#but shoes family got almost wiped out and he lost a lot of his memory and blacked out a lot of it so meanwhile hes dating frienda oc skylar

[gravybath]

Meeting your boyfriends wife is always so stressful

[mysticalrambling]

Ending It All Part 1 (C.E)

Part 2

Chris Evans Fan fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: Chris wants to end your marriage and you decide to go along with it. You have to be civil for the sake of the kids but you are hurt. This process is too much for the both of you and eventually, it all ends.

Warnings: Angst all the way. 

._._._._._.

You had seen it coming from a mile. People say that a woman’s sixth sense is her greatest power. You always took pride in it but in this case, it was a curse. Chris and you have known each other for the past seven years and from those years, you were married for five. He was the love of your life. You thought it was forever but apparently you were wrong. You were wrong about so many things.

From the past six months, Chris has been home for a couple of days at most and then he was traveling. Traveling for work, for friends and whatnot. And for the days that he was here, he didn’t look at you like you were his wife, his soulmate. He looked at you like you were a stranger. Spending time with the kids was all he ever did and then came up with measly explanations to go off to bed early. There was no space left for you in his life. You thought that it was just a rough patch but that was not the case.

“(Y/N), we need to talk.” The determined look in his icy blue eyes said it all.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily replied, “Let me just put the kids to sleep.” Your energetic kids had tired out you for the whole day because you were off from work today. Chris had just come back from shooting and he didn’t give you a kiss like he usually did. In fact, he hadn’t kissed you like he meant it for several years now.

“I will be in the kitchen. You want wine?” He was walking away before you could even reply.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled out and you didn’t even know that he listened.

“Mommy, we are going to spend the whole day with you and daddy tomorrow?”  Mia and Jace have started to pick up on the fact that there was something going on between their parents. You wanted to keep all of this away from your four and two year old but it seems that you might have failed. You were failing at a lot of things right now.

“Yes, we will. Now, go to sleep.” It took you about half an hour to be put them to sleep and during that time, you were a wreck. There were a thousand possibilities running through your mind.

Coming back downstairs, Chris handed you the glass of wine, your favorite as always. He knew every little detail about you. “(Y/N), I don’t know how to say this but-”

“Before you finish that sentence, I just need to tell you that I promised the kids a day out tomorrow. Don’t ruin it.”

“I- I can’t say that.” Fiddling with his almost empty glass, he couldn’t bring it in himself to look at you. He was going to ruin this promise as well just like he was going to ruin everything.

“Just, go on.” You refilled the wine glass as you knew you needed the alcoholic haze to get through this conversation.

“I can’t do this anymore. This is just not what I want in my life anymore.” Your breath hitched and your heart broke into tiny little pieces.

Exact words were what you needed to hear right now. No vague statements. “What do you mean? What can’t you do?”

“This. This relationship. I think I am done. I am truly sorry, (Y/N).”

“Is- Is there someone else?” It was as if a ball was lodged in your throat and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk coherently. Fluently.

Chris looked at you, horrified. How could you even say that? He would never in a million years even think about cheating on you. Dignity was an important trait for Chris and if he ever cheated, he wouldn’t be able to look at himself. It hurt him that you would even consider this as a reason but he couldn’t blame you.

“No! This is not the reason. Not at all.” A defensive attitude was immediately taken up by your husband.

“Then is it me? Am I not enough for you?” Hot tears rolled down your cheeks but you didn’t have the energy to wipe them out.

“It is not you, darling. I just don’t think this is what I want with my life anymore. I want to solely focus on my career.”

“You are choosing your career over your family.” As the realization started to hit you, you couldn’t control the anger that took over you. “Over your family, Chris?”

“(Y/N) I am just done. I want an out and can we please try to be civil about this?” He pleaded.

“You want me to be civil about this? Fine.” You took a calming breath and closed your eyes for a second. “Just explain it to me. Maybe we can work something out.”

“I can’t- I don’t know how to explain it. Seven months ago I just woke up and I didn’t want to do this anymore. I want to start over.” A shocking chill passed through your body and you realized that it was hurt. You were betrayed.

“So you don’t want to do anything with me or the kids as well?”

“No. I want to be a part of their lives and-”

You looked him in the eyes and spoke in a broken voice, “It’s just me that you want out of your life.”

“Darling, no-” Chris tried to reach out for your hand but you placed them on your hands. He had lost the right to touch you from the moment he said that he didn’t want you. You were just a problem for him that needed to be solved.

There were years when he needed you every step of the way. Chris met you at a party that Scarlett threw. You were her best friend so you were invited to her New Year’s party. The moment he saw you, he was head over heels. He followed you around for two months to get you to go on a date with him. You used to tease him afterwards that he was a love sick puppy. But he was your love sick puppy.

That was not the case now and you didn’t know what you will do if he wasn’t in your life anymore. Your world revolved around your family but now it was all falling apart. You were falling apart.

“We can file for divorce tomorrow. Do you want to stay here tonight?” Wiping your tears, you got up from the stool and put the glasses in the sink.

“Uhh okay, okay. I can stay with Scott tonight.”

This was not what he expected. He expected you to cry, fight, scream. He thought there would be more discussion on this topic. Seven years were going to waste and you were treating this as a simple business transaction. Truth be told, you didn’t want him to see you fall apart. Chris had lost that right. If he didn’t want a life with you, then you were not going to beg him to stay. You were going to fulfill his wish and set him free.

“We have to take the kids out tomorrow. I was thinking the park.”

“What?” He was too distracted by everything to even realize what you were talking about.

“We will talk to them about the divorce tomorrow.”

“Isn’t this going a little too fast?”

“We should get this all over with as soon as possible. Goodbye, Chris.” Silently pecking him on his cheek, you went to your shared bedroom.

The moment your head touched the pillow, you were surrounded by his scent. The dam burst and you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your face and getting soaked up by the cushions. What were you going to do with your life now? You had to come up with a plan to manage the kids together with Chris. You had to think about getting a job that would accommodate your kids in to it now that you were going to be a single parent. You didn’t get a wink of sleep last night and you cried a lot.

On the other hand, Chris was not doing any better. Scott gave him the spare guest room to sleep in. He didn’t know what was going on between his brother and you but he knew it was serious. Chris couldn’t sleep last night either because he was not used to. This was the first time in seven years that you both were in the same city and you were not sleeping together. You wouldn’t be sleeping with him from now on. He has to get used to that idea. The idea of you not being there every step of the way because this was his own doing. He was dreading tomorrow as he was the one who was destroying his family.

“Hi. I was just here to pick you all up.” Guilt washed over him when he noticed your red puffy eyes and eye bags.

“You didn’t have to. We could have come there by ourselves.”

“We always go to the park together. It is our thing.”

“We can’t do all of these things now. Everything is going to change.”

“Right.” You moved towards the kitchen and he followed you like a lost puppy.

“Daddy!” Both kids ran up to him and clinged to his legs like two little monkeys.

“Hey babies.” He held on to them a little bit longer because he knew he was the one who was ruining their little lives.

“Where were you? Missed your pancakes. Mama doesn’t make good.” Mia hadn’t learned to make full sentences yet but Chris understood her perfectly.

“I was busy, baby. I- I-”

“Go get your shoes on. We are going to be late.” You saved him from the conversation because he looked like a deer caught in headlight. Chris couldn’t answer his daughter as this was how it was going to be. He wouldn’t be there for all of this. The important phases. Jace’s first soccer win, his first award, or Mia’s first school day, her first break up, her prom. He was going to miss most of them because you would be there with them while he will get them for weekends mostly.

“Let’s go.” Buckling his kids in, he sat in the driver’s seat. When he pulled out of the garage, his hand instinctively went for yours. It was out of pure instinct. You retracted your hand immediately and Chris just drew in a shaky breath, He was not allowed to touch you now.

“I am taking them to the swings. Do you want to come with?”

“No, I am just going to my usual spot to read my book.” There was a maple tree that had been your spot for the past five years. It was where you rested and caught up with your reading.

“Okay.”

The next hour was spent with Chris going on to every swing with his kids. He didn’t want to miss anything. Plus, he didn’t know how he could sit with you under the tree that held so many memories. You told him that you will marry him under this tree and that you were pregnant with Jace. It was all too much. You couldn’t focus on your reading when this might be the last time you get to see him with your kids. The last time you were together as husband and wife. This might be the last time because Chris wanted you out of his life.

“Hey, kids. We have to talk to you.” You finally gathered up some courage when they all came to sit beside you. Chris couldn’t bring himself to start up this conversation so he was glad that you did.

“Yeah, Mommy?”

“So you know how your friend Oliver’s parents don’t live together but they still love him very much.”

“Yeah.” Jace’s whole concentration was on his ice cream but he still nodded his head to indicate that he was listening. Mia was too young to comprehend it all so you mainly focused on your son.

“Well, Daddy and I are going to be doing the same thing. We love you both very much and we will always there be with you.”

“But Ollie’s daddy doesn’t live with him.” His blue eyes focused on the two of you when he made the statement.

“Yeah, buddy. I will be staying at an apartment really near by. You both can come whenever you want to.”

“You won’t be there to read us night stories or make our favorite brekky?” His question threw Chris off guard and he froze in his place.

“He will be there to do everything for you guys. Mia and you can go to daddy’s place and he can do all this.” You jumped in when you noticed that Chris didn’t know how to respond to all this. “Right, Chris?”

“Yes, that’s right. Nothing is going to change, buddy.” Wiping away his tears, your husband placed him on his lap with Mia.

“Promise?” Mia spoke up this time because she understood that her daddy wouldn’t live with her like he always did.

“Promise. Let’s go back to the house. You both look tired.”

You placed Mia on her bed while Chris did the same for Jace. They both were out the moment they were buckled in their car seats. Coming downstairs, you prepared coffee for Chris and yourself. He always liked his coffee black so that’s what you made for him. The cup was placed in front of him and he sighed because no one made coffee like you.

“Our lawyer said that he will have the papers delivered to us by tomorrow.”

“Okay, I saw this new apartment building when I was coming here this morning. I might rent it out. The penthouse has three rooms. One for the kids and one is the guest bedroom. You can stay there when you bring the kids over.” He looked at you with a defensive position.

“I won’t be staying at your apartment so please don’t take me into consideration.” You didn’t understand why he thought you would ever stay over at his place. You would never subject yourself to that kind of pain.

“But there can be special circumstances and my home will always be open for you, (Y/N). We can still be friends.” He was hoping against all hope that you would agree. He still wanted you in his life.

“I don’t think I can do that. Be friends. There is too much history. Let’s just keep it to the kids right now.” You picked on your nails because you didn’t want to cry like a little girl in front of him. “And I am going to change houses as well so do you want to sell this one?”

“Why do you have to move?” Chris was shocked to hear those words come out of your mouth.

“I can’t live in a house that was meant to be our family house. I just can’t.”

He understood where you were coming from but this house held too many memories. He couldn’t think of another family living here. Some couple living in your master bedroom, some kids running around in your children’s playground, some other family’s picture instead of yours. It was just too much to think about.

“Let’s just keep the house. When the kids grow up, they can have it.”

“Okay. I am tired right now so I am going to bed. I will sign the papers tomorrow and send them over to Scott’s.” You placed the empty mug on the counter and stood in a straight posture. “You want the kids this weekend?”

“Yes, I would like that. Do you want to maybe come with us?” He didn’t know why he was not ready to let you go yet. This was all his doing but he just couldn’t accept it right now.

“Umm no. I think we should settle the kids into this new routine.”

“I guess you are right.”

“Goodbye, Chris. I love you and I will always love you.” You regretted the words that came out of your mouth the instant you said them. You were so stupid but you just couldn’t help yourself. This was probably the last time you ever got to say it.

“I- I love you too, (Y/N). I will always be there for you. Goodbye, darling.” The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger by the second but he had to say this. Lightly pecking you on the lips, he knew this was the last time he ever got to do this. He left afterwards and you couldn’t help but tear up. The same thing happened with Chris. This was it. Your marriage was over but your love would always be there.

Hope you guys liked it!!

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A/N: I literally cried while writing this fan fiction. This one is particularly close to my heart so please let me know what you think about it. If you want to be added to my tag list, message me. I am also open to requests for this series; requests, blurbs, anything.

P.S: There is a part 2 as well.

Tag list: @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile, @iguessweallcrazyithinktho, @jessyballet , @luckyladycreator2

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._._.

