally as he could, “Stop playing around and acting like a student when you’re well over that level and age despite appearance. You have to control your guild better. One of your members, Kang Tae-Shik, have caused a scene inside a dungeon. He tried to kill the remaining Hunters during a contracted assassination.”

“So? I’m sure those were criminals.”

“There were reports that other Hunters were partaking in the raid and there were casualties.”

You looked away from Mr. Crawling to give Mister Bossy a look of disinterest. “Like I said, so? Deaths happen daily, if you cared so much, have your Chairman replace me with another guild leader.” You grinned at him with a haunt tilt of your head, your neck making a resounding crack sound though it’s not broken. “I’ll just find some other hunting grounds to work with.”

“You…” Jinchul controlled himself from lashing out.

Truthfully, he never understood the logic behind bringing someone as manic and bloodthirsty as you into the ranks of the Hunter Association. The Chairman gave you a dirty job, but you accepted that with pride and joy. You have been doing your part in the beginning, though as of late, you have been slipping and couldn’t afford to lose your power and influence. Especially when you control those entities of another world like a mage Hunter with their summons.

That was another point. You weren’t a Hunter. You had no mana when you were being tested, yet you had inhuman capabilities. From speed, strength, to healing and otherworldly communication with your summons. You were human, yet there was always that unsettling aura around you that would make those around you doubt your identity. Still, you were no monster from a Gate. That was certain.

“I don’t mean for you to leave your post. You’re… irreplaceable in the Chairman’s eyes.” Jinchul’s voice trailed off as if he was forced to admit something he strongly disagreed with.

You rolled your eyes at his display; he was acting worse than Mr. Scarletella, and that was shown a lot. “What do you want me to do now?”

“If you can recover the bodies from the Gate and file them in a report, that would be much appreciated.” Jinchul only started the car when you gave a low hum of compliance. The drive to the site was quiet, save for the coos you gave to Mr. Crawling and the yells you snapped at Mr. Scarletella. Though you did try to recall who Kang Tae-Shik was, then you did recall someone by that name you recruited into your guild, but you found him annoying, so you dropped him off to Jinchul to deal with without telling the guy that Mr. Purple Head was one of those twisted Hunter.

Namely, three essential figures supported the Hunter Association’s function. The Chairman, Go Gunhee, who acted as the pillar and shield for citizens and Hunters alike, the figurehead of the organization itself and he obviously held the most influence. The guild master of the Other Guild, you, who acted as the punisher to those that threatened the peace from the shadows. To balance the two was the monitor, Woo Jinchul, who connected the Hunter Association with Hunters; his work was so diverse that one could say he had a hand in everything.

The two of you were brought together by Gunhee under the reason of work and tolerated each other when the time came to work together. There was some sort of sibling interaction between you two, with Jinchul being the older one and even the Chairman felt like he was taking care of you from time to time. It was odd, but you didn’t care so long as attention wasn’t directly drawn to you and you didn’t have to pay for the kills you made.

“We’re here.” The car stopped and you opened the door to leave. By then the rain had stopped and you merely held onto the umbrella idly after putting on your signature raincoat and pulled the hood over your head to cover your face as always. Mr. Crawling followed behind you, crawling on all fours with a fond smile on his face. This sight was no stranger to the officers of the Hunter Association, but any onlooker would linger their confused and disturbed expression on the display.

You ignored the Hunters and went straight for the officers to get some form of brief report to them. “It has been 40 minutes since the dungeon was cleared and the remaining Hunters reported that the bodies are scattered about. Should we send personnel with you?”

“Don’t bother.” You fixed your outfit and took out a crowbar from your bag, even strapping a dagger behind your back, curtsy of the Chairman after you joined his ranks. You were given more toys to play with and it made your work all the easier. “I’ll be out within 10 minutes or so. If not… I’ll still be out anyways…”

Jinwoo’s eyes widened when Song Chi-Yui took the blame for killing the rogue member and killer, Kang Tae-Shik, even Lee Joohee did the same and went along with the lie. Having time to himself after Jinchul’s warning about Hwang Dongsuk’s younger brother seeking revenge, he thought back to the last words of the defeated assassin class Hunter.

“Your shadow… is connected to the darkness. You will become… as strong as your shadow’s depth in the dark…” Agonizingly, Tae-Shik wheezed as he muttered softly. “In a way… You remind me of my guildmaster… Unsuspecting but strong and terrifyingly deadly… I wonder… if you two will… ever meet…”

Jinwoo wasn’t familiar with Tae-Shik, but he was confused when he said he had a guild master because he was a member of the Hunter Association. So the only answer was that he belonged to the rumoured guild working for the association behind the public’s knowledge, a guild that focused on eradicating the darkness and evils. A necessary evil that people, both citizens and Hunters, disregarded as hearsay to pressure people to obey laws.

Still, that aura around you when you passed by, that aura that screamed murder and violence, that aura that made him question: Are you human?

Your eyes blinked and your head turned to a particular direction. You spotted a young man staring your way with a thoughtful look. Jinchul had already moved elsewhere with the remainder of the raiding party, so that man that was standing alone had to be someone left unattended because he had nothing to provide, like a suspect that was released back to the public because they were deemed harmless and innocent. Though, you could tell…

For the longest time, you and Jinwoo never crossed each other’s path again until you were called in to verify Jinwoo’s acquisition as an S-Rank Hunter. When the two of you had some time alone, you called him out with a soft yet confident statement. “You’re the one that killed the man, the weakling Kang Tae-Shik.” You stepped closer to him while your ghostly companions shook; they knew who, or at least they could also sense what Jinwoo was. Your dead heart beat like a drum, and your dull eyes sparkled with anticipation, “You have the scent of death around you. You’re familiar with death and murder.” A smile formed on your face as you invaded the frozen man’s space. “Who else did you kill cruelly and coldly?”

“...” Jinwoo can’t tell why he answered you, but he did. Unlike your hyper and eager look of expectancy, his was stoic and indifferent. “Hwang Dongsoo.”

Note: I wanted to do the dark side of the Hunter Association and this crossover was just perfect for it and now we're here. {Other Other World} could be tweaked for the two stories to be connected, but that's only if you guys wanna see that happen. How's this one in your opinion?

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @rozuburedo @crxscnt @phisen @o-qi-shisme @bunnymysteriously @valeriele3 @ariseverdark @undecidingfate @stoats-a-dork (please let me know if you didn't want to be tagged cause this list is from the 1st idea)

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inkempressz · 5 months ago

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Yandere Izuku Midoriya analysis

Izuku Midoriya as a yandere in his early thirties would be unsettlingly intense, given his obsessive personality, meticulous planning, and hero complex. Here’s an analysis of how his yandere tendencies might manifest:

Core Personality as a Yandere

Izuku’s obsessive admiration for heroes and his analytical nature suggest that his fixation on you would be all-consuming. His love would likely stem from the belief that you are his “symbol of peace,” someone who gives his life meaning beyond hero work. However, his relentless drive to protect and his tendency to overthink would twist into a dangerous possessiveness.

Creepy Behaviour

1. Obsessive Monitoring

• Izuku would use his hero status to gain access to surveillance tools, ensuring he always knows where you are. He’d justify it as “keeping you safe.”

• He might even plant discreet tracking devices on your belongings or tap into public cameras, citing his hero duties as an excuse.

2. Detailed Journals

• Much like his childhood habit of analysing heroes, he’d keep a journal dedicated to you. These would contain detailed observations about your habits, preferences, routines, and even fears.

• His notes would include ways to “improve your life,” which could mean isolating you from anyone he perceives as a threat to your happiness or safety.

3. Hero Persona as a Shield

• Izuku’s position as a pro hero would make it easy for him to justify his actions. If you questioned his invasive behaviour, he’d insist it’s his duty as a hero to protect you, even from yourself.

• If someone got too close to you, he might intimidate them subtly, reminding them of his status and power in the guise of concern.

4. Unhealthy Idolisation

• He’d put you on an impossible pedestal, believing you’re perfect and can do no wrong. Any mistake or flaw would be rationalised as something others caused, making him fiercely protective of your image.

• In private, he might “correct�� you gently, believing he knows what’s best for you.

5. Isolation Tactics

• Izuku would see friends, family, or coworkers as distractions or dangers. Using his kind-hearted facade, he’d manipulate situations to push others away—convincing you that they don’t truly care or don’t have your best interests at heart.

• If someone persisted, they might mysteriously find themselves involved in accidents or scandals that Izuku would “regretfully” apologise for, always being there to console you afterward.

6. Physical Possessiveness

• While he might start out shy and hesitant, his obsession would eventually translate into physical possessiveness. He’d insist on holding your hand in public, hugging you often, and standing close enough to ward off others.

• In private, he might struggle to respect boundaries, believing you need his affection to feel safe and loved.

7. Heroic Justifications for Violence

• If anyone posed a genuine threat—or even if they just flirted with you—Izuku wouldn’t hesitate to deal with them. He’d convince himself that eliminating these “villains” is his heroic duty, even if his methods become increasingly violent.

• He’d justify every action by telling himself (and you) that it’s for the greater good and that a true hero sacrifices everything for the ones they love.

8. Emotional Manipulation

• If you tried to leave or expressed discomfort, he’d become emotionally overwhelming. He’d cry, beg, and insist that he only wants what’s best for you, making it nearly impossible to argue with him.

• His guilt-tripping might escalate to self-harm or reckless heroics, ensuring you feel responsible for his wellbeing and stay by his side.

What Makes Him Scary

• Control Disguised as Care: Izuku’s public image as a pure-hearted hero would make it difficult for anyone to believe he’s capable of dark behaviour. His kind demeanour would mask his manipulations, leaving you isolated and dependent on him.

