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kabie-whump · 2 months

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♡ Febuwhump Day 22: "You weren't meant to be there." ♡

@febuwhump

Continuation of day 6.

Content: ptsd flashbacks, gun violence, bullet wounds, head wounds

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Stay here. Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me.

Those were the instructions Caretaker had given Whumpee before they ran out of the little supply closet they’d been hiding in. And Whumpee followed them for a little while.

But then the gunfire started.

It echoed loudly, the first one making Whumpee flinch hard and cover their ears. They tried their best to stay put as the sounds of a fight continued on outside, but despite their anger with Caretaker for letting Whumper into their only fucking safe space they didn’t want Caretaker to get shot.

Hands trembling, Whumpee unlocked the closet door and used the handle to pull themselves to their feet. They waited for a lull, for the gunfire to be not so loud and not so close, before they slipped out the door and into the hallway. The emergency lights were on, flashing red as alarms blared. It made Whumpee’s head pound and their vision swim. They had barely just recovered from the monstrous concussion Whumper had given them.

They wandered down the hall, drawn in by the sound of fighting. What were they even doing? They weren’t armed; weren’t any good in hand to hand combat. What did they think they would accomplish by walking into this?

They spotted Caretaker in the lobby, crouched behind a column and clutching their bleeding leg. Whumper must have had backup on hand in case things went south, because the lobby was full of armed people trading bullets with security and Whumpee’s skin crawled as they recognized their clothing-

Black gloved hands, pinning their arms behind their back. Staring into their own terrified eyes in the reflection of a mirrored helmet mask as they were bound so tight that the ropes cut into their wrists.

Shit. Not now. Whumpee clenched their fists, letting the sensation of their nails digging into their palms ground them. They had to get to Caretaker.

Caretaker’s eyes went wide when they saw Whumpee approaching. “Whumpee, no! What are you doing?”

Whumpee made it to their side, kneeling next to them. “You’re hurt. Let me see.”

Caretaker grunted as Whumpee pulled their hand away from the wound. “Get out of here, dumbass. I’ll be fine.”

“Not unless you come with me.”

“I’ll slow you down.”

“Come on.” Whumpee slung Caretaker’s arm over their shoulder, straining to pull them to their feet. Caretaker stumbled and the two almost went down but Whumpee just managed to keep their footing and start hobbling towards the hall they’d come from.

They almost made it.

Just as the pair was about to turn the corner, Whumpee’s shoulder exploded with pain. They were propelled forward a bit, just enough to get them in the safety of the hallway, but the damage had been done.

“Whumpee!”

Everything was fuzzy with pain. The sensation was so familiar it was almost nostalgic, and Whumpee greeted the agony with a tight smile and a stifled scream as Caretaker pressed their hands hard into Whumpee’s now bleeding shoulder blade.

“Damn it,” Caretaker muttered from above them. “You weren’t supposed to be there. Why don’t you ever fucking listen to me?”

“Sorry,” Whumpee slurred, the side of their face squished against the tile floor.

“Don’t- Just… God, Whumpee. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine. Just hold on.”

Whumpee’s vision started to darken around the corners, their hands going cold and prickly.

“Whumpee? Come on. Stay awake.”

…

“Whumpee!”

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#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday22 #febuwhump day 22 #whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #whump ideas #tw gun #tw blood #tw ptsd #whump prompt #recovery whump

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kybercrystals94 · 2 months

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Impeccable Timing

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 22 | Prompt 22: “You weren’t meant to be there.”

Rated: T | Words: 560 | Summary: Crosshair deals with the guilt of friendly fire. [Character Focus: Crosshair, Tech]

The target in his sights moved the moment he pulled the trigger. Gone was the neck shot that would decapitate the battle droid and in its place was the familiar pale gray armor of his brother. There was nothing he could do but watch in horror as the bolt made contact.

His in-helmet comm exploded with entangled voices of panic, but two word’s stood out like a flash-bang. Blinding. Deafening. Lethal. “Tech’s down!”

“Crosshair, will you please look at me?” Tech asked, voice firm but patient.

Crosshair dragged his gaze from his boots and looked at Tech’s face. His younger brother’s expression made him want to cry. But he wouldn’t cry. Not here. Instead, he snarled, “What do you want?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tech said. He indicated the bandage covering half his chest and shoulder. “I want you to stop blaming yourself for this.”

“I don’t,” Crosshair lied.

There was confusion at first, Hunter and Wrecker speculated wildly as they dragged Tech off the field, getting him to cover. They kept asking if Crosshair had seen anything, could see anything. A threat they hadn’t accounted for. How could he tell them that it was friendly fire, a blaster bolt meant for a vanishing enemy. The awful truth.

“Crosshair, do you see anything?” Hunter asked, command voice razor-edged.

The sniper realized that he had not responded to any of the questions. Static in his head blocked out the noise, opting for the sickened mantra: I shot him. I shot him. I shot him.

“I shot him.” The words crowded from his mind to his lips, unbidden.

“What?”

“I shot him,” Crosshair repeated, not to answer Hunter’s shocked question, but because it was the only words he could say. “I shot him.”

“You do,” Tech said, “And if there is anyone who deserves blame, it is myself. I miscalculated my position. I knew better.”

“It’s my job to know where you are. Where all of you are,” Crosshair argued.

Tech considered the counterpoint. “We may be enhanced, Crosshair, but we are still human. Occasional errors are a given. You could not have known that I would block your shot of the battle droid. Had I taken that position only a moment later, I would not have been shot. Had I taken that position a moment earlier, you would have seen that I blocked your shot and not pulled the trigger. It was impeccable timing, really.” He sounded morbidly impressed.

“Impeccable timing? I almost killed you!”

“But I am not dead.”

“No karking thanks to me,” Crosshair spat.

Tech frowned. “I cannot reason with you when you are being overly emotional.”

“I am not–”

Tech put up a hand. “I do not feel this necessary nor warranted, but I forgive you, Crosshair, for any wrongdoing you feel you have done against me.”

The enhanced marksman deflated.

“I shot you,” Crosshair whispered.

“I know,” Tech said, “but I trust you, Cross. This event does not negate that. We live dangerous lives by literal design. It is the nature of war, and it is our nature as soldiers.”

Crosshair nodded, his throat constricted. “I’d better never see any of you at the other end of my scope again,” he growled. He pretended his voice didn’t crack.

