#I also went straight to the doctor (the actual one) because of the swollen face and turns out they don't know what it is and I need a MRI

[nipuni]

The heart of the universe 💫

A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on december 1st!

[gerrystamour]

i could be honest, i could be human [Chapters 4, 5 & 6]

Rated E | Steddie

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No summary to save space since this is a meaty update. SOME CONTENT WARNINGS THOUGH!! There is some vaguely described homophobia and a brief mention of a homophobic hate crime. Nothing is explicitly described.

Chapter Four: November 1984

It had been a few days since Billy Hargrove had beat the shit out of Steve and his ears were still ringing. Nancy wanted him to go to the doctor about it, saying something about his brain swelling and how that was bad. He figured he was fine. If his brain was going to crush itself on the inside of his skull, it would’ve done it already, right?

Regardless, going to the doctor would mean telling someone even a fraction of the events that happened, and he was in too much pain to keep his story straight.

Everything hurt at that point. His whole head pounded, and his jaw clicked at the hinge when he yawned or chewed any food, his nose was broken, and a bunch of Steve’s teeth were worryingly loose, shifting painfully in his swollen gums. To top it all off, he had a nasty gash on the side of his head from the plate Billy broke over it that definitely needed stitches because it kept reopening. But his head would have to be shaved to get stitches, and that was not an option.

He survived, and it wasn’t like it bled that much when the wound reopened. It was fine.

It also didn’t help that his breathing was also a little fucked up. The air inside the tunnels was definitely toxic, and their stupid little makeshift masks were a pathetic attempt at protecting themselves. He could still taste the tunnels sometimes when he managed to take a deep enough breath. Steve imagined that was what rotting meat would taste like, which was not helpful in the least.

Steve had been calling himself out of class, both because he was too messed up for the faculty to just ignore and because being in that bright, noisy, and crowded building while he felt so shitty was probably what Hell would feel like.

At that moment, he was shuffling through the aisles of Melvald’s—wearing sunglasses inside like a douchebag—to grab painkillers since he already used up his supply at home. The cashier gawked at him as he paid for the medication, and he didn’t even tell her off. Steve knew how bad he looked and he was just relieved that she wasn’t Ms. Byers.

Steve headed out into the sunlight with a groan, flinching as the bright light blinded him through his dark sunglasses. He didn’t even notice that he stepped out of the store and right into someone’s path as they passed until their shoulder caught his.

Normally, a bump like that would have made Steve stumble a step at most. This time, while his equilibrium was on vacation and he could barely even stand without holding onto something, he went down hard. Steve barely got his hands out in front of him to save what was left of his busted face from another traumatic injury.

Now, he had road rash on the heels of his palms, one of his wrists hurt, and the fall triggered a wave of dizzy nausea that actually made him dry-heave a bit before he regained some of his composure. To top that all off, his sunglasses had fallen off his face and from the sound of it, they had skittered directly under someone’s foot with a resounding crack.

“Fuck,” Steve managed to groan, and distantly he knew someone was talking to him, but it was difficult to hear them over the whooshing in his ears.

The person sounded alarmed, understandably so, and Steve managed to say, “Sorry, I promise I won’t puke.”

“Bummer, I was kinda hoping you would,” the person said, their voice finally coming in clearer as the whooshing subsided. “It would really make my day.”

Eddie Munson. Of course it was Eddie, there to witness another very low point in Steve’s life.

“On second thought, maybe I will,” Steve said, shakily pushing himself up onto his knees.

“Have you been drinking, Harrington?” Eddie asked, his voice getting closer as he crouched next to Steve on the sidewalk.

“I wish that’s what this was, Munson,” Steve replied with a wry laugh, hissing when cool fingers suddenly grabbed his chin and turned his face toward him.

“What the fuck, Harrington? Who the fuck did this?”

If Steve didn’t know better, he’d think that Eddie was actually concerned. Upset even. Like he actually cared that Steve was beaten up and concussed and on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk on a Thursday morning. Even if Steve could have opened his eyes against the bright sunlight, he wouldn’t have. He wanted to avoid seeing the grin that Eddie was undoubtedly wearing, didn’t want to ruin the illusion that someone else outside of the party cared that he was hurt. 

With a hiss, Steve lifted a hand to the side of his head where he felt warmth trickling through his hair and sure enough his fingertips felt something wet. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his hand away.

Like Eddie said on Halloween—it was only funny if Steve was bleeding, right?

“Shit, Harrington, you’re bleeding,” Eddie said, and his voice was all wrong. There was no banter, no laughter, only what Steve would describe as panic if it was anyone else talking to him.

“Yeah, that happens. I’ll be fine, I just need—fuck, why is it so bright out here?” Steve croaked, trying to open his eyes but without his sunglasses, it just felt like hot icepicks were being driven through both eyeballs.

Steve could hear Melvald’s door open with a jingle, and the tense voice of the cashier said, “he can’t stay out here like that.”

“You’re actually fucking joking, right?” Eddie snapped, his tone so full of venom that Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t want any trouble, and both of you are scaring people—”

Eddie cut her off with a mean laugh. “He’s on the ground bleeding, and you care about, what exactly?”

“Munson, stop,” Steve murmured, trying to get to his feet again but failing miserably.

“Either you both leave or I’m calling the cops,” she snapped, her tone closed off. Panic flashed through Steve about Hopper seeing him laid out on the sidewalk like he was and he shook his head.

“Oh, I fucking dare you to, lady—” Eddie started to taunt her again, but Steve smacked his leg blindly.

“Stop, Munson, seriously,” Steve insisted before addressing the employee. “We’ll leave, okay? I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Eddie scoffed at his apology, but the employee thanked him and the door shut as she presumably went inside.

“Okay, can you help me to my car? I parked it down the street—” Steve started.

“Like hell am I taking you to your car, Harrington!” Eddie interrupted, his voice almost shrill with his outrage.

“Well I can’t stay here, so unless you have a better idea…” Steve trailed off, his head throbbing with a new flash of agony.

Eddie was silent for several moments before the various chains he wore jingled with movement. “I’m going to take you to my van, okay?” Eddie said, his voice now coming from above Steve rather than next to him. Eddie didn’t even wait for him to respond before he grabbed Steve and easily hauled him to his feet.

Steve was surprised at Eddie’s strength, not quite expecting it from the way Eddie looked and behaved. Not only was he strong enough to lift Steve, but he was controlled enough with that strength to do it without jostling him unpleasantly. When Eddie settled Steve against his side with an arm tucked firmly around his waist, that embarrassed fluttering filled Steve’s gut again for some reason.

Maybe Nancy was right and his brain was starting to swell.

That thought was reaffirmed when they reached Eddie’s van and he had zero recollection of moving. Eddie was muttering in his ear, and after a moment of concentration he managed to understand some of the words.

“—Idiot pretty-boys passing out and bleeding all over my new fucking battle vest—”

“You regularly haul around bleeding pretty-boys, plural, Munson?” Steve groaned as Eddie startled at his voice. The other man propped Steve against the bumper of his van and carefully let him go.

“Nah, Harrington, only you get the royal treatment,” Eddie admitted with a chuckle. “Can you get yourself into the van, or do you need my help?”

Steve considered the question carefully, his eyes shut and head hanging. He could probably tough out the pain enough to get himself into the van. He had toughed out the pain and dizziness to run around tunnels made of writhing vines and crawling with Demo-dogs. Crawling into a van was nothing.

And yet…

“Okay, I’m helping before you pass out on me again,” Eddie grunted as he scrambled up into the van and knelt behind him. With a huff, Eddie weaved his arms beneath Steve’s and around his chest, his own chest pressing against Steve’s back. Curly hair tickled against Steve’s cheek and hot breath puffed across his throat. “Okay, big boy, you’ve gotta help a little bit.”

Heat burst across Steve’s cheeks, that terrible fluttering feeling running rampant in his gut, but all he did was nod and hum his agreement.

“On three, okay?” Eddie said, and once he counted them in, Steve pushed up on his tip-toes at the same time Eddie lifted him. Once he was partly inside the van, Steve was able to hook his heel on the bumper and help push himself the rest of the way while Eddie pulled.

Once inside, Steve laid on a pile of blankets on top of a mattress that was probably shitty, but at the moment was the best damn thing he’d ever had the pleasure of laying on. Distantly, he heard the van doors close, as well as some fabric shifting, and blessedly the world became a lot less bright through his eyelids. Steve found himself marveling at how Eddie’s van… did not smell bad, not even that much like pot. It did smell like pot, it definitely did, but it wasn’t awful like other vehicles he had the displeasure of sitting in after a hotboxing session.

At that thought, Steve realized he had no idea if Eddie actually did any of the drugs he sold. He could have just been selling, right? And yeah, on Halloween he offered to share a joint with Steve, but that didn’t actually mean Eddie smoked pot regularly. Steve always lied about hating the chicken nuggets at school so Jonathan would actually take them from his tray when he offered. 

Suddenly, Steve felt bad about all of his assumptions about Eddie all over again.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbled before he could stop himself, and Eddie laughed, still moving around the van.

“What are you apologizing for now, St—Harrington?”

“What I’m always sorry for,” he sighed, reaching up to cover his face gingerly. “Being an asshole.”

Eddie was quiet for a long time, or maybe it was a short time, but it felt really long because there was a script to these moments. Steve called himself an asshole, Eddie agreed, and they moved on. Eddie wasn’t agreeing, so Steve wasn’t sure how to move on.

When Eddie spoke again, he still sounded weird, almost sad. “You wanna give opening your eyes a try, Harrington?”

With a nervous sigh, Steve slowly opened his eyes and glanced around the van. It looked old and a bit rundown, like the outside suggested, but it was clean. There was a curtain between them in the far back and the middle bench, which looked like Eddie installed himself. There was also some fabric covering the rear windows, giving the space they were laying in a dimmer, gentler light. It was light enough that Steve could see, but not so bright that it hurt him.

“That’s a lot better,” Steve sighed, and finally he looked up at Eddie’s face.

Eddie was sitting next to Steve, his back leaning against the side wall of the van with his knees bent and his arms resting loosely on top of them. He looked kind of angry, and Steve was at a loss for why he would be. He remembered the muttered complaint about blood on his vest and when he looked at it properly, sure enough, there were dark red drops and smears on the shoulder.

“Sorry about your vest. I’ll pay to have it cleaned,” he promised, and when Eddie’s stare didn’t soften, he looked away nervously.

“Seriously, Harrington, who the fuck hurt you?” Eddie asked again, as if he was about to fight for Steve’s honour or something, and Steve laughed.

“Billy Hargrove,” he said as he looked back over at Eddie, and just as he expected, the other man deflated a bit, his anger turning into something closer to fear. “It was pretty fucking stupid on my part.”

“Why were you fighting Hargrove?” Eddie asked and Steve mulled over the best way to answer.

“I was babysitting—”

“Oh, fuck off, no you weren’t,” Eddie scoffed, and Steve frowned over at him.

“Yes, I was. I’m a damn good babysitter, too,” Steve said defensively. 

He was really trying not to take Eddie’s skepticism too personally; he knew how weird that concept sounded from the outside. Hell, a year ago even Steve would have scoffed at what he was saying. Still, it was really starting to suck having everything he said and did doubted because of who he was a year ago.

“Okay, and why would you be babysitting? What’s in it for you?” Eddie asked, eying him closely.

“I was helping Ms. Byers out,” Steve replied as if that answered everything, before he continued, “anyway, his step-sister was hanging out with us, and then Billy showed up, she was scared of him, so I tried to get him to leave.”

“Looks like it hurt a lot,” Eddie said quietly, cringing sympathetically.

Steve shrugged, which was a bit awkward while laying down. “Honestly, I was out cold for most of it. Didn’t feel much after the first couple hits,” he laughed, but Eddie didn’t join in.

“That’s not a fight, Harrington. That’s a beating,” Eddie replied, his voice deeper than Steve was used to hearing and lacking any of its usual lightness.

“Yeah, I guess so. Better me than her,” Steve replied with a flippant shrug; he was no stranger to being hit, even if the only other time he took a beating to the face was his fight with Jonathan the year before. Then he added before he could stop himself, “she was afraid he was going to kill her, so I tried to get him to leave. Then he threatened to kill one of the other kids, Lucas Sinclair?”

Steve looked over at Eddie and watched him as he visibly sifted through his knowledge of the people in Hawkins. Recognition sparked behind Eddie’s eyes and his expression darkened.

“I know the Sinclairs. Nice people,” Eddie said after a bit, scowling.

Steve nodded. “He’s a good kid, too, not that I’d say that to his face. It’d go straight to his head,” he said, smirking when Eddie chuckled. With a heavy sigh, Steve said, “He threatened to kill Lucas, so I hit him and then…”

He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his face.

Eddie was still staring at Steve when he looked back, and he started to squirm a bit under the intense gaze. “You’re just a regular knight in shining armour, aren’t you?” Eddie asked after a bit and Steve laughed, especially at how angry Eddie still looked and how begrudging he sounded.

“Yeah, totally. And you know what they say,” Steve hummed sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling. “No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“Maybe you should start avoiding the Byers?” Eddie suggested and Steve barked out a laugh that hurt his head and made him wince.

“Christ, maybe,” he admitted, running his tongue along his loose teeth. “Starting to think I should just get the hell out of this town,” he muttered, surprising even himself.

“Shit, the King is going to abandon his kingdom?”

Steve looked back at Eddie and met his wide, dark eyes. His expression was searching and his smirk was back, the nicer one. The weird fluttering feeling in Steve’s chest and stomach had returned in full-force, and he floundered for an explanation. He wasn’t embarrassed, for sure this time.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied after a minute, sighing heavily. “Probably not. Where would I even go?”

“Aren’t you gonna go to some fancy college somewhere?” Eddie asked with a snort.

Steve grimaced and glared up at the ceiling again. “I guess,” he said hollowly.

He missed early admission between the whole dinner with Barb’s parents and the break-up with Nancy, plus luring D’art, plus getting beat up by Billy. Well, he deliberately missed it at first because he decided to take a gap year to stay close to Nancy. Because they were in love.

Steve scoffed out loud. “Yeah, totally,” he added sadly.

“Wait, Harrington, are you… not going to college?” Eddie asked and Steve groaned.

“Yeah, Steve Harrington isn’t going to fucking college,” he declared with a listless laugh. “Decided to be all romantic and take a gap year, propose to Nancy after she graduated, go to college together. Or I would work for my dad and pay for Nancy’s school or something. Not that she would need my help, she’s so smart she’ll probably land a full-ride wherever she wants.”

When he was done with his rant, the van was silent for several moments until Eddie asked, “What’s wrong with that plan, lover boy?”

Steve nearly snapped at Eddie, nearly told him that he knew exactly what was wrong with that plan. He caught himself, though, remembering that he never actually told Eddie why he was crying on Halloween.

“She, uh, dumped me,” Steve replied, glancing away from Eddie. “At Tina’s party.”

“Shit,” Eddie said, and Steve nearly laughed at the little cringe on his face. “I’m sure you’ll get her back, right? Don’t people like you always get back together?”

Steve frowned at Eddie, not sure what he meant by that last bit. “Not this time. No fairytale ending here,” Steve eventually said, sighing. “She’s with Jonathan now.”

Eddie made a noise. “Halloween was only a week ago,” he said flatly.

“Glad you have a grasp on the passage of time, Munson,” Steve chuckled.

“No, the timing—”

“I know how it looks. It’s not like that,” Steve interrupted firmly. “She—Nancy wouldn’t do that. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t look that complicated from where I’m sitting, Harrington,” Eddie challenged, and he looked properly angry again when Steve looked over at him.

“Well, it is. Ever consider that you might not actually know everything?” Steve spat, a bit meaner than he liked, before continuing, “Nancy is amazing and I was fucking it up the whole time, because I’m an idiot and a douchebag. She wasn’t cheating on me. She wouldn’t do that to anyone, even me. She’s not like that, okay?”

Eddie frowned at him, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he mulled over what Steve had said. “I can’t decide if your steadfast faith in her is admirable or pathetic,” he admitted after a few moments, dragging another startled laugh out of Steve.

“Probably the second one,” Steve replied through a grimace of pain. “I think my head is still bleeding,” he complained, and sure enough when he touched the wound, his fingers came away wet and sticky.

“Jesus H. Christ, Harrington, why the fuck is your head still bleeding?”

Suddenly, Eddie was looming over him, straddling Steve’s midsection without putting any weight on him, turning Steve’s head so he could try to see the cut through Steve’s hair.

“It’s fine,” Steve said, heat rushing to his face.

“Dude, this needs stitches or something. You need to go to a doctor—”

“No!” Steve immediately said, shaking his head and grabbing Eddie’s thigh. “I don’t want to see a doctor, or go to the hospital.”

“Why the fuck not, Harrington? You’re bleeding, this cut is really bad, and—” Eddie stopped short, and Steve blushed when his eyes narrowed suspiciously down at him. “You don’t want them to shave your head.”

Steve blushed even darker and Eddie laughed, the mocking one that Steve had expected at the start of all this. It was actually a bit comforting at that point.

“Christ, I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington would walk around with an open fucking head wound before he’d get fucking stitches,” Eddie grumbled as he went back to inspecting the cut.

Steve idly began to slide his thumb back and forth where it rested on Eddie’s thigh. He barely realized he had been doing it at all, the sensation of denim against the pad of his thumb soothing. He was snapped out of his stupor with a wince when Eddie prodded a bit too hard on his tender scalp.

“Knock it off,” Eddie snapped, his hand swatting Steve’s away from his leg. “That’s distracting.”

“What are you even doing?” Steve asked grumpily, feeling pinned even though Eddie was hovering above him.

“Trying to decide if it’s worth waking my uncle up to get your stupid jock head fixed,” he replied before sitting back on his heels to glower down at him thoughtfully. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve registered the way Eddie’s weight settled on his midsection, and that fluttering in his gut turned to a swooping sensation.

“Is your… uncle a doctor?” Steve asked nervously, still afraid for the fate of his hair.

“No, but he was a field medic in Vietnam and he keeps some supplies around. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m a Klutz with a capital K,” Eddie replied, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at Steve.

“And he won’t shave my head?” Steve pushed and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I can’t promise that, Harrington, but I can vouch for your pathological vanity and we’ll see what he can manage. But this will keep bleeding and probably get infected,” Eddie warned, and Steve made a face up at him.

“Stop making sense,” he complained and squirmed under Eddie’s weight.

Eddie froze above Steve, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, for several moments. With a strangled little noise, Eddie scrambled off of Steve and back to his spot against the wall of the van.

“Okay! So, do you think you can manage sitting up front or are you going to lay back here?” Eddie asked, pulling a curly lock of hair in front of his face and fidgeting with it nervously.. 

The motion was so endearing it almost pained Steve to see it. He’d seen so many girls do that exact move when they were being shy or playful with him, and it always drove Steve mad. He wished Eddie was a girl so he could reach over and tuck his hair out of his face, pull him down for a kiss—

Those thoughts came to a screeching halt as he tried to figure out where that came from. Steve’s brain was definitely swelling, that was the only explanation for the direction those thoughts went. Maybe he should go to the hospital…

“Dude, stop spacing out on me, you’re freaking me out,” Eddie said frantically, snapping his fingers in Steve’s face.

“What?” Steve asked, unsure of what conversation they were having now.

“I’m taking you to my uncle, remember? Which means I have to drive. Are you going to hang out back here, or sit up front with me?” Eddie repeated curtly.

Steve frowned. “Do you have sunglasses I can borrow?” he asked, and when Eddie shook his head, Steve gestured around him. “Then it looks like I’m getting the real royal treatment, huh?”

“I’ll take the corners super fast so it doesn’t go to your head,” Eddie promised with a wink before he said, “Shield your eyes, Your Majesty.”

Steve chuckled and covered his eyes as Eddie scrambled over the middle bench through the seam in the curtain.

Despite his comment, the drive was actually uneventful, the gentle movement of the van actually lulling Steve to a light doze. He jolted awake when the van shut off, and a moment later Eddie poked his head through the curtains to meet Steve’s eyes upside-down.

“We have arrived, Your Highness, and we’re in luck. My uncle is already awake,” he said with a bright grin.

Steve was suddenly very unsure. “Would it’ve been a problem if he wasn’t?”

“What? No, of course not,” Eddie said with a frown, shaking his head quickly before he disappeared. Steve heard Eddie get out of the van and decided to start getting himself sat up again.

“Hey Uncle Wayne, do you have sunglasses?” he heard Eddie call, and then the quiet response from someone. He couldn’t hear the words, but it didn’t sound like a yes.

“I need your help with something,” Eddie said and Steve could hear a long-suffering sigh and the sound of footsteps coming toward the van.

“What’d you get yourself into now, kid?” The tone was so affectionate that Steve couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“I didn’t get myself into shit—”

“Watch your language. Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Just listen a minute, okay? Someone from school got a little hurt and he needs stitches—”

“Then he should be going to a doctor, Eddie. What’re you doing bringing him here?”

“Uhm, this sounded better in my head but now that I’m saying it out loud with you looking at me like that, I’m realizing it sounds kind of dumb, but he doesn’t… want his head shaved.”

Steve grimaced because… yeah, now that it was being said out loud to an actual adult, it sounded beyond dumb. It was completely childish.

“Eddie—”

“Okay, Uncle Wayne, I know. It sounds really stupid, believe me, but it’s also really important to him, and I kind of get it because I wouldn’t want my head shaved either.”

There was a long silence before a heavy sigh. “I’ll look at your classmate, and I will do my best to save his hair, but I ain’t making any promises.”

“Right! I already told him that! Thank you, Uncle Wayne! One last thing…”

“For the love of Pete, kid…”

There was quiet murmuring, too quiet for Steve to eavesdrop on from inside the van, but Mr. Munson did not sound happy about whatever other information Eddie delivered to him. After a few minutes of hushed back-and-forth, Eddie knocked lightly on the doors.

“Alright, Harrington, you decent?” Eddie called, and Steve snorted, closing his eyes.

“Ready to go when you are, Munson,” he replied and he heard the van doors open wide.

Eddie hauled him out carefully, and guided Steve up a set of stairs into what Steve assumed was his house. When Steve opened his eyes, he was met with the cramped interior of a trailer, with shelves of mugs on the walls. Where there weren’t mugs, there were baseball caps.

“Huh, nice place,” Steve said, and he meant it. It was small, a little worn out, but it was cozier than his house by several hundred degrees. It actually felt like a home, like it was lived in. Like there was love there.

“Don’t be an asshole, Harrington, you’re skating on thin ice as it is,” Eddie warned in a low voice and Steve flinched.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—Sorry,” he muttered, and refused to meet Eddie’s eyes when he was deposited into one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. He couldn’t really blame Eddie for his assumption, but still… Just like the comment Eddie made about him babysitting, it sucked.

When Mr. Munson stepped out of the bathroom with a first-aid kit, he pulled up short upon seeing Steve, his expression dark.

“This is a little more hurt than ‘kinda’, Eddie,” Mr. Munson said in a low voice, pulling up a chair to sit in front of Steve. “You get into a tussle with a bear, kid?”

“No, sir. Another classmate,” Steve replied quickly.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Apple rarely falls far from the tree,” Mr. Munson muttered, almost under his breath, and with sudden clarity Steve understood that Mr. Munson was talking about his father, that there was history there.

Steve knew about his father’s reputation; the man bragged about his glory days in high school and college. Steve often heard about it the most during the worst of his lectures and punishments growing up. Richard Harrington never let anyone forget who was in charge, and he ruled over the halls of Hawkins High and then later Harvard with his fists. Richard Harrington didn’t even have to be challenged before he asserted himself, Richard Harrington never gave anyone the chance to take his crown.

Most people seemed impressed by Steve’s father, they would call him a “man’s man” and strong. So many people described him as a provider, a protector even. A man that strong, that intelligent, that wealthy? He had to be doing something right.

And then there were people like Wayne Munson, the people who did real work and lived out of run-down trailers on the outskirts of Hawkins, and their disdain for people like Richard Harrington was palpable. Had Mr. Munson ever personally been targeted by Steve’s father? Maybe. Or maybe someone Mr. Munson knew had been.

The nauseating shame that filled Steve’s gut at that had him diverting his gaze to his lap. Part of him wanted to say he wasn’t like his father, to insist that he was his father’s greatest disappointment and how he didn’t care about trying to change that anymore.

The very thought of saying any of that out loud in front of anyone, let alone Eddie and his uncle, was mortifying, though.

“Where’s this cut you need stitched up, kid?”