• Rationalised Obsession: Unlike impulsive yanderes, Izuku’s actions would be meticulously planned. He wouldn’t act out of rage but out of a calculated belief that he knows what’s best for you.

• Duality: His ability to switch between the smiling, idealistic hero and the unnervingly intense lover would be jarring. You’d never know which side of him you’d face at any given moment.

How He Sees the Relationship

To Izuku, you are both his greatest weakness and his ultimate strength. He’d believe that as long as he has you, he can endure anything. However, this same belief would make him desperate to control every aspect of your life, ensuring nothing ever threatens his happiness.

While he’d likely never hurt you directly, his actions would emotionally trap you in a gilded cage. In his mind, the ends always justify the means, so long as you remain his.

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kerryshifts · 1 month ago

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My record is 32 minutes WITHOUT moving, I'd say it's pretty impressive, with moving 42. But hey, I low-key need to know what am I doing wrong, I'm not expecting you to know but maybe you have some tips or reasons why I haven't shifted yet? Though I know I'm there not like my awareness but a body???

hold on. okay. my name is doctor kerry and i need to do a lobotomy to you. serious case here guys…………

shifting is a fancy word and another way of calling your awareness of reality. you can be in a reality different from this one and switch your 3D, aka the five senses. like a radio. is nothing glamorous or whimsical. you can decide where your awareness, the knowledge or perception of a situation or a fact, is. soooo now that we got what shifting is:

1. moving or not moving means NOTHING. also the time you put in your shifting attempt means NOTHING. you don’t have to lay down in your bed in a starfish position and act like a statue. why are you timing it? this is not formula 1. the only thing that is making you do is spirale & go insane. we don’t want that. right???

2. methods DO NOT make you shift, they are just tools that you can or can not use. they are not mandatory!!!!!people can shift in five minutes or while dancing, while sneezing, anything can work. my dad didn’t even knew about shifting and still shifted. i was listening to music and i was suddenly in my dr bedroom not even thinking about shifting. @nab3rries was in the toilet (this is your dinasty now girl love u) and then she was in her dr bedroom. and you know why it’s like this? because you are the one shifting. not the methods, not the time, not the subliminals, not the guided meditations. its you. stop focusing on the technique. it means nothing.

shifting is a long process ONLY if you make it to be. you are the creator of your reality, and this means that you can decide what shifting is for you. for some, it’s instant: one second they are here, the next they are there. for others it’s a doctor strange type shit thing. seconds do not matter. minutes are pointless, because time doesn’t exist. why? easy! shifting. now it’s may 11, 2025 and, for me, the next moment is august 14, 1974. the concept of time its just pointless.

some tips: i recommend reading this first. understand what shifting is and do not make your life complicated by…..monitoring your shifting attempts as if you are a guy in squid game with a gun held against your head. let’s chill a little bit. ommmmmmm 🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️ right???

right. then, do not make it stressful. pls. you sound already stressed. do not add this into your stressing schedule.

you know you are in your dr, right? perfect!!!!!!! you shifted. your awareness now is catching up with your thoughts….because guess? you guessed? yeah, your thoughts shape reality. yup. boooooom. CINEMA [insert martin scorsese meme]. your subconscious doesn’t have eyes and doesn’t distinguish things with ‘real’ or ‘not real’.

for example,,,, here’s how i manifested long hair. i do have eyes, yes, but my subconscious doesn’t. my thoughts shape reality. so, i just said to my subconscious ‘hey subconscious, look at those long wavy hair damnnn i look like a mermaid!’ and my hair went from straight ugly short to long wavy medieval princess hair. like. my hair NEVER grew past my chest….. so i changed that. easy. i just PERSISTED.

4. you can shift whatsoever. there’s no right or wrong way to do it.

#ask #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting blog #shifting #shifting community #shifting antis dni #shifting motivation #shifting consciousness #shifting diary #shiftinconsciousness #reality shift #shifting reality #shifting realities

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bekolxeram · 5 months ago

Text

TW: traffic accident, injury

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“I crashed, into a tree, now my wife can’t get out. Somebody please help us!”

------------------------------------------—

“Vehicle collision with obstacle, aka car crashed into tree,” Bobby informs his team while guiding them towards the scene of the accident. “One male driver, escaped the wreckage on his own, and one female passenger still trapped inside. Hen, Chimney, check her vitals. Buck, Eddie, go see if the driver needs any medical attention.”

“DUI?” Hen asks, clearly concerned by her past experience with councilwoman Ortiz.

“No, I don’t think so. Apparently the driver was alert and coherent enough to call 9-1-1 and explain their situation,” Bobby responses. “Now go help free the victim.”

Hen nods and takes off with Chimney.

“Hi, my name’s Hen. What’s yours?”

“Jessica…” the woman sobs, visibly in shock.

“Jessica, okay, we’re here to help you. I know it’s not easy, but please, try your best to relax,” Hen reassures her. “Hey, Chim, take her vitals while I check on her wounds.”

Chimney simply puts the clip onto her finger, watch the monitor and wait. She’s doing surprisingly well in her state.

Until a worried expression from Hen extinguishes his optimism.

“Femoral artery,” Hen whisper in Chimney’s ear.

He looks down to see a large mangled piece of metal protruding through Jessica’s left thigh. Ironically, the foreign object causing her so much pain might be the only thing keeping her from bleeding out right away.

“The driver is fine. The airbag saved him. He told me he was working long hours and fell asleep behind the wheel,” Eddie comes back with Buck. “I’d say let him stay with his wife. No law enforcement needed. He doesn’t seem under the influence to me.”

“Good. We need a saw and some running water to cool things down here,” Chimney yells at Buck and Eddie.

“Oh, god, are you amputating my leg?” Jessica panics. “I’ve watched it on TV. This is the setup when you want to amputate someone’s limb!”

“No, Jessica, don’t worry. TV shows aren’t real,” Hen directs her team to get the necessary tools. “We’re cutting the metal off and transporting you to a hospital with it. They’ll keep you comfortable with medicine before they take the metal out of you, okay?”

Jessica nods faintly, trying her best to keep her body still.

“We need to get her to a trauma center, stat,” Hen turns to her captain, “every second she spends on the ground, the risk of the piece of metal accidentally dislodging multiplies.”

Bobby ponders for a few moment before speaking into his radio, “this is the 118, at the scene of a traffic accident. Requesting air support for medevac.”

Buck’s entire body freezes once those dreaded words leave Bobby’s mouth.

He’s been fearful of this day since Tommy dumped him, almost 3 months ago. Just the two of them, meeting up for the first time since the breakup on a call, struggling to push the awkwardness aside and maintain a façade of professionalism, fighting against his urge to forget about the emergency and just yell at Tommy, to feel him, to devour him, to cling to him and never let go.

Still, there’s a severely injured person whose life is hanging by a thread. Buck decides to shake off his overly active mind and help carry the heavy machinery to the patient.

“Eddie, you handle the saw. Chim, you take the water. Hen, keep a close eye on her vitals,” Bobby instructs his team, intentionally leaving out one member.

“I — I can help, Cap,” Buck asserts.

“It’s not personal, but this requires the highest level of precision and concentration. You can take the next one, when the circumstances are a bit… different,” Bobby puts up a palm to stop his subordinate on his track, “now, I need you to stay on the side and stand by.”

Buck complies, reluctantly.

The soaring sound of a helicopter rotor inches in merely minutes later.

Buck debates internally whether to hide or take a good look at the helicopter, to see if the pilot is Tommy. It’ll likely rip his heart out if he sees Tommy all rugged, brokenhearted from the breakup, but it’ll kill him if Tommy looks normal, good even, seemingly moved on from his latest fling.

He decides to stand beside an engine when the helicopter lands on the freeway, in order to look without standing out.

“What’s the status of the patient?” A tall, blond Asian paramedic hops out of the helicopter, still putting on his gloves.

“We’re still trying to free her,” Bobby says, with sharp, mechanical noise in the background.

“I think it’d be best if we avoid moving her too much,” another paramedic, a giant, burly man who puts the best body builder to shame, chimes in.

George and Carl, Buck recognizes. They’re in Tommy’s flight crew.

“Uh, maybe we should bring the chopper closer?” Buck suggests.

“Donato, bring the bird closer,” George speaks into his radio.

“How close?” Lucy replies.

“So close you can smell my conditioner.”

“Copy that. Hey, why do I only get to do cool stuff when Tommy…”

“Ahem,” Carl interrupts Lucy’s communication, “we have company here, the 118.”

“Uh… wilco. I’m gonna bring her in, stay clear of the downwash.”

Carl directs all personnel on the ground to stand behind the 118 engine and make way for the aircraft. Buck catches George on his way to his destination.

“Hey — Hey, George. Where’s Tommy?” Buck asks, the fear of Tommy being in trouble enters his mind once again.

George sighs, then rolls his eyes, “you would’ve known if your so-called friends didn’t pretend he never existed after your two broke up.”

“What happened to him? Is he hurt? Come on, I just want to know if he’s okay,” Buck pleads.

“Oh, the patient’s out. We’d better get going,” George ignores Buck, choosing to focus on his task at hand instead.

Buck emerges from behind the firetruck. The LAFD helicopter is now parked steps away from the wreckage of the car, thanks to Lucy’s piloting skills.

This is the last chance for Buck to investigate, before they fly away.

“Carl,” Buck knows for a fact that this man is soft and easily persuadable, despite the tough exterior, “please tell me Tommy’s okay.”

“I guess you’ll just have to ask him yourself,” Carl says, carrying the patient into the chopper.

“But I thought he didn’t want to talk to me. I’ve been giving him space,” Buck chases after the aeromedic.

