obsessed with guarded characters (reluctantly) falling sleep around another character(s), showing how much they trust them to put themselves in a position of absolute vulnerability, unwavering faith that they'll be protected and guarded while they recharge, the submission of being alert unfamiliar and strange in their chest, not used to being safe or away from danger enough to get proper rest, looking years younger when they fall asleep, the other characters fiercely always nearby and keeping the quiet around for them just a little while longer
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Price didnât realize he could be soâŚparticular. Having his career meant he was flexible, had to roll with the punches, go with the flow. Sure he had his own way of doing things, but he liked to think he had an appreciation for other peoples preferences. Until he met General Hammond.
Heâs shot a general before (rest inâŚnot peace Shepherd), and he didnât think doing so would become a habit. But he was gettinâ realllll close.
General Hammond seemed to be of the belief that you were below him. WhichâŚyou suppose you were. He was a higher ranking officer, older, had more experience. But it seemed something about you in particular rubbed him the wrong way, because ever since he arrived on base 72 hours ago, he had been trying to make your life a living hell.
Normally, superior officers stayed fairly removed from individual teams, preferring to let things be handled internally. You reported to Price, thatâs how itâs always been; even Shepherd respected that.
But now Hammond blows into town and thinks youâre his personal assistant, degrading your duties to coffee fetching and note-taking. You were not a secretary. You did not work for years to get into an elite task force to bring some asshole beverages. And he was being sleazy about it too! Patting your hip a little too close to your bum and calling you sweetheart.
âŚadmittedly Price calls you that but itâs fine when he does it!! (âŚmore than fineâŚ)
When John saw that little behavior for the first time, he almost exploded right then and there. Hammond. Touching his sergeant. Acting like you arenât a highly trained soldier. Like you donât deserve to be a part of the conversation. Heâs never seen a shittier officer.
âCareful.â It rumbles from his chest before he can stop it. The warning clear, an edge of disrespect leaking into his tone.
The general is laughing about some stupid innuendo he just made, but stops and tilts his head subtly, sensing the sharpness in Priceâs tone.
âWhat was that, Captain?â Hammond says Captain like itâs an insult, like Price has now also been demoted to âbug-under-my-shoeâ level.
âSaid careful.â Price leans forward from where he had been reclined and crossing his arms in his chair, putting them on the conference table in front of him. âTouch my sergeant again and weâre gonna have problems.â He sounds casual as he reaches across the table to pick up the mug you had just dropped off for Hammond, leaning back and taking a sip like it was rightfully his.
Hammond scoffs, âwas that a threat, Captain?â
âNo, sir,â he sniffs, taking another sip, âjust a fact.â
Hammond goes to protest, presumably loudly, as he does. But when he takes a cursory glance around the conference table, and is met by the glares of the whole 141, he reconsiders.
âWell alright! Didnât know you were the territorial type!â He tries for another joke. No one laughs.
Ghost lets out a low hum, you know itâs a warning more than any sign of acknowledgment.
âSmartest thing youâve done all day, general.â John effectively ends the discussion.
When the meeting is over, you see John lean down and say something in his ear one last time. You mightâve imagined it, but Hammond looked a little paler after that.
You never saw that general again. When you asked about it, John said Kate had him reassigned due to âunrelatedâ reasons.
A character attempting to hug another without being able to use their arms- their hands bound behind them and to or around an obstacle, they curl their torso forward and hunch their shoulders around the other character as much as possible, tilting their head and hooking their chin over the other's shoulder or head, providing what contact and comfort they can in their situation.
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HEYYYYYYY if I can may I ask for Aventurine, Sunday and Dan Hang protecting reader when they get badly injured protecting them please ( Iâve been desperate for some angst and comfort recently with them đđ )
âIf I Fall, Let It Be for Youâ
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Protectiveness, Sacrifice, Vulnerability, Emotional Conflict, Guilt, Platonic or Romantic Love, Selflessness, Inner Struggles.
The battlefield stretched before you, a blur of smoke and chaos. You had acted on instinctâthrowing yourself in front of Dan Heng to block a strike meant for him. The blade tore through your side, pain radiating through your body as you stumbled.
â[Name]!â Dan Hengâs voice, usually so calm and composed, cracked as he caught you in his arms. His eyes widened, a rare display of emotion breaking through his stoic mask.
You gave him a weak smile, your hand clutching the bleeding wound. âYouâre safe. Thatâs all that matters.â
His jaw tightened, and his grip on you was firm yet trembling. âYou should never have done that.â There was an edge to his voice, sharp and laden with guilt.
You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and you felt yourself fading.
âStay with me,â Dan Heng ordered, his voice softer now but no less desperate. He cradled you closer, his usually steady hands pressing against your wound to stem the bleeding. âYou canât leave me. Not like this.â
He carried you swiftly to a safe spot behind the ruins, shielding you from the chaos. His spear, Cloud-Piercer, stood guard nearby, its sharp tip still dripping with the blood of your enemies. Dan Heng tore a strip of fabric from his coat, fashioning a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.