Steve heard the question but it didn’t sink in right away, didn’t reach through his fog of concussion and shame until Eddie snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Hey man, you okay?” Eddie asked when Steve looked up at him.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Steve said, swallowing thickly against the nausea roiling in his core. “Thank you for offering to help, and thank you Mr. Munson, but maybe I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Harrington. Jesus, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Eddie said pointedly, and Mr. Munson frowned a bit at that. “Just show Wayne your head,” Eddie added firmly, crossing his arms.

Steve just nodded and turned his head, cringing as Mr. Munson began moving his hair out of the way to see the injury. “Jesus, kid, what the hell happened?” he asked, and his tone demanded an answer. Mr. Munson got up to collect a bowl of warm water and a washcloth, which he used to start cleaning some of the blood off of the skin around the wound.

“He broke a plate over my head,” Steve answered immediately, and Eddie made a disgusted noise. “I don’t remember much after that.”

“Knew that piece of shit wouldn’t fight fair,” Eddie grumbled.

“Was the rest of your busted face before or after the plate?” Mr. Munson asked, and Steve gave a weak shrug. “Don’t give me that, boy. Answer the question.”

“After,” Steve answered.

Mr. Munson’s hands pulled away from Steve’s head to start preparing the needle and thread. “Sounds to me like the cops should be involved,” he said shortly.

“Hopper knows,” Steve replied tensely. “I’m not pressing charges.”

“Of course you’re not,” Eddie muttered, and Steve could hear the eye-roll.

“Time for both of you to shut up now. He can’t be yapping while I’m doing this,” Mr. Munson said, which effectively shut both of them up.

Steve tried to think of other things while Mr. Munson worked quietly, and part of him was glad he was just generally in pain everywhere. He barely felt the needle. The worst part was when Mr. Munson would tug his hair just a bit too much while trying to keep it out of the way. Eventually, he huffed after a few minutes of fighting with Steve’s hair and the needle.

“That’s it—” he started and ice-cold fear lanced through Steve’s gut.

“Please don’t shave it,” he begged, and he hated how pitiful he sounded. He was struck again with just how stupid his concern was, as if his goddamn hair was actually important.

It was just one of the few things he still had going for him. Even if he no longer had the popularity, or Nancy Wheeler, or a future his father might be proud of, he still had his stupid hair.

Mr. Munson sighed, his eyes softening at the plea. “I’m not gonna shave it, kid. I promise. Eddie, get over here and make yourself useful,” he said over his shoulder, and Eddie jumped forward. “I need you to gently hold his hair away from the cut, got it? Don’t pull so hard you’re reopening it or yanking the stitches, just enough that it stays out of my way.”

Eddie nodded and stepped behind Steve’s chair to frame the cut with his hands. With hands smoothing his hair out of the way and holding him so firmly, Steve sighed and relaxed into the chair.

“That good, Wayne?”

“It’ll do.”

Steve winced when Mr. Munson got back to work, and one of Eddie’s thumbs started moving in soothing little strokes behind his ear. The effect was immediate, his body relaxing as much as it could at that moment while actively keeping his head up. Behind him, Eddie chuckled and stepped closer so Steve could rest his head back against him. The thumb kept sliding back and forth behind Steve’s ear, lulling him into a quieter state of mind for the first time in a while.

Steve startled when Mr. Munson pulled away and Eddie’s hands disappeared.

“That should do’er,” Mr. Munson sighed as he started to clean everything up. “Come back in a few days and I’ll remove them.”

Sitting up on his own, Steve asked, “Can I remove them on my own?”

Mr. Munson looked at him flatly, before looking at Eddie above Steve’s head. When he met Steve’s gaze again, his expression brooked no argument. “Come back in a few days and I’ll remove them,” he repeated and Steve nodded carefully.

“Of course, sir,” Steve muttered, looking around. “I should probably go home.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” Eddie said quickly, and when Steve looked up at him, he caught the tail-end of a wordless conversation between uncle and nephew. Eddie was shaking his head sharply before he turned a strained smile down at Steve, and Mr. Munson was rolling his eyes tiredly. “C’mon, Harrington, your chariot awaits.”

When Steve stood up, he was a lot less dizzy, which was a relief. He knew the vehicle would still be hell, but it was a necessary evil. This time, he decided he would ride up front with Eddie instead of laying in the back like an invalid.

The sun was still painfully bright, but even that was getting manageable. Once inside the van, he leaned back and shut his eyes tightly.

“You good, Harrington?” Eddie asked as he started the van.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just relaxing my head,” Steve replied, swallowing thickly. “Didn’t wanna say this in front of your uncle, but can you just drop me off downtown? My car’s still—”

“Harrington, if you think I’m going to knowingly let you drive like this for even a second, you must really have one hell of a concussion,” Eddie interrupted sharply. “I’m taking you home.”

“Not even taking me to dinner first?” Steve teased before he could stop himself.

Eddie barked out a laugh and didn’t respond.

“Seriously, Munson, my car—”

“Can’t someone else pick it up for you? You can give me your keys and I can give them to anyone you want,” Eddie suggested and Steve’s brow furrowed as he turned his face toward him, eyes still shut.

“This is ridiculous, I’m perfectly capable of driving,” he insisted and Eddie scoffed.

“Sure you are, just open your eyes,” Eddie challenged and Steve grimaced.

“Fuck you, man,” he sighed without any heat to it and Eddie laughed again.

“Seriously, though, give me your keys once we get to your house I’ll make sure your car gets back to you,” Eddie promised.

“Even if I told you to take my keys to Chief Hopper?” Steve challenged and Eddie barked out another laugh.

“Bold of you to assume me and Hopper don’t like each other,” Eddie teased and Steve actually opened his eyes just a bit to look at him.

“Seriously?” Steve asked and Eddie just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, the guy’s had plenty of opportunities to make my life hell, but he hasn’t,” he said evasively, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Figure that has to count for something.”

Steve just shrugged and closed his eyes again. “Maybe. Fine, then take my keys to Hopper,” he decided, if only because it would be less out of Hopper’s way to bring his car to him than literally anyone else.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he was startled again as the van stopped.

“We have arrived at Castle Harrington,” Eddie proclaimed as he turned the van off, and he was smirking when Steve opened his eyes again to look at him. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Sure,” Steve said, and he felt his cheeks heat with a blush. Confused at that reaction, Steve got out of the van as quickly as he safely could, careful not to trigger another dizzy spell.

When he unlocked his front door, he paused to look back at Eddie, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. “Did you want to come in?” he offered, his words a bit stilted.

“No,” Eddie laughed, looking up at the huge house. “I’ll pass, Harrington. Plus, I have an errand to run for you.”

“Right, uh, here you are,” Steve replied, handing his key chain to Eddie. “Thanks. For everything. I really appreciate it, Munson.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it, Harrington,” Eddie replied, and Steve watched as a blush rose to Eddie’s cheeks. He looked Eddie over again and remembered the blood on his vest. 

“Shit, your vest. Let me get it cleaned for you,” Steve insisted, pointing at the spots.

Glancing down at his vest, Eddie shook his head quickly. “No way, Harrington. I’ll handle it. Plus,” he started, grinning broadly as he leaned into Steve’s space. “It’s kinda metal, don’t you think?”

Steve stared at Eddie, a dazed little smile rising to his lips. “I have no idea what that means, Munson,” he admitted, and he felt a little proud at the loud laugh that got.

“Oh, Harrington, when you say shit like that, it makes me wanna corrupt you,” Eddie sighed, tilting his head as he took a step back. Steve rolled his eyes at that, the tips of his ears feeling hot.

“I’ll see you around,” Steve said, stepping backward into his house and Eddie nodded with a little wave before bounding down the walk back to his van.

Steve watched from his doorway while Eddie sat in his van and appeared to begin scolding himself. The man was always very animated, his gestures huge and typically very clear to read—the way he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, or the light smacks to his forehead, or the way he seemed to lean back and plead skyward. It was hilarious to watch if a bit baffling.

Eddie glanced back at the house and visibly jumped at seeing Steve still standing there. He couldn’t see from that distance, but Steve was positive that the nervous shake of Eddie’s head was paired with a blush. With another shake of his head and a laugh, Eddie leaned over to the passenger side of the bench and rolled the window down.

“The hell are you still standing out here for, Harrington? Get the fuck inside!” he shouted at Steve, his grin huge.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve called back, waving at Eddie before he finally turned and shut the door.

After an afternoon being tucked into the back of Eddie’s van and then inside Eddie’s trailer with his uncle, the big Harrington house felt cavernous. His parents weren’t even in town anymore. They left again for business around the time Steve was on the train tracks with Dustin setting the trap for D’art. When he had finally gotten home after that entire ordeal, he had been relieved to have the house to himself.

There was a smaller part of him that had ached for someone to be there and care that he was hurt, to take care of his bruised face and call him in sick to school. There he was, almost eighteen and wanting his mom like a child. That ache was there again, but with an angrier edge to it that he was too sore and too tired to unravel.

With a huff, Steve went upstairs to wash up as best as he could and get changed. Belatedly, he realized that he had lost the bottle of painkillers he bought, making his entire excursion earlier pointless.‘Not completely pointless,’ Steve corrected himself as he fussed with his hair gently, a reluctant smile coming to his face as he thought about the overall afternoon.

Chapter Five: B-Side

Steve groaned at the booming cop-knocking at his front door as he shuffled toward it. He had been dozing on the couch and his equilibrium was slow to reacquaint with itself upon waking up. It was a lot better than earlier, at least.

“I’m coming, Jesus, relax!” Steve shouted as he got to the front door, opening it with a bit too much gusto and losing his balance.

Hopper was quick to catch him before he toppled over, one big hand on his shoulder and the other around his elbow.

“Jesus, kid, you somehow look worse,” Hopper grumbled, stepping inside without letting go of him.

“Thanks, Chief,” Steve said with a self-deprecating laugh, and he didn’t fight when Hopper sat him down on the stairs.

“Your folks still not home?” Hopper asked as he looked around, his eyes landing on the note that was on the side table at the door from Steve’s parents. Picking it up, he read it with a frown.

“You got a warrant for that?” Steve grumbled, tipping his head back to stare at the high ceiling instead of the subtle, sad tilt of Hopper’s frown.

“I’m off-duty, kid. I’m checking on you,” Hopper said, and Steve could hear him crumpling up the note. “This says you’re on your own for Thanksgiving?”

“Does it?” Steve asked, and genuinely he hadn’t even read it. His father’s handwriting was hard enough to read at the best of times, and the head injury didn’t help with that.

“You’re coming to Thanksgiving with me and the Byers,” Hopper said firmly, and when Steve looked at him again, his expression brooked zero argument. “And if you argue, I’m telling Joyce you’re home alone with a head injury, you got it?”

Steve glowered weakly up at Hopper before shrugging. “Okay. Should I bring something?” he asked, rolling his eyes at Hopper’s smug smile.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” he replied before leaning back against the front door, his expression stern. “What’re you doing with Munson?”

Steve frowned up at Hopper. “We ran into each other when I was out earlier and he helped me out,” he replied after a bit, shrugging. “I’m not doing drugs if that’s what you're asking.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking, Harrington,” Hopper sighed, but the uncomfortable way he glanced away said differently. “I’m keeping your car at the station until Wayne removes your stitches at least—”

“C’mon, Chief,” Steve protested, his mouth hanging open in shock. “You can’t be serious!”

“You heard me! I’ve half a mind to ticket you for driving earlier on principle!” Hopper shouted over him, just loud enough to shut Steve up. “As I was saying, I’m keeping your car at the station. I’ll bring you to Wayne’s place to get your stitches removed since you refuse to see a doctor. Then I’ll decide if you’re good to have your car back. Do you understand?”

“This is ridiculous,” Steve grumbled.

“I asked you a question, Harrington,” Hopper pressed, stepping forward to loom over him.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Steve agreed, glancing away from him.

“Glad to hear it. Munson also gave me this. You apparently left it in his van,” Hopper said, pulling a bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and handing it to Steve.

Steve blinked at it before accepting it, smiling down at it a bit. He wondered if Eddie had been removing the blankets he bled on and that was when he found the bottle. “Uh, thanks, I thought I lost this,” he said, nodding up at Hopper.

Hopper stared down at Steve for a long while, frowning thoughtfully in that way that scrunched up his whole face. Then he sighed through his nose. “You’re a good kid, Harrington. I thought you were a snotty little prick like your old man—”

“Wow, thanks—?”

“But I was wrong. Munson’s a good kid, too, but he’s on a track that doesn’t look great. People in this town will talk,” Hopper said very deliberately. “You should be ready to deal with that if you’re gonna be running around with him.”

Steve stared at him, and he knew Hopper was right. What if word somehow got back to his parents that he had been in the local drug dealer’s van and trailer, and that drug dealer was at their house? Was that a fight he wanted to deal with while he was still firmly under his parents’ thumbs? He thought back to the argument Eddie got into with the cashier at Melvald’s and cringed. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get a “concerned” phone call from his mother within the week.

“I’m not running around with him, Chief. He was just helping me out today, okay? We go to school together, so we’re friendly,” Steve said, shrugging under Hopper’s hard stare.

“Good talk,” Hopper said before glancing around one more time. “Put your shoes on and grab a coat. You’re coming to dinner with me and El.”

“I’m not really up to going to a restaurant,” Steve declined, making a face up at Hopper.

“You need a proper meal, and I already told El you were coming,” Hopper replied, shrugging at Steve’s puzzled look.

“I don’t even—why would that matter to me?” Steve asked, even though he already felt his resolve to say no waning. He had a soft-spot for all of the kids, but especially the quieter ones like Will and Eleven. It was baffling though that him not going would possibly disappoint her. “Why would that matter to her? I’ve only really been around her like, three times, and I don’t think I’ve spoken to her once.”

“Listen, I make it a point to avoid understanding what teenage girls think about, kid,” Hopper sighed tiredly. “I told her I had to come by your place and make sure you weren’t dying on our way to dinner, and she asked if you were coming.”

“And you just told her yes?” Steve asked incredulously, even as he stood up to collect his shoes and coat.

“Of course I did,” Hopper replied, snorting. “I mean, it wasn’t like it was that hard to convince you anyway.”

“Where are we even going? Is it okay for her to be out?” Steve pushed, frowning.

For the first time since the conversation started, Hopper faltered and Steve glared. “We aren’t going to a restaurant,” Hopper admitted after a moment. “We’re going to the Byers’ house for dinner.”

Steve groaned, imagining his evening sitting at dinner with a cop, a girl with psychic powers, a boy they just barely saved from possession, his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend, and Joyce Byers. Who would take one look at him and freak out completely. After everything that had happened and between them all splitting up, Joyce hadn’t actually seen Steve after all was said and done. Come to think of it, neither had Jonathan. Nancy only knew how messed up he was because she came to his house after school on Monday when he didn’t show up.

“You said if I agreed—” Steve started to argue and Hopper shook his head sharply.

“I said I wouldn’t tell Joyce you’re home alone with a head injury,” Hopper replied, crossing his arms. “And I won’t tell her.”

“She’ll figure it out, though. She’s not stupid,” Steve snapped, and Hopper just shrugged at that.

“I didn’t say I would hide that you’re home alone with a head injury either,” he stated flatly and Steve groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he finally conceded. He knew he was resigning himself to weeks of being fussed over by Joyce, but he was too tired to keep arguing in circles and he was getting hungry.

Steve pointedly ignored the way a very small part of himself that ached constantly went quiet for once.

Chapter Six: Bonus Track

Hopper groaned when the phone on his desk rang, spiking his headache to an entirely new level. He was exhausted, still recovering from everything that happened over the weekend, particularly the way he very nearly died in the tunnels.

“Yes, Flo?” he greeted as pleasantly as he could manage as he picked up the receiver.

“Incoming, Chief.”

“Wha—?” Hopper started to ask just as his office door slammed open and in came Eddie Munson like a force of nature.

“Heya, Chief,” Eddie greeted loudly with a grin when Hopper flinched at the volume. He threw himself into the chair opposite Hopper and threw his feet up on the desk. “How’s it going?”

“What do you want, Munson?” Hopper asked flatly, eying the dirty shoes on top of his desk with disdain.

“Can’t a guy catch up with his favourite cop?” Eddie asked, batting his eyes innocently at Hopper as he fished out a cigarette and lit it.

“Cut the crap, Munson. Give me one of those if you’re going to sit here wasting my time,” Hopper demanded, and Eddie tossed him the pack. With a huff, Hopper took one of the three remaining cigarettes then pocketed the carton.

“Is it so hard to believe I just wanted to say hi?” Eddie pouted before taking a drag from his cigarette, and the effort it took for Hopper to not roll his eyes was tremendous.

Hopper lit his cigarette and willed the nicotine to calm his steadily fraying nerves. “Why would a drug dealer—”

“Alleged drug dealer,” Eddie interrupted pointedly. “Never been caught and convicted, and you know how it is, innocent until—”

“I will search you right here and now, Munson,” Hopper threatened half-heartedly and Eddie got a mischievous look on his face.

“Hop, I’m annoying, not stupid. You wouldn’t find a damn thing on me or in my van,” he said with a teasing tilt to his head and Hopper took a deep breath in through his nose and held it for five seconds. Releasing that breath, he took a drag off of his cigarette on the next one.

He would not let Eddie Munson get under his skin when his day was so close to being over. He only had to make it through two more hours until he could go home and pick El up for dinner at the Byers’.

“How. Can I. Help you. Munson?” Hopper asked slowly and deliberately before reaching over to shove Eddie’s feet off his desk.

Eddie had apparently been supporting most of his weight that way and yelped as he nearly fell out of his chair completely. Hopper couldn’t deny how much that alone raised his spirits.

“Shit, Hopper, you made me drop my smoke,” Eddie complained, picking the cigarette up and tossing it into the ashtray on the desk to burn out.

“Munson, either get to the point of your visit or leave,” Hopper pushed, and maybe something in his tone finally got through to the kid. Eddie righted himself in his chair properly before reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket. After a moment, he frowned and stood up to dig in his other pockets.

Hopper studied the kid a bit now that he was distracted, and his eyes focused on the dark stains on his shoulder. “Munson, is that blood?” he asked, alarm overtaking his annoyance as he stood up and came around the desk to look closer.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie said as he glanced down at his denim vest, shrugging. “Yeah, it is. Not mine though.”

Hopper stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Eddie just continued digging in his pockets until he pulled out two sets of car keys and sat back down. Blinking up at Hopper, Eddie asked, “What?”

“Whose blood is on your vest, Munson?” Hopper said in a low voice, and for the first time since Eddie entered the room, he looked a bit less cocky.

“Steve Harrington’s,” Eddie replied, and Hopper stared at him for several long seconds, again waiting for him to elaborate. Eddie just raised his eyebrows up at Hopper before the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a little smirk.

“Edward Munson, you have five seconds—”

“I ran into him on the street, he ate shit, and had a massive bleeding wound where Billy Hargrove broke a plate over his head, so I took him to my uncle,” Eddie said in a tight tone, and Hopper realized that the kid was angry now. More than that, the kid was angry at him for some reason. Was he pissed the whole time and Hopper was only just figuring that out?

“Christ, Munson,” Hopper grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as his headache throbbed behind his eyes. How did Wayne live with this kid and his moods?

“Steve claims you know about the fight,” Eddie said, and it was said like a statement, but it was clearly more of a question, like he didn’t quite buy Steve’s story.

“Yes, I do. He declined pressing charges,” Hopper replied, crossing his arms and leaning back against the desk.

“Did you know about his head?” Eddie asked, and Hopper sucked his teeth. Steve had, predictably, played down his injuries when Hopper got back from the lab with El, and all of that hair of his helped hide the alleged open wound.

“Where is Harrington now?” Hopper asked instead of answering Eddie’s question, looking around for his truck keys and hat.

Eddie huffed. “Don’t worry, I made sure he got home alright. He asked me to give you these,” he said, holding up the keys for Steve’s Beemer. “It’s parked in the alley around the corner from Melvald’s.”

Hopper took the keys, a flash of anger spiking through him that the kid was stupid enough to drive with a concussion at all. When he glanced down at Eddie, he could see he was still pissed off. “What, Munson?”

“What are you going to do about Hargrove?” Eddie asked, his tone low. “Steve said he was going to kill the kids he was supposedly babysitting.”

“He was babysitting,” Hopper said, almost defensively, on Steve’s behalf and Eddie reared back.

“That’s the part of my sentence you focus on?” he asked and Hopper held a hand up.

“First of all, I will remind you that Steve declined pressing charges—”

“Why does that matter?” Eddie interjected angrily. “Does attempted murder need the victim to press charges?”

Hopper dropped what was left of his cigarette into the ashtray as he pushed off the desk to go shut the door of his office. Once he was back at the desk, half sitting on it and looming over Eddie, he said slowly, “There were extenuating circumstances surrounding the bullshit with Hargrove that you are not, and cannot be privy to, Munson. So yes, while I would love to do something about that little shit, I can’t about this incident because Steve. Is not. Pressing charges.”

Eddie glared up at him, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his chin out defiantly. Hopper immediately thought of the day he met Eddie, and despite his generalized annoyance with the kid, he felt a sad sort of fondness.

“Why do you even care this much about it, Munson?” Hopper asked, trying to return his focus to their conversation. But when Eddie immediately looked away nervously, his face turning pink under Hopper’s stare, Hopper heaved a huge sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face.

It was about a week after Hopper returned to Hawkins to take up his post as chief of police when he met Eddie. The kid’s hair was a lot shorter, still growing out an unfortunate buzz cut, and he was skinny in a way that spoke of the neglect he dealt with before the system dropped him onto his uncle’s doorstep. Hopper had been driving around, reacquainting himself with his hometown after years away, when he happened upon a group of young men jumping Eddie. The cowards had bolted before Hopper’s truck came to a complete stop.

He could still remember the conversation they had while Hopper took the kid’s statement at the hospital.

“What started the fight?”

“I’m a faggot.” Tone sharp, full of venom.

“Is that what they said?”

“Yeah, that’s what they said, but they’re right.” Conviction, even as his eyes were full of tears, that defiant tilt of his wobbling chin. Waiting for Hopper to hit him, too. “I am a faggot.”

Hopper tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Eddie,” he sighed and Eddie huffed.

“You can’t say shit to me I haven’t already said to myself, Chief,” Eddie grumbled miserably, his crossed arms squeezing himself tighter as he folded in on himself.

“Harrington, though?” Hopper asked him, trying to keep his tone light, teasing almost. “Of all the boys to be all… hormonal and mushy about, it had to be a Harrington?”

“Again, Chief, I’ve already said all of that to myself. Repeatedly,” Eddie said with a shrug. “And Uncle Wayne said it all in even more colourful terms.”

Hopper heaved another sigh. “He wants you to be careful, stay safe. Hell, that’s what I want too,” he said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie replied, and he slouched in his chair. “Steve’s a lot nicer now.”

“That’s true,” Hopper agreed flatly as he crouched to better meet Eddie’s eyes. Heaving a big sigh, he added, “you should still remember who his father is, and that Steve might still follow in his footsteps.”

Hopper went to high school with Richard Harrington, had been on the receiving end of his fists more times than he could count, and he knew how Richard felt about gay people. He knew how much more brutal his fists could get if he thought someone was queer. Hopper did not want Richard Harrington to find out about Eddie at all, which would be easier if the kid stayed away from Steve.

Eddie sighed and looked away from Hopper, spinning the rings on his fingers around nervously. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Okay, good talk,” Hopper said, standing back up and returning to his chair. “Now get out of my office.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to try and tell me to stay away from him?” Eddie asked skeptically.

“I’m not your parent, Munson. Be careful, though,” Hopper replied, shrugging. “Even if Steve isn’t a problem, he’s still living with his parents.”

“We’re not even friends, Chief. You don’t have to worry about that shit,” Eddie said as he stood up and started for the door.

Hopper nodded and then he asked, “were Steve’s parents’ home when you dropped him off?”

Eddie looked back at him from the door and shook his head. “The house seemed empty. And I mean, he had to get his own—oh yeah!” he said excitedly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of painkillers. “He forgot this in my van. Can you get it to him?”

Hopper took the bottle of pills and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get it to him, kid. Now fuck off,” he barked and Eddie snorted as he left his office with just as much noise as he arrived.

“Hey, Callahan! Love what you’re trying with the mustache, man, really distracts the eye from just… the rest of your face. Yeugh.”

Hopper snorted, allowing himself one moment to be amused by Eddie Munson’s nonsense.