“Take the initiative. Brave the ice,” Carl shouts before closing the door and flying away with his team.

#where do you think Tommy is?#this is inspired by helicopters believe it or not #it’ll make sense eventually #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #bucktommy fanfic

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jcmarchi · 9 months ago

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robolvrr · 7 months ago

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medical malpractice. ‿⁠✷｡

pharma x human! gn reader.

warnings: medical play. sharp objects. temporary blindness/sensory play.

nsfw under the cut. this is a bit darker but this is pharma we are talking about here. not enough of this rat on my feed.

"are you sure ratchet isn't available?"

the cooling bulbs shine bright in your eyes and you itch the sleeves of your uniform, gaze wavering between the flawlessly polished floors and an elaborate monitor with a screen that easily dwarfed you lengthwise.

the fucker doesn't speak for an uncomfortable five seconds. you are convinced he purposefully does this just to have the pleasure of your wariness wither.

"yes, my dear. he has far more pressing matters than a simple organic check-up. i do apologize if my cycles of experience in this profession is.. lacking for your standards."

his back is all you see when your face twists, mouth slack as you struggle to seek a response.

sarcasm must be a species thing. almost every cybertronian on this ship seems to have a snippy remark.

"it's not that."

you don't know how to describe it. pharma is sardonic and precise. the crew members don't seem to have too negative of an opinion as his performance precedes his mannerisms.

when he first laid optics on you, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that itched.

he did not share the warmth of his companions. granted, it was not as if you were adored by all mechs — plenty still had their reservations of allowing such an easily harmed creature aboard on a personal journey that they could not even hope to relate to.

however, unlike the other medics, you felt trapped under his leer. vivisected no matter the layers of insulation and nylon hiding flesh that blazed under unrelenting attention.

he never strayed far from your thoughts after that introduction. you can hear his croon at night and see those genuine, icy stares when you close your eyelids to toss and turn to sleep.

he's dangerous.

no one shows to share your beliefs. you don't speak of them out of fear of alienation. he triggers your survival instincts so strongly it starts to make you angry, because he hadn't done anything to warrant the disapproval.

he's a voyeur to your discomfort. sooner or later, you learn his subtle language and realize he's pleased.

you make efforts to avoid him. it's easy, given your skills don't overlap with his duties. you're just an engineer and more than half of the technology they possess is outside your education. you forget about his stalking frame and find members that treat you nice, treat you gentle.

this very situation is nightmarish.

"distracted, little dove?"

a yelp leaves your lips. his helm is eerily close and his smug smile remains firm on his dermas. you're so alarmed you don't notice the velcro round a forearm until he clasps the straps, tight.

the iv bag is clear. you breathe shakily.

"please keep in mind i do have your best interests in consideration."

"... just get on with it, doctor."

he hums, doesn't react to the bite. his digits graze your elbow. when did he yank up your sleeve? goosebumps freckle up your skin and he pinches.

consideration. the gravity of that word sinks in the pit of your gut. too easy to miscontrue.

"i understand your.. unease. alone, far from home, far from your own kind. under the scrutiny of what you cannot predict."

the medical stretcher slowly creaks back. the rusty pop of cogs startled you. a giant light nearly hides his calm demeanor, just the shadow of himself and a halo of sterile white behind him.

the electricity sparkling in your veins runs blood hot. faint beeping climbs in measure — you assume the thumping pattern of your heartbeat is what that is.

suddenly, your mouth is coaxed open.

metal - tool and him - slide across your tongue in a practiced sweep. it clinks against your canines and molars, scraping inner cheek until you feel just shy of pink, sticky sinew shredding.

a swab is after. it isn't rough but far from tender. this is no lollipop ending appointment and you become faintly aware of a chemical stench starting to waft around your vicinity.

"healthy. teeth all accounted for. funny, how these bones work. brainstorm had spoken to me about ah, what is it called for you. cavities. fascinating, your inner workings aren't close in nature and yet it can poison you, just by chance. find that small, plump heart and send it right into failure."

this conversation tinges dreadful again. you make a protesting noise that careens into a groan before he shushes you, sifting through equipment. having him in your mouth has your jaw throb sore.

"yes, yes, i know, keep it quick. while we are on the subject of brainstorm however i want to be frank. he has assisted me in creating a method to better examine your parts. you're just so.. fragile. small. i would hate to hurt you."

".. and what exactly does that entail?", you whisper dubiously, twitching at the thought of anything from brainstorm being near you in a ten mile radius.

he laughs.

"well", you blink and he is still difficult to see with all the lights and proximity, something wet and slimy dropping in both of your eyes. you squirm with a gasp and go to rub out of nature. he stops you.

"it's difficult to explain on your terms. but it's dropped into your eyes. microscopic cameras are effortlessly mixed with the solvent. it'll adapt to the shape. almost like a thin casing. it connects to my screen aaaand.."

you can't see. confusion driving the monitor to grow louder and louder.

"you put fucking cameras in my eyes? wh— what?! i can't fucking see! does ratchet know-"

"ratchet is not here. i suggest you find your bearings before you scare yourself to death, dear."

he sounds unapologetic. you fully drift to panic and think about the crawling sensation around sclera, unsure where your imagination and reality separate.

pharma sounds distant. this very room is almost closing in and your senses heighten in natural hopes to extend your survival.

his voice is charming and thick with something you can't identify. whispers hot in your ear. a cut has been made.

"excellent, little one."

this is torture.

one by one, the pain of an incision you can't even detect when it was sliced sutured with practical movements. unwoven, stitched again. you start to huff.

thumb catches moisture. you hear a rumble and it isn't the ship engines, it's him.

"just what else can the human body do?"

your throat closes up.

"how much could you take, hm? i simply want to know. there is no... allure of a broken body. perhaps in a dream. perhaps in my fantasies."

in and out, you fade. body trembling, hair sweaty on your forehead. he is an issue you cannot solve.

"perhaps, perhaps."

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

"how did the examination go?"

ratchet doesn't pull from his work. the gruffness and bitter edge you have learned to navigate and know his inquiry is made out of concern, not forced.

"i... fine, i think. i can't remember."

ratchet keeps working, though his pace has slowed.

"... mm."

#tf mtmte #mtmte #transformers #maccadam #first contact au #transformers x reader #idw pharma #pharma x reader #pharma #dark content #/nsft #/nsfw #valveplug #HELLLO EVIL DOCTOR LOVERS #come get yalls juice!!!#i will get to requests soon!#mtmte x reader #transformers mtmte #tf pharma

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wildflowersandvibranium · 7 days ago

Text

Muscle Memory : Chapter Three

Pairing: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS Restaurant Owner Bucky Barnes x Cardiac Surgeon Female Reader Alternate Universe

Summary: In a town that never forgets , she thought she could hide the bruises behind a perfect smile and life. But someone from her past sees too much—and remembers everything. sorry its so vague just don't want to give too much away!

Word Count: 3.8k+

Chapter Warnings: Domestic Violence (never bucky to reader)! , mentions of: surgery , hospital/doctors , bruises , injury , abuse , depression , self doubt , blood , anxiety , Ft: Peter Parker , OC Tyler (readers fiancé)

Authors Note: SURPRISE ditched my usual posting schedule and chapter three is hereeee i really think you all will enjoy this chapter!! next chapter shows Buckys life and a look into his feelings and POV heheh let the rollercoaster beginnnnn Also i'm mainly focusing on my series right now instead of my lots of oneshots and I have another series in the works right after this on is finished! eeeee!

Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

The harsh , bright glow of the operating room lights was a heavy contrast to the shadows lingering inside Y/N. Her hands moved with practiced precision as she placed the final suture inside , her focus absolute and her stitching , perfect.

The rhythmic constant beeping of the monitors was like a metronome , steady and grounding.

She carefully finished and checked the closure one last time , her gloved fingers pressing lightly against the patient’s skin.

“Forceps ,” she murmured to the scrub nurse , who handed her the tool without hesitation.

Her team moved like a well-oiled machine , everyone anticipating the next step she makes , waiting for her instruction.

The patient’s vitals were clear and stable. Alive.

The incision site was cleaned up , her stitches neat and precise as she checked over them one last time.

She let out a small breath of relief happy with work.

“Great work , Dr. Y/N,” her resident said from across the table. “Another successful vascular repair.”

“Thanks ,” she replied , voice steady even though her heart was still racing and coming down from the high. “It was a tricky case , but I’m glad we caught it early.”

The resident gave a small nod agreeing , eyes crinkling with pride behind the surgical mask. “Finish it all up and meet me in the lounge when you’re done. We’ll go over the next few cases for tomorrow.”

“Will do,” she said , exhaling a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

She finished completely with care , then gave the patient’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered , though the patient couldn’t hear her , currently still sedated and peaceful.

Sometimes , most of the time she said it more for herself than for them.

The post-op debrief was thankfully quick and painless.

She stripped off her blue latex gloves and paper gown , dropping them into the biohazard bin before scrubbing her hands once more.

The warm water and antiseptic clear soap was another comforting thing for her , a ritual she’d repeated so many times. Another rare safe constant in her life.

Walking out in the white hallway , she ran into Martha , one of the senior residents she’d become friends with during her short time here at this hospital.

She had that easy motherly type grin that made people feel at ease , Y/N gave her a tired but kind intended smile in return.

“Hey, Dr. Y/N ,” Martha said. “Nice save in there. I was watching from the gallery—a perfect textbook vascular control.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear that fell from her tied up bun. “Thank you. Yeah , that one had me sweating for just a minute.”

She chuckled. “You? Please. You’re a steady rock in there. I wish I could be that collected under pressure , especially when it turns into a non-routine procedure.”