Tech played along. “We shall do our best to keep out of the way,” he said with a smile.

END

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#Febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday22 #prompt 22: you weren’t meant to be there #star wars #the bad batch #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tech whump #crosshair needs a hug #brothers

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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 2 months

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Day 22: Human Weapon / Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

@febuwhump prompt Alt 4: Human Weapon @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Omega, Crosshair, Hunter Set when they are all living happily on Pabu Word Count: ~2440 Read Here on A03

Synopsis: Omega wants to celebrate her friend's birthday, and finds out Crosshair's thoughts on the subject.

100% inspired by the fact I baked cupcakes for Season 3 launch day

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Crosshair leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Omega through eyed narrowed in suspicion. The clone girl was up to her elbows in ingredients, packets and boxes discarded messily around her as she focussed with forceful concentration on the large mixing bowl.

Omega’s hands, arms and apron were all streaked with powdery white debris from where she had tipped the bag of flour with too much enthusiasm, and she spread the mess to her face when she tried to wipe her hair out of her eyes with the back of her arm.

“I don’t know why you’re going to all this trouble,” Crosshair said with a deprecating edge of boredom to his voice. “What’s the point?”

He reached out and snagged a party snack from a nearby platter, cubes of cheese and pineapple skewered neatly on wooden cocktail sticks. Omega smacked his retreating hand with the back of her mixing spoon; he grinned unrepentantly and held her gaze whilst devouring the dainty snack and turning the cocktail stick in his mouth like a toothpick.

“Crosshair! Those are for the party guests!” Omega scolded, putting down her current utensil and whisking the platter out of Crosshair’s reach.

Crosshair merely shrugged, licking the batter residue of her assault from his hand before folding his arms.

“And the point is, it’s Lyana’s birthday! We’re going to celebrate. I told Shep I would make the cake.”

“You don’t know how to make cake,” said Crosshair bluntly.

Omega grit her teeth and returned to her bowl, starting to mix again. “That’s why I’m following a recipe,” she told him, in the tone of voice one uses with someone struggling to grasp a simple concept.

Crosshair scooped up a broken eggshell and inspected it. It had taken Omega five minutes to fish the remnants of the shell out of the cake batter earlier when she had misjudged the force needed to crack the egg into the bowl.

“Still don’t see why you’re bothering,” he said, turning to toss the eggshell into the bin with precision accuracy. “It’s not like Lyana’s ever going to do something like this for you.”

“Why not?” said Omega grumpily.

“You’re a clone,” was Crosshair’s flat reply. “Clones don’t have birthdays.”

Omega paused in her task, looking up at him with wide brown eyes.

“Birthdays are a stupid nat-born tradition,” continued Crosshair, glaring about at the mess in the kitchen. “All this fuss over one day. They get older every day, and yet make such a noise about marking this one day in particular.” He jabbed a finger in Omega’s direction. “You don’t have a birthday. Lyana is never going to make cake for you. So why bother doing this for her?”

For a moment Omega just stared at him, mouth hanging open in shock as she processed his unexpected diatribe. Then she returned to her mix with renewed ferocity, scraping the spoon along the edges of the bowl and scooping the batter out into the waiting cake tin.

“We get decanted,” she said, a little crossly. “That’s like being born.”

Crosshair barked a bitter laugh. “What are you going to do, celebrate your decanting anniversary?”

“I could!” Omega snapped back, fixing him with a glare before returning to levelling the cake batter. “We all could! Some of Echo’s reg friends from the 501st do. I heard him talking to them about it. They invited him to Coruscant, but he couldn’t go because Tech was upgrading the Marauder.”

Crosshair sniffed and tightened his arms across his chest. Omega didn’t miss the defensive movement, or the way his shoulders rose towards his ears with ill-concealed tension.

Taking a deep breath, Omega shook her thoughts and concentrated on the next step in the cake procedure. She carefully sheathed her hands in the protective heat-mitts before opening the oven, and even more carefully lifted the cake tin down onto the wire shelf.

When she straightened up she took the mitts off and threw one of them at Crosshair.

“Why don’t you want to celebrate your decanting day?” she asked, in that special voice he knew she saved for when she wouldn’t back down from a fight. “What’s so bad about it?”

“For starters, I’m an elite clone commando, not a child,” Crosshair drawled, and the second mitt followed the first. Crosshair dodged, but didn’t break a smile. His face had settled into a familiar frown that they had been seeing less of of late, and Omega paused and walked round to stand beside him instead.

“You can tell me, Crosshair,” she said, leaning her shoulder against his side. He didn’t respond immediately, so she let her head rest against his upper arm as well. “Why don’t you want to talk about your decanting day?”

Crosshair huffed and shrugged her off, so she returned to standing, looking up at him expectantly. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, teeth clenching hard around the toothpick as he chewed on his answer.

“I don’t know about the regs,” he said at length, voice soft and sibilant above the hum of the oven, “but for enhanced clones, your decanting day anniversary was a day for the Kaminoans to take you and test you, measure you, make sure you were developing as expected…” He trailed off, shaking his head sharply as though it could dispel the memories. He scrunched his eyes shut, head dropping forwards. “It was a convenient day for them to check you were on target. If you weren’t performing adequately, or if they found a defect…”

When he trailed off Omega reached out tentatively, trying to rest her small, messy hand over his. Crosshair flinched his hand out of reach.

“We were designed to be human weapons,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Decanting day was when they performed their quality control checks.”

Omega could see the tremor that had set up in his tall frame, and made another attempt to capture his hand. This time she twined her sticky cake-batter fingers through his, taking his arm from where it was folded across his chest and letting it drop between them as they stood side by side, both looking forwards at the messy kitchen counter rather than at each other.

“I’m sorry that you had to be scared of that, Crosshair,” she said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she spoke.

Crosshair’s fingers twitched in return. He didn’t return the pressure of her hand, but it was something, and at least this time he wasn’t trying to pull away.

“We’re on Pabu now,” Omega continued, her voice lighter. “No more tests. For any of us.” She gave a small smile. “Just Lyana’s birthday party.”

Crosshair grunted a noise that might have been agreement. Then he took his hand back from hers, wiping the stickiness off on her shoulder.

“Ew, Crosshair!” Omega protested. “I’m wearing an apron for a reason!”

“You should clean up this mess before Hunter gets home,” said Crosshair, gesturing at the kitchen. “Maybe wash the flour out your hair too.”