[zemodaddy]

Hey so i finally completed the first chapter of the zemo x reader fanfic. Make sure to read the authors note at the end and i hope you enjoy.!

Synopsis:

Y/n is an ex-avenger who, after the blip was forced to work for the US government. You trained to be an assassin/spy and your gifts of wielding flames made you invaluable. When you were assigned to follow Bucky you find him helping Helmut Zemo escape from his prison cell. What is he up to? Should you stop him?

Warnings: violence, lots of swearing, angst, fluff and in later chapters extreme acts of hatred towards John Walker :)

Shades of Him

They replaced him. They replaced him with a random guy and stuck Steve’s shield on him. You were staring at the TV in disbelief. You thought of Steve like a brother and he definitely wouldn’t have wanted this.

After the blip you had no job, the avengers pretty much all separated and that left you without anything to do, and that meant no income and no income meant no home or food. You couldn’t exactly find a normal job because most people were afraid of you. A trained assassin and spy who could wield flames wasn’t really considered normal. That left you with no choice but to accept the deal the US government offered you. Do their dirty work and you wont end up homeless.

Your newest mission was to track Bucky to make sure he followed the rules set upon him for his pardon. You are close to him, like you were close to Steve. Hiding the fact that you were following him everywhere he went was kind of hard but you managed. You had to manage.

So finding him and Sam visiting a German prison kind of surprised you. Had this got to do with his therapy? Surely not. They left around an hour later and from then nothing more suspicious happened. A quick google search and a deep dive into some public records showed that a high security prisoner resided at this prison. Not just anyone. Zemo.

Interesting you thought. Later that night you followed Bucky and Sam to an old garage. You waited outside for 5 minutes before entering, trying to keep to the shadows of the room. The two men seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. “You want Zemo to help us?” Sam looks exasperated. Bucky looks a bit apprehensive as he says “Look let me walk you through a hypothetical, can I do that?” He begins to explain an elaborate escape plan for Zemo. Your mind was wizzing with thoughts as you tried to figure out your next move. He really isn’t in the right headspace, same old Bucky, you roll your eyes. “What are you guys doing?” You step out of the darkness. The two seemed to jump out of their skin, clearly not expecting you to be there.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Bucky asks. They both looked so shocked by your sudden appearance that you had to suppress a laugh. “I was following you.” He doesn’t look happy. “YOU WERE FOLLOWING ME?” He raises his voice. You weren’t scared because you knew he loved you really. Keeping the same tone as him you shout back “YES AND YOU’RE HELPING A CRIMINAL” “I SAID HYPOTHETICALLY DIDN’T I”. Sam looks like he could start laughing any moment. You weren’t even sure if you should laugh or arrest them. Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Then please explain to me why I just got a message saying that ZEMO HAS ESCAPED FROM PRISON?” Sam looks mad now. “You’re kidding me Bucky” he says. “Look we don’t have any other leads, we were at a dead end.”

You knew that the two were looking for information on the new super soldiers serum. “He blew up the UN, he killed king T’Chaka!” Before Bucky could reply to Sams argument, the sound of a door shutting sounds through the garage and guess who walks in. Helmut fucking Zemo. Your hand flies immediately to the dagger on the side of your thigh. “Woah woah woah” Sam starts walking towards him as Bucky tries to hold him back. Too bad he didn’t see you slip past them and push Zemo against the wall with said dagger against his throat. “Your going back to prison” you pass him a sickly sweet smile. He looked surprised by you holding him against that wall but didn’t fight back. Not with the blade in your hand starting to heat up against his skin. “y/n let him go” Bucky looks frustrated.

“He can lead us closer to the serum, just let him breath for a second” Zemo did start to look a little breathless. Good, he should be scared of you. Reluctantly you let him go. He starts to talk “if I may”. At the same time the three of you go “NO”. He looked a little displeased by the response but didn’t have any other option but to oblige. “Apologies”. After further debating and a lot of disagreements you and Sam finally agree to trust Zemo.. for the time being anyways. “Alright Zemo, where do we start”

You mentally set a reminder to always have an eye on Zemo, how could you not with a guy like him. He seemed to be sending you anxious glances in return, which to be fair you did nearly choke him to death. He leads you to a large warehouse containing numerous cars of different ages, sizes and colours. Probably stolen you think. After grabbing a case full with clothes for zemo you all head to an airstrip. In the middle of which was a private jet. You look at it in awe. “So you were rich all this time?” Sam asks. “I’m a baron Sam, my family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country”. Shit. Those cars weren’t stolen then..

The mention of his country makes you think back to that battle against ultron. You were very tempted to leave the avengers after nearly wiping out the entirety of a population of a country. But they convinced you to stay, where else could you have gone anyway? You think a little longer about the aftermath, when you helped after the battle with the injured, and loved ones finding their dead. It was one of the saddest moment of your life, until the blip. No one else helped from the avengers, they didn’t even visit the memorial..

“Y/n you coming?” Sam was saying from the top of the stairs. Lost in thought you were stood in front of the plane. Maybe I should stop getting distracted you thought. Entering the jet the seats on the right were already occupied by Sam and Bucky, leaving the only other seat opposite Zemo free. Great. As a gentle reminder you check your dagger on your thigh, almost like a warning that if he tries anything he’ll know what’s coming. Zemo swallows looking where it would be and ask his butler person for a drink. Was that his butler or the pilot? Rich people problems you thought. The plane sets off and you look out of the window daydreaming a little.

The other three talk lightly until the mention of Buckys list, which ends in zemo being choked yet again. You smile a little, enjoying the mini acts of revenge for the people he’s hurt and killed. You feel a bit sleepy but then they start to discuss where you were going. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the red skull” Zemo shakes his head lightly “that’s why we’re going to Madripoor”. Confused, Bucky explains the place’s history in the Indonesian archipelago. “It’s kept its lawless ways but we cannot go in as our selves” Zemo says. Uh oh that can’t be good.

You were right. Zemo had handed you a bag full of clothes and a pair of heels. You stared at yourself in the full length mirror that resided in the toilets. “You have got to be kidding me” you say aloud. Your were wearing a dark purple silky dress that reached only just halfway down your thigh. It exposed most of your arms, shoulders and a lot of your chest. Thankfully there was a black leather jacket in the bag too, however on the shoulders sat a blanket of fur, similarly to Zemos coat that he took from the warehouse. Your heels were also purple. You thank the lord you took the time to train in heels too because you never know when the situation arises when you happen to find yourself in those monstrous shoes.

“This” you point at yourself “is not happening”. “Ah my baroness has arrived” Zemo says, amusement glinting in his eyes. You glared at the word ‘baroness’. “Here put this on darling, to finish it off”. He holds what seems to be a lipstick in his hand. You already knew what shade it was before taking it from him. “Do you have some thing for purple or is that just me?” Sam and Bucky both laughed.

You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad, in fact it looked expensive. To say you were uncomfortable was an understatement, not necessarily for what you were wearing, but for the hand now draped around your waist. Zemos hand. He said that no matter what, you couldn’t break character. Bucky was playing the role as the winter soldier; you felt bad for him, the memories this must bring up. You can’t even begin to imagine. Sam however, wore an extravagant and abstract red suit that kind of looked like a dress. It was funny to see his reaction to which he comments that he looked like a “pimp”.

A car pulls up beside you and you all pile in. Of course you were sat next to zemo in the back. After around five minutes you arrive in lowtown. A place where you could apparently find a gall called Selby. That hand snaked back around you as you intermingle with the crowded streets. The high density of the crowd forced you even closer to Zemos side leaving practically no space between you now. You could feel his warm body against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down on you. His eyes seem to be softer now than they were before and he gives you a quick kiss on the temple as if to reassure you that you’re safe. You tried to keep yourself from shaking him off of you but as you carried on walking, you got used to him a bit more. Sam and Bucky followed the two of you, both with grim faces.

Finally, you come to a bar, most people around you watching carefully as you all enter. Zemo orders the both of you a shot and Sam gets his usual. This turned out to be something containing whatever the barman cutout of a snake. The sight of it made your stomach drop, and to your astonishment, Sam actually drank it. He looked like he wanted to be sick but, no matter what he had to stay in character. Bucky gave a slight nod, he didn’t get a drink, not as the winter soldier.

You had let it be known of who you wanted to see and as you waited a man came up behind Zemo and you. He immediately guided you away from this man so he was in front of you and Zemo in front of the man. He knew you could hold your own, you had made that clear already, but he wanted to protect you. For the act of course. “You ain’t welcome here” the man stated, placing a hand roughly on zemos shoulder as he turned to face him. “I have no business with the powerbroker, but if he insists he can either talk to me” Zemo points at Bucky. His hand then slipped to yours, holding it tightly. “Or bring Selby for a chat”. The man looks displeased and walks away. You had many things you wanted to say to Zemo at this moment, but sticking to your character was more important. As he continued to grip your hand, other men started to menacingly prowl towards you all. Zemo gave Bucky the order to attack and so he did. A fight quickly broke out between them all but Bucky was far too strong for them all. This ended in Bucky holding one of the guys that remained standing against the bar table. Finally someone called to say selby was ready to see your group. This was going to be interesting.

Notes

Okay i left this on a little bit of a cliffhanger but the next chapter should be out in a day or so. This is my first fanfic i have published so I’m interested to see what everyone thinks. If there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes then umm you didn’t see anything. I hope you enjoyed!

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (11)

word count; 12,58

summary; following the tragic events of your last call, Vince has given the team a few days off, covered by other shift rotations, and coping alone can be hard.

notes; prepare for a few tears, but a lot of smiling and blushing.

warnings; reference to death, mentions of a funeral service, mentions of panic attacks, reference to injury, fire & arson.

The first tear fell the second your front door closed behind you. It was like a weight had been sitting on your chest, crushing you slowly for hours, from the very second you’d woken up this morning.

It had all been numb, seeming detached from who you really were, meeting members of Chuck’s family, introducing yourself, answering questions from the medical side of it all as they all stood confused as to what had happened to their son, and having to remind yourself on a mantra that you hadn't been at blame, as the unwarranted guilt threatened to topple over you at any given moment.

A beautiful ceremony of life, words that made the back of your throat sting as you sat in the church pews and listened to tributes, and the slight smudge of mascara under your eyes that you’d tried to clean up as your eyes watered, but you’d held strong throughout the entirety of the funeral. The dress sticking to your body felt too tight, like it was clinging to every inch of your skin, pushing in on you and crushing you from the outside.

He’d had a fireman’s funeral, the team deciding that despite never getting the chance to pass his exams, he would be sent off the proper way, and Vince had offered no argument. The morning started at the firehouse, nine o’clock sharp, the lights on the van flashing silently with the sirens turned off. The hurst had guided the pathway, lines of firemen along the edges of the cemetery as his family had arrived, and Newt’s hand had found your own to squeeze tightly as the black car had rolled to a stop.

His father, his uncle, his brother, a childhood friend, his best friend, and Thomas. Those six men carried the wooden box holding your friend to the front of the church for the gathering, respectful and calm, his mother offering a speech dedicated to the team, and you’d almost broken on the spot. There was something mentioned about all of you, about how proud Chuck made them all every day, and how much he loved what he did. Apparently, he spoke about you all to his family, at every chance he got. You felt like they were an extension of the team by the end of it.

Your social battery was drained; the simple small talk and polite exchanges you’d shared with everyone, but it had been overwhelming. You were no stranger to funerals or death, but you’d never lost someone so close to you before. It was utterly terrifying, to care so deeply for a group of people, to allow your walls to come down and let them in, only for the ever-looming threat of losing them to always be hanging over your head, and yet, somehow, it only made you stronger.

You suspected Chuck himself had something to do with that.

You’d placed a rose the same shade of red as the fire engines down on the top of his coffin, and whispered your thanks to him, for being your first friend in firehouse ‘21. You wouldn’t be who you were without him, you weren’t even sure whether you would have been able to stick it out there without his support, and without him, you certainly wouldn’t have the family you did today. You had him to thank for all of it, and you’d never be able to repay him.

You were invited out with them all, the family had booked a small conference room to go to, to share memories and chat, but the idea of it seemed like it might throw you over the edge, and you didn’t feel like having any more public breakdowns for a while. Your team had seen enough of you crying in recent weeks, and you felt like you’d done enough of that. You knew that Chuck wouldn’t want you to cry, he’d want you to make a cup of herbal tea - something stolen from Gally - and to watch a movie with Adam Sandler in or a rerun of Brooklyn 99, and he’d want you to smile, because that’s what he’d encouraged every other time you’d been sad.