She shrugged. “You’re getting there. It’s all about practice.”

They walked down the hallway together, past a couple of nurses chatting near the buzzing station. Jamie flipped through a tablet , checking off and updating her many post-op notes.

“So,” she said, glancing over at her. “Tomorrow’s going to be another busy one. You’re on that complex ortho case with Dr. Lee, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “And then the transplant consult on zoom for that case in Michigan after that. It’s going to be a long day.”

She whistled. “Dang , You’re a perfect machine , Y/N , you sure you don't have a metal arm or cyborg brain hidden from all of us?”

She forced a small laugh , though inside she felt anything but laughing.

Martha turned to her, setting down her tablet , expression softening as she reached out to touch her elbow.

“Hey… can I ask you something? Off the record and not hospital related.”

“Sure,” she said , adjusting her posture slightly , sitting up straight.

Martha gestured to her own face , a crease forming in her brow.

“I… I couldn’t help but notice , there’s something on your jaw. Is that…?”

She stiffened automatically , her heart skipping a beat.

She reached up instinctively , her fingers grazing the edge of a fading bruise.

Despite the heavy layer of makeup she’d carefully applied that morning, the sweat from her day started to wipe it away and it began to peek through now.

“Oh—uh, yeah,” she stammered , her voice carefully overly casual.

“It’s nothing. I… hit my face on the medicine cabinet door in my bathroom last night. Total klutz moment.” she said, huffing a laugh rolling her eyes at the memory.

A lie.

Martha's eyes narrowed just a little , forehead creasing slightly.

“That’s a pretty bad spot for a door. Are you sure you're okay?”

“It’s fine,” she cut in , a little too quickly. “Really, Martha . I was just tired and not paying attention , it will go away , I'm all good.”

She didn’t look convinced , but she gave her a slow nod.

“Okay. Just… if you ever need to talk , you know where to find me , right?”

She forced a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “To talk about how much of a klutz I am? But thanks.”

The hallway suddenly felt too bright , too exposed. She shifted her weight from foot to foot under Martha’s eyes , fingers fidgeting with the hem of her scrub top.

“Hey , I’m going to head to the lounge ,” Martha said, in a gentle tone. “But… if you ever need to get out of here for a minute , coffee’s on me.”

“Thanks,” she repeated , and she meant it.

She always appreciated her kindness—she was one of the few who noticed the little things , though she never pushed anyone to talk about them.

Martha gave Y/N one last smile , then turned and walked away , the door to the lounge swinging shut behind her.

Y/N exhaled shakily , feeling the tension in her shoulders all the way down to her tingling fingertips.

She couldn’t stand here any longer , not with the bruise so close to the surface in a place where more people could see it.

She felt it throbbing under the thin layer of makeup like a mark permanently brand on her soft skin , a secret she couldn’t let anyone else see or know.

What would they think of her , a successful heart surgeon , healing and repairing everyone around her and then getting her own shattered and broken at home almost everyday.

She shook her head pushing the thought deep down.

Turning on her heels with a squeak of her shoes on the nylon floor , she murmured something about needing the restroom to any passing nurse who happened to hear her , then quickly ducked into the nearest bathroom.

The door locked and clicked shut behind her , muffling the gentle hum of hospital life outside.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her breath catching in her throat.

The bathroom had slowly become a sanctuary to her , her home away from home , her safe place. A place in the hospital with no prying eyes or people wanting answers from her.

Its cracked white and gray linoleum floors and faint scent of bleach and antiseptics are a small comfort compared to the chaos of the operating rooms and waiting areas.

She leaned slightly forward over the sink , eyes locked on the reflection looking back in the mirror.

The girl staring back at her looked… tired–exhausted.

She was frayed around the edges.

Letting out a slow deep breath she was focusing on the bruise along her jaw bone. It wasn’t as dark as yesterday , but no amount of concealer could erase it wholly and completely.

She dabbed carefully with a sponge she brought in her bag on mornings like this just in case , and began laying the foundation and color corrector in layers until the shape of his fingerprints was just a ghost beneath her skin.

A soft knock at the door startled her. “Sorry Dr. L/N , didn't mean to scare you” A nurse walked in. “It's alright Hadley , what do you need?” She answered while hastily picking up her makeup , tossing it haphazardly in the bag.

“Dr. Kim wanted to see you about the patient in three. His blood pressure is high again and his wife has questions about recovery.”

She blinked at herself, shoulders tightening snapping back to her job mindset. “Alright thank you for relaying the message i'll be there shortly, ” she called , voice smooth and steady, even as her heart hammered against her ribs.

She gave her reflection a final glance before walking out —eyes bright but wary , lips curved in a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

She’d perfected this mask a long time ago.

Just another day , she thought , walking out and across the halls into room number three.

“Hi, I'm Dr. Y/L/N , I heard you had some questions for me?” she said with a smile.

Another day.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The hallways of the hospital buzz with busy hardworking people moving from one task to the next , the air filled with the low murmur of voices and beeps from machines and the rhythmic squeak of shoes on polished flooring as the rush is in full flow.

Y/N moved through it all with practiced ease—dodging gurneys and wheelchairs , scanning charts handed to her , offering quiet reassurances in the hall and sweet greetings passing fellow doctors and hospital staff.

To her every patient was another small universe , each with their own fears , pain and obstacles.

She liked that—being needed , being able to fix other peoples worries and problems.

Being able to focus on someone else's life , even if only for a few minutes at a time with consultations or spending hours mid-surgery , she craved that distraction but one that also healed in the process.

She’d grown good at wearing that gentle smile and kind voice like armor.

Sometimes it almost felt real.

Almost.

Till she was drug right back to hell the moment she smelled the whiskey or heard the car door slam too hard after or before work.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

A few hours after the late morning rush , she found herself in the staff lounge again , stripping off her surgical cap and rubbing a hand through her hair and her fingers pressing into her temples.

Her cheeks pink ; flushed from the heat of hours standing in the OR , her hair sticking to her neck and forehead.

She leaned back against the counter next to the ancient coffee pot , letting the air of the A/C cool her skin.

She could almost pretend she was just another surgeon , exhausted but content , and ready to go home.

She sat up stretching and started gathering her charts walking through the halls with her intern for the month , Peter.

Today she was showing him how to edit a chart and put in notes and log vitals post-op.

As they rounded the wide curve of the 1st floor hallway , Peter spoke up and asked a question about where to add a new note about the recent surgery schedule change for the next day , pointing at the paper chart but she didn't hear him.

All she heard in that moment was a low , familiar voice from the lobby desk , edged with warmth and breathy laughter.

“…yes ma'am , Sam Wilson asked me to deliver this to room 504 it's his Aunt ,” the voice was saying.

Her head snapped up harshly.

She turned , heart speeding in her chest , eyes wide , and peered around the corner into the lobby.

And she was met with exactly who she thought and hoped she heard. Bucky.

He stood at the reception desk , leaning in with a crooked smile. His hair was styled perfectly up , the ends curling slightly. He wore a worn leather jacket over a soft henley , sleeves pushed up slightly. And In his hands was two brown paper bags and a bouquet of pink flowers.

For a second , she felt like the ground had shifted beneath her feet.

“Dr. Y/L/N….did you hear my question?”

Shoot , she forgot about Peter!

She quickly answered his question and told him to go ahead and have lunch.

Peter nodded, glancing at the man she had her eyes locked on and left , pulling out his phone almost immediately texting his fellow interns.

Y/N did her best to flatten her mused hair and took a deep breath walking towards the desk.

“Bucky?” she called out , her voice catching just a little.

He turned at the sound of her voice , blue eyes widening in surprise before a slow , warm smile curved his lips.

“Hey , doll,” he said , and God the nickname was a soft echo of a different time— a secret only they shared.

It made her knees buckle but she continued and stepped forward , pressing her charts to her chest instinctively.

She could feel her pulse in her neck pounding , but it wasn't out of fear but a flicker of safety that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” she asked , a little breathless.

He lifted one of the paper bags a little. “Sam’s aunt just got cleared to eat after her surgery,” he explained , his voice calm and easy.

“I thought I’d bring her something better than the cafeteria , nothing they got here is any good. No offense.” he said smiling at the end.

“None taken,” she replied , her laugh light and real despite everything tucked inside.

He tilted his head , studying her face.

“You look good,” he said softly. “A little tired , but good.”

She flushed , tucking a strand of hair that had fallen behind her ear. “It’s… it’s been a busy morning. But good. Yeah , I love it , you know.”

He shifted his weight , his fingers drumming lightly on the paper bag. “Wanda said you were running the department , couldn’t believe it at first. But… it suits you , I mean the white coat and everything.”

She swallowed , heat creeping up her neck.

She did a cute little turn showing off the white coat. “I know, pretty official huh? You think it fits me?” she asked , smiling truly wanting his opinion.

For a moment , everything else seemed to fade—the beeping of monitors , the chatter of nurses and families.

It was just the two of them , suspended in a moment that felt achingly familiar as he watched her.

“Doll , you're living your dream you wanted since we were kids , you were made for this , of course it suits you” He said , voice dropping a little laced with something she couldn't quite place.

That nickname again.

He was going to be the death of her if he kept that up.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The moment stretched a little longer , quiet and comfortable , like slipping right back into an old rhythm.

They chatted softly , catching up in small bits and pieces , the little details of their lives , weaving a delicate thread between them.

“Still got your truck?” she asked , remembering the way when they were not running from something he used to take her riding through the winding back roads just to feel the wind on her face.

He grinned, that boyish flash of teeth burned happily in her memories and the same one she missed all too well. “Of course. She’s temperamental , but I can’t give her up.”

She laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

He smirked , shaking his head. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

If only you knew , she thought.