Omega heaved a sigh, brushed her hands down the front of her apron, and began to clean up.

“Crosshair, the cake… it’s stuck…”

Crosshair peered over with feigned disinterest. Omega shook the cake-tin hard, only for the top of it to break away and land in a fragmented pile on the cooling rack, whilst the base stayed resolutely stuck inside the cake tin.

Omega gasped in dismay and turned the tin over, inspecting the damaged remains of her baking attempt. Crosshair picked up the datapad she had been using, skimming the recipe.

“Did you remember to grease the cake tin before you poured the batter in?” he asked drily.

Omega groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m going to have to do the whole thing again.”

“Looks like it.” Crosshair checked the chrono on the datapad. “Better hurry it up, too. You haven’t got long before the party.”

Reluctantly, but with a sense of urgency, Omega began to retrieve the baking ingredients and equipment she had so carefully stowed and washed up. Crosshair watched with the faintest smile as she began the process again.

Lyana’s birthday party went late into the night. Long after the children were dozing the adults sat and talked and drank and laughed.

Omega curled up at the end of Lyana’s bed, both girls chatting before conversation lapsed into sleepy yawns, and eventually quiet. Omega was vaguely aware of the door opening, and being lifted from her position on top of Lyana’s covers and held close against a warm, familiar torso.

“Kid’s tired out,” came Hunter’s voice, his usually gruff tone softened with a smile.

“Worked herself to exhaustion baking two birthday cakes,” came a snarky, sibilant reply, and Omega smiled into Hunter’s shoulder at Crosshair’s presence.

The gentle swaying motion of being carried against Hunter’s body was enough to keep her lulled at the edge of sleep, but the cool night air tugged at her consciousness to stop her dropping off completely. Omega nestled closer to Hunter’s chest and kept her eyes closed as she listened to the brothers talk.

“Omega wants her own birthday celebration,” Crosshair told Hunter after a while. He sounded dubious as he said it.

Hunter breathed a snort. “What for?”

“That’s what I said. She said we should celebrate our decanting day anniversary.”

A ripple of tension passed through Hunter’s body. Omega stilled her breath, listening to the way his heart-rate spiked. Her fingers curled a little in his scarf, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed she was awake.

“Hardly a day to celebrate,” muttered Hunter.

Omega felt them slow to a halt. She risked peeking one eye open, trying to see what was happening. Hunter was staring distantly at the dark ocean around the island, and Crosshair was stood beside him with one hand on the back of his brother’s shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly up and down the nape of Hunter’s neck.

“You’re still here,” he murmured. The hand stilled, then squeezed his shoulder.

“Almost wasn’t,” breathed Hunter softly.

Crosshair’s voice was neutral. “I know.”

A few moments of silence. Then Hunter drew a shuddering breath and started walking again.

“So Omega wants a decanting day party.”

“Yeah.”

A short head-shake.

“I don’t know. It brings back a lot of memories.”

They stopped again. Now Omega felt herself being lifted from Hunter’s arms, before Crosshair gently laid her down on a bench.

She opened her eyes and watched as Crosshair returned to his brother, folding both arms around him and drawing him into a close embrace. Hunter buried his face in Crosshair’s shoulder, hands grabbing fistfuls of his brother’s shirt, and Cross stroked one hand through Hunter’s hair, humming soothingly.

“We’re on Pabu now,” he whispered, and Omega recognised her own words. “No more tests. For any of us.”

Crosshair tilted the mixing bowl towards Omega, an annoyed scowl on his face. “Is this mixed enough?”

Omega rolled her eyes and pushed the bowl back to him. “No! Look, you can still see lumps of butter, and all these sugar crystals. It has to be beaten properly.”

“What does that even mean?” growled Crosshair in annoyance.

“It means mix until smooth and fully combined,” Omega told him patiently. “When that’s done, you can add the eggs.”

“At least I’ll remember to grease the tin,” the sniper muttered as he returned to beating the mixture. Omega leaned her elbows on the counter, watching him with a smile.

“Why did you decide you wanted to learn to bake, anyway?” she asked cheerily.

An uncharacteristic flush spread across Crosshair’s cheeks and he narrowed his eyes, concentrating fully on the task in front of him. “No reason,” he said, a lie so obvious it made it hard to question.

Crosshair’s impatience was clear as Omega talked him through the rest of the recipe, including turning up the temperature on the oven in the hope that the cake would cook faster. Omega rescued the situation when she smelled the charcoal scent of burning batter, turning the oven back down and opening the door to let the curling smoke escape.

Crosshair glared at the finished cake, blackened round the edges, as it cooled on the wire rack.

“It’s awful,” he declared in annoyance.

“It’ll be fine once you cut these bits off,” said Omega, sawing at the burnt sections with a knife. “Or, you could start again–”

“This one will be fine.”

Crosshair tracked Hunter down to the docks, where the former sergeant was helping unload the fishing vessels as they came in. He grabbed his brother without explanation, pulling him to one side.

“What’s the matter, Crosshair?” asked Hunter, concerned, a feeling which only grew when Crosshair refused to meet his eyes.

“I made this for you,” muttered the sniper sullenly, extending a shallow card box about a foot across. Hunter took it with a puzzled look.

“Open it then,” snapped Crosshair, turning away and folding his arms. His frame was written with the kind of tension that spoke of protecting vulnerabilities, and Hunter raised his eyebrows in soft amusement.

Cracking open the box lid did nothing to ease his confusion. “You got me a cake?” he asked, then recalled his brother’s words. “You… made me a cake.”

He lifted the lid all the way off, inspecting the trimmed edges, still crusted with a small burnt sections here and there. The top of the cake had been messily iced with an uneven layer of buttercream, but on top of that in a contrasting icing colour was a very precisely piped version of his familiar half-skull tattoo.

“It’s stupid,” said Crosshair quickly, like he needed to insult his own creation before Hunter could. “But I thought…”

He trailed off, then fished a toothpick out of his pocket and chewed on it anxiously.

Hunter waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t he prompted, “What did you think, Cross?”

Crosshair huffed in annoyance, glaring out over the sea as he spoke. “It’s your decanting day,” he muttered. “I thought… maybe if I made it special, maybe if you had a cake, like a nat-born birthday… then it’d be a nicer thing for you to think about than remembering the year you were almost decommissioned.”

Hunter looked at the cake for a moment, then up at his brother, a soft smile touching the corners of his lips.