He had never wanted anyone to do anything but smile, he was a ray of pure sunshine, warm and friendly and enough to light up any room or mood. You’d been sure to tell his mother that, and she’d held you in a tight hug that left you feeling weak, like you were being pulled down to the ground, the emotions overwhelming.

And so, you’d denied their request to join them as respectfully as you could, because you didn’t want to mourn surrounded by people. You didn’t want to do your mourning in a formal black dress that was smart enough for the occasion and heels that made your feet ache, watching as Newt pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, and the rest of your team wander around in the formal firemen’s uniform that was usually reserved for special occasions with a happier undertone, breaching on being tarnished, and you wouldn't let that happen.

So, you’d driven yourself home, eyes blurring a little and the clock tickling just past midday before the dam finally broke and you were slamming the front door shut a little harder than necessary. One gasping breath as you stood still, a second to follow, and then you were kicking off your shoes. The tears fell freely, hot and salty and unending as you sobbed, shoes abandoned and soles aching as you reached up to try and roughly jerk the zipper on the back of your dress down.

As you peeled it away from your body, you felt like you could breathe again, the pressure having been the opposite of soothing and you worry you were going to tear it in your haste to get it gone. It was chucked across the room, haphazardly into the laundry basket in the corner, and your stockings did rip as you tried to shed them from your skin. Elegant and professional, your appearance had been perfect, but you had felt the opposite. You felt broken, damaged and wounded and messy, like your emotions and inner feelings were leaking out for everyone to see, your deepest and darkest fears on display to be gawked at, your innermost worries open for public viewing.

It was a churning pool in your stomach, one that chilled you from the core, blood running cold in your veins, and you shivered a little. The smell of your perfume felt wrong where it lingered on the air from where you had sprayed it before, and you collapsed down in the seat at your dresser, hating the face that was staring back at you in the mirror.

It was wrong, you looked so professional, pointed eyeliner and a flick of lipstick, more makeup than you’d worn in a long time, but it was a mask, a shield to hide behind as you put up your defences against the pain you were experiencing, armour to wear to hold the pain at bay for long enough, but now it felt heavy. You grabbed for a makeup wipe, two coming loose and then a third, before you were scrubbing at your face. Flawless skin and artful designs were scrubbed away, your flesh blotchy underneath and flushed from the day’s events already, and it was only growing sorer as you scrubbed your skin clean.

The tears kept running, silent and slow as they flowed, and you struggled to even find the strength to push yourself back to standing up. The cold air in your apartment made you shiver, the simple but comfortable underwear was already feeling uncomfortable on your skin, everything did, now. Your fingers were shaking as they turned on the tap, trembling as you washed your face free of any remaining grime until you felt fresh, and you managed to get a handle on your tears.

They stopped somewhere between brushing your hair up out of your face and rubbing some moisturising cream onto the skin that was red and raw from salty tears. Tugging on your sweats and rolling them at the ankle away from your feet. Unclipping the bra from behind your back, it felt like the final restricting garment that was binding you to the pain of the day. It was left dropped to the floor, alongside torn stockings, kicked into the corner. You were fishing out a long-sleeved shirt from your dresser, the comfortable maroon coloured one with the hole in one sleeve for your thumb to slip through, when there was a knock at the door.

Nothing too startling, it wasn’t too quiet with the traffic outside, neither was it dark as light poured in from the sun outside, but you were one edge, and so the sudden intrusion on your quiet was shocking. Tugging the fabric over your head as you walked, and adjusting it across your front, you stuck your thumb through the hole and wiggled your fingers a little to grow comfortable, before you were opening the front door.

You were a little surprised to see who was on the other side. You had expected a neighbour, possibly the grumpy woman that lived a floor below, but you hadn't expected the towering frame of a familiar firefighter. He’d changed too, smart navy uniform swapped out for some jeans and an oversized jumper that would make him look smaller than he was if it wasn’t for broad shoulders and tall stature you knew lived underneath. Soft brown hair was freed from a white cap, and his face held equally as much sorrow as yours did.

“Thomas.. what are you doing here? How did you even know..?”

“I remembered. From the night we went to the vets. You pointed out which window was yours, I counted the floors, and tried to work it out. The resident two doors down told me where to find you.” Pink tinged his cheeks at the confession, and you laughed lightly, his hands rubbing together as he moved to stand up fully from where he’d been leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “I thought you might need a friend right now.”

“You didn’t want to go to the little get together his family arranged?”

“Absolutely not.” He grimaced, shoulders sagging a little more. “I loved Chuck, I did, but I don’t think he’d be mad at me for not being able to handle another few hours of his crying relatives looking at me like I was the one who failed them, because I was supposed to be his lieutenant.”

“You’re not allowed to blame yourself if I’m not.” You whispered, his eyes sparkling a little in amusement as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, before his gaze was dropping down again.

“Look, I know my presence is unannounced, and that I am crossing all kinds of boundaries right now, but you were the first person I thought of when I got home and started feeling alone, and so I got changed and drove here without really thinking about it. I know it’s wrong, and you probably need time for yourself, and so I can go if you want me to, b-”

“Don’t go.”

He let out a relieved sound as you cut off his rambling, rubbing a hand over his forehead, and daring to look you in the eye. “Are you sure? I mean, my company right now, are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure about ninety-nine percent of the things going on in my life right now, but I’m pretty sure you’re one thing I’m absolutely certain of.” He smiled a little at your words, something soft and adoring flickering over his features, and he held his arms out a little wider for you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

You didn’t wait, letting yourself topple forwards into his grip as your hold on the door to keep you steady and upright in your weakened state moved to him, letting him support you as your arms wrapped around his neck, his around your waist to pull you flush up to his body for support, and you felt like you’d finally found your comfort as his warm breath washed over your cheek, before his face was burying in your neck, and a sweet kiss was being pressed to the skin there briefly.

His hands dipped a little lower, no doubt feeling you tremble against his hold, knees buckling as you relinquished the last of your self-control and stability to him, to hook under your ass, and lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him hold you a little tighter as he stepped blindly into your apartment, kicking the door shut and leaning back against it as he held you, and the presence of wet tears and muffled sniffles against your shoulder wasn’t missed.

You raised a hand, brushing through his hair gently, and taking the time to comfort him this time. You pressed a kiss to his temple, and again, before squeezing yourself around him a little tighter and letting him reciprocate the actions in silent acknowledgement of your comfort, as he let himself break down now he was behind closed doors, much like you had.

Your feet slipped back to the floor a few minutes later, when his heart had slowed and breathing calmed, and the moment of insure weakness had passed, leaving you to lean against him, staring up at red-rimmed eyes as his hands rubbed circles onto your hips, silence being all that was needed.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

“Thanks for coming over.” Your words were barely even audible, shared into the space between you both, and he nodded his head, licking over dry lips, and clearing his throat slightly.

“It was really no trouble. Like, at all.” You smiled, forehead bumping against his chin as you leaned forward, before your cheek was pressing to his shoulder, and his arms were circling more fully around you for the hushed conversation. “I was hoping you’d let me take you to lunch, or something? We could hang out, try not to think about it all for a few hours.”

“God, it is lunchtime, isn’t it?” You rubbed at your eyes, gaze flickering to the clock on the wall overhead the open-plan kitchen counter. “I haven’t even had breakfast, yet, I felt too nauseous this morning to even consider eating something.”

“You’ve not eaten yet?” He pulled back a little further, his hands coming up to sit over your jaw, allowing his thumbs to sweep gently over your cheeks as he directed your eyes back to meet his own, and you shrugged, a smile on your lips.

“Oh, c’mon, Tommy. It’s not exactly anything new for us to miss meals in our line of work. I swear, that siren waits until I make something to eat to ring.” He chuckled, nodding his head, before pulling you forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, your hands bunching up in the fabric of his jumper around his waist, holding onto him tightly and hoping it conveyed what you couldn't say with words, a silent offering in gratitude for simply having his presence. “My body would probably be more shocked at a regular eating and sleeping schedule than it would one missed meal and a day without needing to nap to get through it.”

“Well, I guess we’d better start with breakfast, then.”

“You haven’t had breakfast?” You questioned, hopping up onto one of the bar stools beside the kitchen counter, and you watched with some form of amusement as Thomas moved across the room to open your fridge, clearly making himself comfortably at home in your home as he rooted through the contents.

“No, I’ve had breakfast.” He hummed, beginning to pull things out and stack them on the counter. “Well, kinda’. I picked up coffee on the way to the.. on the way, and I got a couple of muffins to go, too.”

“Muffins do not count. I bet they were chocolate chip ones, too.”

“Only one of them was chocolate chip!” He defended himself, the fridge rattling a little as the door closed and he turned to stare at you from the other side of the counter, eyes narrowing a little, before a teasing smirk was appearing on his face once again. “They only had one chocolate one left, the other was blueberry, which is fruit, so it’s basically like eating an apple.”

“You’re so full of shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong that is, and how unhealthy that is, for a lieutenant of a fire station, no less.”

“Yeah, well, I have to live life a little unhealthily. If I didn’t how would I get cute paramedics to fuss over me?” He winked, the moment slipping away from you both for just a second as you gaped at him, feeling a warm blush race over your skin to find a home on your cheeks, and he chuckled to himself cheekily at his ability to make you so flustered, your eyes rolling but it was out of fondness as your head dipped. “So, pancakes? I’m really good at making pancakes.”

“You sure? Something about you just screams ‘I-cannot-cook-for-shit’.”

“I take that as a raging insult. I’m an excellent chef. An excellent and usually healthy chef, actually. I mean, I’m a lieutenant at a fire station, I’ve gotta’ stay in shape.” You scoffed, your words used against you again, and your eyes trailed along broad shoulders and arms for a second, taking in the muscles you knew to exist there that were hidden under a baggy jumper. “Are you checking me out right now?”

“No.”

“You totally are, you’re checking me out.” He gasped the words, reaching up to grab at his pecs like a woman would grab her tits, and you grinned at his actions, lips pursed together to try and contain it as your heels ached, and his jaw dropped, as though he was utterly modified and disgusted at the idea. “I feel so violated right now. Take your eyes off of me, this is disrespectful, my eyes are up here, you know.” He pointed up to his face, and you raised a brow, hopping down from your seat to around the counter, his gaze following you as you moved past him.

Pressing the button on the small countertop coffee machine and placing a mug underneath, you turned back to him, hands wrapping around his wrist to bring them down, your eyes dragging purposefully slowly over his chest, up to his face, and he there was a more serious look on his face as you did this time. Leaning up a little, his breathing hitched, eyes fluttering to sit hooded as he leaned in enough to bump his nose against your own, and you let out a breathy laugh. “It ain’t nothing I haven’t already seen, big boy.”

You pulled back, laughing at the shocked look on his face as he blinked to clear his mind, and you turned away to face the coffee machine, the man behind you stuttering a little bit. “You little tease.”

“Not a tease, maybe I’m just playing hard to get.”

You replaced the mug, making him a freshly brewed coffee too as soon as yours was finished, and Thomas was rooting through your cupboards to find the equipment he wanted. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or excited. Insulted, because, after all we’ve been through, I figured I’d at least have a place in the runnings, but excited, because you just admitted that I at least have a shot.”

“I thought you already knew you did.” You blew the steam from your coffee mug gently, and he found the mixing jugs he was looking for, his eyes twinkling a little as he glanced at you, turning back to the pile of ingredients he had made.

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“Hm.” You took a sip, settling yourself back in your seat, and watched as he began to crack eggs, clearly working on mental estimates rather than an actual recipe as he created a batter. “Well, for the record, you have a really great shot. Good ranking in the runnings, or whatever. Go for the gold.”

“Are you my top prize?”

“I could be.” You tried to convince yourself the blush on your cheeks was simply a bodily reaction to the heat steaming from the mug.

“Then I’m in it to win.”

“I hope so.” You whispered, the coffee machine beeping again as another cycle came to an end, and you nodded towards it, letting the moment be carried away, left on a high note, and not allowing yourself to overthink it or start to become doubtful of your decisions. “That coffee is for you, I made you a cappuccino.”

“I love cappuccinos.”

“I know, you like the foam on top so you can lick it off your upper lip.” He paused, glancing up at you, something you were unfamiliar with flickering across his features, before he was nodding his head.