If only he could see the bruises beneath the carefully applied makeup , the way her shoulders tensed every time someone raised their voice.

She escaped one situation just to fall back into the next. Hasn't changed since they were kids.

Just at the hands of a different person.

Their conversation continued to just flow effortlessly—talks of mutual friends , stories of Sam’s endless antics nowadays , and little memories that bubbled up like warm spring water.

She glanced at the flowers Bucky held , he noticed and brought them up to their faces—a small bunch of pink lilies and tiny babies breath mixed in throughout.

“They're Sam’s aunts favorites,” he said. “I figured she could use a little color in her room.”

“They’re beautiful ,” she murmured , her fingers brushing the soft petals. “You’ve always known how to make people smile on their worst days.”

He shrugged, a touch of sheepishness in his eyes. “Just trying to help. You know how it is.”

Yeah , she thought. I do. Because she’d seen him do it a thousand times—patching up her own bruised knees , and of course offering warm hugs when the world felt too harsh and too cold..

He’d always been that way. And she was beaming knowing he's still that same boy she lov…cared for deeply , inside.

She didn’t want the moment to end between them. But the hospital never slept , and the hands of the clock marched on not caring of who or what begged it to slow or stop. Life is resuming right back to its pace.

She reached for her phone to check the time—almost 2:00pm . She had to observe a surgery at 3:30pm , and then a consult waiting for her at 4.

She sighed , already feeling the weight of it all pressing down again.

Just as she was about to excuse herself , her phone buzzed in her hand.

She glanced at the screen and felt her stomach twist.

Tyler <3

She really needed to change the contact name.

“Sorry it's Tyler ,” she showed him the contact glowing on her screen , stepping back a little as she answered.

“Hey Babe , I’m just finishing up with rounds.” she cringed using the name but she couldn't let anyone, not even Bucky suspect they weren't a happy in love couple.

“Where are you?” Tyler’s voice was calm , but there was an edge to it that made her chest tighten. “I’m outside. Need to switch cars with you.” he continued.

She frowned. “Oh. Okay, I’ll be right there.”

She hung up , turning back to Bucky with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Tyler wants to switch cars , he needs the car , I guess I’ll have to grab lunch on the go.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

“I… no.” She offered a small shrug , trying to keep it light. “Like I said, busy morning.”

“Doll,” he said softly , and the word felt like a balm against the raw edges of her heart. He reached next to him grabbing the second brown paper bag.

“Take this. I brought it for myself but I'll grab something on the way back to the restaurant , it's that grilled chicken salad you ordered the other day.”

“I can’t—”

“Please,” he cut in , his voice gentle but insistent. “I’d feel better knowing you actually got something in you.”

She hesitated , her fingers brushing the edge of the bag.

She should say no–

But the kindness in his eyes , the warmth of it… it was too much to resist.

“Thank you,” she whispered , taking the bag carefully.

Their fingers brushed , and for a moment , the world went quiet yet again.

She was tucking the bag under her arm when she saw Tyler marching in.

He was striding across the lobby , tall and immaculately put together—his dark slacks crisp , his dress shirt rolled to the elbows to reveal tan forearms.

His jaw was set , his eyes sharp as they swept over her and Bucky.

She felt her stomach clench , a flicker of unease twisting through her gut.

“Hey,” she said brightly as he reached her side. “Just grabbing some food.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed for a split second before he smiled , all white bleached teeth and easy charm. “Yeah? Looked like you were having quite the chat.”

She forced an awkward laugh. “Just catching up. Bucky was dropping off food for a patient and had some extra for me.”

“Mm,” Tyler said , his gaze sliding from her to Bucky and back again. He leaned in , brushing a kiss against her temple all for show.

“We should go ahead and do this quickly. Don’t want to keep you from your surgery.”

She nodded , her fingers tightening around the paper bag. “Yeah. Just needed to get something to eat”

Bucky shifted , his hands sliding into the pockets of his pants.

“Good seeing you , doll, ” he said , his voice soft. “Take care of yourself, yeah?” he gave a stiff nod at Tyler.

“I will,” she promised, her throat tight. She watched as he stepped back, his smile gentle but his eyes… his eyes were searching , as if he could see all the things she was trying so desperately to hide.

He lifted a hand in a wave as he turned to go , the late afternoon sun catching the edge of his brown almost carmel hair.

She watched him cross the parking lot , watched the way his shoulders squared against the world.

He paused at his truck , turning back to catch her gaze one last time. He lifted a hand again waving , and she felt her heart catch in her throat.

She waved back , a small smile on her lips.

She turned to Tyler then, slipping her hand into his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like her pulse wasn’t roaring in her ears at the contact.

“Let’s get to the cafeteria,” she said softly.

He squeezed her fingers , his smile easy , happy she was back in his grip.

But she felt the steel beneath it , the way his hand tightened just a little too hard.

As they walked away together—her hand in his , the scent of Bucky’s flowers he brought was still clinging to her skin.

Tyler’s fingers tightened around hers , the pressure pulling her back to the present.

She turned to look at him, and he was already watching her—brown eyes sharp and assessing.

“What was that about?” he asked , his tone light , but she could hear the darkness beneath it.

“Just saying hi ,” she said quickly, her voice carefully even. “Like i said he was dropping off food for a patient.”

“Mm,” Tyler hummed, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Looked like more than just saying hi to an old friend to me.”

She swallowed. “It wasn’t.”

He watched her for a moment longer, then his smile widened, all warmth and easy charm.

A play.

“Good. Let’s go grab something to eat, yeah? You’ve got that surgery soon , and I'm starving. Had meetings back to back.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, slipping her hand more firmly into his. “Let’s go.”

They walked together into the elevator, hitting the button to the fourth floor , her fingers still wrapped in his slightly twitching wanting escape—his grip was harsh enough to remind her who she belonged to.

She stood idle as the elevator started ascending , but in her racing mind Bucky's final wave and smile lingered , smokey taking up her thoughts.

But as Tyler’s hand guided her toward the cafeteria doors feeling the warm sun on her face from the window lined hallways , she felt the usual chill settle back into her bones.

And she knew that no matter how bright the sun was , the shadows weren’t done with her yet.

-end Chapter Four coming soon...

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(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

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weenwrites · 10 months ago

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Anonymous asked: Hello again! Just wondering if you could do headcannons for tfp Optimus, Starscream and Megatron, with a cybertronian reader who is REALLY tall, like twice their size, but is secretly just a big softy, a total cinnamon roll

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

After the incident with Makeshift, he's naturally suspicious of you the moment the team receives the distress beacon from some unknown vessel harboring a cybertronian lifeform. Upon meeting you, his suspicions only grow as he learns that you were a low-ranking soldier back on Cybertron. He's unsure whether he's heard your name mentioned amongst the armies he's led, and neither is anyone else on the team all too familiar with you.

Even if you were able to prove your alliance lies with the Autobots, he's hesitant to bring you back to base. If you deceived him, you're not going to be an easy threat to handle, Makeshift proved that when he opened a direct groundbridge to the Nemesis and nearly exposed the team's location. He personally takes it upon himself to monitor and supervise you as you gradually gain their trust. He doesn't leave you for a moment, as he fears that any sliver of neglect on his end will serve as an opportunity for you to possibly betray the team, as was the case before.

However as time progresses, his suspicions are thankfully proven false, and he becomes pleased to see how well you get along with everyone else on the team. He gradually begins to feel as though you "brighten" the room whenever you walk in and start talking with someone, and the rest of the team enjoys having you around. He too shares those sentiments, even if he doesn't personally speak with you much. Rather he enjoys your company whenever he hears the others speaking with you, or whenever you spend time around him.

Starscream

When it comes to being issued commands, it can come off as a little difficult to notice how bossy he is with you. He's normally very commanding, rude, and domineering with everyone, so people usually pass this off as his usual behavior. Yet, if you have a keen enough eye, you'll notice that you're the only one he's treating this way.

Naturally, you'd befriend some vehicons, or at the very least get in their good graces, and they'll spill some gossip to you about him. They say a lot of things about him, and it's a mixed bag of exaggerated lies and half-truths, never just one or the other, or the absolute unadulterated truth at all. It's difficult to get a straight story from any one of them no matter how hard you try, but if you know how to discern truth from lie, you'll be able to chalk up his behavior to his own insecurities and his need to feel superior and in control.

Kindness with him will only get you oh so far, as he'll manipulate your kindness to his advantage, to get you on his side and beneath his heel so to speak. He doesn't truly see your kindness as anything more than a tool. At the very least, he thinks you're easily gullible.

Megatron

His first impression was that for your stature and given your previous experience as a soldier, you would make a very fine addition to his armada indeed! As soon as you stepped aboard and finished the tour, you were put to work in the mines, to guard, supervise, and monitor the vehicon miners there.

Before you arrived, the Autobots had been attacking mines left, right, and center, in due part to a lack of resources, Megatron surmises. As of now, they have only succeeded a handful of times and failed the rest, yet these attacks are still costing them their equipment, resources, and miners. But he expects this to be of little difficulty for you, as you will introduce an unexpected twist to what may come as simple routine to Prime and the other Autobots. They know who to expect, what to expect, as well as how to plan around it, and so they say it is difficult to combat the unexpected.

Additionally, the vehicons were also weary of you at first. They assumed you were simply respectful and obedient to Megatron as any Decepticon naturally is, yet the moment he turned his back, they'd start tip-toeing over eggshells. Yet you proved to be the exact opposite of who they made you out to be, and as such you became a favorite amidst them very quickly. There was no yelling, no unreasonable demands or orders, you treated them like actual people. Though not all of them like you for your kindness, you've become a favorite amidst a majority o them.