“Did you bring a knife to cut it with?”

The relieved exhale Crosshair gave released some of the tension from his frame. “You… you want to eat it?”

Hunter grinned and nudged his shoulder to his brother’s.

“Yeah,” he said, “but only if I can share it with you.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday22 #febuwhumpalt4 #human weapon #badthingshappenbingo #worked themselves to exhaustion #posting at quarter past midnight #because anytime after midnight is technically febuwhump day 22 morning #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #omega and crosshair #hunter and crosshair #baking cakes on pabu #what more can you want

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simpforchuchu · 2 months

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hi i have a request !! i'd like something about binzo, i don't have much idea for a storyline but i love every thing with him 😭

i love your writing 💞

Trap

Prompts: DAY 22 - “you weren’t meant to be there” @febuwhump Characters: Binzo x reader Fandom: High and Low

A/n for this fic: It’s been really very long time but I wanted to write this one. I was keeping this request for the prompt challenge.Im sorry for being too late but I hope you like it 🥺💜

A/n for prompts: Hello guys! This is my first time trying a prompt challenge. I hope you like the short fics I wrote. I will finish them by writing some of the requests I have. I love you 💜

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: mention of fights, knives, injuries, blood

Binzo was generally an unthinking person. He was famous for his sudden reflexes, fights or suddenly jumping from some places. He was unpredictable.

Y/n was the exact opposite of him. She always thought about her every move in advance and planned everything. She was aware of the danger of her work and hated being looked down upon.

Binzo and Y/n were not a good duo. Whenever the two were around each other they would always argue or at best teasing each other.

But today was not one of those days. Neither of them were acting like themselves.

Even though Binzo loved messing with her, he loved Y/n. She was a dear friend to him, even his first love. Y/n's feelings were also same. She loved that crazy boy. They just didn't get along but she enjoyed the moments when he argued with her.

The young girl was collecting information for the surrounding gangs, as usual. After visiting Suzuran, she was startled by the message she received on her phone. Someone was telling her that he would give her information about Binzo and to come to an address.

Y/n wasn't stupid, she knew this could be a trap. But when it came to Binzo, she wasn't afraid to take risks.

Binzo was sure that the young girl was acting strange that day. He had a feeling she was hiding something, and he wasn't wrong.

When evening came, y/n went to that address despite all her doubts. Of course Binzo also followed her secretly.

At first, it wasn't like what y/n expected. Someone told her that Binzo would be targeted and he left. But what she didn't expect was that they actually lured Binzo into a trap.

When Y/n wanted to leave, many gang members appeared around her. She knew she was trapped. She wanted to take out the pocket knife from her pocket, but she had an uninvited guest.

Binzo entered the crowd without thinking. He wouldn't even let them touch Y/n. But he didn't know that this trap was not for her, but for him.

When the fight started, Y/n realized that they were targeting Binzo. Even though she knew that the boy they attacked with sticks was strong, it was not difficult to understand that the people in front of her were cheating.

The young girl fearlessly took out the pocket knife from her pocket and pulled the nearby leader towards her. She called out to the people in front of her with the knife she held to his throat.

“If you don't leave here immediately, I will cut your leader's throat.”

The fight had stopped, silence reigned. No one knew if Y/n would do this, but the leader looked scared. That's why they chose to retreat.

After they left, Y/n looked at the boy sitting on the ground watching her. The boy, to whom she turned her head in fear, was grinning with a very calm face.

They were both silent as they walked home. Binzo was injured but in good condition. Y/n was supporting him as he walked.

This silence became unbearable after a while. While they were waiting to see who would speak first, it was the young boy who broke the silence.

“You weren’t meant to be there.”

Y/n looked at the boy as if to say are you serious and sighed.

“I guess I should say the same thing about you?”

Binzo grinned and shook his head

“I have to say you looked pretty cool though.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned back to the front. She knew that she liked this compliment, but she would never admit it...

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx @ninamarie1994 @emperorsnero @koala-yuna @little-miss-naill

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday22 #febuwhump 2024 #high and low #high&low #high and low fic #hnl #high and low the worst #high and low the worst x #suzuran binzo x reader #suzuran binzo #binzo x reader #binzo #kouzou miyauchi x reader #kouzou miyauchi #miyauchi kouzou #miyauchi kōzō #suzuran raoh faction #high and low suzuran

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alicewritingstories · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 22: "You weren't meant to be there"

CW: Injury, mention of kidnapping

Continues Day 21

AO3

---

Twilight had successfully set Four's arm, but he was still unconscious, lying limp in Wind's hand. Wind looked down at him, his throat tight.

"Do… should we get Hyrule?" he asked.

Twilight let out a huff of breath. "Let me try one more thing," he said, pulling out a water bottle. "It's pretty straightforward, but I'm always surprised by how often it works. The trick is going to be not getting him too wet…" He tipped some water into one hand, then used his fingertip to flick some onto Four's face.

After a few attempts, Four's expression twitched. Wind let out a breath he'd not realized he was holding.

"Four?" he called softly.

Four's eyes opened as Twilight flicked a bit more water onto his face. He started to move to swat the water away, but cried out in a small, high voice as the motion jostled his broken arm.

"Easy!" Twilight steadied him with a finger. "Your arm's broken. Can you take potion in this form?"

Four winced. "Is Wind OK?"

"I'm right here," said Wind with a grin.

Four raised his eyes towards him and relaxed. "Good… they didn't hurt you, did they?"

"Yeah, who's 'they'?" asked Twilight. "All Wind told me is that someone threw you on the floor."

Four shifted and yelped.

"OK," said Twilight. "Before that, let's get you healed. Can we give you a little bit of potion, or…"

"Yes, but… take a look around and see if you can find a minish portal. It's what I use to change size. It should look like a spiderweb crack, maybe on a rock or under an upturned pot or something like that."

Twilight nodded. "Wind, you stay there and keep your hand as steady as possible. I'll go search."

Wind nodded, steadying the hand holding Four with his free hand. Twilight hurried off and started looking under bushes and in corners.

"I'm sorry, Wind," said Four softly. "I knew there might be some people still around who remembered what happened when… after I drew the Four Sword, but I didn't mean to involve any of you."

"So they were looking for you?" asked Wind. "Why did they call you a demon?"

"It was a misunderstanding," said Four, his eyes drifting closed for a moment. "I'd rather not go into what happened. Just… I didn't want you to get hurt. You weren't meant to be there. In that situation."