He didn’t say anything, and for a second, you worried you had messed up somehow, that you’d done something wrong or freaked him out, or made an error, but you were certain you were right, you remembered Thomas telling you about his love for the frothy drink a few months ago when the station coffee machine had broke and you’d all had to make coffee from a kettle, and you’d seen him lick the froth from his upper lip with a grin every time he had one of the drink, when he thought nobody was looking, and he could be a child again for just a few seconds.

Then, though, you caught sight of the smile he was trying to hide, the way his face was lit up a little as he stared into the recipe, beating the eggs with a fork, a variety of other utensils laid out before him. He turned, placing a pan over the hob and starting it up on it’s lowest flame, before dropping a large wedge of butter into the pan to start melting, the lump sliding across the metal surface slowly as it began to heat up.

“So, these pancakes might be a little off. I normally use protein powder instead of flour, so, go easy on me.”

He added a large scoop of flour to the mix, milk being splashed in by eye-measurement only and some butter added, the pan popping a little behind him as it heated up, and you raised a single and slightly judgey brow at the unusual mix of quantities he was adding before mixing it. It seemed to work out for him, because somewhere along the line, it had formed a decent batter, and he was scooping out enough to slowly drop into the pan.

It sizzled at it cooked, his back to you as he worked at the hob, and you twisted a little more in your seat, facing forwards to the counter and resting your elbows on it, to be able to balance your chin on the top of your hands. Scanning your eyes over Thomas slowly, your cheeks flushed with heat a little as you realised you were very definitely checking him out, but you couldn’t help it.

His broad shoulders couldn't be hidden, no matter how big his jumper was, filling his frame widely. The muscles of his back became evident occasionally as he moved, the soft cotton of his jumper pressing to them but never becoming stained, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to cook as butter and oil in the pan popped, the veins along his forearms becoming a little more prominent each time he flipped a pancake over, or served it up onto a plate.

He was humming a song to himself, hips swaying a little as he occasionally mumbled a word or two, barley even audible to you as you listened in and you didn’t recognise the song but it sounded like something that would have been made in the 70s, your lips sneaking up into a soft smile. It was unusually domestic, it had been years since you’d ever had anyone to cook for in your own home, and you couldn't remember ever having anyone cook for you.

Well, bar when you’d been living at home, and a child, but that didn't count.

You weren’t blind to how attractive Thomas was; he was attractive in a beautiful kind of way. Soft chocolate-coloured locks and golden eyes that seemed to change shade with his mood, skin imperfect with constellations of pretty moles that only made him seem more like a piece of art. Of course, being the lieutenant of a firehouse team had its perks, he was often fitting in workouts at the firehouse on slow days between calls and you’d seen the stretch of his shirt across biceps and lean pectorals, and you’d been caught staring when he had comforted you after Chuck’s death. You’d been close enough to him so many times now that you were no stranger to the hard muscle under his clothes and soft but warm skin to cover it, or the long fingers on calloused palms that often found their way to you.

You’d just never really allowed yourself to be affected by any of it before now, putting up walls meant shutting out anything that might cause you to connect to someone, including physical attraction. Now, though, you’d been forced to take those walls down. You were happy about it, even if you weren’t happy today, but it meant noticing the more intimate things. It meant you noticed the scar on the side of his nose, almost indistinguishable until you’d been allowed close enough to see it, or the way the moles on his face continued all the way down along his flesh, but were more heavily grouped on his left side.

He turned, a plate for both of you in hand as the heat had been turned off, pan sitting there to cool, and he wandered over, pushing the condiments he’d assembled from your cupboards into the middle of the table, and you chuckled at the small collection of fruits he’d chopped on a separate plate; strawberries and apples, all you had, but he’d slipped something healthy in there.

“You want me to get the cutlery?”

“I found it. Third drawer across from the fridge.” He smiled, turning, and grabbing a matching set of knives and forks for each of you, before settling himself on the opposite side of the kitchen island, and you were already reaching for the syrup as he placed a piece of apple into his mouth, a satisfyingly loud crunch sounding out as he chewed it. Grabbing the knife and fork from the counter, your hands hovered over the plates, holding in mid-air before your first cut, and you could feel Thomas’ eyes on you. “Is it okay? I can make something else.”

“It’s perfect. Nobody has ever really cooked for me before.”

“You and Fry cook at the house all the time! He’s always making you meals.” He looked confused, brows pulling together and he sliced off a piece of pancake, stabbing it through a strawberry and sweeping it through some syrup, before chewing happily, and waiting for you to explain.

“No, that’s different. I mean, nobody has ever cooked for me before. Just made me food, in my own kitchen, for the sake of it. When I cook with Fry at the firehouse, that's cool, but we’re making lunch for everyone and he’s testing recipes. This is different. You didn’t have to come over and see me, or cook for me, or comfort me, but here you are.”

“Here I am.” He whispered, a sweet expression on his face as he chewed, eyes flicking between you and his food, and you finally chopped off your first piece, bringing it to your mouth.

You didn’t need to thank him, he already knew, just from your words, how much it meant and the message you’d been trying to convey had been shared. Every experience you made with Thomas was like something entirely new, you weren’t sure why or how it had happened, he was never someone you thought you’d end up in such a situation with, and if someone had told you six months ago that he was the person you’d be turning to in your grief, you’d have laughed.

It was good food, the two of you sitting quietly for a few moments, a grin on his face as you approved of his cooking, warmth spreading over his cheeks at the compliment, and it was well-deserved. You wondered why he didn’t cook at the house more often. The fruit between you was dwindling, though he had eaten the majority of it, and you were at least a third of the way through your food before he spoke again, this time, his eyes fixed on his plate, voice barely above a whisper, but it seemed to fit the delicate mood. “You looked beautiful today.”

You paused, swallowing your mouthful thickly, and Thomas’s fingers were tapping at the counter as the other one navigated his fork around his plate, watching it intensely as though it was the most intense action in the world, but he seems to sense your gaze, his lips pursed as he looked up, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug.

“I think you always look beautiful, even right now when you want to cry, but you looked really beautiful today. Sad, heartbroken, but beautiful, too. In an epic Ancient Greek tragedy kind of way.”

“So did you.” You murmured, heat washing over your face and burning at you as his brows raised a little, and you let out a frustrated exhale through your nose. “Handsome, I mean. You looked really smart. And good. In your formal suit.” The word vomit was starting again, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his lips as he stared at you, but the hole was already being dug and you were just falling deeper, unable to stop it. “Not that your normal fireman stuff doesn’t look good, you look really good in that, too. Fuck, are you going to shut me up any time soon or are you just going to let me continue embarrassing myself?”

He grinned, toothy and wide, a sight that made your guts twist a little, and your stomach feel like you’d lost gravity for a second, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “I think it’s cute when you ramble.”

You were even more flustered now, cursing a little under your breath, and staring back down at your half-eaten meal, poking the top pancake angrily with your fork like it was to blame for your embarrassment.

“I also think it’s pretty cute when you get embarrassed about rambling, and you blush, and you get all flustered because of me. I like knowing I can make you flustered.”

“Shut up.” You scowled, and he chuckled, but gave in, quieting his laughter with another mouthful of his food, and silence took over again.

It was a few more minutes before the heat bled away, and you were able to look back up to meet his eye, finding the amusement in the situation now that it had passed, but the dark cloud of the day was still hanging over you both.

You poked at your food, stirring it around the plate for a while, and eventually, you had finished your meal, moving on to snacking on what was left of the fruit in the middle of the table. You appreciated the gesture, because you were certain that had you been left to your own devices you wouldn’t have eaten, you probably would have spent the whole day moving around in some kind of daze, wallowing in your pity before eventually dropping into bed. Tomorrow would have been a mess, and yet, it was looking a little more promising now.

“So, do you want to talk about how you’re doing?”

You paused mid-chew, looking up to face him as you felt more like you were choking down the bite of apple, rather than swallowing it, and you sighed, your bottom lip finding itself being worried between your teeth as you thought about it, before eventually shrugging. “There’s not much to say.”

You stood, moving around him, breaking away from the bubble you had created together in order to start loading up the dishwasher, any kind of menial task to avert yourself from the conversation, but he clearly wasn’t letting it go that easily. He stood, his empty plate following, slipping it onto the rack beside your things, and reaching for the pan next. “I know you’re not okay, but you’re not alone, because I’m not really okay either.”

“Tommy, it’s different.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t shut me out.” You closed the machine, loading it up with a capsule and pressing a series of buttons, the machine humming to life, and you turned around, leaning against it, arms crossed as you stared at the floor. It was more like a glare, as though the tiles of the kitchen had personally offended you, but it softened considerably when a finger hooked under your chin, dirty sneakers filling your vision as he stepped in front of you, forcing you to look up at him. “Stop blaming yourself, sweetheart. You can’t, because it’s not your fault. It was a whole load of unfortunate incidents that all came together, and you couldn't have known any of them. You did your best, you did everything you could, and sometimes even when you try your hardest, bad things still happen, but that's not your fault.”

You sniffed lightly, a soft sob leaving you before tears were beginning to slip free, and he wiped them away gently with his thumbs, both hands now cupping your cheeks, and you allowed yourself to once again be weak with him. Your hands were shaking, finding his forearms, smoothing along until you reached his wrists, the back of his hands, pulling his touch away from your face until you could wrap his arms around yourself and press your face into his chest.

He didn’t resist, instead, he lifted a hand to cup the back of your head, his cheek coming down to press softly to your crown as the other slipped around your waist to hold you close, and your cries were muffled as you clung to him. As you did, as you sought comfort from him and let your pain out, you couldn’t help but settle, decide that you were far too comfortable in his arms and with this team, too comfortable at this house to ever let it go. You’d always wanted a family, the bond that came with finding a group of people you could bare your very soul to, to find someone who would see you in your worst state as well as your best and still stick by your side, and you’d found it all.

Holding him a little tighter, you found the tears were slowing, misery was still weighing heavy on your heart, but it was a little easier to carry when you let them help you.

“Can you stay?”

“Stay?” He echoed, letting you pull back to wipe at damp cheeks, before you were nodding, and giving him the best smile that you could muster in that moment.

“Like, here, with me. If you don’t have anything else to do today.”

“Only thing I have to do today is you.” He smiled, and you knew there wasn’t supposed to be an innuendo in the words, but he seemed to realise the same moment you did, a laugh breaking free from your lips as his face flushed with a pink blush, sitting up on his cheekbones and spreading right to his ears, a shocked look forming. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”

“I gathered that.”

“What I meant to say, is that I don’t have any plans except being with you, for as long as you want me to be here.” You smiled, letting the moment go rather than teasing further, because the colour on his cheeks was already too much.

“Wanna’ watch a movie? I’m pretty sure we could get all the way through one without any distractions, there’s no alarm going off today. Hopefully.”

“Knowing our luck, your building's fire alarm will go off.” He teased, his arm lifting up to tuck you into his side and settle back over your shoulders, guiding you through the space to the couch and living room only a few metres away.

“Well, if it does, I know that I’m the safest I could possibly be since I’m here with you.” You tapped the tips of his nose as you settled down, Thomas slumping into the cushions and spreading out a little as you sat beside him, legs crossed under yourself as you reached for the remotes, trying to reset your emotions as you scrolled through the comedy section, deciding that it was definitely the time for something light-hearted and fun. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you want is fine by me.” His hand found a place on your thigh, just above your knee, casual and relaxed, and you paused for a second. Glancing down at it, you realised your pause hadn't been from insecurity or anything unsure, but simply from the overwhelming shock of being so comfortable in the action. You didn’t feel put on edge, or tense, it just felt right, and you rested your hand over the top of his, his fingers spreading out to lace loosely with your own, and turning over to hold onto you properly. Pulling the appendage a little closer, your joint hands sat connected in your lap as you scrolled the movies.

You settled on something easy, something with a lot of laughs and giggles, and enough to boost your mood without even having to think about it. You shifted, spending a while sitting up, playing with the fingers of a hand that didn’t belong to you, before he’d seemingly had enough of that. Thomas lifted that arm about thirty minutes in, forcing you to settle back into the couch but wrapping that arm around your shoulders and pulling you backwards, tucking you into his side.

His fingers played with your hair, and you let a hand splay out over his stomach, and he felt like he was a permanent part of your life. It wasn’t a comparison to a piece of furniture, he wasn’t an essential but taken-for-granted piece of house-ware like a frying pan or a kettle, but instead, he was a comfortable addition that you didn’t feel like letting go of.