Though your personality makes you popular amidst the vehicons, he'd strictly forbid mercy of any kind toward the enemy or any human, given almost any situation. So he expects you to be unforgiving and ruthless in battle, as that is the precedent for any Decepticon warrior worthy of even a sliver of respect. Your kindness would only be a weakness for the enemy to exploit and manipulate to their advantage.

#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #optimus prime x reader #tfp starscream #tfp starscream x reader #tfp optimus prime #tfp megatron #megatron x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

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sanjisboyfie · 1 year ago

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∞ SNSTV : first year, first mission

this is the first chapter of my series "sensitive" (SNSTV = sensitive). since it's a series, this first chapter is going to be pretty "boring" in terms of romance, but it still full of satosugu interactions with reader...but probably not favorable ones as you'll see soon lol. anyway ! stay tuned for the next chapters because i will have a lot of fun fleshing this out hehehe

first year satosugu x male reader

-> prev

( if u squint )

“since shoko is a very valuable sorcerer, she must refrain from participating in highly dangerous missions,” the only girl in the room smiled at the information, sneakily flipping off her male classmates. satoru was annoyed, suguru was indifferent, and [name] seemed to be the only one with half a mind to care for the woman’s safety.

“her abilities are quite special,” he compliments, making yaga hum in agreement and shoko wink at him in appreciation.

satoru pretends to barf in his mouth.

“that leaves the three of you, [last name], gojo, and geto — this mission is going to be your first one without supervision. it should show to be easy enough. you are to simply monitor and oversea a specific section of the closed down mall and exorcise any curses that are roaming. it has been closed down far too long and kids are starting to wander in there without any idea of what they’re walking into. for the safety of the people and the community, you must exterminate every curse that dwells there. you are all permitted in using any cursed tool, if you wish, but we highly encourage you learn to harness your abilities as soon as possible.”

satoru pretended to barf in his mouth again. doing things for “normal” civilians was never his most ideal way of spending his time. but unless he wanted to hear a nagging from yaga, he had to suck it up. formal missions were hard to dodge, anyway. meanwhile, suguru hummed in understanding, seeing why this would need an urgent team.

and [name] was just excited to finally get his hands on his cursed tool again.

the three were escorted to the abandoned mall via their driver, who told them to call him if anything were to happen and they needed immediate assistance.

“i don’t get why crybaby over here had to come,” satoru huffs, looking at the mall with disinterest. it’s unclear whether or not he’s talking to himself or his other classmate. either way, it got a reaction from [name] who was within earshot.

“why don’t you just go fuck off gojo,” [name] snarled, holding onto the scythe in his hands with a tight grip. he expertly twirled it around, using the weight of it and basic understanding of gravity, to make it so that the sharp blade was pointed right at gojo’s neck.

hiding his surprise at the sudden action, gojo just smirked and glared at [name].

“you’re just scared because you know i’m right. the moment things go to shit, you’re gonna go running with your tail in between your legs like a poor puppy. and i’ll be there to laugh,” gojo said with a taunting cackle, the ugly sound rising from his throat making both suguru and [name] cringe.

“i’ll slice your throat open, i mean it.”

“love to see you try, piece of shit!”

“alright! enough fighting, the both of you! seriously? are we on a mission to exorcise some curses or is it my personal responsibility to babysit the two of you?” suguru sighed, rubbing his forehead in stress, “can we all just do this and go home? i think it’s obvious neither of you want to be here any longer,”

satoru rolled his eyes at suguru’s “nice guy” perona, internally calling bullshit on his entire personality. god, satoru hated those type of guys the most. the ones who think they’re superior just because they’re more mature. it pissed him off that suguru had an ability so strong too...talk about waste of potential!

well, too bad for both [name] and suguru because the one who was most superior was obviously him! he was gojo satoru, after all.

“whatever, weaklings. why don’t you sit back and just let me take care of this? there’s no need for your abilities when i could exterminate every curse in the vacinity,” satoru was confident when speaking his words, but if you were to tell him to actually do that…he might not have been able to.

hey! he was a first year and just recently allowed to go completely “ham” on using his powerful abilities. he didn’t have the bestest grasp on control or output, but he did know that his technique easily overpowered the other twos’.

“hm, to make it interesting, why don’t we have a competition?”

the competitive side of [name] and satoru shone bright after suguru said that. taking their perked up heads and attentive ears as a sign to continue on, he proposed, “whoever exorcises the most curses won’t have to do chores around the dorm for a whole week and all that responsibility will fall onto the losers.”

“a whole month,” [name] bargained, earning a shrug of approval from suguru. and satoru laughed that obnoxious laugh of his again, shouting a “bring it on” before putting on his sunglasses.

“you two are going down!”

“what does cockiness get you besides hateful stares, gojo?”

“geto-san’s right, you gojo bitch! bite your tongue and choke on your own blood, fool!!”

on the count of 3, the three students were setting off into separate directions of the mall and finding as many curses as possible to exterminate. for how vast the entire property was, this could take as long as a couple of hours…if the three students were normal jujutsu sorcerers.

but when you put a narcissist, someone with a superiority complex, and a hot-headed individual in a high stakes competition, you get the mall that was full of curses being free of said curses in under two hours (an hour and ten minutes, to be exact. to cover a 800,000 square feet land full of extremely lower grade curses).

at the beginning of the competition, [name] would lure out the curses by simply baiting them with his “naivety” of them being there. they’d pounce to attack, happy to find an unsuspecting prey, before [name] would slash them across their forms and kill them with his cursed tool. he imagines by the end of the hour, he had already taken care of over a couple dozen very low grade curses.

just as he was about to maneuver around and slice another one up, something had already took care of the problem.

“gonna need to try harder than that, crybaby,” satoru taunts, smirking from a floor above as he easily blew up the curse that was about to attack [name]. the man grits his teeth in annoyance while the white haired individual just shrugs in pride, “you can’t even look out for yourself, need me to save you, huh?”

“fuck off!” [name] sent a strong gust of wind satoru’s way via swinging his scythe towards satoru, creating almost a slash of air. his tormentor only laughed at the attempt in attacking him, flipping out of the way and then walking past [name] with a smug grin.

as he disappeared from [name]’s sight, he felt himself get more and more annoyed and angry at his predicament. of course, he had to be stuck in an abandoned place with his bully and not be able to leave until the ending of their mission. [name] huffed, feeling an unfair amount of tears reach his eyes.

at least satoru wouldn’t be around to see him cry like a pathetic loser, he thought to himself. he shook his head a couple of times, forcing the tears down with a clearing of his throat and rough wipe of his face. it was a pain to live such an emotionally unstable life — as if he had any control over things like that.

“so you really are a crybaby?” suguru’s voice broke his silent sobs, making him whip his head up and glare at the man approaching him. seeing his obvious apprehension to him being there, suguru put his hands up in surrender to show he meant no harm, “there’s no reason for you to be crying, why are you crying?”

“obviously i know i have no reason to cry, idiot, how annoying do you think it is for me to have to do it when i have no reason to?!”

suguru blinked, confusion panted on his face, “you have to cry?” putting emphasis on ‘have’ it was obvious suguru didn’t see a point in such a thing, especially right now.

“you wouldn’t get it, so just leave me alone,” [name] said, waving his hand and turning around to look for more curses. suguru had an odd look on his face as he watched [name] walk away, an unreasonable amount of cursed energy surrounding the previously crying man.

the ravenette truly wondered what his life story was, he was just so intriguing. a sorcerer coming from one of the strongest clans in the jujutsu world was walking away from him with his head held down, shoulders shaking, and tears dripping onto the floor.

“what’s his deal,” suguru hums to himself, flicking his wrist in the direction of a miniature curse that was coming towards him and easily eliminating it from the picture.

[name] continued expertly swinging his scythe around whenever he saw a curse coming towards him, not flinching as it died in front of him each time. it was obvious he was most comfortable with such a weapon, despite it being a couple times larger than his smaller frame. with how easily he handled it, though, it was somewhat obvious that he had been training with the weapon for a long time.

“oiii!!! i finished up on my part of the mall,” satoru shouted, his whiny voice echoing in the empty walls.

“same here!!”

[name] looked down at the pathetic curse that was shyly standing far away from him. it had an odd figure, a spherical body that was being held up by skinny blue legs that were wobbling from the abnormal amount of weight that they had to hold up. it was muttering some stuff about the fitting room and how the clothes weren’t fitting, making [name] believe it probably formed from the stuff people would feel about themselves in the fitting rooms.

he sighed, walking ahead and crouching in front of the curse. the scythe remained unmoving as it was leaning against his shoulder, weakly swinging in the air at the heavy weight of the blade hanging behind his head. he kept it secure with his arm over the handle portion, making sure that it didn’t fall over.

the curse reached its arm out to touch him, but with a simple shifting of his head into the opposite direction, [name] stopped the possible contact. instead, he just put his finger to the pudgy flesh of the curse’s body, grimacing at the feeling. and with a simple “shot” coming from his fingers, the curse began to flail in pain and agony. until it turned into nothing but ash and dust, being blown away by a passing breeze.

“hey, what was your total count?” satoru’s voice taunted from behind him, not really reading the energy in the room. [name] stood up, a completely dead look in his eyes. it almost shocked satoru enough to shut him up, but it would take more than a miserable face to ever make him close his loud mouth.