"Well, I'm glad I was," said Wind firmly. "Otherwise there would have been nobody to find you after that guy threw you on the ground. Now you stay awake, OK?"

Four smiled slightly. "Thanks."

Twilight came running back. "I think I found one," he said. "Come on." He planted a foot to turn and hurry back the way he'd come. Wind followed, trotting as steadily as he could. Even so, Four's eyes screwed closed in agony.

Twilight pointed to a rock by a wall and Wind knelt down to hold Four towards the cracks he could see at the back. Four looked up and nodded. "Yes… that's one," he said. "Just.. help me climb into it?"

Wind wasn't sure how to do that, given how bad his broken arm was, but tipped him towards it, aiming his feet towards it.

As soon as Four slid down his hand and his feet touched the crack, there was a sudden surge of magic. Wind reeled back as Four suddenly appeared in front of him, full-sized.

At once, he clutched at his arm and his knees buckled. Twilight just managed to catch him and support him as he crumpled to the ground.

"Wind, potion," he snapped.

Wind pulled his bag open and rummaged through it to grab one of the reassuring red bottles. He handed it to Twilight, who tipped it to Four's lips, apparently confident that he was conscious enough to swallow.

Wind watched, gnawing his lip, as the potion went down and the sluggish bleeding from Four's arm eased. At last, the potion was done.

"You still there, Smithy?" asked Twilight.

Four sighed and opened his eyes. "Still here," he said and smiled at both of them. "Thanks."

Wind laughed with relief. "You have to tell me how you did that!" he exclaimed.

"That can wait," said Twilight firmly. "You two are coming with me to let the others know you're OK and then you're going to explain what happened."

Wind sighed. He didn't want to explain how he'd gotten himself kidnapped, but there was no help for it. He nodded. "Yeah, fair enough."

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday22 #linked universe #linked universe whump #lu wind #lu twilight #lu four #cw: injury

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em-writes-stuff · 2 months

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"you weren't meant to be there"

day 22 of @febuwhump

sidekick and hero

694 words

warnings: gunfire, shot in the leg, cursing

Sidekick stumbles out of the building, hands held against her ears. The gunfire in the building is drowned out by ringing in her ears and she leans heavily against a wall. She pants, trying to catch her breath. Shakily, she stands up straight and makes her way to her car.

She turns the key and turns her phone on and calls Hero.

“Hello?” he says.

“Hey, Hero. It’s me. I need you to come pick me up, I’m out of gas.”

“For sure!” He says. “Where are you?”

“Turn the news on? Behind the building.” she says, looking out of the window nervously.

“What buildi-” Hero starts to ask before cutting himself off. “What are you doing there? I told you to stay home today, Sidekick.”

“You…knew this was going to happen?” Sidekick asks. “How could you know?”

“That…doesn’t matter right now. I’ll explain everything when I come to get you. Just…stay put and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t move.” he hangs up and Sidekick stares at the screen of her phone.

She turns the phone off and sets it on the passenger seat. The gunfire still echoes from the building and she puts her hands to her ears again, hoping that it blocks the sound. She squeezes her eyes shut and pulls her legs to her chest.

A sharp pain shoots through her leg. She grunts in pain and opens her eyes. There’s a bloody hole in her pants.

“Shit.” she curses.

There’s not a lot of blood, but it’s enough for Sidekick to feel faint. She takes a deep breath and holds both of her hands over the wound. Blood trickles from around her hand and she looks up at the sky, “Please hurry, Hero.”

There’s a knock on her window and Sidekick opens the door.

“Took you long enough.” she says, trying to mask the fear in her voice.

Hero forces a smile and hooks his arm around her waist. “Let’s get to my car before you berate me?”

“Careful of my leg, I was shot.” she says, hobbling alongside him.

“You were shot?!” He says, panic leaching into his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me that on the phone?”

She opens the car door and slides onto the seat, “I hadn’t noticed yet. Just…help me out of this damn car.”

Slowly, the pair makes their way to Hero’s car and he sets Sidekick in the passenger seat as gently as he can. She hisses in pain and pulls her leg up to her chest, putting her foot on the dashboard.

Hero slides into his seat and looks at her, “Come on, really? On the dashboard?”

“It’ll slow the bleeding.” Sidekick snaps back. “Idiot.”

Hero huffs and drives away, leaving the smoking building behind.

“How did you know?” Sidekick asks, turning to look at Hero.

He stares ahead, swerving around news trucks and police cars. Sidekick stares at him, eyes boring into his head.

“Why were you there? You weren’t meant to be there.” Hero says after a minute. “I told you to stay away today.”

“Right. Because I always have to listen to you.” she retorts. “How’d you know?”

“I planned it. Villain has always met with everyone who supports him on the same day, same place, same time. The plan was to listen in, nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

“Thank goodness for those guns they brought then, huh?” she snaps.

Hero parks the car in the driveway and gets out. He opens the passenger door and helps Sidekick out of the car. “Those were just in case. Nobody was supposed-”

“To get hurt. Yeah, yeah. You said that already.” Sidekick interrupts. “Doesn’t change the fact that dozens of people were killed today.”

Hero helps her sit down on the couch and calls Medic into the living room. Sidekick props her leg up on the coffee table and pulls a pillow over her stomach.

Medic flies out of his room and plants himself next to Sidekick.

“If you’ve got this covered,” Hero says, already turning down the hallway. “I’ll be in my room.”

Medic looks at Sidekick quizzically and she shrugs. “I’ll tell you later.”

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday22 #you weren't meant to be there #hero caretaker #sidekick whump #sidekick whumpee #tw gun mention #em writes #em writes stuff #my writing #whump #whump fic #whumpee #whump writing

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librathefangirl · 2 months

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Febuwhump 2024: Day 22 - "You weren't meant to be there"

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday22 #libra's febuwhump 2024 #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #nnt #sds #7ds #meliodas nnt #sins found family #nnt edit #libra creates

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azucar-skull · 2 months

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@febuwhump day 22, "You weren't meant to be there"

Check out Feral Casey AU, releasing this spring!

Day 21 << Day 23 >>

Usagi never asked for a little sister. Hana just sort of...became that.

When Usagi first found her in that Kraang infested place, she was all alone. Who was he to leave her? Usagi told Hana that he could take her to the Resistance, a safe haven. And well...the rest was history.

During their travels, Usagi encountered an old friend. ...She's seen better days. She has looked better too.