He was like a throw pillow or a blanket that went on the end of your bed, something for comfort and accessorising, something you could live without but would fight to have taken away if someone tried. He’d wormed his way in, you weren’t sure when or how, but he’d gone from hating you, to tolerating you, to accepting you, to caring for you, to something else. His nose brushed along your hairline every so often, soft smiles and muffled laughter as he kept his voice low, like the comments he made would shatter the mood if spoken above the whisper.

You never moved away from him. He never made you.

Rather, he held you close, and if there were a few times when the emotions all became a little too much, when the tears came again, when the crushing guilt you were working on dismantling threatening itself again, you would let the edge of his jumper soak up the tears and he wouldn't say anything, simple holding you close, and tracing patterns onto your skin as his fingers ran up and down your arm or held onto your shoulder, and if he got a little emotional partway through, or if at the only point in the movie when his arm unwrapped itself from around you, it was to wipe at his cheeks, or cover his face as he tried to protect what he had left of his emotional stability, you only squeezed him a little tighter.

You watched a second movie, one that you assumed was supposed to be a sequel to the first one you had watched, but you hadn't been able to follow the plot that much. Your mind was spinning, your thoughts like a tornado, ricocheting from every side of your brain.

You wondered how Newt was doing, whether he was still with Chuck’s family, whether he was sick of having his cheeks pinched and shoulders squeezed in a tight hug by older family members and swooning relatives. He had a way with words, he had a way with charming people; charismatic and cheeky. He was able to find a joke or a story for any situation, and something about him put you at ease just to be around. He was like medicine for the soul, patching you up from the inside out and making flowers bloom in spaces that had been cold and frozen. Maybe he’d had enough, maybe he’d gone home, or perhaps he’d called Derek for support. You hoped it was the latter, you had high hopes for the two of them.

Your mind also brushed over Brenda and Minho. You had no doubt that the two of them were together, that they were comforting each other. You would see her soon, you made a note of it. Calling people up and asking them to hang out wasn’t something you were used to, but you’d make the effort for her. You’d take her for coffee, or lunch, or simply show up with a bottle of wine and her favourite snacks, and take a girl’s night that you were in desperate need of.

You were picking at a loose thread that was dangling from the inside of his hoodie, a different colour to the pal jumper, it was more of a khaki green shade, and you suspected it wasn’t a thread from his jumper but from the t-shirt he wore underneath, and you jumped a little as you realised that there was a voice in your ear, closer and sharper than the television, which seemed or have been turned down and had become muffled, and you startled slightly, a chuckle following it as you moved to sit up.

Your eyes had been drooping a little, you’d been close to nodding off, not having even realised it as you absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread and let your thoughts take over.

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said, have you?”

“Not even one.” You mumbled, glancing around, before rubbing a hand over your eyes, and noting the late-afternoon sun that was beginning to lower towards the horizon, fading light as the hours ticked on, and you sighed, shaking yourself down a little and his arm slipped free from around you to let you stand as you wobbled a little on legs that hadn't been used in a while. “I was thinking. I got wrapped up in my thoughts.”

“That’s okay, I wasn’t saying anything important, I was talking about the movie.”

“I’ll be right back, just, hit rewind. And pause. I’ll focus, I swear.” He nodded, legs popped up on your coffee table and you weren’t aware of just when he’d made himself at home, an air of domesticity that he seemed comfortable in. The image was burned into your mind as you wandered away, closing the bathroom door and taking a deep breath. The cushions were spread out around him, he was nestled among them, head lolled back against the edge of the couch, feet popped up on the table, shoes kicked off by the couch somewhere and an obviously wrinkled patch on his jumper where you’d been leaning.

You didn’t want to let it go.

You flushed, the sound drowning out the occasional shuffling noises Thomas made as he adjusted himself, the squeaky springs in your couch, and then the sound of the tap to follow, lavender overwhelming your senses as your hand wash flooded the room with the pleasant scent.

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, red-rimmed eyes and cheeks a little raw from salt, and you switched hot water to cold, cupping your hands under the faucet and bringing your hands up to your face as you leaned over, trying to ease sensitive skin and wash your eyes, wash away where eyelashes were still clumped together, washing away the residual pain. Like a cold shock, waking you up from the hazy slumber you were threatening to fall into once again, and the emotional turmoil of the day had been just too exhausting.

You snapped the scrunchie from your hair to sit around your wrist instead, the dull ache on your scalp eased as you ran your fingers over it, your hair sitting in odd shapes that only a hairbrush would be able to truly tame, and Thomas was looking at you already. “I want to take a nap.”

“I can head out.” He rubbed his hands along his jeans, reaching from the remotes as he lifted his feet down from the coffee table to the floor and switching the television off. You padded your way across the polished wood towards him, taking his hands in your own, and his brows furrowed a little. “What?”

“I want us to take a nap.”

A myriad of emotions moved across his features. He started with confusion, before he was moving to something between bashful and shy, a sweet smile following that and his expression smoothed over until he was simply staring at you, nodding his head slowly and twisting his hands more to lace the fingers of one hand together, and letting you guide him through the halls.

He followed after you, feet scuffing on the floors, and sliding in his socks, and he paused outside of the bedroom door as your fingers found the handle, pulling you to a slight stop, and there was a nervous look on his face.

“Are you sure?” You weren’t sure what he meant, and he seemed to sense it from the shifting in your expression, because his eyes left yours, flicking up to the closed bedroom door long enough to signal what he meant. “I just, well, I mean.. your bedroom. It’s a private space, y’know, and I know there’s this thing between us, but I just want to be sure you really want it.”

You only pushed the door open, stepping into it backwards and taking him with you, and his lips inched up at the edges into a fuller smile, gaze leaving yours to take in the room. It was still a little messy, you hadn't bothered to properly tidy up from before when he’d arrived and the blankets on your bed were still pulled haphazardly tidily from when you had crawled out of bed this morning with barely enough energy to face the day. He took it all in, observing the space that was so intimate to you, taking in every detail, and he watched as you pulled the curtains shut, blocking out some of the light to cast a darker atmosphere over the room.

His fingers were running over the books on your shelf, and you settled down onto the bed, edging your way up it and tucking yourself down underneath cold blankets, shuddering a little and peeling them back to make a space for him when he was finished observing. He took the hint, turning to see you, and stepping a little closer to the bed.

He rested a knee on the edge of the mattress, a hand reaching behind his head to peel his jumper up and over his head, and you didn't even bother to hide the lingering of your eyes on the skin that was revealed, before you were watching him shake his hair free and throwing his jumper away to rest on your dresser chair.

He crawled his way up towards you, pressed a prolonged kiss to your forehead, before flopping down onto the mattress beside you. You lifted the blankets up, tucking them around him as he made himself comfortable, one hand resting under his pillow beneath his head, and facing you as his legs crooked, and he adjusted the blankets more securely around himself. His eyes found yours once he was settled, something that was both awkward and comfortable at the same time, and he sighed as the feeling washed over you both.

You waited a moment longer, his other hand resting just above the edge of the covers that were sitting around your middle, before you gave in to the temptation swelling within you, and you reached out. Smoothing your hand over the top of his own tentatively, he smiles, turning his hand to weave your fingers together once again, like magnets, your hand now only having a home as long as it was wrapped with his own.

“Was Chuck your first loss?” His words barely reached your ears; they were spoken so quietly, and you were certain that in the entirety of the day, you’d yet to actually use your voice at the volume it usually was, in fear of damaging an already fragile aura.

“No.” You mumbled, swallowing thickly, your eyes sliding shut to hold back fresh tears that may threaten to rise, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter in support. “He was the first friend I lost, though.”

It went silent for a moment after that, enough time for you to get a handle on your emotions, before you were opening your eyes back up to meet swirling honey-brown that were watching you through a somewhat sleepy gaze. “The first loss of someone I really cared about was hard. His name was Ben.”

His voice cracked a little as he spoke, and you dared to shuffle an inch closer across your pillow towards his, the bedding barely even making a sound as you moved minutely. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to. I want you to know about me.” He let out a shaky breath, and you realised that this was perhaps the first time he’d spoken about it since it had ever happened, and so it was just as therapeutic for him as talking about Chuck was for you, even if you didn’t want to. “It hit hard, I liked him, he seemed like a cool guy. He was a lieutenant candidate with me, we were training together. It was competitive but all in fun and games, nothing serious. He was better than I was, he’d been preparing longer, he was definitely going to get the promotion when our house lieutenant retired. He’d been there years, I’d only been there for three months, but it felt like three days.”

You chuckled a little at his words, his expression brightening a little at the sound, seeming to perk up just slightly, and he tugged you a little closer, your cheek pressing to the end of your pillow as his own head remained firmly planted in the centre of the opposite one.

“We got trapped, burning building, it was all coming down. Nothing new. I was trained for the situation, and I tried so hard to get to him, but I couldn’t, he took a piece of debris straight into his abdomen, he was dead before I’d even made it across the room.” He choked down a lump in his throat, and your heart cracked a little in your chest at the broken look that flicked across his features. “I blamed myself for so long. I kept going over the moment, so sure there was something I could have done, that I could have run faster, asking myself if I hesitated just because of the job I wanted that he would have gotten.”

“Tommy..”

“I did all I could. I did my best. I know that now, and I don’t feel guilty, but sometimes it just hurts to think about it.”

“Thank you for telling me.” You could see that it was hard for him, and that he was reopening old wounds just to make you feel better, and it was a silent promise, something more permanent and solid, a confirmation that he was here for you, and that he wouldn't let you fall. That he was inside of those walls now and that he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon, his thumb playing gently with your own as you fell quiet once again.

“Newt’s first loss was a guy called Alby.” He eventually spoke, and you looked up to him again, brows raising slightly. “Before I even joined this firehouse. I remember Newt telling me about him, though. It took Newt a long time to get over it. He was new, basically a candidate, if they have that thing for paramedics. Do you? Have that kinda’ thing for paramedics?”

“We call ‘me greenies. Because on their first few cases, they usually look a little green, and throw up.”

“I like that. Greenies. That’s good.” He chuckled, and you shrugged one shoulder, letting him continue when he was ready. “He was the greenie, I guess, and Alby was the house chief. He took Newt under his wing, fresh outta’ the academy, early graduate at just twenty, and they became good friends. About a year in, they got in some trouble, Newt never really told me the full story, but Alby died on the stretcher to the hospital. Newt tried to pump his heart all the way there, he was sure that if he just kept pumping, his heart would start beating on its own again. It didn’t.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, a pang of sadness for your best friend racing through your veins, and your eyes flicked over the edge of his pillow, contemplating getting a little closer, but he seemed to make that decision for you, shuffling himself up further toward you until his face was balanced on the edge of his pillow like yours, the soft pants he let out occasionally able to felt against the tip of your nose.

“Then, of course, there’s Brenda.” Your heart sank at the mention, and you knew she had to have lost someone along the line somewhere, but you hated the tone in his voice. “Arguably, the worst of them all. She really was the candidate, at a firehouse a few miles over, with her brother. He was a couple of years older, his name was George, he inspired her to become a firefighter. Apparently, they played firemen together ever since they were little, she followed in his footsteps.”

“I never even knew she has a brother.”

He lifted your hands up, instead of stretched out between your bodies, they were folded up near your faces between you both, resting on the mattress and holding tightly. “He was on Squad, she was on Truck - of course - and the Squad team got trapped on an upper floor. Everyone but her brother made it out. She finished her candidacy, passed her exams, and transferred to a new house, our house, she needed a fresh start.”

“Not that I don’t want to know, but, why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I want you to know that you’re not to blame, and that everybody blamed themselves after a loss, but we all moved on, because we found each other and we let ourselves grieve without holding onto it.” He lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, and you watched his lips move slowly along your hand, dragging along your skin.

“My first-ever loss on the job was a patient, in my first month. A stab wound victim, he died on the way to the hospital, while I was trying to hold the wound shut. I considered quitting, it hurt, not like this does, but it hurt because I felt like a failure.” Your smile only widened as his kisses moved as far as your wrist, his face inching ever closer to your own, able to taste the sweet syrup still on his breath from your shared late-breakfast hours ago.

“I’m glad you didn’t, because if you had then I wouldn’t get you now.”

His nose bumped against your own, his lashes tickling your cheek as lids lay closed and your own followed, darkness surrounding you as every other sense went into overdrive on him. The smell of his cologne, the feel of his nose brushing against yours and his breath tickling your lips, the tingle that shot along you at the barely present brush of his lips that you wondered if you were imagining it as so light when he adjusted himself on the cushion, but the connection you were waiting for never came.