[ NEXT ]

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[oo-hazel-oo]

hey everyone, i’m back… sort of.

i know i disappeared off the face of the planet for a while and i’ve been absolutely awful at keeping in touch with so many of you, which i am so, so sorry for. i’ve been dealing with some health stuff that prompted me to take a social media break, but it was one of my new year’s resolutions to reconnect with you all. i’ve missed everyone so much. so to start 2024 off on the right foot, i thought i’d give you all a recap of the past six months! i also thought i owed y’all an explanation for why i disappeared for so long, so i included that below the cut (tw: health stuff - if you have health anxiety, don’t read - or if you’re just wanting some happy news, feel free to read the fun update instead!)

fun update

some amazing things have happened this year!

♥️ i graduated university with first-class-honors!

♥️ i got to meet some of my amazing internet friends in-person (shout out to @just-another-dreamerr <3)

♥️ i finally got my u.k. citizenship and decided to move to scotland on a more permanent basis (will be starting grad school in sept. 2024)

♥️ got to spend some quality time with my best friend before she moved across the country

♥️ rediscovered the joy of live music

♥️ received amazing recommendations from my professors for my grad school applications, which really helped validate my writing and made me smile for a week straight

♥️ i got to travel across europe with friends and family - saw some beautiful places, ate incredible food, and met some of the kindest, most generous people

♥️ got to witness my favorite football (soccer) team make it to playoffs

♥️ improved my crocheting so i now i get to make lots of little gifts for friends and family

♥️ finally found a curly hair routine i love!

not-so-fun update

(again, tw: health stuff)

so over the past year i’ve been dealing with health issues, both physical and mental, and i finally went to my GP to address them last january. they essentially told me that everything could be attributed to anxiety and low iron levels; i accepted this at first, but when symptoms persisted over spring/summer, i became a bit frustrated - i felt like once anxiety was added to my record, it was all the doctors would acknowledge. anyways, flash forward to a month ago when i finally found a symptom that was a bit more difficult to just brush off as anxiety - a painless, hard lump at the base of my neck.

as soon as i found it, i booked an appointment with my family’s doctor, as i have family history of cancer (including my mom and grandma), and have since become wary of any unusual lumps and bumps. but to be honest with you, i wasn’t that worried - i was assuming it was just a swollen lymph node. this new doctor was more thorough than any doctor i had seen in the past. she ran a bunch of tests and discovered that my WBC count was low. my iron levels were actually great, which surprised me because i had attributed lots of my previous symptoms to iron deficiency. she took a look at my neck and immediately was concerned by the size, texture, and location of the lump and referred me for an urgent ultrasound, which i have on the 8th, to (hopefully) rule out the possibility of lymphoma.

needless to say, i’m panicking a bit. on the one hand, i’m glad i’m finally being taken seriously by a doctor. on the other hand, i’m supposed to move to the u.k. on the 19th and no longer know if that will be happening. the not-knowing and waiting around is really, really hard.

so it’s been a difficult start of the year for me and i feel a bit burnt out by everything. but i’m trying to keep myself busy with the things i love and hope that this will at the very least give me some much-needed answers.

anyways, i love you all so much and hope the new year is treating you well. and if it’s not, know that you definitely are not alone. please shoot me a message, even if we’ve never really talked, i really want to catch up and hear about all the amazing things y’all have been up to! ♥️

[takaraphoenix]

I'm overweight. That's not really news, that's been the case since about third grade. And I'm not stupid, I'm aware that certain medical issues can arise from being overweight.

However, even without a medical degree, I'm about 99,9% sure tonsillitis ain't one of them.

So I'm currently sick. On week three of this shit now, actually. The first week, I spent on antibiotics that... clearly didn't really help. But after they were empty, I went back to work, because I was feeling better. That worked for three days, over which things got... progressively worse again.

All the symptoms of the tonsillitis. The trouble breathing and swallowing, the extreme exhaustion, the dizziness when doing too much. Everything I'd been feeling back then, including the swollen tonsils, which was the deadest give-away for me as a non-medical expert.

So I went back to the doctor. The doctor that is not my usual doctor. But apparently it wasn't bad enough for another round of antibiotics yet. So she went on to investigate like something else must be the cause of this.

And now, to bring this back to the opening of the post, the "something else" had to be my weight, because her first question after that was how much I weight and how long I've been weighting that. And beyond a blood test, she also wanted to test my sugar ASAP.

I don't have diabetes. I know that. My grandpa and mom have it, my mom regularly makes me test my blood sugar levels, it's never done anything suspicious before.

And even if it did, I do not know how in the world my blood sugar levels would relate to the sore throat and swollen fucking tonsils that I came into the doctor's office with! But sure, test my blood and give me the Pikachu face at my normal blood sugar levels.

When she, later in the evening, called me with the results of my other blood tests, she noted a heightened liver reading, which I told her that my regular doctor already noted before and said we should get into at some point - to say that this isn't related to what's currently going on with me.

To which she replied she had his notes before her. And also that it ought to be a fatty liver, since I'm very overweight.

She didn't say that it was likely a fatty liver, or that it could be a fatty liver. She declared it. And also that it was also obviously because I'm overweight, in this definitive manner that places blame. You have this, that you brought onto yourself. This is your fault.

She doesn't even know if I have this. If that is what I have. She just has a slightly elevated liver reading. Slightly. Not even much. And from that, and my weight, she concluded, in a definite manner, that it had to be a fatty liver that also definitely came from me being overweight.

And I'm not a medical professional, but I still that there are other reasons for different liver readings. And also that there are different reasons for a fatty liver. Heck! Maybe I'm an alcoholic and that's why my liver is acting up (I'm not but hey).

I'm overweight and I'm aware of that fact and I'm aware that certain issues can be caused by that.

But the medical reason I came to this doctor for - my sore, aching throat and swollen tonsils that are the direct follow-up of me having been sick for a week straight with a diagnosed tonsillitis - are just not things that I think are in any way or shape related to my weight.

And even if they were! Her… declaration of a diagnosis without running any further tests, just has to be a fatty liver because it's a fatty patient.Her tone of voice. Her judgement. Because those were sharper than her actual words. It was about the way she said it, and the way that made me feel. Those were entirely inappropriate.

I've been overweight since third grade. And I had my preteen and teen years of body image problems and being bullied about it and all that cliche shit. But I've been okay with it since I was twenty. A singular person hasn't made me feel like crap about my body and weight like that since I was in high school.

The thing that infuriates me the most about all of this is that I know what's wrong with me. I knew it when I walked into the doctor's office. The tonsillitis is back. By now, full on, with all its perks aside from the fever (thankfully enough). But instead of prescribing me anything, anything at all, to help against the tonsillitis that isn't antibiotics, if it's not bad enough for antibiotics, this doctor had to turn me upside down to try and figure out how these symptoms could somehow relate to my weight.

And when she couldn't find a relation, she just... left me hanging. I mean, completely. She gave me nothing, and now, four days later, I feel so much worse, once again. But hey! Maybe now I am so much worse again that the next doctor I go to will try antibiotics again!

So I'm looking forward to taking my now progressively worse tonsillitis to the next doctor on Monday. And hoping to never see this one and her fatphobia again.

[ittakesrain]

I walked into my therapists office with puffy eyes and a swollen face— for the second time in a row. She was, well, concerned. I worry she thinks I wasn’t taking my health issues seriously. Maybe I wasn’t. In my view it’s just that nothing is ever simple or easy or goes the way it should and I’m fed up with it. Yes yes, woe is me. And like, YES give me ALL THE SYMPATHY cause this shit sucks dick. But also, I do have the awareness to know being negative isn’t going to help, and ultimately help (and feeling better at long last) is all I want.

We settled into the appointment and suddenly I had a list of things to do. Read: I was suddenly overwhelmed. Even though I knew I had to do all that nonsense regardless. I wound up asking Gail if I could call my rheumatologist during our session, which I did, and when I started babbling about how I needed an appointment soon, she swooped in and spoke… not “aggressively” by any means, but god damn she sounded like she knew what the fuck she was talking about (which she always does, she’s amazing).

Bam, I had an appointment half an hour later. It was gently suggested to me to call my mom to ask if she would accompany me to said appt. Which she did wind up doing.

Meanwhile, I’m obviously coming to terms with the fact that I need even more help than I’d previously assumed… coming to accept the fact that my issues are disabling. I’m disabled. In more ways than one, mind you, but anyway.

It hasn’t been too difficult admitting I suck at this fuckery and need my hand held through these processes. I am well aware of reality. I ask for help (though clearly not frequently enough) and receive the help without much thought. I mean, whatever. I have it harder than most fucking people why should I get more assistance.

The rheumatologist appt went well in that she took me seriously and sad the extent of the issue with her own eyeballs and acknowledged how difficult these last 3 years have been for me in terms of autoimmune issues. She said I need to see an allergist and to get a biopsy of some spots from my dermatologist, as well we get some blood work. And she gave me a steroid (alarms rang out in my skull because fun fact steroids make my lithium levels drop in ways noticeable through my moods & I’ve tested this theory more than a few times).

So I leave, get a well-deserved coffee. Check in with my therapist. She points out that I need to get blood work before going on steroids (and that I’m in charge of my own needs). So I make that appointment for an hour later (and ponder THAT concept, holy ShiT). Go straight there. In and out pretty quick. Then make a regular doctor appointment. Then text my psychiatrist about potentially upping my lithium for a bit.

I looked up what it actually means to “advocate for myself,” and tell me I’m not the only one who couldn’t conceptualize this cluster of words when said to me.

It apparently means: you’re able to recognize your worth and assume the responsibility of clearly communicating your needs, goals, and desires to others.

I’d add that it’s seeing reciprocal results. As opposed to giving your effort to no avail. From there I’d say it’s communicating the “right” way (“clearly,” I GUESs). In MY opinion communication is subjective and dynamic and personal— thus, never “wrong.”

But boyyyyy howdy it looks like in this case I’ve been doing it WRONG.

My doctors appt was fine. He was thorough and seemed confident that there’s help out there. More blood work. A referral. Blah blah.

Today I called the allergist. There was the usual bullshit. The one my doctor sent me in my does food allergies. They gave me another number. Didn’t take my shitty insurance. A few phone calls later and I found one. Perfect. I need a referral from my doctor so I call them and they can’t figure out how to refer me…??????

And here we are able square one. I called the allergist back. They took a message. So now what. I’ve hit a wall and while my mom or Gail could definitely break through it, alas I cannot.

So now I’m not only in a BIT OF A PICKLE medically… but I feel stupid. No one’s making me feel this way. Anyone who’s told me to take charge simply loves me and wants me better. I’m just… fed up with how nothing is ever simple or easy or goes the way it should.

Yes it’s okay to need help. No I’m not a burden for needing help. But when I think of little baby-teenage Laura with -so much potential- and realize she grew up into THIS CRAZY CRIPPLED MESS ..I have emotions about it. I don’t want to let myself down and quite frankly I don’t even really know the criteria for doing that. So I’m left confused.

Why doesn’t crying defeated in a corner count as advocating for myself. Why must I grovel for things to Fucking Work Out.

Anyway, it’s been many years since I’ve let myself end a written ramble negatively. Gotta wrap this shit up in a shiny bow. Fake it til you make it? Whatever lol

It’s gonna be okay. I’m quite literally surrounded by love and support. I am happy. Magic is real. The universe is expanding. Miracles happen every day.

Wow I’m finding it suspiciously easy to say positive crap, so I’m gonna end there.

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

Room For Dessert

anon requested- Can you do a smut where rossi has a dinner party but also has his Niece staying with him because her apartment is being fumigated. Her and Spencer hit it off and go at it.

anon requested- smut 54: you better be quiet or everyone is going to know what a naughty little slut you are. and 59: such a needy little thing, aren't you? with Spencer

Contains: fingering (female receiving), hand job (male receiving), mention of pregnancy/breeding kink, name calling, slight degradation, unprotected sex, swearing, sexual acts in a public setting

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

I had never met my uncle David's co-workers before. He had always talked about introducing us, but it just never seemed to be the right time. It seems that today though, the world decided it was the right time.

He was having a dinner party tonight and my apartment needed to be fumigated. What luck!

I figured I would be staying with him for a couple days, so I packed my things after work yesterday. Now it was Saturday, the day of the party, and time to head over.

I had to admit I was nervous. A dinner party with people I didn't know? Talk about awkward. But I decided to make the most of it.

Once I was at his house, he took me to a spare room that would be mine for the next few days and showed me where everything was. Not that I would remember since we're in a mansion.

A few hours passed and it was time for people to start arriving. As I was getting my party clothes on, I could hear voices downstairs. Guess I should hurry.

Once I was done with my hair, makeup, and clothes, I made my way slowly down the stairs. The voices got progressively louder as I got closer.

A few people were scattered around the immediate area. A dark-haired woman stood talking to a blonde woman over near the far side of the room. Uncle David was talking with an Asian man and a dark-skinned woman by the entrance to the kitchen. And lastly, a well-built Hispanic man sat talking to a blonde woman in colorful clothing and a tall, slightly unkempt man.

I wasn't sure where to go first so I just kind of stood on the bottom step without saying anything. Then Uncle David noticed me.

"Ah there she is! We've been waiting for you. Come on and mingle while the food is finishing up."

At his words, the room full of people all turned their heads toward me.

Slightly taken aback by all the eyes on me, I gave a small wave and a smile before making my way down to them.

"It's nice to meet you guys! I'm (Y/N). Uncle David has told me about all of you."

The woman wearing bright colors made her way over to me first, a glass of champagne in hand.

"It's so nice to meet you! Your dress is to die for!"

She then enveloped me in a one arm hug. I hugged her back and accidentally made eye contact with the tall guy in the back. He quickly looked away. What was he staring at me for?

"I'm Penelope by the way!"

She pulled away and smiled at me once more before making room for the next person.

Emily, JJ, Luke, Tara, and Matt all introduced themselves. The last guy must be...

"Dr. Spencer Reid," he said as he stuck his hand out to shake.

Oh. Oh wow.

Now that I got a closer look at him, I could see why his nickname was "Pretty Boy." If we hadn't been in front of so many people, I would've had to jump his bones right then.

I shook his hand shyly.

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you. Aren't you a little too attractive to be in the FBI? How does anyone get their work done?"

Spencer cleared his throat and glanced around the room to see people start walking to the kitchen. The food must be almost done.

"Well, why don’t you sit next to me at the dinner table? I’ll make sure to tell you all about my...work,” he murmured as he made no attempts to hide his eyes roaming my body.

Did-did he just...?

Before I could think anything coherent, he began walking away. He was probably just messing with me. I’m just being stupid.

Still, my legs felt a bit weak as I made my way into the kitchen. They were all sitting down and the only empty seat was next to Spencer. As I approached, he jumped up and pulled out the chair.

“Here let me.”

He gave me a bashful look, not at all like the look he gave my body moments ago in the living room. What is this guy’s deal?

I gave him a small smile and took a seat. He pushed me towards the table and sat down next to me.

Uncle David did his toast thing to be thankful for everyone being here, and then we started dishing up our food. There was so much to choose from that my plate became full almost immediately.

“So tell me,” I said to the man next to me, “What’s it like to be the BAU’s resident genius?”

Spencer glanced at me as he gathered food onto his plate.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that an IQ score or any amount of knowledge makes someone a genius. Not that both of those aren’t high for me, but I don’t like to quantify the term genius.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“But between you and me, it feels pretty good.”

I giggled and he smiled at me. He has a nice smile.

“Hey I made you laugh and it wasn’t at me. Maybe I’m getting somewhere with women.”

I traced the rim of my champagne glass before looking at him. I know I’d like to go somewhere with him...

“I don’t see how women aren’t all over you, Doctor. I mean. Have you looked in a mirror?”

Spencer chuckled and smiled, almost nervously.

“I’d rather look at you.”

My cheeks got hot and I blinked rapidly. Oh no. This is it. It’s happening.

But I hadn’t forgotten that look he gave me before we sat down. I hadn’t forgotten the way he undressed me with his eyes. If he wanted to mess with me then I would mess with him too.

I leaned over slowly so no one would notice and began talking in a low voice in his ear.

“What parts of me would you like to look at, Doctor?”

Spencer choked on his drink when I finished speaking. I leaned away feeling accomplished and with a painful twitch in my chest from trying not to lose my shit at him sputtering like an idiot.

But it would seem that karma is, in fact, a bitch.

“How about I start with those pretty tits of yours?”

It was my turn to choke on my drink this time. This earned me a few glances from the people across from me at the table.

“You two okay over there?” Emily asked us, having no clue what was really happening on our side of the table.

Spencer gave me a fake confused glance and then met Emily’s eyes.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

She shrugged and seemed to leave it at that, turning back to her conversation with JJ.

“How about...,” Spencer began next to me in a low voice so that no one would hear, “We have a little fun?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, not really sure what he meant by that.

He widened his eyes and looked me up and down in response as if to say, “You know exactly what I mean.”

I tried not to smile as big as I wanted to, so I settled on a sly grin in his direction to let him know I was game.

His body seemed to relax in relief almost, something I wasn’t expecting. Was he genuinely interested in me or was he just messing with me because I happened to be here?

I tried distracting myself from these thoughts and started actually eating, since we were at a dinner party after all.

A few minutes went by of idle conversation, although I wasn’t really listening. I responded in short sentences and nods in between bites of food, but my mind was elsewhere.

It wasn’t too long though, until my mind went straight to my thigh, where a hand could be felt slowly making its way up.

Trying not to make it obvious, I turned towards Spencer with a shocked look on my face. He wasn’t even looking at me, he was looking ahead and having a full conversation with Matt and Luke. How is he multitasking this well?

His hand- his very large and warm hand- made its way even farther up, snaking towards my center with a painfully slow pace.

I knew what he was planning, and I was ready for it. At least, I think I am.

His finger brushed against the edge of my panties and he paused. When I looked over at him, he had his chin casually resting on his other hand and was looking at me sideways. He raised an eyebrow to ask me if it was okay.

In response, I took his hand that was so close to where I wanted it to be, and brought it down so that he could feel the wet spot forming just from thinking about what he was getting ready to do.

I think this shocked him a little, so he cleared his throat and looked ahead, picking up another conversation with Tara.

He made his way back to where he was and began slipping fingers past the hem of my panties. They were warm and soft, but still, I shivered.

I tried my best to continue on as normal while people talked to me, but as soon as I felt the pad of his pointer finger stroking my folds, I choked on my words.

No one seemed to notice, so I continued on like nothing happened.

He was teasing me now, touching around my entrance but never going in it. How irritating.

I’m sure he sensed my frustration, since he chuckled under his breath and immediately shoved a finger inside me.

I inhaled sharply, not expecting the force or suddenness. This seemed to please him; at least I’m assuming he was pleased based on the grin that graced his features.

He continued working while he talked, never stopping the motions of going in and out of me. He even began rubbing my clit with another finger while he fingered me. He must be really good at piano. And guitar, for that matter.

It was starting to get a little warm, and my body began reacting to the way he was relentlessly rubbing my clit in hurried circles.

“Spencer,” I hissed so that no one else could hear.

“Hmmm?”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I believe I’m trying to make you cum on my fingers.”

My breath hitched in my throat as I felt my core tighten. I looked around to make sure no one had heard us. The coast seemed to be clear.

“You’re gonna pay for this, asshole,” I choked out.

This seemed to only fuel him. His fingers began relentlessly attacking my swollen bundle of nerves and they did not stop. Not even close. He only got faster and faster, and I have no idea how that was even possible to begin with.

I wanted to smack the smirk that appeared when I tightened around his fingers right off his stupid face.

His eyes roamed my sweaty, slightly red face and he slowly pulled his hand from my panties.

Spencer then turned back to his plate and picked up the last bit of his dinner roll that was left. He placed it in his mouth, along with the tips of his fingers that were just in my panties. He pushed the roll farther in his mouth so that his fingers were halfway in. Then he slowly withdrew them, his lips never leaving those damn fingers.

“Mmm Rossi,” Spencer began, turning away from me and to the man he called, “These rolls are really good. Did you make them yourself? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like it.”

This time I choked on my own saliva. So of course, I had a coughing fit that drew everyone’s attention to me.

“Oh my gosh, (Y/N) are you okay? Take a sip of water!” Penelope told me in honest concern for my well being.

I finished coughing and took a long gulp from my glass. I only wished it was whiskey instead of water right now.

“I’m okay, really,” I said, holding my hands up in front of me, “Just... swallowed my food too fast.”

This seemed to satisfy everyone so they all turned back to each other, Spencer’s comment about the rolls forgotten.

“That’s what you get for calling me those mean names, princess,” Spencer murmured next to me.

I stayed silent in response. Two could play at this game.

Without hesitation, I placed my hand against his crotch. And it was... something. I’m not sure if he was that hard or just- that big. Either way, my heart skipped a beat. But I didn’t let that stop me.

I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of his pants and made contact with what I was looking for. I felt him twitch under my touch, but his face gave nothing away to the others at the table.

So I started working. Tracing the length of what I could reach, and rubbing along his shaft with precision.

He took in a sharp breath as I made my way closer to the tip, and he quickly cut a glance my way.

I paid him no mind as I continued, making sure to eat off my plate like normal so as not to draw suspicion. Looking around, I could see that most people were finishing up their food, so I didn’t really have a lot of time left. I started going faster, putting more pressure onto his dick as I went. 

When I looked up to check the scene, I saw Spencer gripping his fork with white knuckles. He was holding on for dear life. Good. 

It was then that a few people began to excuse themselves from the table to go mingle some more before dessert. Shit. I had to hurry. 

I kept picking up speed, probably too much to be honest. But it worked. Spencer stiffened under my touch and a warm, wet spot was now forming in his pants, coating my fingers. He cleared his throat to try and drown out the noise he wanted so badly to make instead. 

I took a deep breath, satisfied with my work, and slowly removed my hand from his pants. It was just us, Penelope, and my uncle left at the table. They were in the middle of a conversation anyway. Luck was on my side tonight.

Spencer excused himself in a hurry, and I waited a few minutes before doing the same. I had no idea where he went, so I just had to walk around and find him somehow. We had unfinished business. 

A few minutes went by of me searching the halls, hopefully not drawing attention to myself. And then I found him, leaning against a wall and looking out the window in front of him. 

When I approached him, I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get any words out, he grabbed my wrist roughly and pulled me into a closet. Spencer shut the door quietly behind us, though I could tell that he wanted to slam it. Uh oh.

“What the hell was that?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“I was just playing along! Isn’t that what we wanted to do from the beginning?”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair. Oh, how I wanted to do the same thing.

“Obviously. I’ve been wanting to fuck you senseless since I laid eyes on you.”

My heart skipped a beat and the pulse suddenly went down into my core instead.

“Well do it then,” I murmured while gripping onto his forearms. There was enough space in this closet for many different positions. I just wanted to be as close to him as possible.

“I don’t know if you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Spencer groaned while palming my ass roughly.

“Mmm, I don’t care. I’m on the pill, by the way. So I wanna feel you. All of you. Although I have a pretty strong feeling you’d get off on putting a baby in me, Doctor,” I whispered into his ear before pressing my chest against his. I felt his breathing stop for a split second.

“Shut up,” he growled. It seems I pushed a button.

“Make me.”

Without a word and without hesitation, Spencer shoved me against the wall behind me and locked his mouth onto mine.

It was better than I could’ve imagined. And I had imagined it a lot over the course of tonight.

His tongue immediately shoved past the barrier of my lips and teeth, finding shelter in my mouth. The groans that came from him could have undone me right there, so I held onto his shoulders for dear life. His hands found his way to my ass, and he pushed me against his erection. His very large, very intimidating erection. And then all too soon, he pulled away, a string of saliva and swollen lips the only evidence of what had just happened.

“Who said you were allowed to tease me, huh? You've been pushing my buttons all night, and now look at you. A writhing mess underneath me. Such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

I shivered as his words reached my ears. So he had noticed I was already falling apart once again.

“God,” he moaned into my neck as he pushed me against his dick.

I couldn’t help myself- I moaned with him. The friction of him against my pulsing core was almost too much to handle.

“You sound so good,” he growled in my ear.

We stopped suddenly when footsteps could be heard nearby. I glanced at Spencer in a panic and started to move away from him. But before I could, he hastily shoved his hand over my mouth.

"Oh no, we're not stopping. Not when it’s getting this good. So you better be quiet or else everyone will know what a naughty little slut you are. Understand?"

I whimpered against his fingers and nodded at him. He gave me a wicked smile in return.

"Good girl. Now take off your panties and wrap your legs around me so I can feel just how tight your cunt really is. I have a feeling my dick will feel a lot better inside you rather than my fingers.”

With shaking hands, I slid my panties off and kicked them away.