And funny enough, she was traveling with a child too. Poor kid looked...hungry.

Usagi got into a fight with his old friend.

But Hana got caught in the crossfire.

...

Her ears were bleeding.

*strolls away, whistling*

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday22 #feral casey au #feral casey au rottmnt #fcau rottmnt #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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aquietwritingcorner · 2 months

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You Weren't Meant to be There

Title: You Weren’t Meant to be There Day: Febuwhump 2024, Day 22 Prompt: You Weren’t Meant to be There Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 1626 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: Splinter, Donatello Warning: SAINW Summary: Splinter had noticed that multiple times a night Donatello has gotten up, checking on each of his family members as they sleep. But as Donatello makes his third round of the night, Splinter decides it’s time to see just what is plaguing his son. Notes: ff.net || AO3

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You Weren’t Meant to be There

It wasn’t too unusual for Splinter to hear his sons up and around during the night. When they were younger, he paid more attention to it, making sure that they didn’t need anything and that they were alright. As they had grown, though, he had become more hands off, letting them set their own schedules and trusting them to come to him if they had a need.

Of course, this often led to things like all night video game binges, Michelangelo’s movie marathons, Donatello’s late lab hours, late nights out, and noisy nights in. Truthfully, Splinter didn’t mind too much. As long as his sons were responsible and they took the consequences of their actions, he was fine with it. It let them learn their own boundaries.

Of course, there were other reasons for his sons being awake at night, reasons which had only started after his sons had started going topside, especially after their first real brush with death, when Leonardo had been injured so badly. Ever since then, it hadn’t been unusual to find a son up, occupied with his thoughts, or one checking on the others, not able to sleep until he knew his family was alright.

Yet seldom did they come check on him. He heard them outside of his door, certainly, and he tried to breathe a little louder, or shuffle around some, just to reassure them that he was fine. It was usually enough, and the son in question would walk away, seemingly mollified that he was alive and alright.

However, for the past week, that hadn’t been enough for Donatello. His son would come to his door and listen. Splinter would shuffled around a little, and then settle down, but Donatello wouldn’t leave. Inevitably, he would slip the door open as quietly as possible, angling his body to block as much of the light as possible from entering his room, and he would just stare at Splinter for a while. And then, he would leave, although Splinter always had the feeling that Donatello wasn’t satisfied, even when he left.

He did the same thing with his brothers, checking on them and staring at them at night. He even followed them around during the day, to a certain degree. However, for the past week, Donatello had checked on them all multiple times throughout the night. He never spoke of it in the morning, and neither did anyone else, but Splinter was aware of it. He had the feeling that, if he had been able to, his son would have put them all in the same room to sleep together with no explanation given, and even then, not been satisfied.

Splinter was positive that it was because of where Drako and the Daimyo’s Son had sent Donatello. Donatello hadn’t been very forthcoming about where he had been sent in the beginning, or perhaps not very coherent about it, but his distress had been very real. When he had finally told them what had happened, it was to the horror of the rest of his family. They had reassured him, of course, and even piled together, but after everyone drifted back to their own rooms, these nightly checks had begun.

Perhaps it was time for Splinter to do something about them.

Once again, Splinter heard his son’s feet approaching his room. This was the third time tonight, and Splinter was about time to put a stop to it.

This time, when Donatello stood outside of his room, Splinter gave no extra indications of his status. Donatello paused and, sooner than normal, and with a bit of panic to his movements, Donatello slid his door open. This time, though, instead of feigning sleep, after a moment, Splinter sat up and turned around, catching his son in the act. Donatello froze, his eyes wide as his father stared at him. For a moment, neither one of them said anything.

“My son,” Splinter said, sitting up more fully. “This is the third time tonight you have checked on me, and you have done so at least once every night this week. Come. Tell me why you are doing this.”

For the briefest of seconds, panic played across Donatello’s face. Never the most emotionally open of his sons, and often aware of the impact his words could have, Donatello kept a lot of things to himself, not wanting to share them or cause his family distress. But Splinter saw the panic turn to emotion, and Donatello brought himself in Splinter’s room, closing the door behind him. He hesitated for a moment, but then made his way to Splinter’s bed, sitting himself down on it, facing his father.

However, he did not look at Splinter, instead keeping his head bowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a soft, quiet voice.

Splinter felt his heart hurt for his son. So much was conveyed in that tone, and all of it was far, far too heavy. He reached out, placing his hands on Donatello’s face, gently caressing it before reaching up to untie the mask his son still had on.

“My son, you have nothing to apologize for,” Splinter said as he removed the mask. “I only want to know why you feel the need to check on your family so often.”

Donatello let his father take off his mask, and blinked up at his father when he was done. It made Splinter’s heart twist a little more. He looked so young without his mask, like the child that used to come to him to scare the monsters away. Now his son was the one checking to make sure that the monsters hadn’t gotten his father.

“I…” Donatello’s voice was watery, and his breath shaky. “I just—I have to make sure. I… when I dream, it’s not good. It’s never good,” he said. “All I see is that world and what happened there and I just—I need—I can’t—”

His voice grew choked with unshed tears, and Splinter reached out again, laying a hand on his son’s cheek. “And you need to check on us,” he finished for him.

Donatello trembled under his hand, but he nodded. “I keep thinking—why was I sent to that world? Mikey was needed to help the superheroes in the one he went to. Raph helped to expose a scheme that would have killed people. Leo prevented a coup that would have had disastrous effects. And obviously I was there to help them take down the Shredder, but—” his breath hitched again. “What if—what if I was also there to make sure this doesn’t happen here? What if I’m supposed to prevent this? What if I was sent there as a warning and I need to make sure that it doesn’t happen and that nothing leads up to it and—”

He was spiraling. Splinter could clearly see that Donatello was spiraling into all of the possible scenarios that could exist. His trembling was getting worse, the tears were beginning to spill over, and he was beginning to hyperventilate. Splinter reached up again, and quietly shushed his son.

“Donatello. My son, breathe. In, hold it, and out. Yes, yes that’s good. In, hold it, and out. In, hold it, and out,” Splinter said, keeping his voice calm and soothing. “Keep doing that and listen to me. My son, you were not meant to be there.”

Donatello’s breath hitched. “But—all of us. We got sent to places where we could help! And—”

Splinter shushed him again. “No. You were thrown to places where you were able to help. But you were not sent there. You were not sent with a purpose.”