Instead, you caught the sound of a soft sigh, and his hand squeezing a little tighter around yours, before he was letting go, and begging his hand up to sit over your waist under the covers, fingers spreading out until they reached your spine.

“Tommy?”

He hummed, nose nudging a little more roughly against yours as he’d begun to fall away. “Yeah, angel?”

“You’re not gonna’ kiss me?” Something breathy resembling a chuckle left him, and the hand from your waist ran up along your body, evading goosebumps in his wake until he was cupping your cheeks. When your eyes opened, it was to find he had already taken that step, watching you fondly, pulling away enough to rest on his pillow once again.

“No.” He eventually gave in, seeming to be lost in thoughts, and you felt your features rumple with confusion and disappointment. “Oh, sweetheart, I want to. I really, really want to. Have for a while, actually, but not now and not like this. You’re sad and I’m sad. Every moment we’ve had so far that brought up the chance to kiss you has been stressed, depressed and near-death.”

“But you are going to kiss me, at some point?”

A sleepy smirk, that had way more of an effect on you than it should be allowed to have, and he seemed to know it too, because it only got wider. “Oh, definitely. But when I kiss you, it’ll be amazing, and breathtaking. When I kiss you, you’re going to feel it. It’ll make you a little weak in the knees, but that’s okay, because I’ll hold you up. It’s going to be perfect, it’ll be a kiss you’re never gonna’ forget, so I don’t want our first kiss to be when we’re sad.”

You didn’t know what to say, a long beat passing, before your lips were pressing together, and you were unable to contain your grin. “Well, okay, then.”

You moved forwards, his laughter only increasing as your face pressed into his neck, rolling him onto his back as you let your full body weight fall against him, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. You pressed a kiss to his neck, any spot you could reach, and the deep and rumbling laughter he let out was replaced with something softer and cracking, lighter pitch as he bordered on giggling, squirming a little as you kissed just above the patch, sensing a weakness in him.

You moved up, before eventually, he was giggling without restraint, squirming at the tickling feeling over the featherlight kisses you pressed to his jaw.

“Alright, alright, cut it out, before I lose all of my masculinity.” He was pink along his cheeks when you propped yourself up over him to get a better look at his flushed face, sparkling eyes peering up at you with messy hair and a dopey smile to match, and that sight was definitely something you could get used to seeing.

This was all new to you, it was ever-changing and constantly evolving, it was unsteady and unsure and it made you feel nauseously anxious and yet ecstatically excited all in one, and you leaned down, the promises he’d made were you giving you the confidence to so so as your forehead pressed to his. “Nap?”

“Cuddle?”

“Yes.” He beamed, twisting his body like you weighed nothing until you were on your side against the mattress again. He pulled you over, adjusting you on your side to face away from him, before pulling you back into his body.

His arm wrapped around you, one spread out under the pillow to support your head, and you weaved your fingers with the other, bringing it up to your mouth to kiss the back of his hand like he’d done for you. He was resting behind you, legs tangled together as your bodies sat snugly to one another and he held you tight in a gripping hug, and you were able to drift off to the steady beat of his heart against your back and the feel of his body surrounding you.

“You know, it’s rude to text when you’re having dinner with someone.” you jibed, his gaze flicking up from his phone as his elbows rested over the empty plate on the counter, lamps making his skin look more golden and highlights in his hair seeming to stand out as the light outside had faded, the evening meal being the next thing the two of you shared; chicken nuggets from the bottom freezer drawer and homemade wedges as he refused to eat curly fries.

“It’s not my fault you’re taking ages to eat.” You scoffed, swiping another nugget through some of your tomato ketchup, and lifting it on your fork to take a bite. He picked up his discarded fork, stabbing it into one of your nuggets, stealing a smear of ketchup that left a mess on the plate, and putting the whole thing into his mouth at once, winking as you protested weakly. “Besides, I’m talking to the group.”

“How are they all doing?”

“They’re good. As good as they can be. They want to meet up for drinks in a little bit, they’re headed down to the bar we like.” You finished your food, placing your knife and fork down to match his, and chewing the rest of your mouthful, considering it all, and his attention was back on his screen as he typed away.

“Can I come?”

He paused, looking at you over the device, before turning it off and putting it down on the counter, the buzzing and lighting up going ignored as he stared for a second. “Seriously? I just, I mean, you’re up for it?”

He stumbled over his words a little, he didn’t mean to come off as rude and you knew it, and so you let it slide, shrugging and smiling a little as you hopped down from your seat to put the plates in the sink to be washed later. “You said that everyone else got past their sadness by being together. I’ve never had anyone before, but I would like to be with you all now.” His seat scraped along the floor, and a second later, arms were wrapping around your waist from behind in a tight squeeze, shocking you a little as he did, and you straightened up, twisting in his hold to face him. “Is that really so shocking?”

“A little bit. We’re kinda’ used to being shut out. They’re all going to be surprised.” He tapped the end of your nose. “A good surprise, though.”

“Well, I can go change into something that isn’t sweatpants, and we can go.”

His eyes dropped down, taking in your outfit as he let you go, seeming like he’d only just noticed your attire, and you wandered away, leaving him to whatever he was going to do, confirming his arrival to the rest and getting his shoes on, while you tried to find some suitable clothes.

Once you had pulled on a pair of jeans and a more comfortable and bar appropriate top to replace your pyjamas, you folded them, resting them on pillows that had only just gone cold, before straightening the sheets out, erasing all evidence of the nap you’d taken as your bed was reset. A pair of shoes came next, hopping about a little bit to get them on, before running a brush through your hair and checking you looked presentable enough to go out. There was no doubt that Brenda would look like a supermodel, she always did, grieving a friend or attending movie night, she could put everyone else to shame, but it was just another thing you loved about her.

As soon as you stepped out of the room, there was a whistle meeting your ears. Thomas had found his jumper again and pulled it back on, his shoes too, phone tucked into his pocket as he beamed at you, and you rolled your eyes, walking straight past him to the coat rack to find your belongings as you got ready to go.

“Oh, shut it.”

“Why? You gonna’ get all cute and flustered, blush for me a little bit? Sweet and shy?” He was teasing now, and you scowled, pulling on your coat and hiding your face from him as you grabbed your keys, batting yourself down for everything you’d need and finding it already in your pockets.

“I’m kicking you out.”

He laughed, wandering past you and into the halls of the building, letting you flick the lights off before locking up, and he offered his arm to you for you to link your own through, before guiding you down the corridors to the elevator.

A short car ride, Thomas holding the door of his car for you to let you in before opening it for you again when you arrived, commenting both times about something gentlemanly, before his hand was finding yours as the car lights flashed to signal it’s locking, and a fresh wave of anxiety was washing over you.

You wanted to see your friends and be with them, you truly did, but that didn’t make it any easier to take yourself into a crowded place when you were in such a vulnerable place. The opening of the door made muffled snap into sharp surroundings, the bar filled with people, crowds weaving among one another, and Thomas took the lead, shouldering through the people milling around the entrance politely. The cold air of the outside was overwhelmingly different from the stuffy inside, the smell of liquor and sweat overwhelming your senses, but it wasn’t a smell you were unfamiliar with. The music pumping through the floor was vibrating right up along your bones, pooling in your gut, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter as the crowds cleared once you passed the high tables and the dance floor.

You could just about see your friends, gathered around the largest booth with extra chairs pulled up, bodies constantly weaving in and out of your sights, blocking them from your view. Lips brushed your ear, a jolt of electricity making you jump, before you turned to find Thomas, his head ducked to speak to you but eyes flittering over the scene.

“I’m going to go buy everyone another round. What d’you want to drink?”

“Uh..” Your words died out, a little overwhelmed at the sight before you, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Just something cold and refreshing, maybe fruity. I don’t know.”

“I got you, don’t worry. Why don’t you head over to the table?” He gave you a final lingering stare as you nodded, before the two of you were parting, and you were left to try and make your way toward the table. Luckily for you, it was only a few metres upon leaving Thomas’ side that Brenda spotted you, her entire face lighting up and glass slamming down onto the table, before she was practically climbing over the men to get out of the booth, and all but pushing people out of the way to get to you.

A tight hug as she rocked you from side to side, clearly tipsy as she spoke faster than she normally would while mumbling into your ear about how happy she was to see you. The story Thomas had told you came back to mind, and you didn’t mention it, but you wrapped your arms around her just as tight and held her to you, a show of your love for her, belated sympathy for the tragedy, and comforting her as she needed it, weak inside even if she didn’t show it right now.

Newt followed, cheering a little, hair messy and cheeks flushed with warmth from the drinks he’d had and the temperature in the bar, and you were already beginning to grow overheated. He hugged you next, walking you backwards to the table as you giggled, and settling back into his seat as several other welcomes and greetings echoed in their place. You couldn't help it, the smile that broke free, the way you fitted in so perfectly, your anxiety melting away just from being with them.

“You’re here!”

“Is that okay?” You teased, Brenda shuffling back into her seat at the back of the booth, nodding avidly as she sipped at a glass of gin through a thin straw.

“Of course! We just didn’t expect you, you haven’t been answering your phone all day.” Your brows furrowed, hands digging into your pockets to find it. “I was worried about you.”

You located it, metal cold to the touch from where it had been abandoned for so long, and you realised that the last time you’d checked it had been before turning it off as you entered Chuck’s service, not having a chance to turn it back on before Thomas had arrived, and stole all of your attention solely and unwilling to share.

Turning it on at the side, the device flashed back to life, and you waited a few moments, before it reset itself, and all the notification you had missed began to flash through one by one. Multiple missed calls from various members of the team, the oldest of which begging Thomas, probably calling to let you know he was coming over, before alerts from only a  few minutes ago, the groupchat you all had with recent notifications, and you chuckled at the volume of them all.

“Sorry, my phone had been turned off all day. I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear.”

She shrugged it off, and you placed your phone down to be able to shuck yourself of your coat, the heat growing stifling with the extra layer on.

“How’d you know where to find us? How’d you know we were here?” Newt piped up, and you let your cat hang over your arms, turning to face him.

“I, um, Thomas. He told me you’d all be here.”

“But I thought your phone was turned off, so-” He cut himself off, brain seeming to catch up in his slightly inebriated state, and you were grateful that the heat in the room would hide your blush as your skin was already flushed. “Were you with Tommy today? All day?”

An undeniably cocky grin split his face open, matching expressions following gasps that echoed around the table, and you scoffed, placing your coat down on the heap that had been built. “Maybe. It’s not a big deal.”

“He told me he was going to check up on you. I figured he meant, like, call you or something. He came to see you?”

You shrugged, the questions suddenly being shot at you, among teases and winks that made you stare at the floor, bombarded with gentle humour from your team. Newt was through the roof, Brenda was yelling louder than all of them about her ‘ship’, some gazes being given over to her from strangers, and Minho was trying to shush her while laughing. Gally was simply grinning like the Cheshire Cat into his beer, and your head was spinning too much to even process anybody else’s questions or remarks.

“Alright, well, I’m not drunk enough to start this conversation with you all.”

“Well, where is lover boy, anyway?” You rolled your eyes at Newt, before tipping your head back towards the bar.

“He’s getting you all a fresh round of drinks.” Your retort resulted in a cheer from them all, hands banging on the table in excitement; empty bottles, glasses, and cans rattling as the surface shook. “I’m going to go and see if he needs any help.”

“You spent the whole day with him, can’t we keep you for a little while?” Newt pouted, and you stepped away, sticking your lower lip out to mock him a little, before flipping him off, and making sure to wave the gesture at the rest of them for good measure, chuckles taking up all around.

“No, because you’re teasing me, and I need at least two shots to handle that.” He raised a brow, a mumble of ‘touché’ spoken into his beer and he smirked, before you were turning and weaving to the bar.

He wasn’t hard to find, tall and messy hair unmissable once you were set on him, and as you got closer, you realised it wasn’t the bartender he was talking to. A woman, not too far from your own height, dark curly hair and tight jeans, a blue eyes that were piercing as she spoke to him, and it seemed to be a hushed conversation as she leaned on the bar against him, two trays of drinks stacking up beside Thomas, his wallet sitting out on the bar.

You considered turning back, letting him have his privacy with whoever he was speaking to, and you paused in your path, ready to turn before his eyes were moving from her face to you, lighting up a little as he smiled, and there was no way you could backtrack now. He’d seen you, you had to at least go over and explain yourself, his attention moving back to the woman.