Spencer must have enjoyed what I did because he licked his lips eagerly, never breaking his gaze towards me. Before I made my way back over to him, I couldn’t help but notice how hard he already was. This wouldn’t take long. Less of a chance we would get caught, thankfully. 

He pulled down his pants and boxers roughly, quickly stepping out of them like I had done moments ago. He made no motion to remove the clothes on his top half, solidifying the thought that this would be over quickly. How bittersweet. 

Without another word, I practically jumped into his arms, our mouths meeting immediately and moving against the other ferociously. But all of a sudden, he pulled away, and it pissed me off more than it should have. 

When I saw why he did though, I wasn’t angry anymore. 

He had picked up the belt he had been wearing from the floor, and was holding it in front of me with a dangerous look in his eye. 

“I don’t trust you to be quiet. Open,” Spencer said in a gravelly huff. 

I did as he asked without hesitation, and he roughly shoved the leather belt into my mouth, commanding me to bite down on it. 

Oh shit.

Without missing a beat, he picked me up and laid me down on the floor, extremely gently compared to how he had previously put the belt in my mouth. 

“Good thing you’re already so wet,” Spencer purred, looking down at my exposed core. “Otherwise, this might hurt a little. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Unfortunately, it did still hurt. But God, did it hurt so good. 

[soft-angelic-kiss]

We’re all  a little bit crazy (5)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

therapsit! Izuku x Patient! Bakugou x Patient! Todoroki x Patient! Shinsou x Patient! Reader

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Chapter 5 trigger warnings- Y/N gets into a small fight, mentions of taking pills, the use of the word psycho and mentions of suicide// lemme know if i missed anything

if that makes you uncomfy don’t read!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

chapter one here    

 chapter two here  

chapter three here 

chapter four here

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

He woke up again on a plush bed after sleeping comfortably, his cheek slightly bruised and a dull pain running through it, he placed his hand on it and nothing felt swollen which was a very good sign. He let out a sigh and moved up to his elbows so he could look around. 

It was different from all the other rooms he’d been in, It had more color, drawings all the walls.. Comfort stuffed animals they sometimes give you at the hospital even bigger stuffed animals.. The room was comfortable.. 

He finally looked next to him and on the floor was Y/N, who was listening to music occasionally flinching from the headphones as she colored in a little book. He didn’t wanna disrupt the girl, so he sat up and carefully grabbed his clipboard looking for her file… 

 F I L E   4

(Patient Name) Y/N Yagi  (Patient #437)

 (Date admitted) 8-3-2009

 (Patient age) 19

 (Patient disorder)  Anxiety, Severe Depression, Sensory Overloading issues, and short temper, but never escalates, ADHD, PTSD, Anorexia, self harm and suicidal thoughts

(History/cause)  When she was 4 her family home went up in flames causing the death of her father (Okorashi) and older brother (Ekai) Which gave her an extreme fear of explosions and loud noises. From the ages of 4-7 her mother became an addict and an alcoholic. She took up abusive habits that left a few horrific scars on her body. When she was 7 her mother finally passed from an overdose that caused her uncle to have to take her in, He’s a kind man and treats her kindly, He sent them here in hopes of making her better, and more ready to come home. He visits often.

(Has patient...)

-attempted suicide?

-attempted homicide?

-attempted any act of self-harm?

-attempted violence on past employees?

-attempted escape?

 (Other). If she gets sensory overwhelmed she tends to scream, hot, kick and cry. They find comfort in the other patients, Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and the boys downstairs. She tends to stick her nails into the skin of whoever grabs her, she needs to be sedated if she has a breakdown. 

(Danger level) 9/10

Izuku raised an eyebrow, the description of the person sitting down in front of him.He felt like it didn’t match her at all. He decided to take a gentle approach to greeting Y/N to make sure she didn’t have an “episode” as the paper put it. 

He gently swung his feet over the side and crouched down hoping to get into her sightline. He crawled to sit in front of her placing his hands on the floor in front of her coloring book. 

Y/N looked up, slightly startled but then took her headphones off, the change causing her head to spasm backwards before resuming her normal position. “Hi!” They smiled, placing her hands on the coloring book in front of Izuku’s. “Hi, Y/N right?” He spoke calmly, not wanting to put off the human infront of him. “Yeah! And you are...Izuku? Midoryia?” She tilted her head curiously and smiled, pumping a fist into the air when Midoryia nodded a smile being brought to his own lips. He was absolutely hooked by Y/N. Their backstory, their personality, they were such an interesting person and he couldn’t wait to learn more. 

“Yeah. You got it right, good job.” he chuckled when her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment from his praise. Izuku chuckled again and leaned forward slightly and watched as Y/N leaned back. 

Izuku shook his hands carefully and leaned back “Is this more comfortable?” Y/N nodded and smiled softly leaning forward again to resume coloring. Izuku smiled and decided to just watch her for a few moments.

The two hung out not moving position for at least half an hour, until Y/N looked towards the door and started cowering when the door opened and the men in white stood there with a medical tray full of many medical instruments he'd never seen before. 

Y/N jumped to their feet and tried to hide behind Izuku as one of them said “Y/N, Please I don’t want to have to repeat what happened yesterday.” He went to reach for her but she smacked his hand and continued standing behind Midoryia who was eyeing the men with a suspicious look. 

The blonde one who had spoke already finally went to grab them only to have his hands smacked away, but instead of a hand, he felt a clipboard against his wrist as he cried out “what THE-” the man went to hit Izuku but the greenette had blocked his second hit as well 

“She’s scared. I’m going to have to ask you to leave because you are not helping.” Izuku’s tone held dominance and authority as the man scoffed “Oh really?-” His words were cut short as Y/N lept towards him and started hitting him. 

she had gotten a few punches in before Izuku had interfered and pulled her back and away from him holding them, they cling to him. “She’s just psycho-” he started again but was cut off by Midoryia straight up shoving him out of the door 

Midoryia had shut the door and looked at the medical supplies and then at Y/N who was back on their bed. Midoryia hummed softly looking at them with a soft but concerned gazed “Are you alright?” They nodded timidly “U-um.. yeah, i think..” 

They kept eyeing the cart and rubbing their arms. Izuku was angry beyond belief but kept his cool for Y/N. “Do you know what these are?” he asked as he walked over to the cart. Y/N nodded “Those are what the use to sedate me and give me my medications..” Izuku nodded and looked at the cart, it had 4 different pills, a tiny box of apple juice and a needle filled with a liquid. He picked up the needle and watched Y/N flinch back 

Izuku shook his head “No, no.. i’m gonna dispose of it, not use it okay?” He went and wrapped it up throwing it in the hazard trash can in the bathroom coming back out looking at the cart. 

“Okay, do you have an order you need to take them in or can you just take them one at a time?” 

Y/N looked confused as they stood up walking to Izuku and the cart “I c-can just take them.. why are you helping? aren’t you supposed to..” 

Izuku shook his head “So far all of you have said that… No, i’m not supposed to be mean, i’m supposed to help you get better so can you take..” he handed Y/N two of the four pills and handed her the apple juice “these and then the other ones?” he smiled

Y/N nodded and took the two and then waited 30 seconds before taking the other two. Izuku nodded and smiled “Thank you.. Now I believe” He stopped and checked his watch “It’s almost dinner time, If you want you can go head down to the cafeteria?” He smiled at her

Y/N thought for a moment “Will you come eat with me?” She tapped her foot on the ground and looked away as Izuku chuckled

 “It’s not my dinner break,” Y/N had frowned and got ready to ask again.

“but I’ll still come sit with you?” Izuku smiled when Y/N’s face lit up 

Y/N gave a big smile and nodded “Okay!” they had opened the door and ran out with an excited yell of “KATSU! TODO! SHIN!” as she catapulted herself into the boys arms as they hugged her back. 

“Why don’t you go to the cafeteria and We’ll be right behind you okay?” Shinsou spoke caring and calmly and all three boys had a quirk of a smile as she smiled and ran off down the halls “GOT IT!” you could hear their laughter as they went down the stairs with a much kinder doctor.

As Izuku walked out of the door locking it behind him he was quickly met with the three faces he’s seen previously looking at him with glares. He gulped before speaking in a meek voice “Y-yes?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow and scoffed before nodding at him “Not a bad idiot.” and the other two nodding in agreement before the bell above them rang for dinner.

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tag list~  @buckyneedsplums @lazywriterfullofideas09 @notchittatenn @physco-101

for some reason it might not let me tag you also if I forgot you just lemme know!

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a/n: I’m so sorry for getting this out so late! I’ve been very busy recently and I’ve been preparing for BIG things in my personal life so chapters may be extremely short or non existent. I also didn’t plan to have so many supporters for this series so i didn’t really have a clue what to do with the story. I still don’t. I have one more chapter ready in my head but after that I’m not sure where this series will go. Anyways, as usual I hope you enjoyed and please feel free to reblog, like or say something in my inbox! I’m open to writing one shots if you guys are interested, I was thinking about writing one shots instead of continuing with actual chapters after chapter 6 

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You ~ENDING~

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 20

Chapter Summary: My ill fated attempt to tie everything up nice and pretty and end on a positive note. In my head, this went a different way, but I decided to go the happy route for everyone

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of blood and childbirth 

“I feel like a blimp.” Faye groaned, giving up on trying to fasten her sandals herself and plopping down on the bed instead.

“I think you’re gorgeous.” Henry soothed, straightening out his tie in the mirror and crouching down to help her with her shoes.

“I can’t see my feet.”

“They’re still here.” Henry chuckled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her swollen belly.

“What about my vagina?” Faye grouched, smoothing a hand along her bump.

“I plan on thoroughly investigating that later.” Henry purred, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Why not now?”

“Because we’ll be late if we do. Now come along, darling. We both know everyone is dying to see the bump.” Henry encouraged, standing and gently helping her to her feet. They had posted earlier that week to his Instagram about their newest addition. Just a picture of a Superman onesie, captioned “Baby Boy Cavill, coming early next spring.” To say it had blown up would be an understatement. This was going to be their first public outing since they had announced the pregnancy. Faye had gone back and forth several times on whether or not she had wanted to actually accompany him, ultimately deciding to spend the evening out with her fiancé.

“Carry me?” Faye whined, giving him a pouty look.

“I’ll carry you around all you like after the premiere. If we show up in wrinkled clothing, people may get the wrong idea.”

“Henry, I’m pretty sure they know we’ve been having sex.” Faye pointed out, gesturing vaguely toward her belly. “Plus, you’ve done a wonderful job of making sure I’m satisfied at all times.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Henry chuckled, placing a hand on her lower back to urge her to the door and quickly readjusting himself in his suddenly too tight trousers. This woman was going to be the death of him. All she had to do was allude to sex, and all the blood would rush straight to his groin. He was fairly certain she had trained his dick to get hard with just a look, not that he was complaining. He’d heard several men grumbling about how their partners didn’t want anything when they were expecting. He seemed to get lucky with the opposite. She’d been much friskier during her first trimester, but after she hit the halfway point, she was damn near insatiable.

“Now make sure you behave. Hands to yourself.” Henry murmured in her ear, the couple stopping just long enough to remind the babysitter that Briar had to be in bed by eight and to tell the little girl goodbye.

“You were joking about the hands to myself thing, right?” Faye questioned almost as soon as the driver had rolled up the partition.

“It’s been less than two hours.” Henry half laughed, tangling his fingers with her wandering digits.

“So? Are you really going to turn down getting busy?”

“Darling, we’ll make a mess right before we end up in front of a ton of cameras.” Henry pointed out, kissing the back of her hand lovingly. “Just try to contain yourself for a few more hours, then I’ll be yours all night.”

“All night?”

“All night.” Henry confirmed, kissing her temple adoringly and gently placing a hand on her swollen stomach. “You look beautiful.” Henry whispered, shamelessly staring at her cleavage.

“Don’t be a tease.” Faye pouted.

“My apologies, darling.” Henry chuckled, resting his cheek against her head.

~*~

“I’m not leaving this house again until this baby is born.” Faye declared dramatically as she flopped down on the couch.

“Does that mean you’ve decided on a home birth?” Henry asked, glancing up from the puzzle Briar was trying to put together.

“Yes.” Faye growled, glaring down at her extended belly. “Tell me, Mr. Cavill. Is there a particular reason you decided to put a gigantic baby in me? Hmm? Is this some sort of payback for something?”

“Darling, the doctor said he’s only slightly larger than average.”

“Baby brother is BIG!” Briar giggled.

“Yes, he is.” Faye agreed, pushing herself up from her slouched position. “He also likes to kick Mommy in the ribs.”

“I’m sorry, darling.” Henry cooed, pushing himself up from the floor to sit next to her on the couch.

“You should totally carry the next kid.�� Faye grumbled, leaning against him.

“I would if I could, darling.” Henry assured, wrapping his arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“My feet are swollen, my belly is huge, I’m pretty sure I just peed a little and all I can think about is oranges.” Faye grumpily listed off, wiggling her way to the edge of the couch and rocking herself to her feet.

“Oh…” Henry mumbled, his eyebrows pulling together as he watched the wet darkness rapidly spread across the back of her sweats and down her legs.

“Oh shit.” Faye gasped, staring in horror at the wetness soaking into her pants. “Oh fuck… Henry!” She yelled, trying to peer over her stomach to see her legs.

“Yes?” Henry asked unsurely as he stood himself up, intent on cleaning the mess before it soaked in anymore.

“I don’t think that was pee.”

“What?”

“That. Wasn’t. Piss.” Faye ground out, snapping her head around to look at him.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to understand, darling.” Henry admitted, his brows pulling together as he studied her face. “Wait… you don’t mean?” Henry whispered, realization washing over his face. “But he’s not due for another couple of weeks!”

“Well, it looks like he was just as tired of waiting as I was!” Faye grumbled.

“Mommy, you had an accident.” Briar pointed out as she put the last piece in her puzzle, hopping to her feet and scampering off down the hall, assuring her mother she would find her something else to wear as she ran off.

“Ok… I’m not going to panic.” Henry promised, more to himself rather than to his fiancé. “I’m going to call the doula and the nanny. Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”

“I’m not contracting, I can walk.” Faye pointed out.

“Just in case it starts, then.” Henry suggested, resting one hand on her lower back and taking her hand with the other, keeping pace beside his fiancé as she did an odd combination of a shuffle and a waddle to the bathroom.

“FUCK!” Henry shouted as soon as the door was closed, his heavy footsteps falling down the hallway as he ran back to the living room, frantically trying to locate his phone. “KAL!” Henry called, his wild eyes darting around the room. “Kal where’s my phone?!”

“KITCHEN!” Faye yelled from the bathroom, rolling her eyes to herself. “So much for not panicking.”

“Thank you, Kal!” Henry called back, his rapid steps sounding again as he crossed the house, snatching his phone from where it was peacefully charging on the counter, hitting the contact number for the doula and impatiently listening to it ring.

“He does know the dog can’t talk; I promise.” Faye sighed, shoving her wet clothes down and sitting on the toilet to kick herself free. “Papa’s just a little excited right now. He’s going crazy waiting to meet you.” She assured her swollen stomach.

“Faye?” Henry called softly from the other side of the door, slowly cracking it open and giving her an apologetic smile. “She’s asking questions I don’t know the answer to.”

“What does she want to know?” Faye asked, watching as he slowly slid his giant frame into the bathroom with her.

~*~

“You’re doing so good, darling.” Henry whispered, gently running his hands up and down his fiancé’s back. “Another one’s coming up, deep breath.” He instructed, his eyes flicking to his watch back to Faye. He gripped her hips firmly and dug his thumbs in right where she’d shown him so many contractions ago, rubbing in slow small circles to ease the pain in her back.

“I wanna get in the tub.” Faye groaned as the tightness in her belly began to ease.

“Alright, darling. I’m going to need you to stand up with me.” Strong arms wrapped around her and slowly helped to her feet; an adoring kiss being planted to the crown of her head. “Now I need you to walk with me, can you do that?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad between the contractions.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me.” Henry assured, taking her small delicate hand into his calloused paw, slowly leading her to the bathroom. He let her rest against the sink as he fiddled with the taps, plugging the drain once the water had warmed.

“Fuck… Hen…” Faye hissed, her jaw clenching along with her distended abdomen.

“I’m right here, I’m right here.” Henry quickly took her back in his arms, letting her lean against him as he tried to find the spot on her back from the new angle.

“For fucks’ sake, how long has it been?” Faye groaned, helping Henry pull her shirt off and toss it onto the growing pile of laundry she was creating during her labor.

“Just over three hours.” Henry informed, biting his lip at his fiancé’s hopeless groan.

“That’s it?!”

“You’re doing so good.” Henry repeated, expertly unclasping her bra with one hand and casting it aside to help her step into the warm waiting water. He settled in next to the tub, holding his phone up where she could see it and pulling up one of her favorite shows, hoping to distract her.

~*~

“I wanna push.” Faye gasped, her knuckles going white as she squeezed the side of the tub, her entire body tense with a contraction.

“That’s great, that’s your body telling you you’re ready to have your baby.” The midwife assured, gently wiping her face with a wash rag. “You’re in charge here, how do you want to do this? Do you want to stay in the tub, or do you want to move somewhere else?”

“I’m staying.” Faye groaned, maneuvering herself to her knees with Henry’s help.

“You’re so close, darling.” Henry whispered, kissing her forehead adoringly, wincing slightly when her next contraction came, and her nails dug into his arm. “You’re doing so good.”

“Henry, I need you.” Faye hissed, desperate hands attempting to drag him into the tub with her. “Come here, please.” She pleaded, throwing her arms around his shoulders when he carefully lowered himself into the tub with her.

“I’m right here, darling. I’m right here.” Henry assured, rubbing her back softly, letting her lean into him as much as she wished. He paid no attention to the blood tinging the water or her nails digging into his shoulders. Instinct took over when Faye said she could feel the head coming. He reached between himself and his fiancé, gently cradling his son as he was pushed into the world.

“He’s here. He’s here.” Henry gasped after a final push, bringing the baby to his chest, quickly wrapping an arm around Faye’s shoulders to ease her back against the side of the tub.

“He’s here.” Faye breathed, a tired smile spreading across her face as Henry gently laid their son on her chest, peppering her forehead with adoring kisses and pushing her wet hair from her face.

“You did it, Faye.” Henry whispered, smiling down at the baby in her arms, his heart swelling with pride. She did that. His fiancé just brought a new life into the world. In that moment, he was simply blown away at just how strong she could be. It took almost all the mental focus he had remaining not to propose to her again, still crouching in the blood and goo filled water with her.

Reluctantly, Henry removed himself from the tub, taking a second to appreciate Faye’s demand of the oversized bathtub when they had renovated the bathroom. He was quick to rinse himself off in the other shower, throwing on dry sweats and returning to the bathroom where Faye was still gushing over their newest addition. The baby was handed to him while the midwife attended to his fiancé, draining the tub and gently rinsing away the sweat and mess clinging to her skin with a cool stream.

“He’s so tiny.” Henry whispered in awe, staring down at his minutes-old son.

“The hell he is!” Faye groaned, shooting him a look fit to kill.

“I think he agrees with you.” Henry grunted, his son’s chubby fist finding his chest hair and gripping it tightly, squirming his newly freed limbs the best he could in his tight swaddle.

“He’s only small compared to you.” The midwife compromised, Henry helping Faye step out of the tub with one arm, the other tightly cradling their son to his chest, hovering close as the midwife helped her to redress. “You have another child already, right? So, you know the bleeding is going to continue for a few weeks. Make sure you rest as much as you can. Now isn’t the time to be a hero. You’ve just gone through a lot; you need time to heal.”

“Can I have our son back now?” Faye asked, raising an amused brow at her already doting fiancé, who reluctantly handed the infant back to his mother.

“Rest, darling.” Henry reminded her, securing one arm around her rapidly deflated waist and holding her tight to his side, walking her back to their waiting bed, their son’s bassinet already pulled up close to her side.

“I wanna hold him a little more.” Faye pouted when Henry took the baby back, holding her hand to help her into bed the best he could.

“Lay down first. You’re getting shaky.”

“Then can I hold him?”

“I suppose, since you did just birth him an all.” Henry playfully sighed, handing off their son again and seating himself on the edge of the bed, content to just watch mother and child for the time being.

~*~

“Papa?” Briar yawned, shuffling into their room with her stuffed bunny in tow.

“Yes, princess?” Henry mumbled, already half asleep after changing his son and passing him back to his mother for a midnight feeding.

“He too noisy. Can you tell baby brother to be quiet? I can’t sleep.”

“You heard her, Liam. No more screaming in the middle of the night. You need to use your inside crying after 9pm.” Henry informed his young son, the only reply being his son’s usual cooing grunt as he continued to nurse.

“Sorry, Briar. He’s still little, he needs a lot of attention right now.”

“I like attention too.” Briar pouted, stubbornly climbing into their bed and perching herself on Henry’s stomach as she watched her mother.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Faye sighed, fighting the tears welling in her eyes.

“How about Mummy takes you to the park for a little bit tomorrow?” Henry suggested

“Liam is too little to be bringing out to a playground, Hen.” Faye pointed out, relatching the child when he stopped to stare at her nursing bra in confusion.

“So feed him right before you go, and again when you get home. You need a break from baby duty, babe.” Henry suggested, shifting Briar off his stomach to sit next to him instead.

“I wanna go, Mommy!” Briar whined, looking up at her mother hopefully.

“What if he gets hungry while I’m gone?”

“I know damn well you have extra in the fridge. It’s a bit of a surprise when you add some of that into your coffee in the morning by mistake, by the way.”

“So that’s why I was missing some.”

“I thought it was that ‘fancy’ cream you get from the farmer’s market. I was wrong.”

“It was in the same bottle, though.”

“You little…” Henry grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows to glare at her properly. “Why would you refill a container with milk that looks startlingly similar to what was in it in the first place? You set me up for failure!”

“Mommy, I sleep with you tonight?” Briar asked hopefully, blissfully ignorant to her parent’s playful discussion.

“No, baby. You’re not going to get any sleep in here with us. Baby brother wakes up too much at night.” Faye explained, glancing hopefully at Henry. Understanding what she was trying to tell him, Henry snatched the little girl up and rolled out of bed, smiling at her excited squealing as he carried her down the hall under his arm surfboard style.

“Do you want me to turn on your Baby Shark music?” Henry asked once she had been replaced in bed, Kal lazily licking at her ear when she rejoined him. He didn’t bother even waiting for an answer before flipping through her tablet, pulling up the hour long loop they usually played for her at bedtime.

“Kal wants ice cream.” Briar informed him, batting her lashes up at her father figure hopefully.

“Kal knows he can’t have ice cream. It’s too hard on his stomach.” Henry yawned, looking suspiciously at the canine.

“No, he wants it for me, silly.” Briar giggled.

“You know the rules, princess.” Henry sighed, brushing her hair from her face softly. “Now get some rest. We all love you.”

~*~

“Did we wait long enough? Do I still look like a slob?” Faye fretted, turning this way and that, her eyes fixed on her lower stomach, trying to see if it still protruded further than she wanted.

“Faye, relax. You look amazing.” Her sister assured, turning her away from the mirror. Briar was happily running in circles with her little flower basket, all too excited to be involved in the affair. Her twin sister was in a beautiful, blue floor length bridesmaid dress, her younger sister in a matching shorter dress and her brother struggling with the matching tie.

“Are you ready to marry?” Her mother asked her giddily, squeezing her daughter’s hand softly.

“I am. I really hope he is too.” Faye replied, stealing a glance at the closed door.

“Oh please, he was ready to marry you the first time he saw you.” Her brother scoffed, finally taming his tie into something passable. “You’ve been killing the poor guy making him wait this long.”

“I didn’t want to get married while I was pregnant.”

“I really don’t think he would have cared.” Her youngest sister pointed out. “He seems pretty convinced the sun shines out of your ass.”

“Hear that, Delilah?” Her brother jumped in, setting his teasing eyes on his sister. “Get you a man that looks at you the way Henry looks at her.”

“It’s the same way you look at pizza.” Their sister added.

“I’ll find someone when I want to.” Delilah grumbled, shooting her younger siblings a glare out of the corner of her eye.

It took the effort of three people to hold Briar back once the music started, all desperately explaining that she was going to be almost last to go. Once the time came, she threw all her flower petals on the ground at the start of the runner and then sprinted down to the other end while laughing wildly. It was deemed that was close enough and it was finally Faye’s turn to walk the aisle.

Her father’s arm was a steady, comforting constant, something she desperately needed in that moment. She could swear she saw a small tear forming in the corner of her husband-to-be’s eye, but mostly his face was one of proud surprise.

