꧁" Aki, take off your shirt."
" W-w-what?"
" You heard me. Strip."꧂
[Before you read this, do note that It's an X reader. BUT! I actually gave you a first name.
in short I don't know if this can be called an X reader any...
Date Published: Oct 29, 2020 Word Count: From 1.7 to 3.4k Note: You can play the song ^^ later if you want. Note: I don't know much about the rooms in the hospital nor the equipments/machines used. So I apologize in advance. Note: And... Don't kill me. Please look forward to the remaining chapters.
revised and edited: Feb 1, 2025.
The writing is much more different than the previous chapters. I'll try to edit everything next time. For now, one chapter at a time!
🥕🐇🥕🐇🥕🐇🥕🐇🥕🐇
Hospital.
"Make way! Make way!'' The nurses shouted, pushing the gurney.
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A sharp moan escaped your lips as you clutched your wound, fingers trembling against the warmth of your own blood. Pain pulsed through your body with every ragged breath, but you pressed harder, desperate to slow the bleeding.
Your vision blurred, dark spots creeping at the edges, but you could still make out Tamaki's wide, panic-stricken eyes and Mirio's tense expression, his usual bright energy replaced by fear. Nejire hovered nearby, face flushed with distress, and her hands fluttering as if unsure whether to reach for you or recoil.
Tears streamed down her face, her shoulders trembling with guilt and frustration. She hadn't been able to join the battle—Nejire had been held back. Ryukyu Tatsuma had ordered her to stay behind while the agency dispatched other pro heroes and sidekicks. She had wanted to fight, to be there, but she had been forced to wait, helpless.
And then there was Mirio. Without his Quirk, he had been powerless to do anything. He stood there, fists clenched at his sides.
Nejire and Mirio had rushed to the hospital the moment they saw the news—your unconscious body cradled in Tamaki's arms as he carried you out of the ruined stadium. The scene had been chaos, with pro heroes scrambling to lift debris and clear a path. But all Nejire could see was you—motionless, covered in blood.
"Luna! Don't close your eyes, please!" Her voice trembled, raw with desperation, as she helped the nurses push the gurney down the hallway. Her hands, usually so steady, shook as she clung to your side. Your hero costume was soaked in red, the worst of it spreading from your stomach, the fabric torn and sticky with fresh blood. The sight made her stomach twist in fear.
Mirio ran beside her, his breath uneven. He was always the bright one, always the one to smile in the face of fear—but now, his usual warmth was gone, replaced by silent dread.
There was too much blood seeping out of your injury, dripping down to the bed and some even stained the tiles. Leaving a trail of blood on its wake. The red liquid was simply eye-catching on the white tiles.
You had seen the attack coming—the villain's final, desperate strike aimed straight for your stomach. You could have dodged. You should have dodged. But your body had betrayed you, too battered, too drained to move.