Her words went silent as you approached, and you smiled politely, her gaze dragging over you, before she was offering a polite smile herself upon realising you were stopping by their sides, and not just passing by.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just realised you might need a hand with the drinks.” You pointed to the two trays building, an empty laugh leaving you all, but the atmosphere was still tense. “You want me to come back in a few minutes, instead?”

“Yeah-”

“No, now’s fine, we’re pretty much ready,” Thomas promised, the woman by his side frowning, and you grimaced at the tension continuing to rise, gaze moving between them for a second. Thomas turned, paying for the drinks with a swipe of his card, and nudging a try toward you, while picking up the other himself. “I appreciate the help.” He mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple as you tried to balance the drinks, and you smiled softly, eyes catching his, hoping the affection was returned without you having to lean up and actually return it, risking toppling all the drinks you were holding. “I gotta’ go. I’m sure we’ll catch up or something another time.”

You stepped away from the pair, at least trying to give them a second's privacy without lingering, slow steps away from them and back to the table. “My number is the same, still. Call me, alright?”

He didn't reply, not verbally at least, Thomas falling into step with you a second later, and you couldn't bite back the curiosity on the tip of your tongue as no introductions had been made. You didn't know many other people in town, and if you were going to stay, it was probably wide that you got to know your neighbourhood; “She seemed polite. Who was she?”

He glanced at you, a complicated look on his face, and you realised it must be deeper than you thought, a list of names and suspicions moving through your mind, before he sighed away his worries and shook his head lightly. “Nobody important.”

You placed the drinks down on the table, accepting his answer, and the group shuffled up to make room for you all, greeting their lieutenant and thanking him for the refills as they grabbed their drinks. A bottle of something fruity and fizzy was placed in front of you, and it seemed satisfying enough, you weren’t overly picky about it, and it tasted fine as you took a sip. Perching on the leather booth, an arm you had grown familiar with throughout the day returned to sitting over your shoulders, and you settled into him without hesitation.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile, feeling at home as you sought comfort with your friends, moving on together, and letting your burdens be carried by friends and not just yourself for the first time in a long, long time.

[marvelyningreen]

Andante

[Peter Maximoff x reader (X-Men: Apocalypse)

Summary: When an injury brings Peter’s superhuman speed to a screeching halt, you figure he could use some company and cheering up.

Warnings: mild language

Notes: could be interpreted as romantic or platonic, if that’s more your speed]

           You hurry in from the rain, pausing just long enough to shake off your umbrella on the doorstep before closing the door behind you. You take a moment to wipe your shoes on the mat in an attempt to keep them from squeaking in the tiled halls of the mansion.

           The floorplan of this rebuilt version is practically identical to the original. The design and decor are much the same, too. Still… You feel a bit like a stranger, or maybe the mansion itself does.

           With everything else that’d happened, you hadn’t really had a chance to process your own experience that day. One second, you were trimming the hedges by the mansion’s front steps. The next, you were a hundred yards away, surrounded by the students and staff, and the mansion was exploding, and suddenly there in your midst was your childhood best friend – Peter Maximoff, all grown up.

           It’s funny how someone you knew for such a short time could’ve made such an impact on you. Really, you and Peter only knew each other for two years. It baffled the teachers how a quiet goody-two-shoes like you could be thick as thieves with resident mischief-maker Peter Maximoff, but you were practically inseparable. Perhaps it was partly due to some truth in the old saying about opposites attracting. But there was more to it than that. You and Peter shared a secret.

           Your sporadic telekinesis had nothing on Peter’s incredible speed, but he never seemed to mind. You were both just so happy to finally have someone who understood, who you didn’t have to hide from. Those two years were some of the best of your life.

           And years passed, and you grew up. You kept your abilities hidden, but you kept the memory of Peter with you. You’d think of him often, hoping that he was doing well, wherever he was. You never expected to see him again.

           Lost in thought, Hank hurries around a corner and nearly bowls you over. You both apologize to each other, laughing, and continue on your respective ways.

           It feels strange being back here after… Well, after everything. Everyone is doing their best to settle back into a routine, but it isn’t quite working yet. Maybe it won’t ever feel the same.

           The students either converse too loudly or are oddly subdued, with very little in between. Scott Summers’ group of close friends is never far from his side, and the faculty likewise seem to hover around the professor. It’s difficult not to dwell on how bad things had gotten, and how much worse everything could’ve been.

           And if it’s difficult for you, you can only imagine how it must be for the person you’re here to see. You pause to knock politely at his door, and the voice that answers sounds oddly terse.

           “You can come in.”

           You slip into the room to find Peter scowling morosely out the window. He’s still laid up in bed, his broken leg in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He’s got a wicked case of bedhead, and there are dark rings under his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so tired.

           There’s an odd sound you can’t quite place – like the low hum of a fan or the purring of a cat – and you realize that it’s just Peter drumming his fingers restlessly on his nightstand at impossible speeds. He turns his head, and when he sees that it’s you walking through the door, his expression shifts into one of relief.

           “Oh, thank God,” he says, “I thought it was somebody coming to make sure I’m still “resting.” C’mere! Have a seat!”

           You grab a nearby chair and drag it closer to his bedside. You hate to see Peter cooped up and frustrated like this, but it’s good to see him, period. You don’t like to think about what could’ve happened to him in Cairo.

           When you look back up at Peter, his hair is smoothed down neatly. You snort involuntarily. If he's feeling well enough to be vain, it must be a good sign.

           “How are you holding up?” you ask.

           Peter slumps against his stack of pillows and groans dramatically, letting his head fall back.

           “I’m bored out of my mind. Do you know that they’re not letting me walk for a week? A whole week! Something about a risk of my leg not healing right if I move too fast on it. I said I’d walk like a normal person, but they apparently don’t trust me. Can you believe that? Don’t answer that. So I asked them just to drug me, knock me out for the rest of the week so I can get it over with, but they won’t do that either. This blows.”

           It’s hard not to smile, but it’s just so good to hear his voice. And, damn, people say you talk too fast. You’d forgotten that Peter was the true motor-mouth. Maybe he’s where you picked it up from. Though he still looks annoyed, Peter seems a little more relaxed after all that. Apparently he needed someone to vent to.

           He rolls his head to one side to look at you, and his brows furrow. “Hey, are you okay? You look tired.”

           “I look tired?” you say, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

           “I haven’t, actually, because the mirror’s all the way over there, and I’m stuck in bed. You wouldn’t guess that having to sit alone with your own thoughts would wear you out, but apparently it does.”

           You’d had a feeling that the broken leg isn’t all that’s weighing on his mind. There’s still the whole Magneto business.

           You almost ask him about it, but you think better of it. Peter’s got a lot to mull over on that front. If he wants to talk about it, you’ll be there to listen, but you don’t want to bring it up when he doesn’t have any way to exit the conversation if he needed to. You decide to change the topic slightly.

           “Listen,” you say, “I never got a chance to thank you. You saved my life. You saved so many people. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t turned up at the mansion when you did.”

           Peter ducks his head a bit as he smiles, probably pleased to get a little recognition. There hadn’t been much time for gratitude in the moment. There hadn’t been much time for anything, really. And there certainly hadn’t been time to reconnect.

          You’d chased after Scott and his friends into the wreckage, trying to make sure none of them got hurt, and then things went from bad to worse. Suddenly, you found yourself tagging along with these immensely powerful teenagers on a fly-by-night rescue mission. It’s a good thing you did, too. Who else was gonna fly that getaway plane?

           Your own mutant abilities had never been particularly strong, not in a combat sense. You’d learned to be a pilot in an effort to make yourself useful. You just hadn’t expected it to pay off in a situation like that.

           “What can I say? Right time, right place… Right speed.” Peter’s grin turns rueful as he glances down at his busted leg. “I mean, by all rights, I should be thanking you, too.”

           You’d been trying not to dwell on that whole experience. It makes you feel a little sick to remember seeing that familiar silver streak darting around while Apocalypse was tossed in the air like a ragdoll, and then feeling the hope choked out of you as you heard Peter scream in pain.

           You don’t know how you managed to scramble down out of that second story ruin after Hank and Scott without hurting yourself any worse, but you did. You tried to shake it from your mind – the feeling of shrapnel and energy battering the telekinetic field you’d struggled to maintain around Peter and Mystique.

           You clear your throat, as though that’ll somehow clear out the memory as well. “Yeah… I guess sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until it’s literally do-or-die.”

           “I don’t just mean Cairo.” Peter shakes his head. “Well, that, too. But I don’t just mean that. I mean when we were kids. You always had my back.”

           Just before middle school, Peter’s family had moved away. You weren’t quite sure why, but it seemed like something had happened and Peter wouldn’t talk about it. He spent his entire last week in town with you, and on the very last day he hugged you tightly and promised that he’d come back and visit if he could.

           You never heard from him again.

           It was only years later that you’d put the pieces together – the Maximoffs’ sudden move, the well-dressed men turning up at the school and asking strange questions. Peter must’ve gotten caught using his powers, and his mother packed up the whole family and fled to protect him.

          “For weeks, months after we moved away, Mom was so scared. She wouldn’t let me out of the house. She thought that, any second, somebody was gonna show up and… I dunno, take me away, I guess. But I wasn’t worried. I was a cocky little shit, y’know?”

           You snort. “‘Was?’ Pretty sure that part of your personality hasn’t changed.”

           Peter laughs, but it fades quickly.

           “I heard that people came to our old school looking for me. And, hey, they never found me and Mom, so I figured you must’ve covered for me.”

           If there was one thing you were grateful to your younger self for, it was your instinctive distrust of these suspicious strangers.

           “I didn’t tell them anything,” you say, and Peter nods.

           “I knew you wouldn’t. But this one day, something hit me. What if they found out that you were a mutant, too?” Peter shakes his head, biting his lip. “I was terrified. I thought they were gonna find you, and… and I don’t know what I thought they’d do to you.”

           You feel cold all of a sudden. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. You’d been so focused on trying to keep Peter safe that you never once considered that you might be in danger, yourself. All those news articles about what Bolivar Trask had been up to ten years ago come flooding into your mind. You brush them aside and focus on what Peter’s saying now.

           “I wanted to run back there, make sure you were alright; maybe – I don’t know – take you with me and run away so we’d both be safe. I actually bought one of those AM radios, if you can believe it. Every night, I’d use the skip to listen to the news back there. I never heard anything about you, so I had to make myself believe it meant that you were okay. Otherwise I would’ve gone crazy, y’know?”

           He laughs again, but it sounds a little shaky.

           “Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. The air in the room feels sorta heavy now. Damn it, you’d come here to cheer Peter up, and it’s about time you get to it. You change topics with all the grace of a sledgehammer. “Speaking of none of this, I brought you something.”

           Peter immediately perks up. You rummage in your backpack and pull out a box of Nutty Buddy bars.

           “I remember these where your favorite when we were kids. I didn’t know if you still liked them, so I brought some Star Crunch, too. But you don’t have to-”

           Peter seems to blur for a moment, and suddenly both boxes are torn open and several wrappers are arcing their way into the trash can. Peter lets out a satisfied sigh. You might’ve remembered his favorites, but you’d forgotten his habit of absolutely inhaling them.

           “Okay, I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” you say.

           “What else you got in that bag?” Peter asks. “It can’t all be snack cakes. Unless it is…?”

           He’s joking, but you can tell he wouldn’t be disappointed if the answer was yes. You heft your heavily-loaded backpack onto the edge of the bed.

           “I figured you’d be bored, so I brought some books over in case you… What?”

           Peter never had a great poker face. You can tell that he’s definitely trying to smile, but that expression is a pained grimace. He laughs ruefully.

           “I might not be able to walk, but my hands still work. And my eyes. Did you know I can read a whole bookshelf in two hours?”

           “Oh…”

           You hadn’t thought of that. You look down, crestfallen. Of course, if something can be done at speed, that’s how Peter will do it. So that rules out all the other usual time-killers – crosswords or jigsaw puzzles or craft projects.

           But you remember Peter enjoying some things that can’t be sped through – live music being the main one. You start to wonder about the logistics of sneaking Peter out to take him to a concert or a play or something, but that’d be difficult to pull off without the professor catching you. Hmm…

           Peter’s brow furrows for a second, and then his expression brightens.

           “Hey, why don’t you read them to me?”

           You blink in surprise. “What, me?”

           “Yeah, you. Who else?”

           At this prospect, you’re suddenly rethinking everything. For all Peter might call himself a loser, you’d always seen him as infinitely cooler than yourself.