Niki was elected to hold the ‘ring bearer’ the baby happily drooling all over the ring box he was allegedly in charge of. The photographer went nuts with pictures when Henry gently pried the box from his son’s chubby fist, removing the ring from inside and handing him the box back to chew on.

The couple stared into each other’s eyes, everything else melting away in that moment as they both closed a chapter in their lives, only to begin a brand new one they hoped would be filled with adventure with two simple words.

“I do.”

Tags:  @weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @packerfan43

[extremelyblackandwhite]

scrubs - 5.

pairing: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

warnings: medical check up (please do not follow any of the medical advice described her)

a/n: this will have another chapter aside from this one because yes. 

< previous chapter

    - Y/N, stop being childish. - Sebastian rolled his eyes at the scientist now holding herself against reception, deciding she’d rather be seen by anyone but him. - Y/N, c’mon.

    - I don’t want to be seen by you. There are over 50 nurses on shift today and any of them can do a basic exam better than you. - she held onto that counter for dear life, knowing the moment she decided to let go, her ankle would give up on her. Nevertheless, she knew what nurses were capable off and most of the times they wouldn’t even need a doctor’s opinion so she definitely didn’t need him. 

    - Yeah but ... - he approached her, a smug smile forming on his entirely way too handsome face. - But I know your body so, so well, darling. I think I can figure out if something is wrong.

Y/N smiled sarcastically, cocking her head to the side before kicking his leg. Sebastian bite down onto his lip, back hunching slightly as a few nurses passed by. He waved at them, smiling as if his tibia throbbed due to her kick. For a small woman, she sure had a powerful kick. He straightened his back, pulling one of the wheel chairs from the back of the reception and rolling it up to where she was but she remained as stiff as one could be with a swollen ankle, with one hand against her hip while the other one firmly gripped the counter of the reception. 

   - Sit down, Y/N. Don’t make me write you up as unfit to work today.

   - I am not unfit to work today, I am unfit to look at your face for more than 5 seconds.  

   - Okay, Y/N then walk in a straight line for me, straight spine, shoulders back. - he stepped out of her way.

She considered trying to do that, surely she could deal with the pain of her own weight on her ankle for at least a few minutes. Yet again she considered the options of successfully doing so and getting away from him until another doctor or nurse passed by and the option of falling flat on her face in front of him. Her resolve quickly wore down as she remembered just  how small her tolerance of pain was and how much she did not want to embarrass herself in front of him by falling on her face.  Unlike him, she could be professional. After all she wasn’t the first staff member to sleep with a doctor and certainly wouldn’t be the last; besides, she was nothing if not a professional. She sighed, sitting down on the worn out fabric of the wheel chair. She’d give him this one, she thought to herself as he wheeled her into his office.

Despite her constantly nagging him about his results, she’d actually never gone up to his office that often. Dr. Stan was normally the one who’d made his way to her laboratory not the other way around. As a long time doctor, he had his own little office to receive his patients and as such, he decorated it how he pleased it and despite her wanting nothing but to compliment him after his past actions, she had to admit it was probably one of the calmest more inviting offices she’d seen before. Instead of the scary almost macabre posters of human anatomy and regular pathologies, he had some abstract art on his walls with one or two models on his desk and a most likely fake plant on too. 

     - Want help getting onto the stretcher? 

     - Fuck off, Stan. I can do it myself. - she couldn’t do it herself. 

She looked at the stretcher as a goal keeper looks at a football. The stretcher couldn’t be taller than the height from her feet to just slightly above her hip, yet it seems as if that height was now taller than Mount Everest. Y/N calculated her movements and put her hands on top of the stretcher, pulling herself up with her arms and dragging herself into the middle of the stretcher, legs and arms out but her torso was in so she wiggled herself into laying down completely on the stretcher before pulling herself up.

    - We could’ve done that in a second if you’d let me help you. - he rolled his eyes, stepping in front of her and the stretcher.

    - I can help myself, Doctor.

    - Oh, is Doctor now? - he replied rather sarcastically, pulling opening the glove compartment in his office. - Are you allergic to latex or any ingredient in regular plastic gloves I should know about?

    - Shouldn’t you know if I am allergic to latex? - she cocked her side to the side much to his displeasure. - No, no latex allergies. 

    - Okay ... - he put some bright blue gloves on before walking back to her. - First, I’m just going to palpate around the top of your scalp to check for any trauma or signs of injury. 

    - My ankle is hurting, not my head.

    - You hit your head, it’s standard procedure. - her shoulders slumped as he proceeded to palpate around her head. It felt ridiculous, she was fine, she did not need an examination of her head. - Looks good, no bumps, so the fall probably wasn’t harsh on your head.

    - I could have told you that. Do they not teach you to hear to your patients in med school?

    - How would you know? You didn’t go to med school. 

    - I’m starting to think you didn’t either. 

    - Okay. - he rolled his eyes once more at her snide remark. - The next thing I am going to do is have a look inside your ears to see if there’s any bleeding, just to make sure we’re covering all our bases.

    - Why are you telling me? You’re the doctor. - Sebastian ignored her, taking his otoscope out of the pocket of his coat and placing a rubber disposable tip on the end before putting it up to her ear and switching to the other one. 

   - Everything looks good in both ears, no signs of bleeding. Your tympanic membranes look clear and I didn’t see any fluids or blood behind them. No defects and if it interests you to know there’s also no excess wax build up. Can you just tell me if it was painful or sore when I looked into your ear?

   - Shouldn’t you have asked that while you were looking into my ear?

   - Y/N if you don’t start taking this seriously, I ...

   - You will what?

   - Do you seriously want me to call a nurse on you? I normally only have to do that with children and elderly patients.

    - You wouldn’t. - she squinted, hands gripping the material of the stretcher.

    -  Try me. - he crossed his arms. - I’ll ask again. Was it painful or sore when I looked into your ear?

    - Yes.

    - What?

    - No. - she held in a laugh, bitting the inside of her lip. 

    - Y/N ...

    - Glad to know you have not forgotten your patient’s name, doctor. Doing great.    

    - Okay, Y/N. I need you to be serious with me now and answer truthfully or I’ll order a CT scan for you.

    - I hate CT scans.

    - I know. - he smirked. - So, what’s it gonna be?

    - Would you seriously make the hospital cover an expensive CT scan to check for a concussion that I don’t have just to upset me?

   - Oh, no, sweetheart. If you continue to be a brat, I will order a full body CT scan and if they ask I’ll just say I’m covering all my bases. So, what’s it gonna be? You’re gonna play nice or do you prefer to get an exam done?

    - Call me sweetheart again and you’ll get a concussion. How about that? 

    - You can do whatever you want to do to me after we’re done but until then you will answer the questions I have truthfully. Deal?

    - What other option do I have? - she crossed her arms at him. Y/N knew she was being unnecessarily difficult with him but she also knew that there was a 0.1% chance she had a concussion. Nevertheless, he looked dead serious on ordering a CT scan for her and the last thing she wanted was to have a claustrophobic attack because she refused to answer a few questions. - Fine.

   - Good. So, what time did this happen?

   - I don’t know, I don’t exactly look at my watch after falling down the stairs. 

   - Y/N ...

   - Like ... 20 minutes ago. 

   - What did you feel when you fell?

   - My head was pounding, my ankle felt hottish and I felt a bit nauseous.

    - Do you feel nauseous when you feel pain or is that something new for you?

    - No, it happens when I get hurt. 

    - Any dizziness or blurred vision? Metallic taste in the mouth, almost blood like?

    - I don’t think so.  

    - Any tingling or weird sensations around your face and neck?  

    - No. 

    - Okay, so ... I’m gonna have a look in your eyes. - he took his light from the same pocket he had taken the otoscope from. - I need you to look at me and not at the light. Don’t focus on it, okay?

She nodded, deciding it would be best if she went along with it before she was stuck in his office for a whole hour. He turned the light on and she did as was required of her by staring at him. She thought she could make him feel uncomfortable but it ended up being her who felt uncomfortable as flashes from last night picked that exact moment to return to her brain. Y/N told herself to cut it off and tried to continue to stare at him but gave up after a few minutes of her now sober brain deciding to show her exactly what she had been doing last night. She turned her head to the side, closing her eyes forcefully.

   - Are you okay, Y/N? - he put a hand on her shoulder but she shook him away, turning her face back to a neutral position. - Too bright.

   - Well ... uhm, yeah it is shining directly in my eyes.

   - Okay. I don’t need to look more into them, they look fine. Nothing to worry about. I just need you to open your mouth now?

   - What? No.

   - Why not? 

   - Because ... - because my brain has decided that sounds much less innocent than it actually sounds. - Because I don’t want to.

   - Y/N, c’mon. I just need you to open your mouth and then check your ankle and you can be out of here just like you want to.

   - I don’t want you looking into my mouth. 

   - I have seen you naked and that’s what you’re worried about? Me looking into your mouth? 

   - You are not a dentist, you don’t need to be looking into my mouth.

   - Your answer was unclear so yeah, I need to. Open your mouth. 

   - Stop asking me that. Can you pose the question in a different manner?

   - God, I swear if you’re doing this on purpose. 

   - I am not. 

   - Fine. Say ah, then. 

   - That just sounds worse. - she felt her cheeks heat up. 

Sebastian rolled his eyes, pulling the chair from behind his desk. This surely was going to take longer than expected. He knew she’d be defensive but he didn’t know she would be so difficult. In all honesty, he didn’t even know why she was mad at him. The only thing he could remember was being hit by her files before she stormed off. Yet again, Y/N was almost always annoying with him so it wasn’t a new occurrence. The new occurrence was a patient asking him to reformulate the question. 

   - Y/N what are you ... oh. - it finally dawned on him. - That’s not work appropriated, Y/N.

   - I swear if you keep on talking I will throw you off your own window.

   - So dirty. - he took one of the wooden spatulas from the stand on his desk. 

   - Fuck off.

   - Come on. - she reluctantly opened her mouth and had it not been for the wooden spatula holding her tongue and jaw down, she would’ve probably closed it as fast as she had opened it. - Looks good. I just need to repeat some numbers back at me, okay? 55, 10, 40, 9, 1.

    - 55, 10, 40, 9, 1. 

    - Good. I don’t think you have any concussion. I just need to check your ankle now. Can you put your foot on my lap and please not kick me?

     - I’m tempted to. -  she rose her ankle and placed it on his lap. He proceeded to take of her shoe and sock before starting to palpate around her ankle which was visibly swollen. 

    - I’m gonna turn your foot to the left and to the right. If anything hurts, let me know, okay? - she nodded as he turned her foot carefully to the lift and to the right, but it didn’t hurt, it was just sore. - No pain?

    - No.

    - Good news, I don’t think it’s broken, just strained. Some ibuprofen for inflammation and some ice and in a few hours you can at least limp without pain. 

    - I don’t have some hours. Unlike you, I have work to get done.

    - So do I, Y/N. You think I enjoyed having you take longer than 30 minutes in what should’ve been a 15/20 minute exam? 

    - Oh, I’m sorry. - she interrupted him. - Did my injury overstep on your gossiping about sleeping with me? I’m so sorry, I’m sure the whole hospital will still be waiting for you anyway.

    - What?

    - Can you please give me a minute so I can limp out of here in anger?

    - You think I’m telling the hospital staff I slept with you?

    - Well, the whole hospital knows and I didn’t tell them so unless we had a threesome I have recollection about then there’s only two of us who knew and if I didn’t tell them, guess who did? And before you can answer it’s you, the answer is you. 

    - I didn’t tell anyone, Y/N. I have better things to do than discuss my sex life with the whole hospital. 

   - That’s just dandy. - she jumped of the stretcher, ignoring the pain which started in her ankle and climbed up her leg but she didn’t mind. Now she was upset, one thing was him telling everyone and the other one was denying he had done as such. - You know what Sebastian? I get it, you slept with the lab girl who annoys you and you wanna tell everyone about it. Fine, but at least admit it. 

   - Y/N, I didn’t tell anyone.

   - Fine, say whatever makes you feel better.  

taglist: @rebekahdawkins​

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[kendallroydefender]

The best and the worst day (Steve Harrington x Reader)

It was over. Once again you had dealt with the upside down. But this time it wasn’t all that Happy End like, Hopper and Billy were gone. And knowing Hopper was dead and that El lost her parental figure was breaking your heart. You were outside the Mall surrounded by ambulances and police cars, a nurse lead you towards a ambulance car to look at your ankle that you sprained in the mess of it all.

Just a few hours ago you were locked in some Russian underground tunnels trying to find a way out with Erica and Dustin. While your friends were being tortured. They would have catched you too if it wasn’t for Steve pushing you away telling you to run and get help. Steve. Your mind was occupied by the brown eyed boy for some time now.

After they put a foot splint on your ankle you were allowed to leave. You were relatively fine they just told you not to walk a lot the next days. You looked around searching for one specific person. When you saw the brown hair on the bed of another ambulance you breathed out relieved and made your way over there.

"Hey" You mumbled before sitting next to him, Steve opened his eyes looking at you before hissing at the alcohol wich his wounds were currently treated with. He adjusted the blanket that were draped around his shoulders so that it covered both of you, forcing the nurse to stop. His action made your heart melt a little, even in his state he still looked out for others. And you couldn’t help but reach for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. This made Steve blush even though you couldn’t see it and butterflies erupt in his stomach.

Steve had feelings for you for some time now - as did you but you both believed that the other was just being friendly. You two sat there as Steve was treated and checked.

"So you have a concussion but you don’t have to come to the hospital if you are supervised at home.“ the doctor said and Steve remembered that his parents were still on a business trip "My parents are-" you interrupted him with saying "I‘m there. He’s not alone.“ he gave your hand a little squeeze. The doctor nodded and picked up a bottle of pills "These are pain medication, he can take two every six hours and if he’s feeling worse or starts vomiting he needs to come to the hospital.“ You nodded and took the container from her.

Once Steve was allowed to leave you two walked a few steps "You don’t have to stay with me.“ Steve started but you squeezed his hand, that were still laced with his "Steve it’s okay. Really. I don’t really want to stay alone tonight anyway and I don’t want you to be alone either- I don’t think any of us would.“ he smiled at you "Yeah I get that...thank you“ he added, you looked around you and saw Joyce go into a car with her sons and Eleven. Mike was accompanied by Nancy as were Lucas, Erica and Dustin. "Hey would it be okay if we invited Robin too? I don’t want her to be alone tonight either.“ you asked him and this time it was his turn to melt at you caring for the others "Yes of course.“.

After you found Robin and convinced her that she really wouldn’t interrupt the three of you sat in the police car on the way to Steve’s house.

You decided that you all would sleep on the couch in the living room, it was big and comfortable and you all could stay together that way with the comfort of your friends around, so while Steve went to the bathroom you and Robin got blankets. Robin went towards the guestroom and you went into Steve’s room taking his stuff to bring down. After you did that, you only needed two beddings since everyone knew that you and Steve would end up sharing a bed anyway.

"Hey i got you two some things to change into“ Steve announced as he arrived downstairs again. And you went into the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush your teeth (you were actually for once thankful that Steve’s parents were prepared for guests so they had some fresh toothbrushes) as you looked at the pair of sweatpants and shirt he gave you, you couldn’t help but smile. It was the shirt you once told him you liked when you were visiting him at scoops at your own lunchbreak, something you did often over the last months.

While you were upstairs Robin looked over at the Boy and asked with a smirk "So are you gonna ask her out now?“ Steve’s head snapped up way too fast and it made his head throb for a moment. "What?“ Robin rolled her eyes "Steve I remember what you told me in the restroom at the mall...“ Steve looked at his hands "Yeah I told you that I loved her but that doesn’t mean I can act on it..“ his voice was low. "Why?“ Robin asked and Steve shook his head lightly "She deserves so much better. She’s perfect and she deserves to life a live without having to think of the upside down all the time. I would just remind her of all of this...“ Robins heart broke for her friend "You might be a Dingus but you aren’t that bad... We all see the way she looks at you Steve.“ he wanted to protest but the bathroom door in the floor above them opened and your steps were heard. "Talk to her!“ The blonde girl said before getting up.

You got downstairs and as Robin was going to get ready and you went straight into the kitchen to get some frozen peas for Steve’s face. You sat on the couch next to the boy and laid a pillow onto your lap before patting it "come here.“ and he laid his head down. He winced as the cold hit his swollen face before relaxing at the feeling and you started to play with his hair. "I was really scared.“ you almost whispered "Me too.“ Steve said with closed eyes "but one thing made me go trough it all.“ he added and smiled faintly "What’s that?“ you asked as you massaged his scalp "You.“ Steve said and you stopped your movements at his words "What?“ you asked confused wich made him open his eyes and look into yours "When I was down there the only thing I could think about was you. I didn’t knew for sure that you were safe and- and I knew I had to get out there to see if you were okay.“ your lips parted "God was I relieved when I saw you were fine.“ he sat up, his head throbbing at his actions before he searched for your eyes "Y/n down there I realized- no I think I knew that before but- god Steve get it together...“ you looked up at him confused but your face held a soft expression so he cleared his throat before saying "I like you... like a lot. And I know you deserve so much better but I- I-" he stutterd but you smiled "I like you too Steve. A lot.“ you said wich made him mirror your smile "Okay. That’s- that’s great....“ he answered "And don’t say I deserve better Steve because you are the greatest man I know. You are so so brave and you saved my life... more than once.“ he smiled and nodded but still not completely believing your words. You intertwined your fingers once again and your gaze met his. "Can i... can I kiss you?“ he asked a little unsure and you nodded before you two leaned in and connected your lips in a sweet but careful kiss since you didn’t wanted to hurt him. You parted and he asked you "Would you like to go out with me sometime?“ You nodded fondly "Yeah I would really like that.“ and you two just sat there smiling at each other as Robin came back down. You all laid down on the comfortable cushions, Steve shuffled so he laid on his side so he could be the big spoon and you cuddled back into him carefully not to hurt him more. Robin smiled at the sight of you two. You talked for a bit getting your mind off the events that happened earlier.

After a while Robin fell asleep so you turned around so you could face the boy you had fallen so deeply for. He smiled down at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist again. The next minutes were spend kissing each other, still very cautious not to put too much pressure on his split and bruised lip.

"It’s so weird. This was such a bad day, like it’s on top of the worst days I ever experienced but now it’s also one of the best..“ you rambled while tracing his jaw softly with your fingers and Steve wanted to stay in this moment forever. You were safe and he would do anything to keep it this way. "Yeah I feel the same way... I was kidnapped by Russians a few hours ago but now I am here alive with you. And Robin of course.. but with you.“ he said voice just above a whisper tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You cuddled into his chest and he tightened his arms around you as you both fell asleep with smiles on your lips.

[irishseeeker]

                                  i’ve been waiting for you 

Summary: Each time Kate and Anthony meet their children.

read chapter one here

---

chapter 2: kate meets edmund

It started with eggs.

Kate had always loved eggs. Since she was a young girl, she had always had eggs for breakfast with two slices of bread. She sometimes had a boiled egg as a snack or one with some lunch.

She had carried that habit through to her marriage.

Until one morning, she joined her husband at the breakfast table with her stomach growling. She had slept well the night before, Anthony had worn her out after a few rounds, and she was absolutely famished when she woke up that morning. Anthony leaned in to kiss her when she sat down and once they broke apart she reached for the eggs.

She lifted the lid off the plate and all it took was the whiff of fresh eggs that hit her nostrils, and Kate vomited onto their lovely cream carpet.

Anthony had been horrified, carrying her straight back to bed and insisting she sip water while they waited for the doctor.

Kate’s head remained in their chamber pot until the doctor arrived.

She found out she was pregnant that morning.

She had been quite oblivious to the signs-she had missed her courses, but sometimes they did not come. Her breasts had become swollen and she had started more naps than usual. She had put that down to Anthony’s lunch time execurisons to the bedroom since he had started coming home everyday during lunchtime.

Her experience with pregnancy was practically non-existent, the only exposure she had had was watching her sister in law, Daphne, carry her two children. She had watched Daphne glow throughout her pregnancies.

Kate did not feel as if she was glowing.

She felt swollen and self conscious. She also felt incredibly nauseous. As the months passed, she began to stretch in areas she didn’t think would grow, but they did.

Anthony was particularly pleased about the growth in her chest.

Her sickness did not subside for most of her pregnancy. It wasn’t reserved for the mornings like for most women, either. Her stomach could only handle plain foods with little taste.

Anthony, of course, was a hovering mess. He worried about everything and anything. If Kate was on her feet, he would try to get her to sit down. If she lifted a book off a shelf, he would come running to do it for her.

She loved her husband and she knew his actions were out of affection, but the miracle was not the child she was carrying but the fact she did not murder her husband.

When she finally went into labour, it was a terrifying relief. She wanted to meet her baby and finally not be pregnant.

Her midwife, to be blunt, was a word Anthony had taught her-a bastard.

She had spent a considerable amount of time from the moment she arrived not focusing on Kate but insisting Anthony leave the room.

It may not be considered the proper thing for a man to witness birth, but Kate often wondered if the reasoning for it was simply because most men could not handle it.

Anthony Bridgerton was not most men.

A real man would hold his wife’s hand and support her through labor, which for Kate would go on for most of the night.

Anthony Bridgerton did exactly that.

Kate needed him. She needed her husband. From the moment she married him, her need for him had grown and scared her. He was her best friend. He was her comfort and joy. She needed him to hold her hand while she went through the worst pain of her life to bring their child into the world.

Anthony would have not left her side for anything.

There had been a particular afternoon, at around seven months pregnant, where Kate had joined Violet, Mary and Daphne for tea. The three women, having experienced child birth, were not shy with the details.

Kate had managed to keep her composure until she arrived home to Bridgerton House.

It had taken one look from her husband and for him to ask if she was alright for Kate to completely fall apart.

Kate had sobbed for hours. She had been completely distraught. All of her fears slipped out of her like a confession. She didn’t think she would be a good mother. She didn’t want to let Anthony and their baby down. She was terrified of giving birth and the things Violet, Daphne and Mary had said had horrified her. What if she couldn't do it?

She had said all of this to her husband. Anthony had held her for hours, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words into her ear. When she felt sick, he was her cure. He managed to calm her down eventually, running her a hot bath and sliding in with her. He helped her catch her breath, to breathe in and out with her as the warm water slowly calmed her.

They had come a long way in their relationship, learning to be more open and honest about their fears. Anthony still struggled with his mortality and his own fears of fatherhood and he had told her that night as well. He had made Kate's fears feel valid. He had made her feel safe. That she wasn't crazy.

He made her feel that she could do this.

That they could do this.

Despite the fear she felt, she knew it really would be okay. They would go through it together and they would be a family.

The actual birth itself, to put it plainly with another word Anthony had taught her, hurt like a bitch.

She didn’t know how she did it but she did. She groaned and held Anthony or Mary’s hand through each pain as the minutes turned into hours.

Kate knew she was close. The intense pressure she felt and the urgent need to push, which the midwife kept instructing her to do, along with Anthony and Mary at her side, meant she was nearly there.

Her baby was nearly here.

A piercing cry tore through the air and that intense pressure had dropped, the pain still tearing through her but the midwife announced her son was here.

Her son was here.

“Oh my, is he alright?” Kate sobbed, collapsing against the pillows but her eyes did not leave her son. She was so exhausted and happy, the tears and beads of sweat making their way down her face as her son was put on her chest. He was wriggling, slightly pink and purple and he was covered in a white substance and red splotches of blood.

He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“Oh, Anthony. Look,” Kate whispered, her eyes tearing off her baby’s face for a second to lock eyes with her husband’s teary ones. Anthony leaned down to kiss her softly and she felt everything he was feeling. They broke apart only to stare back down at their son.

Kate squeezed Mary’s hand once Anthony held the baby, looking at the woman who had become her mother when she had lost her own so young. She owed Mary everything.

Kate woke up a few hours later to Anthony rocking their son by the window. Kate’s exhaustion had led to her sleeping through most of the night and she fell back asleep after feeding Edmund and laying with Anthony for a while. Mary returned early in the morning, fussing over Kate and making sure her daughter was recovering as well as she could.

Mary lightly dabbed Kate’s forehead with a damp cloth.

“Hi,” She whispered, letting out a mixture between a sob and laugh as Edmund let out a small yawn, his entire face scrunching up as he stretched open his tiny mouth.

Kate was still processing the fact this tiny perfect baby was hers.

The first person Anthony had fetched was her sister, Edwina, who had been waiting eagerly downstairs.