“i came up to about 60,” suguru said, “a bunch of small insignificant ones, really,”

“and i got to the eighties,” satoru grinned, roughly shoving his shoulder into suguru’s. the black haired man only rolled his eyes, “what about you? i doubt above thirty, am i right?”

in reality, [name] had killed more curses than the two combined. but he susposes that he had an advantage, wielding a cursed tool rather than using his actual technique. well, except to kill that last one. plus his high sensitivity in reading where the curses were gave him an advantage in finding the prey faster than the other two.

but instead of telling the truth and gloating, like he should have done, he just shrugged, “i didn’t keep track — i guess you win, gojo,”

that made the strong sorcerer pump his fist into the air, chanting about how [name] and suguru were going to be stuck doing his laundry for a month. he was too caught up in his celebration to notice how sunken in [name]’s face really looked.

it wasn’t just his eyes that appeared dead, but it was as if the color drained from his face, his eyes turned bloodshot, and he was weakly walking towards them.

suguru noticed, though. and it intrigued him as he peered behind [name]’s subtly limping figure, catching a pile of ashes that was blowing in the wind. he couldn’t connect the dots completely, but he did know that the two things he noticed were connected in some way.

“feeling alright? losing sucks,” suguru asked, trying to talk about more light hearted things in the face of his incredibly sullen classmate.

“yeah, it’s whatever, i guess,”

there was definitely a difference. less colorful choices of vocabulary were being used and suguru thought that was the most noticeable change in [name]’s demeanor. he wasn’t cursing satoru out for being an egotistical piece of shit with the biggest ego in the world. he was just blankly walking past the bragging man with not a care in the world.

suguru bit his lip, stopping himself from asking more questions and instead reaching into his pocket to contact their original driver to tell them that the job was done. and while suguru was theorizing all of these things to himself, it was obvious satoru didn’t even spend a second thinking about it. if anything he welcomed the new, depressed [name]. it made for perfect bullying material for him!

that sadist, suguru grimly thought in his mind as he listened to the phone ring. he informed the driver to come pick them up before turning back around to watch satoru and [name] interact with one another. with how off he was acting, it was a surprise to see satoru still adamant on tormenting [name]. wasn’t it obvious already he was not himself? couldn’t gojo just give him a break? but then again, why wasn’t [name] sticking up for himself? he wasn’t a little kid that needed suguru’s saving, but at this point, he might as well.

“c’mon, gojo, quit it already,” suguru spoke up, lightly slapping the man’s shoulder. satoru didn’t like that, though, obnoxiously stomping over to stand toe-to-toe with suguru.

“hah? c’mon, geto, you’ve got to see that this is a real pathetic scene, isn’t it? he can’t do anything in his life but constantly lose. it makes you wonder how it’s even possible for us to exist in the same world as him; the strongests and the weakest standing to be in the same jujutsu class? what a joke,”

suguru grimaced, pushing satoru backwards to create some space in between them, “that’s not even funny, what’s your issue, gojo? can’t you just shut up for a couple of seconds? would it really kill you?”

satoru pretended to barf, glaring at suguru, “oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re one of those righteous folks that sticks up for the weaker people?”

“i don’t have to explain shit to you — i don’t even know you,” suguru mumbles, not wanting to entertain him further. creating an argument would only make their moods worsen and become more bitter towards each other. in the midst of his annoyance, suguru glances towards [name] and scoffed to himself.

it was a bit pathetic of [name] to not even speak up for himself, he’ll admit that. but he wasn’t going to bully him just for that. he just wished that he had spoken up for himself in this moment, it would’ve at least been a sign to satoru that he wasn’t to be messed with. that he was strong, to some extent. but instead the man just stood there and took all the insults.

it made suguru both annoyed and angered.

why couldn’t [name] stand up for himself now? he was doing so before so easily and naturally. but now, it was as if all the energy was sucked out of him…

the ride to the jujutsu high was silent. and [name] seperated from the two the moment they stepped foot onto the school grounds. suguru remained stoic as he watched [name] walk away while satoru next to him only hummed in disinterest.

”i’m telling you, suguru, to not waste your time defending him. he’s got no place in the jujutsu world, weak sorceres like him that prove to be useless have no place standing next to us — or even shoko for that matter. she may not have fighting prowess, but her natural ability is remarkable. with [name]…there’s nothing remarkable about him. it’s as if he’s a normal human, he’s ordinary and dull. don’t waste your breath with him.”

that was all satoru said to suguru before walking off, his hands behind his head as he walked in such a lax position. suguru stood silent for a couple of moments before snapping himself out of his stupor and going to his room.

he looked at the room a couple of doors down from him, [name]’s room, and his lips were drawn into a thin, straight line. he entered his comfortable room without wasting another second.

he didn’t know that behind [name]’s door, the man had his knees brought up to his chest as he sobbed his heart out on the floor. the screen of his small tv was blaring back at him in the dark room, the screen being the only source of light. he was watching his favorite show, one that made him laugh and happy. but tears streamed down his face as he had to choke back on his sobs.

he tried forcing a smile on his face, making an unsettling expression a couple of times before he gave up.

he always hated this part.

but he had to persevere. he moved to his small music player at his bedside, grabbing the headphones that worked alongside them and falling onto his bed. he put the flimsy over-ear devices on, sighing as he looked up at the blank ceiling. soon, a compilation of his favorites songs filled his ears and he tried to be content with the feeling.

‘immerse yourself. and you’ll be okay in the morning.’

it was a mantra he repeated to himself until he felt himself fall into sleep.

he really hated his innate cursed technique.

sorry if u hate emotional mcs...this guy is gonna be one. but for explainable reason, trust! he's still going to be strong, too, though, so look forward to that! i can't wait to make him go #insane <3 but other than that, really fun to write since it shows the dynamic i imagined satosugu to have in their first years of jujutsu high !!! since the whole incident happens in their second year i rlly wanna focus on building the relationships in the first year and stuff, so things might be a lil slow to start, but when it starts ... it'll start, trust. tysm for being os patient w this even if it is short affa. i look forward to writing longer, more deeeeeep chapters in the future. much love <3

#≡;- ꒰ ° sensitive series ꒱#jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen male reader #suguru geto x male reader #suguru geto male reader #suguru male reader #geto male reader #satoru male reader #satoru gojo x male reader #satoru gojo male reader #gojo male reader #gojo x male reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk male reader

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harrington-stevie · 3 months ago

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trust you | anakin skywalker: episode X

We're finally back!! Read it on Wattpad too!

Summary: Anakin is planning a trade with General Grievous and is preparing for another mission, again. Before he leaves the Temple, he seeks help from a very skilled engineer, and their interaction takes a wild turn. The Jedi is faced with an unexpected visitor, buckle up.

Warnings: Angst, some sort of fluff, mention of injuries, a lot of swearing as always

Word count: 2.9k

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Anakin:

I had been waiting for her outside the classroom where she was in with the other kids. Luke wasn't there today, and I could use it to my advantage and finally go on that mission again and make the trade. My fingers twitched as my hands rested at my sides, I felt incredibly uncomfortable at the thought of talking to her again, or more specifically, at the thought of needing her help.

I noticed she held back a quip when I told her it had to do with Artoo, and I avoided glaring at her so she wouldn't give up helping me. I'm not getting better at this, and interacting with her doesn't make it any easier. My lips felt dry as I looked over her and she stared back at me. I have no fucking idea why I felt this way.

She scans the Droid carefully, reaching over for a datapad to scan him over. "I've tried everything, I can't even recalibrate his monitor"

She keeps herself focused on the task as I lean against the wall and tap my fingers against my folded arms. There's a brief silence that's neither dreading or embarrassing, which can mean endless things at this point.

She pauses the pad and hums, but there's a hint of amusement in her tone and I raise my brows at her reaction.

"Why is there a tweezer stuck inside Artoo?" She asks while popping open the access panel, reaching for the object and I clear my throat.

I wouldn't dare say I'm an engineer just like her, but I'd like to think I can honestly fix things. And to look at her mocking face while she holds the tweezer just about says a lot when it comes to my skills.

"I uh– thought I saw something loose and tried reaching out to it"

I try to ignore the way she's grinning and shaking her head at me, like I'm some fucking dumb child who messes up with something I shouldn't have. My own lips purse and I realize I'm trying not to smile at her attitude. Get over yourself, Skywalker.

She starts rewiring him, muttering something inaudible as she removes some faulty component and replaces it with a brand new one from her tool box. I cannot deny that she's very skilled and knows what she's doing. But every now and then I still feel bitter when it crosses my mind the day I fought with a limb because she couldn't fix my arm in time.

As she pushes herself up and presses a switch, R2 immediately straightens up and happily beeps as he spins. I didn't think she could do something like that this fast.

"What–" My voice cracks in surprise and I have to swallow it down "That was... incredibly fast"

(Y/N) gives me a sheepish smile and leans back. "This was easy. You should see the mess I fixed on that old Republic cruiser last week. Now, about my payment..."

My mind shorts circuit at her comment and I immediately scoff, with my arms still crossed against my chest.

"We never agreed on that" She must be thinking I'm being a pain in the ass with my remark, but my demeanor shifted minutes ago.

I can't keep lowering my shield whenever I'm around her, and I can't seem to raise it back up.

"Yeah, but you owe me a favor now, Master" She snickers, holding her waist with both hands and I roll my eyes. "And, you could've broken him with that tweezer in there"

I feel myself blush at the way she jokes about the object, but I brush it off "Don't push your luck, (Y/L/N)" I push myself off the wall and give Artoo a tap "But uh–"

My tongue rolls up inside my mouth and I force myself to look at her and nod. It's somewhat very difficult to actually talk to her without being an actual certified asshole.

"Thank you"

She grins again and taps on my shoulder, tilting her head almost mischievously "You're welcome, Skywalker"

I watch as she walks back inside the Temple, all the while R2 beeps from below me. If there's one thing I haven't missed about him being faulty, was that he was a talkative, nosy little Droid.

"Shut up" I mumble at him, and he spins around me as a responsive mock.