âWhy?â he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on your pale face. âWhy would you put yourself in harmâs way for me?â
You managed a weak chuckle despite the pain. âBecause I care about you, Dan Heng. Even if you keep pushing people away, I wonât stop protecting you.â
His breath hitched, and for a moment, his usual reserve cracked. âI donât deserve it. Not after everything Iâve done⌠everything Iâve failed to prevent.â
âYouâre wrong,â you whispered, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. âYouâre worth it to me.â
Dan Hengâs eyes softened, guilt and sorrow mingling with something deeperâsomething he had tried so hard to suppress. He didnât speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He leaned into your touch, his fingers brushing your hair as if trying to commit every detail of you to memory.
âI wonât let anything happen to you,â he promised, his voice low but resolute. âNot again.â
Dan Heng stayed by your side, his spear within reach, ready to defend you from any further threat. The battle raged on around you, but his focus never wavered. He wasnât just protecting you nowâhe was protecting the fragile hope you had given him, the chance for something beyond the weight of his past.
And in his quiet way, Dan Heng vowed to repay the trust you had shown him, no matter the cost.
The echoes of the gunfire still reverberated in the empty corridors, a cruel reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. Aventurine stood frozen for a moment, the world around him slowing to a crawl. The usually confident smirk plastered on his face had vanished, replaced by a rare expression of raw, unfiltered fear.
You lay crumpled on the ground, your blood pooling beneath you. You had thrown yourself in front of him, a human shield against the sniper's bullet that had been meant for his chest.
âWhy?â Aventurine whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you, his gloved hands hesitating before pressing against your wound. His pristine, gold-adorned sleeves soaked in crimson as he tried to stem the bleeding. "You absolute fool. What were you thinking?"
Your eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on your lips despite the pain. "Because I knew you'd never let yourself be hit," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're too important... too smart to take risks like that."
Aventurine let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "And yet here you are, bleeding out because of me," he muttered, his tone laced with guilt and frustration. "You're supposed to stay out of the crossfire, not throw yourself into it like some kind of martyr."
The mask he wore so effortlessly in high-stakes games and political negotiations shattered in that moment. He was no longer the composed strategist, the man who always had a plan. He was just Kakavashaâterrified, helpless, and desperate to keep you alive.
âStay with me,â he commanded, his voice shaking as he pulled out his communicator and barked orders for immediate medical assistance. âYou donât get to leave like this. Not here, not now.â
Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against his cheek. "I trust you, Aventurine," you whispered, your voice faltering. "You'll fix this... you always do."
His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Iâm a gambler, not a miracle worker," he admitted softly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "But if thereâs one thing I never bet against... itâs you."
The minutes felt like hours as he stayed by your side, murmuring reassurances that neither of you believed. His mind raced, calculating odds and outcomes, but none of his usual strategies could guarantee your survival. For the first time in years, Aventurine felt powerless.
When the medics finally arrived, he refused to leave your side, riding with you to the emergency unit despite their protests. As the doors closed behind them and the sterile lights flickered above, Aventurine made a silent vow.
No matter the cost, he would ensure you lived to see another gamble, another day by his side. Because without you, even victory would feel like defeat.
The clash of blades and the sound of explosions filled the air, but Sundayâs focus was solely on you. The two of you had been ambushed, and though he had held his ground, one stray attacker had slipped through his defenses, aiming for his unprotected flank.
You hadnât hesitated. Youâd stepped in without thinking, intercepting the blow meant for him. Now, you lay slumped against a ruined wall, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.
âWhy... why would you do that?â Sunday asked, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you. His eyes, usually so calm and composed, were wide with panic. He pressed his hands over yours, trying to stop the bleeding. The glow of his halo seemed dimmer, as if it mirrored the dread coursing through him.
âYou needed protecting,â you gasped, a weak smile crossing your lips. âThatâs what friends do, right?â
âFoolish,â Sunday whispered, his tone a mixture of frustration and anguish. "I am the one who should be protecting you." He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gloved hands trembling. âYou shouldnât have to suffer because of me.â
Your hand reached for his, squeezing weakly. "Youâre worth it."
Sundayâs breath hitched, and for a moment, his dignified mask crumbled. "No one is worth losing you," he admitted, his voice barely audible. âNot even me.â
The world around the two of you seemed to fade away as Sunday focused solely on keeping you conscious. He whispered soft reassurances, his usually formal tone replaced with a raw, desperate plea. âStay with me,â he urged. âIâll fix this. I swear it.â
Using his limited healing abilities, Sunday poured his energy into stabilizing you. The effort left him visibly drained, his face pale and his breaths labored, but he refused to stop. "Iâve seen too much suffering," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I wonât allow it to claim you."
As reinforcements arrived and medical aid was administered, Sunday stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. When you were finally safe, he let out a shaky breath, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.
"You risked yourself for me," he said quietly, his eyes softening. âBut know this: I will never allow you to come to harm again. You are too precious to lose.â
In that moment, you saw a side of Sunday he rarely revealedâa man burdened by the weight of his ideals, yet willing to fight against them for the sake of someone he cherished.