“It is indescribable, is it not?” Mary murmured, lightly brushing Kate’s hair behind her ears. “The love you have for your children.”

“Oh Kate,” Edwina gasped, covering her gaping mouth as she carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “He is wonderful. You did amazing.” She pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead.

They eventually left Kate to rest and Kate lay there in their bed, for the first time, completely alone with her son.

Her son.

She pulled her knees towards her chest as much as she could, still feeling quite sore everywhere. She carefully lay Edmund on her knees, taking his tiny hands in hers.

This had been the person who had kept her company the last nine months. Whenever Anthony had to work, or she could not sleep, Edmund had been there. He usually had been keeping her awake. It seemed bizarre but Kate stared at his tiny little face with his bright blue eyes, she felt like she already knew him. She had talked to him a lot, poking her bump and he would kick her back.

She was looking at her and Anthony. His round nose was all her, it was her father’s nose that Kate had inherited. Her heart panged for her father, who would never meet Anthony, who would never meet Edmund or any of their future children.

He was named after two great men and Kate would never forget the look on Anthony’s face when she suggested the name Edmund Benedict Bridgerton.

Benedict had become a good friend to Kate, he had kept her company and taught her to paint through her confinement with her broken leg and limited mobility during pregnancy.

“You are absolutely wonderful,” She murmured, pressing a kiss to his little fingers. They were so adorable and tiny. “We love you so much.”

“I know you have already been acquainted, but let me tell you more about your father,” Kate whispered, her eyes darting to Anthony’s heavily snoring figure beside her. “We are so lucky, you and I. He is….he is everything, sweetheart. He is kind, caring, funny, incredibly arrogant-but absolutely perfect in every conceivable way. As are you,” Kate whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to her son’s cheek. “We might keep the perfect part to ourselves. We can’t inflate your father’s ego much more, it’ll explode.”

She could not take her eyes off him.

Her perfect baby boy.

Edmund was so tiny for making Kate so large. She had been rather self conscious during her pregnancy, and when she had eventually expressed her fears to Anthony, he had spent every day putting in extra effort to tell her how gorgeous she was.

Then he would use his tongue, fingers and hips to show her.

What a man.

The door opened slowly and Anthony appeared, smiling softly at Kate as he closed the door behind him and joined her on the bed.

Kate insisted Anthony needed to rest which her stubborn husband finally agreed to, leaving Kate and Edmund with Mary and Edwina.

He looked refreshed despite the dark bags under his eyes, similar to Kates. She knew they would be a familiar feature of theirs for the rest of their lives.

Edmund Benedict Bridgerton already had a good set of lungs.

He wrapped his arms around them, his family, pressing a kiss to her temple and bridging his hand to Edmund’s small cheek to lightly brush it. “How are you?”

“We are good,” Kate said, running her finger through the wisps of hair on the top of Edmund’s head. “I’m absolutely starving.”

Anthony turned to smile softly at her, “What do you fancy?”

Kate grinned at her husband.

“I’m dying for some eggs.”

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH7

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 7: Resurrection Overture (VII)

You couldn't see the difference between day and night in the Village of Dusk. Qi Leren walked in the street and walked towards Dr. Lu's clinic.

After the task in the Holy City, Dr. Lu should have survived—he was still unconscious after being detoxed from ingesting the Nightmare Witch’s poison-medicine, so he was sent back to the Lord’s castle by Qi Leren, perfectly avoiding the chaos in the late hours of the night and once again winning the dangerous task. Qi Leren was convinced that his luck level was off the charts. He couldn't even envy him.

When he came to the door of Dr. Lu's clinic, Qi Leren was vaguely excited. He didn't know how Dr. Lu would react when he saw that he was still alive.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door, and there came Dr. Lu’s faint voice: "I’m going to the grave today, you can’t see the doctor."

Qi Leren kept quiet and knocked on the door.

After knocking for a while, Dr. Lu on the other side became angry and opened the door to denounce the guest who was harassing the doctor. He suddenly saw the smiling Qi Leren standing outside the door looking at him. His face went white with a scream: "Ghost!!!!”

Seeing that the door was about to be thrown closed, Qi Leren flashed sideways into the house and angrily grabbed Dr. Lu, who was about to run. "What happened to your face? Who hit you?"

Dr. Lu, who was black and blue, covered his face and refused to let him see it. Qi Leren pulled him up like a carrot and angrily demanded, "Look, I'm still alive! Come on, who bullied you?!”

Because Dr. Lu looked young, Qi Leren never regarded him as his senior. He usually took special care of him when doing tasks together. Now, he had been bullied like this in the few days that he couldn’t see him, which made him angry.

Dr. Lu completely ignored the second half of his sentence, stared at him for a moment, and then rushed to touch his neck.

It was warm and had a pulse. Dr. Lu cried with a "wow", hugging Qi Leren to death with a strength that he didn’t know he had. Qi Leren was scared by him and wanted to throw him off, but when he heard him cry he became heartbroken and softened, standing patiently as he waited for him to calm down.

When Dr. Lu finished crying, Qi Leren's shirt was soaked, and he wondered where he’d gotten so many tears.

"I saw your body with my own eyes," Dr. Lu said with a stuffed up voice, his nose and eyes still red.

On the contrary, Qi Leren poured water on him like a master: "I was dead, but I had a resurrection item that allowed me to come back after seven days. I didn't say anything about this, and I made a mess."

Dr. Lu complained bitterly: "Do you know how long I cried?! I cry when I think of it. I'm so sad. I also wanted to clean up your things for you, but there was no key to your house and the door couldn't be opened. I had to cry and go home, I was so ashamed."

Although he has known Qi Leren for a short time, it was a friendship established in a dangerous and terrifying world. Seeing his best friend die, Dr. Lu, who was already full of feelings, was very sad. After the completion of the task in the Holy City, he had followed Ning Zhou to evacuate the residents, and the Holy See’s staff took the living residents away from their hometown. He and Ning Zhou had returned to the Village of Dusk. Ning Zhou was in a bad state along the way. Dr. Lu didn’t dare to cry. When he got home, he had seen the training menu Qi Leren had before, and then got into bed and cried for a long time.

He didn't really feel the deaths he had experienced before. He only felt as if he was playing a game that was too realistic. It wasn't until he saw Qi Leren no longer breathing as he was buried in the tree tomb that Dr. Lu had realized the cruelty of the world.

"Well, don't be sad. You haven't said what happened to your face?" Qi Leren looked at Dr. Lu's face carefully. Dr. Lu's forehead was swollen and covered with an ointment, and his mouth and chin were cracked. It looked miserable.

"I... I fell..." Dr. Lu whispered.

Where would Qi Leren believe this: "You fell all over your face?"

"Really." Dr. Lu showed him his sleeves and bruises on his elbows. "I was born with an uncoordinated cerebellum, poor balance, easy to fall when running, and failed in all sports."

Qi Leren remembered that Dr. Lu mentioned it to him before. At that time, he didn't care. He thought it was an excuse to be lazy.

"Can this be cured?" Qi Leren asked seriously.

"Ah, I’ve been treated? I can just use [Doctor’s Orders], it doesn't hurt anymore, that is, the bruises haven’t returned," Dr. Lu said after a pause.

Qi Leren was distressed yet amused: "I mean, can you cure your coordination problem?"

"No, but more exercise will still improve it some... I’ve also been exercising recently, that is, the training regimen you gave me before... I just always fall, but now I’ve thought of a solution of wearing more clothes when I go running, so when I fall it doesn’t hurt. It's just too tiring, I’ve never been so active in my life," Dr. Lu complained, and secretly glanced at Qi Leren. "Anyway, I’ll work hard and won't hold you back. Oh, my [Doctor’s Orders] have also been upgraded. Now the treatment effect is better. I’ll still milk you in the future. Tanks like you who die particularly easily need a reliable healer like me."

Knowing the cause and effect, Qi Leren was really angry and amused, and lastly he was a little touched. For a long time, he had positioned Dr. Lu's role as a healer who could find 100% of the task items and counterbalance his own luck value, so he didn't expect him to help in battle. Now it seemed that his death had had such a big impact on Dr. Lu. In fact, Dr. Lu had grown a lot more than before.

The two chatted for a long time, and Dr. Lu also carefully told Qi Leren what happened after his death, especially about Ning Zhou. Dr. Lu was very happy to learn that Ning Zhou could come back in a month at most. He accepted the fact that his best friend was gay and he was eager to teach him prostate massage skills that could make even straight men fly up. After being shot down by Qi Leren, Dr. Lu gave him a look of "peerless martial arts will be lost".

Qi Leren was hungry, too. He pilfered the delicious cupcakes Dr. Lu hoarded and ate his meal under Dr. Lu's resentful gaze.

"Those are my favorite ones... I waited in line for three hours to buy them." Dr. Lu wanted to cry.

"I just died and you were in the mood to line up to buy cupcakes, confiscated!" Qi Leren ate two of them and thought they tasted really good. No wonder they were so popular.

Dr. Lu looked at the cakes with a flat mouth amid his grief: "I was going to take them to your grave to offer them to you."

"Oh, I'll take them." Qi Leren smiled and smashed half a cupcake, stuffing it into Dr. Lu's mouth. "Well, you eat it too. It tastes really good."

Dr. Lu, who is good at buying, said happily, "As long as you don't die, I’ll buy it for you every day."

"Bah, don’t say something so unlucky! I don't want to die again," Qi Leren said.

"But you always die when you use S/L Data," Dr. Lu poked a knife in his sore spot.

“……”

The two men hurt each other for a while, and Qi Leren became tired. Because Dr. Lu had no extra bed at home, he ruthlessly robbed Dr. Lu of his bed. Heedless of the fact that Dr. Lu, who had been robbed of the bed, was whining off to the side, he fell asleep rolled up in the blanket.

He had another nightmare.

In his dream, he returned to the church at the top of the old site of the Vatican and stopped in front of the huge stone door.

He held out his hand to push the door open, and his remaining reason screamed at the top of its lungs telling him to stop, but in his dream he was ignorant and fearless and bravely pushed open the door.

The deceiver is watching him with a charming smile.

Blinded by shock at that moment, Qi Leren had no time to take in the smile on Su He's face. He actually laughed with no malice, only a hint of ponder and ridicule, just like a human watching crickets fighting to the death in a jar, watching quietly, wondering which one would win.

Once upon a time, Qi Leren didn't quite understand why Su He always had a calm and casual attitude, as was the case when he first met him. While he and Dr. Lu were extremely nervous, Su He remained composed. Because for him, this was just a cricket game. How could a chess player who could overturn the chessboard at any time be afraid because of the thrills on the chessboard?

Qi Leren dreamed of his death again.

His throat’s trachea was cut, and the pain of suffocation and the weakness from blood loss brought back to him with the dream. He crawled desperately on the cold ground, every inch of distance exhausting him, and his will constantly collapsed as he was tortured by death. He couldn't persist and gave up...

"Qi Leren, Qi Leren wake up!"

Qi Leren suddenly sat up, short of breath and in a cold sweat. Dr. Lu sat by the bed and looked at him anxiously: "You asked me to wake you up at this time... You seemed to be having a nightmare."

"...I'm fine." Qi Leren wiped the cold sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. "Is there any water?"

Dr. Lu poured him a glass of water.

Qi Leren gulped, slow to come over from the nightmare. This dream reminded him that Su He might already know about his resurrection, and he might make another action. He had to be careful that Du Yue wouldn’t leak the Nightmare Game. At the end of the day, this was actually his fault. If he was making the arrangements now, his first choice would be to ask Chen Baiqi that if anything happened to him, she should give his letter to the Courthouse’s Prophet.

It was a pity that when he wrote the letter, it was during the time when he accepted the role of "Red". At that time, he and Chen Baiqi weren’t very familiar with each other, and he didn't like the Court, and he didn't even know about the Prophet. Naturally, he couldn't be as thoughtful as he was now.

He could only mend things by getting a contract from Chen Baiqi for Du Yue to sign, swearing that he would keep this secret.

His appointed time with Chen Baiqi was coming. Qi Leren got up, put himself together, and walked towards Chen Baiqi's home.

-----

Editor’s Notes: I love Dr. Lu so much 😭😭😭 He’s like an awkward parent who texts you about a cute cashier that he thinks is gay after you come out to him because he’s trying too hard to show that he’s supportive

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[oloreaa]

Vencuyanir Ch. 9 - The Medcenter

Summary: Their first conversation about what happened. A deal. Some first time parenting together thrown into the mix

Words: 8.0k  i KNOW

Warnings: descriptions/treatment of wounds, allusion/inquiry about sexual assault, (past) child abuse, sick and distressed child, hospitals (please let me know if I missed something)

Notes: Hi, hello my friends!! I am overwhelmed by all of the feedback and responses I´ve received, and I want to thank you SO MUCH for it. You are all amazing and I am SO grateful to you. HUGE thanks at @adikaofmandalore​ for all of the logic suggestions and @over300books​ for going over the chapter with me and being endlessly patient. 

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……………

They were in hyperspace, moving towards some planet that the Mandalorian was steering the Razor Crest to. Elana stood in front of the mirror, examining the bruises on her face and arms, covering her skin, and tried to make sense of everything.

Facts first.

She and Bean were captured by the Mandalorian on Arvala-7. Bean was the actual bounty, for which he got a camtono of beskar. He took the payment and got himself a whole new armour made with that beskar. The Mandalorian risked his life to go back and get them away from the Imperials he had originally handed them to.

Speculations second.

The Mandalorian seemed to have taken a liking to them, in some way or another. He also seemed to have regretted giving them away, going to great lengths to rectify that action. He had risked everything in his job in order to rescue them, and now all three of them were probably wanted by the Guild.

Coming to a conclusion.

The Mandalorian, Bean and Elana were stuck together for an indeterminate amount of time, and even though she wanted nothing more than to never see that blasted beskar helmet again, she had to be realistic. If not for her own life, then for Bean's.

Elana knew that she was not suitable to protect Bean. She could not fight, she had nowhere to go, and no one who could help her. The only thing she would be able to do was to pick up jobs and earn enough credits to keep them afloat. But that was something that she could only consider to do for the rest of her life if there was not the issue with Bean being wanted by remnants of the Empire.

Thus, their best chance was, once again, staying with the Mandalorian.

Elana sighed deeply, staring at herself in the mirror. The bruise on her cheek where the stormtrooper had hit her was deep purple, the skin bloody. There were small scrapes all across her face, hopefully they would heal over the next few days. Her skin looked pale, the shadows underneath her eyes almost as dark as the bruises on her face. Gently using the water in the sink to wash away the grime on her face, Elana rubbed the dried and crusty flakes of blood out of her hair line, running her hands carefully through the tangles in her dark strands when she was finished. When she was satisfied with how her wounds were relatively clean, she unscrewed the bacta jar and smeared the cool substance onto her face and her wrists, careful with the sensitive skin. After she was finished, she stepped out of the fresher and saw the Mandalorian sitting on a crate, methodically cleaning one of his blasters. He looked up, and she squared her jaw.

"I think we need to talk," she said, shoulders tense.

The Mandalorian nodded.

"I don't think that I need to tell you what I think of your actions," Elana started off, picking her words carefully, "And you can obviously guess at what happened in that warehouse."

He met her gaze through that impassive beskar helmet, and she felt herself becoming furious.

"Why?" Elana did not care that she had asked this already. She wanted to hear it when he was not trying to constantly brush her off. The Mandalorian was quiet for a long time. "Is this because you want-- my offer?" Her mouth tasted like ash, jaw clenching at the thought of him cashing in the favour of yesterday.

His head whipped up. "No," he said quickly, voice hoarse, "Never that." He sounded so earnest that a part inside her relaxed, but she still could not help but stay wary, arms crossed in front of her chest defensively. "The job had felt off from the beginning," the Mandalorian sighed, a slight shift in his posture the only indicator for Elana that he was uncomfortable. "And when I saw that the bounty was the baby--"

Elana interrupted him, "You did not seem to mind when you dragged us away."

He was quiet again.

"I don't want a full on apology, Mandalorian, though Maker knows we deserve it," she spat, "I want to know if you will give us away again."

"Not to them," he said, voice low.

Elana scoffed slightly. "What a relief."

"I went back because it was wrong. The job, the payment, the bounty were all wrong. I had to go back."

Stepping a bit closer to him, staring down into where his eyes should be, she started to speak, fury burning in her. "You owe me, Mandalorian," she said quietly.

"If you want to be specific, it was me who saved both of you," he pointed out weakly, voice tense.

"Well, think again, tin can, whose fault was it that we needed to be saved?" Elana snarled, "It would have been something entirely different if you would have only turned me in."

His helmet tilted up.

"If it was only me, an adult, it would have been something entirely different," she repeated, "But the actual bounty was Bean. A baby."

The Mandalorian dropped his head down, and she hoped with all her heart that it was shame that crushed on him. She hoped that it would haunt him forever.

"So, I want a deal for you to make up to this." Elana hesitated at that, and turned the points, the logical points over in her head, chewing on her lip. "Isn't there a saying about you bounty hunters? You make the best deal for yourself and survive? Take what you can and make the best out of it?"

The Mandalorian nodded, voice grave, "Yes."

"I'm aware that I am not a fighter," Elana started off, "I am simply a hired caretaker, nothing more. But the only thing I can say about me, that I'm good at? I am a damn good caretaker for that baby." She pointed at the sleeping Bean. "Do you know how abused and neglected that child was when I arrived on Arvala-7? How quick he latched onto me because I would hug him? I will not let him fall into the hands of the Empire because that, that exact thing will happen again."

Elana breathed hard, tears starting to gather in her eyes, but she fought furiously against them. "Bean deserves a childhood, all right? He deserves to have his parents back, deserves to grow up without abuse, deserves to be on his home planet, wherever that is! But I cannot give it back to him. So the only thing I can give him is my love, and I will die before letting Bean become that scared child again. He has already seen too much violence in his life," Elana's voice was becoming thick now, the words coming out raw and jagged, pushed out between shuddering breaths as she tried her best to not simply fall apart in front of the Mandalorian.

Choking off a sob, she pressed a palm onto her face, turning away slightly from the bounty hunter who was watching her silently. "I'm sorry, I--" Elana automatically started to apologise for her outburst, before cutting herself off, squaring her shoulders. She did not owe him anything, she thought viciously, eyes burning, and she gritted her jaw, taking a deep breath to stabilise herself.

"Ever since we left the encampment, we've been dragged around, barked orders at, and I am tired of feeling helpless and looked down upon. So, I want a deal," Elana said, going back to her original point, "I want you to protect us until that Empire business is taken care of." Turning sharply to face him, she cut off what she assumed was protest, "You're a good fighter. You have a ship, you have weapons. And you owe us, both of us," Elana enunciated, "Get us onto some planet, help us find a way to get rid of the bounty on Bean, and then you can kark off again to wherever it is that you came from."

Staring straight at his visor, she could not help her tiny sneer as she gestured at his armour. "I think you've received enough payment to make us worth your while." He said nothing, only clenched his hands into fists.

"Make the best deal, right?" Elana said, knowing that she was looking right into his eyes, "Well, Mandalorian. I'm making the best out of my situation. Looks like my best deal is you."

The Mandalorian exhaled, his modulator crackling. Then, he replied, voice impossibly low: "Deal."

They stared at each other, neither of them willing to look away first, fists clenched at their sides, and only the sound of Bean stirring made them break eye contact.

The little baby sat up, big ears backlit by the light in the cubicle as he frowned at them. With horror, Elana watched as his face scrunched up, and he started to cry, ears almost grazing the floor for how low they hung. Hurrying over to him, leaning into the cubicle and putting him in her arms, Elana shushed him gently, swaying from side to side. All she felt from him was fear, sharp and sour, and images started to flicker across the bond. Of the doctor, of Elana being dragged away, of a huge needle poking into his side, him thrashing around until it got dark.

"Shavit," she whispered, before straightening and frantically pushing up the little one's robe, "Shavit!"

There was an injection point right above his elbow, the flesh swollen, a slightly darker shade than his surrounding skin, the band-aid on it loose from him squirming around.

"Get bacta," Elana heard herself say, voice shaking, "get bacta, now."

She dimly realized how the Mandalorian sprung into action, but she was occupied with checking Bean for other injuries, aware of the way he still sniffled and curled into himself. Tracing her fingers over him gently, Elana did her best to keep thinking happy thoughts at Bean, trying to calm him some.

"Mwa," Bean cooed, looking up tearfully, button nose twitching, and he clutched at her arms. She could feel that it was not something that actually hurt him. It was not an open wound, but it still stung a bit, which made him panic. Elana sighed in relief when it became clear that he was more scared that it would happen again than that he actually felt pain.

"Oh, honey," she murmured at him, "you're such a brave little boy, aren't you?"

The bacta jar appeared in her peripheral sight, and she grabbed at it, unscrewing it as fast as she could. Feeling the Mandalorian hover behind her, she ignored him, and started to carefully peel away the other band-aid. "Get new ones, please," she said on autopilot, fingers already covered in bacta, spreading it out on the green skin of the baby, carefully rubbing it in. Bean had not stopped sniffing, but he was watching her with big eyes now, quieter than before.

He was still scared.

"We're away from that place, okay, honey?" Elana started to say, hoping that her voice would soothe him some, "That nasty doctor can't poke you again, all right?" Huffing out a watery chuckle as he grabbed her arm and pressed his face into it, Elana traced his ears gently with her fingers.

Bandages appeared, and she nodded in thanks without taking her eyes off Bean. Quickly wrapping the wound up, she pressed a peck against the bandaged spot, and smiled at Bean, unable to hide how brittle it was. "You're all fixed up now, sweetpea," Elana said, and pulled his robes down again, scooping him up into her arms, "You don't have to be scared, okay?"

Careful of his arm, she positioned him so Bean could lay his head on her shoulder, a hand on his back, backing away from the Mandalorian who was still hovering behind them. "Thank you," she told the bounty hunter, her cheek pressed into the top of Bean's wrinkled head. Bean started to sniffle and whimper again, and shook, fear still in his limbs and lingering in his head.

"You're all right, honey," Elana told him, whispering it into his large ears, pressing kisses wherever she could reach, while never stopping swaying comfortingly.

Turning to look at the Mandalorian, she sighed deeply.

"I still have things I've got to say," Elana said quietly, mindful of Bean, "There are things that still need to be addressed."

He nodded. "That's understandable," he said, his voice rough.

Elana continued: "If we are going to be travelling together until we're on a safe planet, I need boundaries. There will be some general rules we need to establish otherwise this won't work."

"Of course," he agreed, voice so soft she had difficulties picking it up through the crackle of the modulator.

"I'm not looking for a fight, and I do not want to associate with you longer than I have to, and I'm pretty sure that the feeling is mutual," Elana said quietly, looking at the Mandalorian. "I'm only doing this for him," she added, bopping Bean gently for emphasis, and he nodded.

"Can I help?" The Mandalorian asked, surprising her. She blinked in bewilderment. "Uh, if you could set up the cot…?"

If there was a record for how quick a Mandalorian got the cot propped up for them, then he probably just broke it. As soon as he was finished, he pulled himself up in the cockpit with a "Be right back".

When Elana settled down on the cot, the Mandalorian reappeared, dropped down from above and landed quietly. There were dark blankets tucked underneath his arm, and he handed them to her.

"For Bean," he said, and she took them, biting her lips in uncertainty and looked away.

"If there is something like a crate or anything we can use as a makeshift pram? Do you have anything like that?"

"Wait," was all he said, before he moved around her, grabbed the smallest crate in the hull, and took out the tools that were in there before. Putting those into another crate, he presented it to her.

She took it, put it on the floor, and started to methodically pad it with the blanket. Using the leftover flaps to tuck Bean in, she set the crate right next to the cot, and turned to the Mandalorian.

"Would it be all right if we could get to a market in the next few days?" Elana asked before hesitating, "There are things that Bean would need, and I'm not sure if the Crest has all of them."

The Mandalorian nodded. "Sure," he said.

Bean was starting to slip into sleep now, but some sniffles still escaped him, and it was with a heavy heart that Elana traced his little face with a careful finger, using the bond to wrap him in a bundle of warmth, able to draw actual comfort out of her knowledge that they were safe now. They were actually safe for the moment. The bounty hunter hovered around in her peripheral vision, and Elana turned around, facing him, Bean's eyes now closed and his breaths even. The two of them stared at each other for a moment.

Elana hesitated, before adding what was lingering in her mind, resting on the tip of her tongue. "Thank you," she whispered, blinking fast as she felt herself tearing up again, "Thank you for coming back for us."