Donatello took in another shaky breath. “But—Lord Simultaneous. He—he said that the Time Scepter, that it has a mind of its own and can weigh good against evil, and—”

“And it was being controlled, at that time, by someone who wanted to use it for evil purposes—and did so,” Splinter said. “He wanted to cause all of us harm, so he—or they—controlled the staff to send all of us away. But you and your brothers were never meant to be a part of the story of the worlds you visited. Perhaps, if you had not been there, things would have ended differently. Or perhaps they would have ended the same. We don’t know. But Donatello, my son, look at me.”

Don looked at Splinter, his eyes wide, scared, trusting. Splinter cupped his face and wiped away the tears, even as more fell.

“You were not meant to be there. You were not sent for some grand purpose. You are not responsible for keeping this family together, nor for preventing Shredder from taking over either here or the Utroms.” Splinter made sure he had Donatello’s full attention. “An enemy sent you there. And you were able to help them. But you were never meant to be there, Donatello. You were never meant to go through this pain.”

Donatello wavered in his father’s hold, and then his face crumpled, tears falling as he openly cried. Splinter drew his son to him, bringing his head to rest on his shoulder and curling his arms around his son’s shell, holding him as tightly as he could. He whispered soothing words, both in English and in Japanese, and held his son as he wept, hoping he would take his words to heart.

Donatello was never meant to be there. He was never meant to see what he did, to hold the blame and the trauma that he was, or to experience what he did. And Splinter would forever hold a grudge against the forces that put his son where he was never, ever, meant to be.

#febuwhump2024 #FebuwhumpDay22 #TMNT #TMNT 2003 #TMNT 2k3 #SAINW #tmnt donatello #TMNT Splinter #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fan fiction

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across-violet-skies · 2 months

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Febuwhump day 22: "you weren't meant to be there"

Whumpees: Sky & Wild

Whump Rating: 2/10

TWs: violence, explosions, blood

Sky ducked as a sword slashed through the air over his head, eyes carefully tracking the monster’s movement as it tried to attack him. The knight tightened his grip on Fi, swinging her low to hit the monster’s ankles. It howled and stumbled back, ankles spouting blood as it fell with a loud thump. Now, it was certainly out for the count, but Sky wasn’t cruel, not even to monsters. With a shout, he leapt into the air, letting gravity bring him down so Fi could plunge into the beast’s chest.

Sky let his gaze sweep over the battlefield. He had ventured a good distance away, but there were still a ton of monsters swarming his brothers. Warriors was slicing large numbers of Bokoblins down like it was nobody’s business, Legend was dual-wielding fire and ice rods, and Hyrule was taking full advantage of his Fire and Jump spells. Wind and Four were back-to-back, using each other as cover, while Time was using his heavy sword to his advantage. Twilight was… well, somewhere. That wolf of his was ripping tails off of Lizalfos, so he was probably somewhere close. And Wild…

There was an excited shout as Wild leapt from a tree, bomb arrows nocked and ready to shoot. Time seemed to slow down as the Champion shot three of them at once, eyes locking with Sky’s and widening at the sight.

There was barely any time for the Skyloftian to react before heat was billowing out toward him, slamming him backward with surprising force. His head hit the ground, causing spots to dance in his vision.

“-y! Sky!” Wild was standing nearby, yelling his name nervously. The Champion grunted, sharp sounds of clashing swords ringing in Sky’s ears. He blinked dazedly, holding a hand to his head as he slowly sat up. Everything was blurry, but he could make out the form of Wild fighting some tall blue thing. It was taken down quickly as Wild ran to his side, coming into focus as he got closer.

“Sky!” Wild exclaimed, hands hovering over him helplessly. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think… you weren’t meant to be there! You weren’t meant to get hurt! I assumed you were over with the others, and then I saw you and it was too late and-”

“Wild,” Sky murmured, shaking his head. It made the world spin around him, so the knight closed his eyes with a grimace. “It’s okay. I’m fine, just a little banged up.”

The Champion wasn’t convinced. “But-”

“Is everyone else okay?” Sky interrupted, cutting Wild off before he could spiral.

Wild paused, nodding. “...I think so. A couple of them are still fighting, um…” He paused, presumably to take a look back at the rest of their group. “‘Rulie’s healing Four, but it doesn’t seem too serious.” He turned back, fingers twitching as he wrung his hands anxiously. “Are you okay? I’m really sorry.”

“I’m alright,” Sky assured. “Nothing a bit of healing can’t fix.” Then, as an afterthought: “...and maybe a nap.”

Wild’s bark-like laugh was sharp and more relieved than actually amused, but it seemed to be enough. “We can do that. Actually, I think…” He grabbed his slate, tapping around to produce a bottle full of red liquid. “Here. It’s not a red potion, but… it should help.”

Sky smiled, accepting the bottle. He drank a little over half of it, sighing as his vision cleared up and his ears stopped ringing. “Much better. Thanks.”

The Champion waved his hands in an “X” pattern, shaking his head vigorously. “No, no, you shouldn’t be thanking me… I’m the reason you got hurt in the first place.”

The Skyloftian shrugged. “Well, you didn’t know. It’s not like you saw me and decided to shoot anyway.”

“Well-” Wild faltered, brows furrowing. “Yeah, but-”

“That’s all that matters.” Sky held his hand up. “I’m okay, you’re okay, and most of the monsters are dead.”

“...I’ll be more careful next time, I promise,” the Champion mumbled, offering a hand.

Sky chuckled, letting himself get pulled to his feet. “That would be appreciated.” He smiled. “But don’t worry about it, okay? It’s in the past now.”

Wild cracked the smallest smile, nodding. “...Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

–> support me on ao3!

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday22 #tw violence #tw blood #tw explosion #linked universe #lu sky #lu wild #linked universe fanfic #ao3 #riv writes

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such-a-random-rambler · 2 months

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Febuwhump - Day 22

The hangers are a state, Two’s skidded entry knocking over spare parts and work benches and scraping along the rocky walls. She lies at the end, leaning to one side, smoke pouring out the back.

What catches Virgil’s heart, what breaks it, is the crushed and twisted remains of the space elevator that’s been caught up in Two’s crash landing. It reminds him of nothing more than an old tin can, broken and ready for scrap.

It wasn’t there when he checked his landing area. It wasn’t. He checked, even with engines on fire.