My hands tightly grip the handle as I once again approach the Trade Federation Cruiser. My anxiety skyrockets and I feel my stomach tying to a knot. Doing this alone now makes me feel more relieved since I'm not bringing anyone to a lethal battle, especially considering Grievous can be just as much of a killer as Snoke is.

As I'm about to land on the hangar, the radio on the control panel turns to life, making me snap my head directly at it in confusion.

"Hey, you" The male voice says "Yeah, you with the grumpy face. You're gonna need a hand again"

I roll my eyes when I realize it's Poe Dameron again. He fucking followed me. There’s something about him that feels like he wants to be drawn into murderous missions, as if he longs to fight against something dreadful, and it brings me to the brink of disturbance.

I wanted to fight alone, I wanted this mission to be mine. I didn't want to involve anyone else like the last time. I pretty much wouldn't drag Kestis to this godforsaken place even if he asked me to, especially now that we're not on good terms. I could just throw him to the Wookies and let him deal with them, but I wouldn't bring him here.

As I approach the General, he stands tall against me "For once, Grievous, let’s try talking before we start breaking things"

The Kaleesh chuckles "You Jedi always amuse me. What could you possibly offer that would make me spare your miserable lives?"

As I expected, his fingers tightens at my response and he narrows his eyes when I explain what we want.

"You expect me to believe you would trade such a valuable prize? What is the catch, Skywalker?"

"No catch. Just let the refugees from the outpost go. They’re not soldiers, they’re not spies" I try to reason with him, but he knows I'm reckless and I'm always with a move up on my sleeve.

From my comlink, I hear Poe muttering through his device, and I have to shoot him a glare. He shrugs "This guy is really negotiating with a walking trash compactor. Bold move"

Grievous startles me when he ignites his lightsaber "A tempting deal... but I do not negotiate with Jedi" The nearest battle droids raise their weapons. Again, I'm not surprised he refused the offer. Poe sighs and unholsters his blaster.

The fight immediately erupts and blasters fire, lightsabers flash as I try to fight off Grievous while Poe took cover, picking off droids with shots. My blade clashes against his, and I can feel Poe ducking behind me. He peeks out, firing two quick shots that take down a pair of B1 droids.

Things went south, again. My back slams against the wall and the battle droid in front of me tries to get past the door, but Poe surprises him with a swoon of the lightsaber he just found lying on the ground. I feel my left eye almost popping out of my skull, my head keeps pounding, and I'm pretty sure I have too many splits over my face to count.

Somewhere in between the fight, I came across Grievous, who mercilessly tried to twist my guts with his force. I had to use all of my senses to abruptly push him backwards so I could run away. He didn't want to make any trades, he just wanted to win a battle. I had to defend myself and Poe, while the motherfucker could only do such little to help and surprisingly miss his shots at them. My head started spinning as I felt my eyelids become heavy, I could only see through a tunnel vision as it felt heavily blurry. I tried to push myself up, and my knees gave out.

The pilot was screaming my name, shielding himself as much as he could while he tried to pick me up. From then on, I blacked out.

My eyes felt extremely dry as I tried to open them a few times. My body was lying on a soft surface, and my head was lighter than before. I forced myself to stay awake, but the dizziness made me zone out countless times. I couldn't see shit in front of me, just some flashes of figures I couldn't honestly identify. Eventually, I fully awakened and straightened myself on the bed, finally able to take in my surroundings. I was in the medical bay. Poe was in the bed beside me, his face was littered in cuts and there was a nasty slash on his arm, which was covered by numerous stitches.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I turned my head and scanned the place, seeing her in the distance as she looked rather shocked, her arms were folded and her eyebrows were knitted together. I was weak, but my senses still heightened as I felt this presence I haven't felt in years. It made me feel like my heart was almost ripping out of my chest, my ears started ringing again and there was a buzz inside my head. My hands immediately come up to either side of my skull, forcing my eyes shut as I try to balance myself. The high pitched noise increased at each passing second and I felt my nose bleeding. And then it came to an abrupt halt.

I slowly opened my eyes, noticing two figures in front of me. It was her and, the other one I assumed was Cal. But everything around me froze as I watched the other presence, one I had promised myself I would never meet again. One that I swore I wanted dead.

"Anakin!" She shouted before I fell limp on the bed again.

I'm not sure how long it took before I woke up again. This time, it was just him and me. Besides Poe, who was still on a lifelong nap on the other side of the room. I couldn't meet his gaze, the thought of looking up at him was unbearable. My ragged breath filled the air of the room, and my hands shook as I gripped the sheet beneath me tightly.

"You" I sneered, my eyes avoiding his gaze. I noticed he had seemed to lose weight, and his hair was longer than it was before. "You. How dare you come back like nothing happened?"

"Ani, I–"

"Don't you dare say my name like that! You lost your right to call me that long before you left. You're a fucking traitor, that's what you are"

"Anakin, I came back for you. I helped you out there. I know my respect and morals were swiped away, but listen, my young child–"

I cut him off with a scoff "Yeah, you of all the people would really come back for me after years! You said I was your brother, that you loved me. In the past. Don't forget that, Kenobi"

"I know what has been said and done, son. I couldn't just come back when you were so hurt and grieving. And I can still feel you, I can feel you struggling to make peace with yourself. I know you shut me out with the force, but I was never gone. Whatever battle has been happening, it's because you want to make things right"

"Don't lecture me, Obi-Wan" I still couldn't look at him, and my throat burns each time I say his name out loud "You don't fucking know shit about my life anymore. You don't know what my battles are, what I fight for. You didn't care to stay for Luke, my son!"

"I know more than you give me credit for, my young boy. I know you're still in pain, and I know how much you want to protect Luke. You don't have to forgive me. But please, don't torture yourself because of that"

There's dreadful silence filling the air, and my flesh hand became numb from twisting my wrist against the sheet. My nostrils flared, and I felt a sense of uneasiness as he took a few steps forward and placed one hand over mine. It didn't burn, it didn't make me flinch. Instead, it slowed my heartbeat and calmed my bloodstream.

"That young lady" He looks past the door of the medical bay, flicking his eyes at me again "She's not a bad person. She loves your son. She cares about you. She had been waiting for you to wake up for hours. Miss (Y/L/N) isn't afraid of you, Anakin. Don't push her away, because I know you want to"

He retracted his hand, intensely watching me. Something was boiling inside of me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Obi-Wan looked over Poe and smiled at me.

"You've got yourself a good team, don't let that slip away from you"

He disappeared through the door and my breath hitched in my throat. My eyes were burning from tears that threatened to spill, but I wiped them away before I even started to cry. (Y/N) walked in with uncertainty in her steps, carefully scanning me over before walking near my bed.

"I didn't know he was here. He just landed on the hangar so suddenly, walking past everyone and when I noticed the commotion, I couldn't believe it"

I nodded, finally glancing up at her for the first time. She was shocked. I could see her fiddling and she was biting her lip.

"Guess we should give him the award for best fucking actor of the Temple" My words come out bitter and I can feel it in my tongue.

She doesn't extend the subject, reaching for a glass of water and offering it to me. I just then realized I hadn't had water in a long time.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, shuffling on her feet as I hand her the empty glass.

"About what exactly?"

"The fight. Obi-Wan told me they were beating you up, Poe came to your rescue right before you blacked out. He helped Dameron back to the spaceship with you and sent you two to Coruscant"

"Yeah, not as easy as I thought. I was sure I had the upper hand way before Dameron showed up unannounced"

"You're known for your reckless missions, Master. I guess he wanted to make sure you were safe" She gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my fingers twitching.

The unfamiliar feeling of protectiveness I sensed in her washed over me, making me speechless. She brought her hands up to reach my face and I trailed my eyes over her, noticing her hesitance to touch my skin as she examined my injuries. Her fingers lingered on my jawline, ghosting over my forehead. The light touch made me nauseous, but it wasn't negative. It was different from the kind of discomfort I had become used to after everything that had happened to me.

"You're going to survive" She removes her hand from my face, shooting me a bashful smile and I keep looking at her as if I'm under a fucking spell.

"Okay, doctor" My tone comes out somewhat playful and she chuckles at the remark. "Luke, where is he?"

It took me long enough to finally remember my son, and she placed a hand on top of my forearm, giving it a light squeeze.

"Oh, he's great. He came to see you earlier, said you were going to be just fine and left with 3PO"

I roll my eyes and sigh "He's getting used to me being beaten up. What kind of a father am I if I can't come back in pieces from a mission?"

Louis notices the resentment in my tone and gives me a comforting look.

"The kind of father who shows his soon that even the greatest Jedi loses too"

"Are you calling me a loser?" I fake an indignant voice and lift my eyebrows at her. Her face falters and she tries to recover from her comment, but I snort before she says anything back.

"You are insufferable, Skywalker"

"Just please tell him to come see me when you find him, will you?" She nods and excuses herself out of the room.

From the corner of my eye, I can feel Poe with his eyes open, trying to discreetly shift on his bed for his own sake, but failing at it.

"You know I know you have been listening, right?"

He leaves a huff and turns on his side to face me. "Didn't want to interrupt you love birds" He smiles widely and I glare at him.

There's only so much I could take in just one day. Everything started to fall apart the moment I black out in Grievous' ship, and meeting with Obi-Wan after what felt like decades took a turn real quickly. I could never imagine him being there after us, trying to keep us safe. Realizing that he was the one who brought us back and stayed by our side left me completely disoriented. It also struck me how I had treated her just moments ago, when in all honesty I should have backed off instead of leaving her the option to get so close, but I couldn't.

And Kenobi's words kept ringing in my head, a clear sign that he, indeed, knew me more than I gave him credit for.

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