His head whipped up, body language showing his incredulity. It was quiet between them, and even though Elana did not regret her words, for he actually deserved the thanks, since he had risked everything by rescuing them, and it could not be taken back now. The words hung in the air, fragile like a silk thread, exposing more of Elana than she would have liked.

"... You're welcome," the Mandalorian finally said, and she was astonished at how wrecked he sounded. Maybe he truly regretted it. Maybe it was eating him up inside. A part of her wished for it. Another part was too tired to care.

"I think I'll get some sleep now," she mumbled, leaning against the edge of the cot, "That stuff from before... I don't know what it was."

"I can take you to a medcenter if you want to," the Mandalorian offered quietly, "Then you can also get a checkup for Bean."

Elana nodded, resisting the urge to sigh heavily. "That would be brilliant," she heard herself say, tilting her face so she could look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," he then said, before he dropped to one knee, head lowered while Elana stared at him in astonishment, eyes wide, "For everything. For how I treated you." The voice of the Mandalorian was so soft that she had difficulty picking out the words, but they struck something in her that she had no time to analyse while he was in front of her.

"I don't deserve forgiveness," he continued, words coming out haltingly, the edges jagged, "What I did on Arvala-7-- on Nevarro-- there are no excuses. But I'm sorry." His head was still lowered, the sound crackled through the modulator, and she could not decipher if it was his voice or his vocal filter that made it crack like that, "I'm sorry."

Elana felt her bottom lip wobble, and with horror she realised that her eyes were stinging with tears. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, and clenched her fists, feeling her nails dig into her palms. "We can talk about this tomorrow," she managed, voice thick, "I can't-- I can't think right now."

"All right," he whispered, "Take your time."

Elana swallowed and looked away, heart clenching and she felt as if she could not breathe properly.

The Mandalorian said nothing, just nodded once, before standing up stiffly. As he lingered for a moment, she could hear the leather gloves creak, him flexing his fingers, but then he left without a word, pulling himself up into the cockpit.

Elana stared behind him, feeling uncomfortably, inexplicably conflicted. She sat down on the cot, the baby starting to snore quietly, and just closed her eyes, resting them for a bit. Whatever it was that the Imperials had given her was still in her system, but other than sleepiness and limbs that were starting to become impossibly heavy, nothing seemed to be out of place. She could only hope that it would be the same with Bean, that whatever they had injected him with would not make him sick afterwards. It was still too early to see if it had any lasting effects on the baby. Elana found the backpack with her clothes where she had put it last, luckily having forgotten to take it when they arrived on Nevarro. After tugging out a comparatively clean set of loose clothes and putting it on, she laid down on the cot and pulled the blanket over herself. It was not long until she fell asleep, but the apology of the Mandalorian rattled in her brain for as long as she was conscious.

~

Something was making noises next to her, waking her up. Elana blinked groggily, turning her head towards the noise. It was Bean, she realised, standing in the crate in front of her, arms outstretched towards her.

"Honey?" Elana whispered, and the baby scuttled closer. Bean gave a low whine, and she frowned, sleepy. Reaching out with an arm, she pulled him onto her cot, letting him crawl into her side. He snuggled into her shirt, and whined again, sounding pitiful. "Honey," she murmured, "what's wrong?"

When Bean climbed up on her chest, and pressed his face into her neck, she was instantly wide awake.

He was burning up.

"Bean?" Elana asked, heart suddenly pounding in her chest, "Oh no."

Carefully sitting up, a hand on his back to support him, she inspected the little child. Elana felt her heart drop as she looked at his glassy eyes and droopy ears, the usual green colour of his face looking faded. The tips of his ears, where the skin was usually pale pink, was a slight yellow instead. Across the bond she could feel him having a headache and a hurting tummy.

"Baby, sweetpea," she whispered, tilting him against her chest, slightly bouncing him, hand splayed across his back. Pressing his nose into her collarbone, he whined again, and Elana looked up, up to the ladder leading to the cockpit.

Should she?

If Bean's temperature rose too high, it could be dangerous for him, and with how bad he looked and felt over the bond, it would not be long until he needed immediate medical attention. Medical attention she could not give him.

Searching her feelings, knowing that she did not have any supplies, she felt her heart starting to race. Should she ask the Mandalorian? Listening to the child's whimpers, her decision was quickly made. Not even bothering to make herself more presentable, she clutched Bean close to her and climbed up the ladder with one hand. Walking around the opening, barely visible in the dim orange emergency light, towards the captain's quarters, she stood in front of the closed door. Elana hesitated again, staring at the grey durasteel.

Even though there was not any reason now to fear him, it was basically hard wired into her at this point. Rationally she knew that he would not go through all the trouble to rescue them and then kill them now, but emotionally she was still terrified of the bounty hunter, no matter if she talked back sometimes or put on a brave face.

But when she felt Bean starting to cry into her, little body trembling, she knocked resolutely at the surface. It was quiet at first, so she knocked again. Recalling how he had slammed her into the ground when she had tried to lift his helmet on Arvala-7, she figured that she should not barge into his quarters where he was likely sleeping without it.

"What?" The Mandalorian's voice sounded from inside, slurred from sleep.

She knocked again, more urgently, biting her lip as she shifted the baby in her arms. "Mandalorian?" Elana asked, face close to the door as she tried to listen to what was happening inside the room.

There was a low groan and some mutterings before steps sounded towards the door. When it opened with a hiss, Elana flinched back when the helmet basically appeared inches away from her face, the Mandalorian hunched down to stare at her smaller frame.

Even without the full beskar armour strapped to him, he had the same commanding presence, and his gloves and boots were clearly tugged on while he was half asleep, tiny bits of skin poking out here and there. "What is it?" he asked, stance intimidating but his voice soft.

"I need your help," Elana said, staring imploringly at the visor, "Bean is burning up."

It was as if a switch was turned, and his scrutiny shifted to the small child whose face was buried in her shoulder, and he gave off a pained whine just in that second. The Mandalorian's posture loosened some, even if the tension was still thick enough to cut with a knife.

"What's wrong with him?" The Mandalorian inquired, still sounding a bit rough from sleep.

"He has a fever, and he's in pain. I think whatever the Imperials have given him is making him sick," she said, shifting Bean up on her body again as he wriggled, unsatisfied with that position. Looking down at him in worry, she noted that his eyes were brimming with tears, and his face started to scrunch up, a pathetic wail tearing out of his little lungs.

"Do you have a medpack? A fever shot?" Elana asked the Mandalorian who was leaning in the door, watching them, clearly tense and uncomfortable.

He was quiet, the only sound between them Bean's sobs, before he sighed. "Let me check," the bounty hunter said, pushing past her, and starting to climb down into the hull of the ship. Elana stayed where she was, swaying on the spot, whispering and humming into Bean's petal soft ears. She gently rubbed his back as he cried, becoming louder by the second. "Oh, honey," she whispered, pressing a kiss on top of his forehead, biting her lip anxiously.

He sobbed harder, pressing his face into her shoulder while she did her best to stroke him across the back, hoping that the gesture would comfort him some. After a few unbearable minutes, the Mandalorian appeared again, pulling himself up to their level.

"I only have a med pack for open wounds," he said, voice tense.

Elana closed her eyes, and exhaled in dismay. "Shavit," she muttered, a frown on her face.

Studying her, the Mandalorian tilted his head, and sighed deeply. "Hold onto him," came from him, and he moved into the cockpit, the door opening with a hiss. She trailed after him, confused, feeling the wet patch in her shirt where Bean's face was buried growing. The pain that was projected over the bond did nothing but to make her more anxious.

The Mandalorian sat down in the pilot's seat and started pushing buttons, reaching up to flick some switches. Continuing rocking Bean, she sat down in the left seat, holding on as they dropped out of hyperspace, the sudden motion making Bean cry out. The Mandalorian did not waste a moment, looking at the navigation system, and punched in some coordinates.

"I'm taking you to a medcenter," he said, voice low, skillfully swerving the ship around to another direction, and entering hyperspace once again.

At the shift in the G-force Bean whimpered, and Elana held him close, cradling the back of his head as she gently positioned it onto her shoulder. As soon as the ship was stable, the Mandalorian stood up and disappeared again, dropping down into the hull with a loud bang. Looking after him, the twist of her body made Bean unhappy, so she quickly turned back, humming gently at him. He was exhausted but still kept crying, feeling too uncomfortable to rest.

Sleep, she told him over the bond, but he whined in protest, the unnatural warmth making him feel dizzy. Sleep, Elana repeated again, more firmly, and to her surprise, he actually fell asleep. When the Mandalorian climbed up again, he handed her an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth, and she accepted thankfully, gently pressing it against the burning forehead of the little child.

Both of them looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, heartbreakingly pale.

"We'll be at a medcenter soon," the Mandalorian said quietly, and she looked up, right into his visor, and clenched her jaw.

"Okay," she whispered, giving him a serious nod. Only when he stepped away and sat down into the pilot's seat she realized how close he had been, and her hold on Bean tightened.

"Drop out of hyperspace in fifteen minutes," he announced after a while of staring at the navicomputer, pressing some buttons, "Put on some warmer clothes."

With those words, he stood up, and made his way into the captain's quarters, presumably to strap his armour on. It was terrifying how he still looked as broad and tall without the armour as with it. Getting down into the hull carefully, and placing Bean into the pram for the time being, she quickly braided her hair, keeping it out of the way, putting on actual clothes. As she tied the laces on her boots, Bean started to cry again, not yet waking up but right before it. Scooping him up, she climbed into the cockpit and settled into the left seat again, rocking Bean while she hummed a low tune.

The Mandalorian appeared after a while, his new shiny beskar armour glinting in the light, and he carefully approached them, checking on Bean from where he was resting his head on her shoulder. It was quiet for a beat. "He looks a little pale," the Mandalorian pointed out, sounding tense, "Has he showed other worse symptoms yet?"

"No," she whispered, eyes on the worrying yellow-looking baby, "I hope it stays that way."

Dropping out of hyperspace, a station appeared in front of them, and she let out a sigh of relief, noticing that there was not too much traffic. The less people there are, the less likely that there are other bounty hunters. Even though it had not even been a few hours since Nevarro, she did not think that it was paranoid to already look for potential hunters after Bean, and she was sure that the Mandalorian would agree if she asked him.

He maneuvered the ship into the right lanes; it did not take long until the Razor Crest was landed safely.

"Come on," the Mandalorian said, powered the ship off, and turned towards her. Moving quickly, he went past her, and was already halfway down the ladder when she stood up. Reaching his arms up at her, he motioned for Elana to reach Bean to him. She raised a brow at the Mandalorian.

"Give him to me," he said, and motioned again. Hesitantly, she extracted Bean from her shirt, and reached him down, the Mandalorian gently wrapping his hands around the baby, holding him securely. As she descended the ladder, he held Bean in his arms, and the little one whined, pressing his face against the beskar plate.

An idea came to her. "Use your armour to cool him down some," she told him, quickly grabbing a satchel, stuffed a blanket and the water bottle into it, "Do you have credits with you?"

"Yes," he answered, looking a bit bewildered with the baby in his arms, a cheek smushed against his chestplate. Elana nodded determinedly, and pressed the button to lower the side ramp. "Let's go," she said.

They quickly left the ship, and went into an open foyer, the cold light of the sterile place uninviting. Making a straight line to the receptionist's desk, she stopped in front of it. A Cerean male held up a finger at her, gesturing for her to wait with a small perfunctory smile, and finished up his call. "Good day, welcome to Naamel medcenter, how can I help you?" His tone was bored, and he did not even look up.

"We have a sick child," Elana said, "He has had a fever for a few hours now."

"A nurse will come to you in a moment, please go to the waiting room down the hallway, and register yourself."

The Mandalorian stepped closer, and stared down at the receptionist. "No identification," he said. The Cerean looked up, and then did a double take, eyes widening at the sight of the warrior.

"Of course, sir," he was quick to stammer, his eyes darting between the Mandalorian, Bean and her, and he pressed a button on his desk connected to a visible comlink.

"We have a high priority case, please get to it as soon as possible," he spoke into it, before giving them a nervous smile and pointed towards the room they were supposed to wait in. The Mandalorian stalked past the desk, Bean in his arms, and Elana was quick to follow after she shot a polite parting nod at the receptionist.

"That was the fastest response I've ever seen at a medcenter," Elana told him as she caught up to him, a slightly wry smile on her face.

The Mandalorian huffed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Mwa," Bean said, stretching out a hand towards her as they entered the empty waiting room. Elana stepped close to the Mandalorian, both of them working together in transferring the baby from his arms into hers. In no time at all Bean was resting his head on her shoulder again, a big frown on his face, eyes teary, "Eh?"

"It won't take long now, okay?" Elana reassured him, patting him on his back, "A few minutes at most, sweetpea."

The Mandalorian was tense, and every time someone walked past the room his hand twitched towards his weapon holster.

"Keep your hand off your blaster, for Maker's sake," Elana hissed at him through clenched teeth, his behaviour setting her off, pacing around the sterile room. The only reprieve for the cold white paint was a potted plant in one corner and a framed painting of an underwater garden on the wall.

"No," the Mandalorian told her, fingers curling around the weapon. Elana took a deep breath in annoyance and glared at him.

"This is a medcenter, so: Keep your hands off."

"He's still being hunted," he said, looking at her.

"Bean getting treated is more important now, and I don't think the staff would treat him if you insist on being trigger happy," Elana said, voice dry. As if to help her point, Bean sobbed loudly, and she started rocking him gently again, pressing kisses against his forehead, not liking how yellow he looked at all. "Honey, just a bit, okay? You're such a strong baby," she told him, swaying from side to side, "We're gonna get you fixed up in no time at all."

"Mwa," he said, burying his button nose into her soaked shirt.

A Mirilian nurse came in, a med droid on her heels. The Mandalorian tensed instantly. "No droids," he told the nurse without preamble, and Elana's head whipped around to him. Was he being serious? Not only was that rude, but they could not afford being difficult. The nurse stared at him, clearly tired from a long day and dealing with difficult patients.

"Look, sir," she said, sighing heavily and kneading between her eyes, "We are understaffed as hell, and if you want a check in, you'll have to accept the droid."

Elana stepped closer to him, face set in a frown.

"We are not leaving until Bean gets treated," she hissed at the Mandalorian, before pushing past him and talking to the nurse herself, effectively ignoring him.

"Excuse him, miss," Elana said, "We need a check up, and something to lower his fever, I'm worried at how fast he got this bad."

The urgent words were underlined by Bean whining and starting to wail again, his sobs heartbreaking.

The Mirilian raised a brow at the Mandalorian, disapproval in her eyes. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but you're in no position to be picky about the staff. If your child looks as bad as this, I would suggest listening to your wife and letting a droid handle this."

"She's not my wi--" The Mandalorian started to say, while at the same time Elana injected: "He's not my husba--"

The nurse raised a brow, and held up a hand. "That's unimportant. You have a sick child, so let Bee-Two take a look at the baby."

Elana gave the Mandalorian a nasty look. "Yeah," she drawled, voice venomous, "Let the droid look at him now."

He sighed heavily. Bean was still crying.

"Ma'am, please go down that hallway, Bee-Two will accompany you to room A4," the nurse directed and turned around, hurrying to another patient.

Elana smiled at the med droid. "Thank you very much," she said, ignoring the annoyed huff of the Mandalorian.

"Please follow me," Bee-Two said, and started to walk towards the room the nurse had assigned them to.

"What is wrong with you?" Elana asked the Mandalorian, brows furrowed and daggers in her eyes.

"I don't like droids," was his short answer.

Elana scoffed. "Yeah, kriff. I can see that."

"Cut it out," he snapped at her, voice low, as tense as a springboard.

"You cut it out," she snarled, her last bit of patience snapping, "Stars, get yourself together."

The med droid led them into a small, brightly lit room, and gestured to the examination desk in the middle. "Please put the baby on this. I will perform a scan," it instructed, and Elana quickly did as it said. Bean whined as she set him down, claws outstretched to her, bottom lip wobbling. "Mwa," he called out with a sniffle, "Mwa."

Reaching over the bond, she wrapped him in a warm bundle of love, hoping that it would calm him down some. Letting him hold onto one finger, she looked up at the med droid. "Please step back. You can let him hold onto your hand," the droid said, and took out a big complicated looking scanner.

Something clicked ominously behind her, and when she turned her head, Elana saw the Mandalorian, blaster in hand.

"Stop that," she told him, this close to ringing his bell so hard he would have a concussion.

Bee-Two scanned Bean with a blue light, and then switched to a red light. "He has increased temperature that is above the normal range of his body," the droid announced, "Can you tell me what species this child is so I can make a better prediction of his recovery? Or is he a hybrid?"

Elana shook her head. "I don't know what he is," she answered, biting her lip.

"Very well. Going by the symptoms and readings of other humanoid species, then." With a whirr, it ran a diagnostic.

"Quite an amount of blood had been extracted from him, but it's nothing to be worried about. He will be fine in a few days with some rest. But there are substances I cannot identify accurately in his bloodstream," the droid said, and it was as if an icy hand wrapped around her heart. She stared at the droid, feeling her stomach drop.

"Are they dangerous, though?" Elana got out, sounding choked.

"From what I can tell, no. They do not bind to cells or are actively destroying them."

"Could you run a deeper scan?"

The droid whirred again, cocking its head in an uncanny way, before nodding once. "Very well," it said, "This might take a few minutes." Rolling towards a large, white device, it started to press buttons and prepare it while Elana and the Mandalorian watched anxiously. Bean whimpered, claws digging into her shirt, ears hanging low. She gently smoothed over them, hoping that soft touches were calming for him.

As soon as a green light started to blink, the droid turned around, and held its hand out towards Bean. "May I?"

Ignoring the Mandalorian behind her who audibly tensed, she placed the child into the droid's arms, and even though it hurt her heart to see the little child stretching his little arms to her, whining loudly, Elana knew that it was necessary.

The droid rolled over to the device, beeping in a soothing manner, and placed him onto the scanner. Glancing over her shoulder to the Mandalorian, her lips pursed as she saw that his hand was still hovering over the blaster. Giving him a look and a sign to put it down, Elana turned around again, and crossed her arms while waiting for the results of the scan.

"Why are you so tense?" Elana asked the Mandalorian in a low voice, "Because of the med droid?"

He said nothing, but tilted his helmet slightly.

"Are you serious?" Looking at him, not trying to judge, but understand, she furrowed her brows. "Why?"

He stepped closer, and it sounded as if he spoke through gritted teeth when he said: "Droids are unpredictable."

"Droids are helpful," Elana pointed out as Bee-Two beeped happily, probably having some toddler-appropriate programming installed in its software, and finished the scan.

"The substances are non toxic and should not cause any more damage than the fever," Bee-Two explained, "Once the fever is down, he will be completely healthy again."

"Thank the Stars," Elana exhaled, feeling like a weight had dropped from her heart.

"I can administer a fever shot so he will be able to sleep, he is not in a critical stage but with small children it can change rapidly."

"Do it, please." Chewing her lip, Elana watched as the droid left the room, presumably going to collect the shot.

Moving towards the table where Bean was lying on his back, Elana reached out a finger for him to grasp, and smiled at the little one. Mumbling encouraging praises and promises at him, the toddler was calmer than before, looking at her with big, dark eyes, the depth in them stunning.

Bee-Two rolled back, holding a tiny syringe, and it administered the shot to Bean quickly, the baby whimpering at the prick. "You can pick him up now. The procedure is complete," the med droid said, and she flashed it a thankful smile as she scooped Bean up.

He immediately clawed himself into her shirt, snuggling into her and burying his face in her shoulder. A quiet "Mwa" came from him as his fingers tightened to a point where it was almost painful.

"Shh, honey," Elana whispered and pressed a kiss on his left ear, "You can sleep now."

"Can you check on her as well?" Her head whipped around when she heard the Mandalorian voicing his request through gritted teeth.

The droid beeped once, before strolling over to her.

"Hand the child to your partner, please, I will give you a check-up," it said, and after a quick look at the bounty hunter, she placed the sleepy Bean into his arms. He instantly curled against the silver chestplate, ears turned to the back. She could feel the way Bean's mind slowly got fuzzy as the shot started to work, the fever lowering. The Mandalorian gave her a nod.

"Take your time," he said, somewhat awkwardly, "I'll wait outside."

Elana did not want to leave him completely alone with Bean, but she figured that it would probably be fine. If he bolted, Bean would bite him for her, she reasoned with herself, and since there was nothing to be done about it, she gave him an accepting nod.

The Mandalorian moved outside through the door that hissed open, and she could hear how Bean sleepily babbled at him.

Elana turned and faced the droid, before sitting onto the examination desk, her legs dangling on from the height. Bee-Two started to look over her, and its eyes focused on her cheek first, and then her wrists.

"Have you been recently freed?" It asked, and to be honest, she could not even blame it for the question. Elana was very aware how she must look like an escaped slave, especially in the Outer Rim.

"Something like that," Elana said, looking away.

"Do you have an implant?"

"Only standard ones, no trackers," she admitted.

"Have you been injured?" Bee-Two asked, its voice kind, "Are you in need of any specific testing, such as pregnancy tests?"

"No, none of that sort," Elana said, feeling a lump in her throat at the thought, slightly nauseous. Thank the Stars that the Mandalorian had never made any kind of advances on her, and that nothing had happened in the safehouse, probably due to Dr. Pershing.

The med droid beeped, and nodded. "That is pleasant to hear. I will run a scan on you now, and determine the extent of your wounds." Elana held still as it performed the procedure, and listened to it as it listed her various bruises, scrapes and wounds, commenting on the treatment that she had given herself already.

"I will administer a bacta spray on your wounds, they will heal you in a matter of hours. Be warned, older wounds might scar even with the treatment." Elana looked down at her wrists, and suppressed a sigh. There were worse scars to have, she told herself, and gave the droid a nod.

The bacta spray was cool as it misted her skin, and it smelled sharp and sickly sweet. Her skin tingled as the spray set itself onto her wounds, starting to become numb. Sitting up straight, Elana let the droid handle the cuts and scrapes that have already been looked after, letting it apply a new layer of bacta on her skin. Some of the bruises on her back the droid could reach better than she did, and it was a relief to have those treated as well. It did not take long until Bee-Two finished with a happy beep, and rolled back.

"All finished up," it told her with a little whirr, and the eye pieces moved in a way to indicate a smile. Elana automatically smiled back, and she stood up from the desk, her wrists fully numbed. When she peered at it, she could already see skin rebuilding itself. "This is amazing," she whispered, an awed smile on her face.

"Should I call your partner back in?" Bee-Two inquired, and Elana wanted to sigh, but it would be too much of a hassle to correct the assumption, so she nodded.

"Thank you," she said, and tugged on her sleeves, rolling the fabric down. The door opened with a hiss, and she could see how the Mandalorian had been standing right in front of it, arm curled around the little child, hand hovering over his blaster. He turned his head towards them, and his shoulders dropped with an exhale. Elana gave him a hopefully reassuring smile as she moved towards him, standing straight.

The Mandalorian stiffly thanked the med droid and placed some credits in its hand, Bean almost asleep against him. Before she knew it, he had pressed a hand between her shoulder blades in a not-so-subtle way to get her to move again. Elana glared at him, but chose not to comment, and when he pushed her down the hallway, she turned her head and called out a "Thank you!" to Bee-Two, who beeped back, his robotic hand waving in goodbye.

"We're going back to the ship," the Mandalorian said, and pushed a bit more.

She threw him the dirtiest look she could manage. "I can walk by myself, don't touch me."

He immediately put his hand away, but was still using his body to crowd against Elana, forcing her to walk faster, clearly wanting to get back to the Razor Crest as soon as possible.

On their way back, Bean quietly sniffed from time to time, but he was regaining some of his usual colour. After a short transfer of the baby from his arms into hers, Elana pressed her lips against the little one's temple to take his temperature, and was satisfied when he did not feel as hot to the touch as before. Elana held him close, the warmth and the weight of the baby comforting, and the relief of him being better making her feel giddy. Arriving at the port after a quick check-out, they made their way to and ascended the ramp of the old gunship.

As soon as they were safely inside, and the lock of the ship hissed, the Mandalorian disappeared into the cockpit to start the ship. The Crest lifted shortly after, and it was not long until the jerk and sudden roar of hyperspace alerted her to them being out of reach of the station.

Bean was sleeping now, his adorable snores soothing her frayed nerves, cooing at whatever dream he had behind those closed eyelids. Smiling at him, she gently stroked his little cheek, and felt her own exhaustion of an interrupted sleep set in. The Mandalorian dropped down again, but she was too tired to even flinch at the sudden movement.