Someone’s screaming. It might be him.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday22 #You weren't meant to be there #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #john tracy

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aquinnix · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 22 - "You Weren't Meant to be There"

“You weren't supposed to see that.”

“Did you really think you could keep something like this a secret?”

“How do you think I've kept you all safe?”

“You call this safety?”

“It's better this way.”

“I can’t believe you of all people could possibly think…”

“Come here and I can explain.”

Joe woke in a cold sweat. Broken pieces of conversation echoing in his mind. Who had he been talking to? The more he thought about it the more distorted the image became, nothing but a smudge in his memory. He reached for the notebook he kept beside his bed, scribbling down every detail he could. It wasn't just a dream. It was real, he was sure of it. The face had been grey, or was it a deep brown? There was a bit of blue too, or was it a soft purple? Joe hated this feeling, knowing all the answers were buried deep in his mind if only he could dig them out. Something else was off too, the papers on the floor were scattered in the wrong direction, his bed sheets pulled over him at the wrong angle. He looked around the room, taking note of every little detail. Satisfied he had recorded as much as he could, Joe stood and walked over to his bookcase, looking for anything that might provide answers. Before he knew it, the sun was high in the sky and Joe closed the back cover of his twenty second book, “Landscaping Your Mind.” It was all fascinating, sure but… not what he was looking for. Now, the consequences of his day at his desk were starting to catch up to him, namely his growling stomach. He reached for his communicator, it would be good to get out and meet up with someone.

<Joehillssays> hey does anyone want to meet up for lunch?

<ZombieCleo> Joe it’s 4pm

<Joehillssays> early dinner then?

<xisumavoid> sure

<xisumavoid> meet at spawn?

<Joehillssays> see you in 7

Exactly seven minutes later, Joe stood waiting for X. He didn’t mind having to wait, it gave him time to ponder.

“Hey Joe!”

Joe turned. “Howdy Xisuma!” A deep sense of unease took root in Joe’s stomach, hunger twisting into nausea.

Suddenly he remembered whose voice it was he heard in his dream.

#this is my first time writing Joe so let me know what you think!#mcyt #hermitcraft #joe hills #xisuma #zombie cleo #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday22

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what-the-whump · 2 months

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Febuwhump 2024 | Day 22 | "You weren't meant to be there"

Power Rangers Super Megaforce | 2x20 | Legendary Battle

#Power Rangers #Power Rangers Super Megaforce #Troy Burrows #Orion #2x20 #hurt #knocked down #explosion #worry #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday22

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writersmorgue · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 22 - "You weren't meant to be there"

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 762

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

The security guard gives him a bored look as he frantically scans his ID to be let through- only to be denied repeatedly.

He thrusts his smiling, laminated face into the scanner and feels his feathers fluff up when it buzzes at him again.

“Hawks.” A voice calls from behind him, causing him to fumble with the keycard and nearly drop it.

“RUMI!” He shouts, waving his lanyard in the air and gesturing at the door, “The stupid thing won’t let me in!”

The heroine sighs, ear twitching as a car drives honks a few blocks away. “Hawks, they revoked your access to the holding cells.”

Keigo rolls his eyes, shoving the card back in his uniform pocket since it obviously wouldn’t get him anywhere, “I figured, but this is the main door. I thought-”

“-that you’d be able to convince someone inside to let you in? Yeah, so did they.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, “Why would they tell you? We’re friends.”

Rumi huffs and walks past him, “Yeah, well I’m also a hero who knows which villains belong behind bars and which belong in a coffin.”

Keigo shoves himself through the door when she buzzes in successfully, holding a hand out to the guard when he moves to stop him- “Keigo, I’m only letting you in while supervised. I know you wouldn’t-“

She eyes the guard and shuts the door behind them, “I know you wouldn’t try to pull anything- but you lost their trust at the bar. You might not have tried to help him escape but your lack of action was just as loud.”

“If they had listened to me-“ He sighs, nodding, “I understand. Thanks, Rumi.”

She ruffles his hair, nudging his arm with her much larger one, “You get 10 minutes, lover boy. I’ll wipe the tape so make sure he’s back when you’re done. No sex and no escape plans.” She winks at him, scanning several of her fingers on a pad, she slaps his ass and shoves him in when the door opens.

He barely catches himself on the 2-way mirror in front of him. It’s dim in the interrogation room, and the empty shackles attached to the table make his gut swirl with guilt.

He grabs the key she had shoved in his back pocket and twists in the door hastily.

The creaking noise alerts the occupant and Keigo steps through just in time to meet the man’s icy blue eyes.

An unidentifiable emotion flashes across Dabi’s face, his cheek staples tugging at his skin.

“You shouldn’t be here, birdy.”

Keigo’s eyes burn, and he rushes forward to his boyfriend, practically throwing himself at the man as he sits up on his cot.

The quirk suppressors on his wrists dig into Keigo’s ribcage when Dabi hugs him, but the proximity is worth it.

“Baby, you can’t-”

“Rumi let me in. She’ll take care of it.” Keigo sighs into the man’s neck, “Dabi I’m so, so, so sorry. You weren’t supposed to be there- they told me they were going to the lab and I thought you were safe.”

Reassured, Dabi buries his face into Keigo’s body, inhaling deeply, “You know I don’t blame you. You did everything you could-”

“I did nothing!” Keigo pulls back, tears threatening to spill, “I did nothing and they took you and injured Toga, I don’t even know if she’s alive-!”

Dabi shushes him, running his fingers through Keigo’s unruly hair, “You almost got yourself killed buying us time, but there’s nothing more you could’ve done. I’m not asking you to endanger yourself by covering for my ass.”

“You would’ve done the same for me… I just wish we could’ve gone through with our plan before it happened. We were so close to getting you and her out of there.” Keigo sniffs, gripping Dabi’s prisoner jumpsuit like a lifeline. It smells like blood and disinfectant, like his own hero uniform.

“Birdy, you needed that out just as much as we did. We’ll find another chance.” Dabi frowns, white hair shifting over his eyes, “I fucked up too. Should’ve fought back.”

Keigo shakes his head, “You thought they had her, you didn’t know. I know you wouldn’t have left without her.

They sit quietly for a moment, breathing deeply in the silence, “I’m going to come back for you. Don’t give up on me, ‘kay?” Keigo smiles up at Dabi, resting his hands on the man’s face.

Dabi leans forward and presses a longing kiss to his lips, answering the promise.

“You never let me down, pretty bird.”

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