"He's all right?" The Mandalorian asked, voice gentle, and he motioned to Bean. Not bothering to actually answer, she just made a "mhh" and nodded, her eyes starting to slip shut. He offered a folded blanket to her which she took wordlessly with a nod. "He will sleep like a rock," she said, and shot him a small smile.

"Good," he said, and tilted his helmet at her, "How are you?" His voice was unexpectedly gentle.

Elana glanced down, and was surprised to see that most of the redness had receded, the wound still steadily closing. "Looks nice," she said, her lips curving up once again, "Thank you for taking us to the medcenter."

"It was nothing," the Mandalorian said quietly, helmet downturned, and he took a step back, giving her space.

It wasn't, though.

And both of them knew that.

……………

Thank you for reading!!❤

[captainrexisboo]

Comfort pt5: Sarad

Link to Previous - this chapter takes off right at the end of the previous part, so!

Here It Is. Part Five. I Love My Boo So Much. Also- my first fully completed fic?? Ever??! Holy crap!!!! Dumb Luck stares at me as it sharpens a knife in the corner

No warnings apply, Rex x Reader, reader is a lady. Questions and comments are always welcome! Let me know if y’all want an epilogue!! 

EDIT!!! Link to Epilogue!!!

Tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @000ayfh @pinkiemme @midnightredemption @simping-for-fives @danger-xylophones @iscream4clones @jyvorakal @leias-left-hair-bun @vesperstalksclones @mackstrut @yamaktaria @juitoverride @callme-eds @greenygreenland All of you have been so wonderful, I love reading your comments/tags, and seeing your names/icons pop up in my notifs always make me smile!!! You’re all amazing!!! Love y’all!!!

~

You sat at your desk, spinning a stylus in between your fingers and back straight, chewing on a swollen, worried bottom lip. Your eyes were rimmed red and puffy, but dry- you had already done all your crying, and were now just sitting alone, stewing in your own emotion. You couldn’t even look at Rex directly as he slowly steps into the room, just thinking to yourself about what happened, replaying the unexpected uneventfulness in your mind, trying to find out why it hurt you so. You felt so hypocritical, throwing a fit about Aurin’s lack of attention when you explicitly asked him to leave you alone. You were such a fool, anyway you looked at it.

Your gaze went low as Rex stepped closer, putting your cup directly in front of you. You gave him a silent nod in thanks, and he stood for a minute, holding his own cup as he shifted on his feet. His voice came out nearly strained, a thin whisper, “Should I… Do you need me to come back later, or-”

“Please stay.”

Your words were croaked, and you winced at the broken sound, but you didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t realize how much you didn’t actually want to be alone until Rex had walked in. He sat across from you, armor clacking together as he got comfortable (or as comfortable as he could in full gear) and you could feel his calculating gaze tracing your face and form. You let out a cough (it was supposed to be a laugh) knowing exactly what he was searching for. “He didn’t hurt me, Captain. Never did, never will.”

You felt a corner of your lips twitch up slightly as Rex let out a sigh of relief, but noticed how he still stayed tense. “Y/N, what’s the matter? What happened?”

What happened?

“What happened indeed,” you let out a wry exhale, “In all seriousness, nothing happened” -you held up a hand as Rex opened his mouth to protest, stopping him before he made a sound- “and that’s just the problem.”

Rex tilted his head, cocking his eyebrow, “I, uh. I don’t think I follow.”

You finally looked up at him with a dead stare, and he stiffened again. You sighed low, your eyelids feeling heavy as your heart sank deeper into your stomach. You let your gaze fall again, before clearing your throat, “I’m sorry, Rex. I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I ask him to leave me alone, and when he does- literally, he barely even spared a glance at me today- I fall completely apart. I don’t know if this is like just a release of energy because I was hyping myself up beforehand and planning all the ways I’d deflect his conversation, or if it’s shock because I wasn’t expecting to be ignored, or if I’m regretting-”

“Hey, slow down, wait a second,” Rex shushed you, voice a little more present as he leaned forward, “Look at me.”

You hesitated, pulling your lip back between your teeth, but did as you were told. You felt meek, glancing up at him through your lashes as he held your stare with his deep honeyed eyes. He gestured towards your caf, and you slowly lifted a hand to wrap around the cup, feeling your shoulders release a little as the warmth of the cup seeped into your palm and fingers. When did they get so cold?

“Take a breath,” Rex demonstrated for you, as you followed his command to the letter, “Now take a drink. Relax.”

You brought the drink up to your lips, letting the sweetened substance flow past your lips and glide easy down your throat. He had this uncanny ability to doctor your caf just right, it never ceased to make your eyes flutter shut, like the drink was a signal that you could begin to let go of any stress that plagued your mind. The same warmth that spread through your hand pulsed through your chest, before you let out a shuddering breath, placing the cup back on the desk. You opened your eyes, Rex giving you a soft smile at your heavy sigh, ”Better?” You nodded to him. “Good. Now, ‘nothing’ happened?”

“Yeah,” you deflated, not defeatedly in self-pity as you were before, but an expel of the tension that had been eating away at you for the better half of the day, “I thought this was what I wanted, and I… I think that’s it’s still what I want, but when he actually put it into practice I just…”

You scoffed at yourself, glancing off to the side to stare at the pile of flimsi Yularen needed to sign off on, “You know how you get yourself excited for something that’s about to happen, something you want to happen, and the moment it happens it’s different than how you’d expect it to be?”

Rex nodded, heart skipping as he thought about Ahsoka’s speculation. What would happen if he told you his true feelings now? Would you laugh at him, thinking he’s playing a cruel joke on you? Would you pout at him, and apologize for not feeling the same way? Would you stare at him with an icy glare and tell him how awful he is for telling you at the worst possible timing? Would you smile at him so sweetly, and get up from your chair to walk around and whisper an admission of your own feelings as well, lips brushing against his temple like that one day he can’t stop replaying in his head? He’s unsure which option scares him the most.

“Aurin ignored me throughout the entire inspection today, even as we stood alone with each other. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look in my direction. He simply stood next to me,” you recounted, gaze going unfocused again, “He did exactly as I asked. For whatever reason, it hurt me. It hurt so much-”

You cut yourself off as your voice cracked, feeling the lump form in your throat again. You reach for your caf, taking another soothing sip, letting the hot liquid push past the emotion rising in your throat. Breathing steady, you looked back into your lap, sitting your caf back on your desk before shrinking into a whisper, “And I can’t figure out why.”

Rex sat still, ankle crossed over his knee. He took a long sip from his own cup, soaking in the information. It was a heavy minute before he cleared his throat, “Do you… do you maybe want to talk to him?” Rex felt himself swallow thickly. “Do you want to be with him again?”

“No.”

You reeled back, wincing at yourself, surprised at how quickly you responded. Rex looked at you intently, but with merciful patience, only the incline of his head urging you to continue. You gazed back into Rex’s eyes, feeling something in your stomach stir from their sincerity. If nothing else, Rex was earnest and kind at his core. You had unwavering confidence in your friendship, and you were reminded of that everytime you looked into his eyes. You could tell him anything- he could pull the truth out of you better than you could push it through by yourself. Alone, you had to hunt for it, search the darkest corners of your mind, and almost always came back into the light empty handed and frustrated. You’d exhausted yourself so easily doing just that today, but when you locked onto Rex’s gaze, he could easily lead you to your truth. He coaxed it out of you with gentle whispers and soft touches, with eyes that practically glowed with an emotion you thought you knew but couldn’t quite place. You swallowed a breath, sitting up straight, and talking directly to Rex, letting your instinct take over as you answered silent questions.

What do you want?

“I want to continue to keep my distance from him.”

Why?

“It was...shocking. To not have any interaction with him. But its what I need, to grow into my own person. It’ll be better this way.”

So how do you explain your reaction?

“I guess I… I’m afraid.”

You stopped yourself from venturing further down that rabbit hole, finally breaking away from Rex’s stare. You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, the emotional strain from today taking its toll on you. You shut your eyes tight, dropping your chin to your chest, trying to stop the headache from coming on, not even looking up as you heard the weighty steps of Rex’s boots as he walked around your desk.

Rex had gotten up from his seat as soon as your lashes hit the tops of your cheeks. He allowed his typically quiet footfalls to echo in the room as he opted for a slow walk to come closer to you, setting his half-finished caf on the edge of your desk. He never seemed to be able to shake his nerves whenever he made a move to touch you, always moving as if time was slowed down around the two of you, in your own little pocket of reality. His hand moved cautiously, making sure you had time to feel his presence, time to move away if you needed to. Rex’s fingers brushed at your shoulder, curling over the muscle as his thumb traced your collarbone, hidden under your uniform jacket. He put pressure there, a slight squeeze, causing you to hum lightly at the contact. Rex continued his motions at your approval, sinking down to one knee to see if he could catch your eyes, only to find them closed. He smoothed his gloved hand over the gray material, following the slope of your shoulder in a fluid motion, keeping his voice low despite being the only two people in the room, “What are you afraid of, cyar’ika?”

The endearment was out of his mouth before he could stop himself, but if you knew what the term meant you didn’t mention it. He left it alone, letting the moment settle.

You shivered slightly at his gravelly tone, taking note of the new word you’d have to ask about later. He said it so softly in a single exhale, that at least you knew it wasn’t supposed to be an insult. You opened an eye, finding his stare on you, and opening the other one as you leaned forward, placing your forehead against his. The position was awkward, your back was hunched and you could already feel your neck getting stiff, but the keldabe kiss made you feel at ease, lifting a hand to wrap around the back of Rex’s head, feeling the prick of his buzz on your palm, the pads of your fingers rubbing lightly over his scalp. You felt a smile twitch up as he gave a relieving sigh of his own, closing his eyes as he melted at your petting.

“I’m afraid of changing,” the admission fell out of you as a wave of calm washed over the two of you, startling yourself, but the grip you and Rex held on each other kept you grounded enough to move forward, “Aurin and I… we were inseparable for so long. I want to know who I am without him, figure out what it means to be me. But I can’t help but think- this is so silly- what if I spend too much time on that? What if I finally complete my journey, but can’t find anyone to love that version of me?”

Your hand moved down to grip at the back of Rex’s neck, his eyes opening as your gaze went downcast, continuing after a breath, “Aurin and I had a love… I outgrew it. What if by the time I finish growing, no one has room to love me like that anymore?”

“I will.”

Your eyes shot back up at the two simple words, growing wide at the sudden revelation. You froze after your eyes locked, swallowing down a breath as you waited for him to continue, still keeping your foreheads pressed together. Rex moved his hand over your shoulder, rubbing up and down your arm in a calming pace, though you’re unsure if it was to soothe your nerves or his own. The air you both were suddenly all-too-aware of sharing thickened as the silence stretched, Rex’s eyes searching your own as he briefly wetted his lips in anticipation of your reaction.

“Y/N, I need you to know, you’ll never outgrow those who already care for you. Aurin kept you locked in a box, and it was a warm, safe box. But you did a brave thing. You took a step out of that box, and as soon as you did you blossomed. Sarad, flower, you’ll always be growing, that’s a part of life,” he cleared his throat, intent on making his devotion ring clear, both of his hands moving to wrap around your own, the one still in your lap, “You’re healing, finding your roots, and already you’ve changed so much, in the brightest of ways. And I… I really, really care for you. I’ll always be here for you, by your side, ready to welcome you into my heart with open arms. If you decide I’m not for you, that’s fine, just please take this to heart- I’ll always make room to love you.”

He held his breath, waiting for your response, not daring to break your hold. Your fingers had stopped their light massaging on his head, but you kept him pulled to you. He gripped your hand between his own, running his thumbs over your knuckles. He didn’t want to let go- if you ended up hating him for this outburst, he wanted to be in your touch as long as possible until then.

You had no response. You were silent and intensely looking right through him, to say you were shocked was an understatement, but you held no doubt that Rex had spoken only the truth to you. The past few months started to replay through your mind, all his little quirks and notions that you thought were just him in culture shock to nat-born socializing became clear- and you could punch yourself for not realizing it sooner. He loves you...seems like he always had. The longer the moment stretched, the more nervous the Captain’s gaze fell, and you just barely choked out a whisper, “Rex…”

Your mouth hung open, stuck in how to continue, letting a breathless, but short giggle come through you as he visibly perked up to your voice. You blinked at him, trying to clear your mind, “I...I-I’m sorry, I need some time to think, still.”

“That’s fine,” Rex nodded, almost forgetting your foreheads were still pushed together as his words came out in a rush, “take as much time as you need. I’m not telling you this as a way to ask you out o-or anything, I just. I just don’t want you to feel unloved. I’m here for you, no matter if you match my feelings or…”

He trailed off, his eyes being pulled to the floor as the other option crossed both of your minds. He didn’t need to say it. You felt your heart ache for him, here he was laying his soul out to you, and all you could do was request that he gives you time. 

But this its time that he’s willing to give. 

“I’ve waited for you for so long already,” his baritone rumbled from his chest, as he slowly brought his gaze back up to you. You felt your cheeks heat under the warmth of the amber hearth that was his eyes, “I’ll gladly wait two lifetimes more.”

Something in you broke. It snapped, and the force of it pushed you forward, colliding with the Captain’s lips. You both made brief sounds, a muffled chirp against a surprised throaty grunt, equal parts terrified and triumphant. He tasted like caf, with a bite of citrus, like he’d been eating an orange, and the thought for whatever reason made you smile against him as your eyes slid shut.

Rex’s eyes blew wide open, freezing in place at your movement. Holding his breath as you stayed on his lips, heart racing like never before, even on the battlefield. This was different, and delightful, and how do you kiss someone properly, is there a manual for it, should he stay still or-

Just as quickly as you brushed against him, you had left, and he had to restrain himself to keep from following you back. You looked at him, and- oh. He knows those eyes.

“I still need time,” you breathed out, moving off of his forehead but fingers resuming their petting over his scalp, “but maybe I’ll run the course quicker knowing you’re at the finish line.”

Rex had dreamed of your eyes looking at him like that, and he was sure his gaze matched. Like you had hung the stars in the sky for the ships to fly through, like he had painted the universe on a velvet canvas- like he loved you. Like you loved him. Your moony gazes were locked on each other before he rasped out, only just remembering to breathe in the quiet moment, “I don’t want to push my luck, but… could you maybe, possibly, kiss me? Again? Please, I feel like I did it wrong.”

He melted in the ring of your laughter, a smile finally breaking through his face at the sound, squeezing the hand he still held. You looked at him with unchecked fondness, and shook your head, “You did fine.” A coquettish gleam came through your eyes, as you gently pulled at the back of his head. He followed your prompting, leaning up eagerly to close the space between you, eyes glancing to your lips as you smiled, “Although, a little practice never hurt anybody.”

[welcometothemxdhouse]

Lectures (pt.3)

I know this took a while i’ve just restarted uni after a year off so it has kinda been chaos. Originally i was only going to make this a three part small fic but i’m actually kinda enjoying thinking about how i’m going to develop Frederick in a timeline outside of the tv show. I want to try and keep his personality as close as possible, and i know there is a dark side to that which i may explore, but mostly this is just me wanting to give him a hug. 

Also just a mention; all the words in italics are like internal thoughts.

This is gender neutral except one line which indicates that reader is female. I wanted to write the line because it is important to me but there was no way for me to make it gender neutral-i’m sorry, i hope you can easily skip over it.

Warnings: Actual smut this time lmao. Nothing crazy just basically oral (male receiving). Also mention of an age-gap/student-professor relationship.

Taglist: @feedthemadness-sweetie​ @prurientpuddlejumper @jonesy201​ @madamsnape921​ @charlottegrice 

Three weeks had been and gone before you were alone with Doctor Chilton again. It was excruciating watching him peacock around the lecture hall twice a week as if nothing had happened-as if you didn't fall asleep every night with the thought of his lips on yours and his hands on your thighs. 

You were snapped out of your daydream by the sounds of annoyed groans, disappointed sighs and an exam paper being dropped on your desk. You looked up just enough to spot the grade written in black ink before dropping your head down into your hands. Fuck, you thought, i’ve really gotta work on that. Before you even had time to consider dropping out for the 100th time this semester, the stern voice of your professor muttered what you’d been hoping to hear for almost a month,

“See me in my office after class.”

It wasn’t a question but a demand and fuck if it didn’t shoot electricity straight to your core. You knew there was a possibility he really did just want to talk about the exam but considering the reactions of everyone around you and the way Doctor Chilton was currently giving them a collective telling-off about how “nobody takes the class seriously” and “no one was proving themselves intelligent enough to be in this class”, you assumed he wanted to see you privately for a different reason. 

You began to pack your things and followed your best friend out of the hall. Ever since you told them about what happened between you and Doctor Chilton they had stopped being so mean to him with everyone else, unfortunately right now they were clearly too angry to care.

“I worked my ASS off for that exam and what? He just decides i’m too dumb to take his class because I misunderstood one question? Which, by the way, was phrased shitty anyway”, you interrupted them by grabbing their arm and dragging them to a halt, “WHAT?” they snapped in response.

“Chilton wants to speak to me about the exam.” you replied. Your friend stopped and stared at you for a second, the smirk rising on their face matching the blush rising on yours. 

“The exam, huh?” 

“Yes. The exam” 

They freed their arm from your grasp and condescendingly patted you on the cheek before turning on their heels and walking away,

“Have fun!” they shouted from down the corridor. Well...at least they stopped being angry for two seconds.

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

You found yourself, once again, in the corridor outside your professor’s office, only this time the awkwardness of the first meeting was gone. Assuming he wouldn’t have returned from the lecture hall yet you leant against the wall and began mindlessly scrolling on your phone. Your thoughts began to wander to the last time you had been here:

You had just begun to reach down and unbuckle his belt when the sound of a heavy knock on the office door made Doctor Chilton practically jump out of his skin.

Suddenly you became aware of a presence in front of you. You looked up quickly, assuming it was Frederick trying to pull you from your daydreams for the second time today but instead locked eyes with a guy you recognised from one of your classes.

“Hey?” you muttered, trying to wrack your brains for any memory of his name.

“Hi”, he replied, meeting your stare so intently you felt yourself shift uncomfortably on the spot, “I saw you stood here all alone so I assumed you’d want some company”

The actual audacity of men, you laughed to yourself, where the fuck do they get it? 

“I’m good, but thanks anyway.”

He lifted himself off the opposite wall and stepped closer to you, crowding you so close that you subconsciously squeezed your knuckles and held your breath for what was to come.

“If you are going to make out, please do it somewhere other than outside my office.” 

You whipped your head around to see Doctor Chilton standing next to you both nonchalantly, leaning on his cane with one hand and unlocking the door with his other. When he raised his eyes to meet yours you threw him your best ‘i am two seconds away from kicking this guy in the balls’ face before said guy turned his attention back to you,

“Apologies Professor”, he smiled to himself, “you know my name Y/N, message me.” 

You watched the almost-stranger leave before turning back around to meet Doctor Chilton with a sigh,

“I actually don’t know his name.” You whispered, just loud enough for Frederick to hear and you smiled to yourself as he let out a small laugh in return. 

Frederick signalled for you to enter his office first and then closed the door behind the both of you. He paused as if he was debating what to say to you before settling on a quiet,

“Are you okay?”

You wondered briefly if he was normally this gentlemanly. If this is what the real Frederick Chilton was like then his strict, obnoxious image was not doing him any favours. You decided you liked this version better.

“Yeah i’m okay. Not to get all feminist on you but it’s nothing every girl isn’t used to.” you paused and dropped your head to look awkwardly at your shoes, “i guess that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with though.”

A painfully long silence followed and you wondered, just like last time, if you’d put him off with your stupid comments. You were just about to apologise when his voice, softer than usual, mumbled

“You can leave if you want, Y/N. I’m not a monster, i’m not going to force you to be here.” 

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how quickly you moved to reassure him. You stepped closer to him and rested a hand on his cheek, relishing in the feeling of his stubble scratching your palm as he tilted his head to lean into your touch.

“I want to be here, Doctor Chilton.”

“You can call me Frederick while we’re alone, Y/N”

You reached up on your toes and tentatively pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Okay, Frederick.”

You moved to pull away until Frederick grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you back to him, moaning softly as you lightly bit his bottom lip after a few seconds to deepen the kiss. His hands moved to circle your waist as he walked you back towards the door, reaching behind him and twisting the lock. As soon as you heard the click in the door you detached yourself from Frederick and smiled as you heard him whine quietly at the sudden loss of contact. You grabbed his hand and lead him to his desk, pulling the chair out from behind it and pushing him down to sit. As soon as his legs hit the chair you saw his body stiffen and his eyes began darting around the room, looking anywhere that wasn’t at you. Your stomach twisted in a knot as a million worries passed through your mind within seconds. 

“Frederick...? What’s wrong?”

“I just...”, he flicked his eyes back to you and away again, “I don’t do this often.”

Your breath hitched as you realised what the issue was. He was nervous. This handsome, smart, sexy professor was nervous about having sex with you. Damn this man and his adorableness. If your time alone with Frederick so far had taught you anything it was how easy it was to forget this man was your senior by a substantial amount of years. You momentarily wondered what happened in the course of his life to make him have to cover this shy, awkward, sweet personality with the one that makes everyone hate him. You must be so lonely, Frederick Chilton. You walked over to the desk and perched on the edge, the irony not lost on you later that all three of your first encounters began with you on one of his desks. You leant forward and traced his jaw with your index finger,

“If you don’t want this, we can stop.”

“No i do want this, i want you.” He paused again, “i made you wait three weeks...i don’t want to disappoint you.”

He hardly had time to finish his sentence before you surged forward and captured his lips again. The height difference between the desk and the chair meant his neck was exposed to you above his collar as he reached up to match the energy of the kiss. You dipped your head and trailed open-mouthed kisses down his neck and across his jawline, the whimpers and groans that slipped out of his mouth made shock-after-shock fire down to your core. Watching “Professor Chilton” outside of this office would never have given you a clue that he would be as submissive as he seemed to be now. You made a mental note to explore that later on if this ever happened again. Oh this is definitely going to happen again. As you moved off the desk Frederick’s hands instinctively went to rest on your thighs like the last time you were in this position. You, however, had other ideas. You shuffled to your feet then rapidly dropped to your knees. Frederick’s eyes widened and you heard his breath catch in his throat as he realised what you were doing.

“Fuck Y/N” he groaned, looking down and almost coming in his pants at the sight of you with your dishevelled hair and kiss-swollen lips reaching to unbuckle his belt.

“Is this okay...” ,you asked, stilling your hands and peering up from under your lashes, “sir?”

The moan that came out of Frederick as you simultaneously brushed your hand over the bulge in his trousers was positively abhuman and shit it was hot. You undid the button and zipper on his trousers before pulling them down just enough to lift his dick out of his underwear. If you weren’t dripping before then you certainly were now. You had no idea how he could ever be worried about disappointing you with a dick the size of his - your jaw was practically aching just looking at it. With no hesitation you settled back on your heels and began kitten-licking the tip before licking a stripe along the underside of his dick and taking him into your mouth. Frederick grunted and moaned above you as you took him deeper with every dip of your head, eventually gagging slightly when he hit the back of your throat. The sound of that alone made Frederick grasp the back of your hair with both hands and pull you off him in a panic,

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna..” he stuttered, embarrassed. When you looked up at him he was so flustered it was almost sweet. You wrapped one hand back around his dick and reached around to place your other hand on top of his on the back of your head.

“Come for me, sir” 

You tapped the hand on the back of your head as a signal for him to push your head back down and you took him in your mouth again, bobbing up and down with even more ferocity, scraping your teeth lightly along his veins a few times. You felt his dick throb against your tongue and you moaned, hoping the vibrations would be what he needed to push him over the edge.

“Shit Y/N i’m...” and with one last bob of your head you felt his come hit the back of your throat and you instinctively swallowed.

You pulled off Frederick with a obscene ‘popping’ noise before meeting his eyes and licking your lips, making sure he knew you’d taken every last drop. You buttoned up his trousers and raised yourself to perch back on the desk-you wanted to revel in the scene in front of you for a second. Frederick was a mess. He was breathing heavy and beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead. His hair was sticking up in every direction and his hands had settled to rest on his thighs as he tried, unsuccessfully, to stop them from shaking. He wasn’t lying, he really doesn’t do this often.

“What is the saying? Take a picture, it will last longer?” he snarled, clearly off-put by your staring.

“Maybe one day i will.” You smiled as you hopped off the desk and nudged his legs open with your knee so you could stand between them. You bent down and pressed a heavy kiss to his lips before walking towards the door.

“See you soon, Frederick”.