           “I don’t know. These are some of my own books, and I don’t know if you’ll actually like any of them.” You can feel yourself blushing preemptively, certain he’ll judge your taste in literature. “Maybe if I run to the library instead-”

           “No, don’t go!” Peter interrupts. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and I’m sick of being alone. Come on, read me your nerd books. Please?”

           He turns those big, pretty, puppy-dog eyes on you, and it’d be almost impossible to say no, even if you wanted to. Which you don’t. You sigh, smiling at him.

           “Alright, you win,” you say, “But you have to at least pick which one.”

           His face brightens into a full thousand-watt grin. “Done!”

           Peter blurs once more as he shuffles through your selection of books. Then suddenly he’s still again, tilting his head as he studies a stout little paperback.

           “Hey, didn’t they make a movie out of this?”

           He tosses it to you and settles back against the pillows, watching you expectantly. You pull up your legs to sit cross-legged on the chair and take a deep breath. Here goes.

           “‘Carl Conrad Coreander – Old Books.’ This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop…”

           You read on, interrupted only by the odd quip or question from Peter. You hardly mind his commentary. You’re just happy that the story seems to be entertaining him. He’s a far cry from the agitated ball of nerves he’d been when you walked in.

           You glance over at the clock and see that two hours have gone by. You wonder if Peter would mind you taking a quick intermission to give your voice a break. But as you turn to ask him, you fall silent.

           Peter’s head is lolled back on the pillows, his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths – sound asleep.

           You smile fondly at him. Poor guy. He really must’ve been exhausted.

Telekinetically, you switch off the lamp. The atmosphere in the room softens to the grey light filtering in from the rainy day outside. There. That’s more conducive to sleeping.

           You make note of the page you’d left off on and close the book, picking up your copy of Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Moving as carefully and quietly as you can to keep from waking Peter, you make your way over to a more comfortable spot on the window seat.

           You’d hate for Peter to think you’d run out on him after he fell asleep. You’ll stick around. And if he needs anything when he wakes up, you’ll be here. That’s what old friends are for.

[uwuwriting]

Todoroki, Shinsou and Iida protecting you

Request: Hello can I request todo, shinsou and iida protecting their girlfriend from cat callers or something like that? Basically her being in a really uncomfortable situation and even though she is a fearless hero in the field because of past trauma she freezes up in these situations? Thank you - anonymous

This post might trigger some people since they might have experienced something similar both in the cat calling and past trauma department. I’ve never really written anything so serious and triggering before so this might suck. I’m sorry in advance. So TW beware. Love yaa.💖💖💖

rules

warnings: trauma, PTSD, semi non-con but not explicit, cat-calling, harassment, ends in fluff

Todoroki Shouto

-Shouto is really protective of you. 

-Not an overbearing type of protective, he just wants you to be safe and sound. 

-Also he knew about your abusive past.

-When he shared his family background you shared your own trauma and history with physical abuse. 

-It hurt him to hear you saying that someone you trusted, someone who used to be in his place, betrayed you like that. 

-If he could find your ex and beat him to a plump because of how he scarred you, he would. 

-But you reassured him that you were alright now, that he showed you what being loved felt like even though he himself didn’t really know how to love and that your past is what pushed you to be a hero. 

-Your relationship lasted even after high school and now, one year into the adult world, you two lived together. 

-It had been a tough day for your boyfriend at work, having to fight three major villain attacks and a mountain of paper work to tackle. 

-Fighting along side you was the highlight of his day. 

-He was the first to arrive at your apartment and had gotten to preparing dinner for you when his phone rang. 

-You smiled back at him from the screen as he accepted the call. 

- “Hey, love. I making so-”

- “Sho someone is following me.”

-He heard the panic in your voice and immediately turned off the stove walking to the door to put on his shoes. 

- “Y/N where are you?”

-You gave him your location and he was out the door in no time. 

-He kept you on the phone, talking to you, trying to restrain your panic. 

- “H-he was outside of the pharmacy near the a-agency.” 

-You never stuttered, oh god he was going to kill the man. 

- “I walked past him and he grabbed my arm a-and pushed me on the w-wall. Shouto he tried to t-touch me.”

-He was running now, his rage making his quirk go crazy as flames rose from his left shoulder. 

- “Baby I’m almost there, go into the convenience store on the corner and wait in there.”

-Your weak okay from the other line pushed him further. 

-He knew how certain acts reminded you of your ex, even after all these years. 

-They would send you into a small panic and even though you were one of the top upcoming heroes , you were still human at the end of the day your own past haunting you. 

-He was always there to chase those fears and memories away, never letting them get to close to you. 

-And now that’s exactly what he has set out to do; chase away the man who tried to hurt you. 

-Rounding the corner he was met with a sight he wished to never ever witness again. 

-It seems that you hadn’t made it into the store when he hang up and he slapped himself for not keeping you on the call for longer. 

-He heard your sobs as the man had you pinned to the wall his hand trying to unzip your jeans. 

-Shouto was fuming. 

-Without a second thought he grabbed the man by his jacket and shoved him to the ground, grabbing your elbows to steady you before pushing you gently behind him as the man stood up. 

- “Want a taste of her too boy?”

- “Get the fuck away from her!”

-Shouto kept one of his arms behind him pressing you onto his back as the other activated his quirk frost forming from his elbow to his palm. 

-He could feel your trembling as you clutched onto his shirt, on of your hands grasping his own squeezing it. 

-The man backed away at the sight of Shouto’s ice raising his hands in the air admitting defeat. 

-Shouto however had other plans. 

-Freezing the man on the spot he growled as he fished his phone out of his pocket and called the police reporting what the man had done and his location.

- “If I ever see you again anywhere near her I’m not going to be this kind got it?”

-And with that you two left as the police sirens sounded in the distance. 

-Back in your apartment, Shouto helped you get undressed and then ran you a bath, wiping away the man’s touch and leaving small kisses were his hands used to be. 

-He helped you get dressed in one of his hoodies and a loose pair of sweatpants before setting you down on the couch and ordering your favorite food.

-He heard your small sniffles and sat down beside you, bringing you on his lap and letting you cry it out, rocking you back and forth as he kisses your hair.

-You calm down after some time but Shouto won’t let you leave his embrace.

- “I won’t let anyone else hurt you ever again. I don’t care where I am you will always call me when something happens. I love you.”

-For the next month or so Shouto was at your beck and call, never leaving your side and even going as far to take some days off to spend as much time with you as possible.

-He kept his promise as he kept you safe for the rest of your lives. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Hitoshi was there for you when he found out about how one of you family members had hurt you. 

-He was there when you would wake up with nightmares while sleeping in his dorm. 

-Or when you had panic attacks after someone came at you in a way that seemed all too familiar. 

-He was there every step of the way. 

-Hitoshi was really amazed at how you zoned in on your work and those thoughts never held you back. 

-PTSD was hard to battle and even harder to deal with in a work place such as yours. 

-After high school your panic attacks fell in numbers, leaving you to rest peacefully at night.

-Shinsou was sure he had chased your demons away, that you felt completely safe with him and that he would never see your trembles of fear ever again.

-But he was wrong. 

-You two were out on a date, walking along the beach on a sunny day enjoying each others company. 

-Shinsou went to buy you two ice cream leaving you to wait for him on a bench.

-You were minding your business, checking up with your agency to make sure everything is alright; after all it’s not everyday that your main two heroes are out of commission for the day. 

- “Damn girl where’d ya get all that ass!”

-It came from a group of man behind you who were staring at you like a piece of meat.

-You tried to ignore them switching to your messages ready to text Hitoshi.

- “Those shorts look so tight on you sweetheart.”

- “I bet it’s not the only thing that’s tight about her.”

-You had frozen up at the nickname.

-It brought back everything you and Shinsou had managed to scare off, pushing them down your throat making your insides twist in disgust. 

 -He isn’t here it’s just some awful cat callers, Y/N calm down. 

-You tried to calm yourself down using your common sense, separating the two situations and pointing out the differences, a  technique Shinsou had taught you while you were still in high school.

-You were so lost in thought you hadn’t noticed the three men hovering over you, one of them reaching down to grasp your thigh. 

-That’s when you started to tremble.

- “Aw look at her, she’s so excited..”

- “Let’s go have some fun pretty girl.”

- “We’ll make you feel so good you won’t be able to walk home.”

-You shoved the man’s hand away and went to get up only for an arm to snake around your waist  pulling you back down on the bench. 

- “Now now sweetheart don’t be naughty.”

-You wanted Hitoshi. 

-You wanted your Hitoshi so bad right now.

-And as if you had summoned him, purple hair could be seen above the men’s heads. 

-Shoving them off of you one more time you pushed through hitting Shinsou’s chest as he wrapped an arm around you. 

-He pushed you behind his back before scanning the three men, leveling them with a glare so sharp it could slice right through them. 

- “You better leave my girl alone before I get really angry.”

-The men scrambled to their feet before running off, terrified from Hitoshi’s structure. 

- “Kitten! Kitten are you alright? Did they hurt you? Please kitty talk to me.”

-Tears ran down your cheeks and Shisnou just pulled you gently into his chest before telling you that he was taking you home.

-This man will do everything in the house after that. 

-He undresses you and helps into the shower to clear their touch from your skin, then he dresses you in one of his large hoodies and lays you on the couch. 

-He can see you are still trembling so he comes back and takes you into his arms before going back to doing whatever he had in mind. 

-Now this is a scene to behold. 

-Two of Japan’s strongest heroes are walking around their house cosplaying a panda and its bamboo stick. 

 -He orders take out and then lays on the couch, still having you on his lap drowning your sobs in his chest as he says over and over again how sorry he is for leaving you alone and how much he loves you. 

-He knows you haven’t had an episode in what felt like ages. 

-It really shook him seeing you so helpless and terrified again. 

-He swore he would never see that petrified glint in your eyes. 

-That was his new mission. 

-And he was willing to do anything to accomplish it. 

Iida Tenya 

-Iida is well aware about how your ex had forced you to do certain things with him. 

-He also knew how you believed that what had happened had been your fault. 

-He had reassured you that nothing was your fault,that your ex was to blame and to never see yourself other than the victim in this situation. 

-It hurt him to see you suffer so much. 

-He had provided you with a shoulder to cry on and soon enough you two were together.

-When during your last year of high school, his comfort and words didn’t really cut it he encouraged you to see a therapist. 

-And that helped you a lot. 

-It untangled the parts Iida couldn’t reach on his own and coupled with his support you managed to pull yourself fully out of the whole that your ex had dug. 

-Now Iida knew that somethings still triggered you. 

-He knew what he should and shouldn’t do while you two are being intimate and what he should watch out for. 

-So when you two are taking the train to visit Deku in his agency for his birthday and he feels you squeezed his hand a little too hard he knew something was up. 

-You had buried you face in his shoulder, something he wouldn’t allow if you had asked, squeezing his hand as your breathing became uneven. 

-Iida looked around expecting to see your ex somewhere thinking that he was the reason for your small attack. 

-But he found no one he knew in the crowd. 

-Then his eyes fell back down to you and from the corner of his eye he caught movement under your dress. 

-Following the source of the movement with his eyes he was met with the lustful eyes of a grown ass man, his hand under your skirt groping and squeezing you. 

-He saw his hand trying to separate your thighs and that’s when he fully snapped. 

-Grabbing the man’s hand he shoved it in his chest before placing himself between you and him. 

- “How dare you touch her like that? You should be ashamed of yourself!!”

-The whole train was looking at the man at this point and Iida could see how the vein on his forehead popped. 

- “Being an adult, you should know better.”

-Others chimed in insulting and shaming the man while others asked you if you were alright. 

-At the next stop the person got off a chain of angry comments following him out. 

- “Y/N honey are you alright?”

-You buried your face in his chest and he let you stay there for the rest of the ride. 

-He placed on hand on your back rubbing soft circles over your sweater and talking to you not allowing your thoughts/memories to creep further into your mind. 

-He kept your hand in his for as long as you were away from your apartment. 

-You would squeeze his hand every now and then, grounding yourself. 

-Once at home late that evening he pampered you. 

-He ran you a bubble bath and cooked your favorite food. 

-He made a small pillow fort on your couch while you were in the bath and he waited for you to finish. 

-The rest of your day and night was spent in your boyfriend’s arms never letting you go once. 

-He provided his warmth and comfort. 

-Just like when you were in high  school.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

[ahwait-no-yes]

🍬Candy Kingdom🍭

Make sure to look at the designs JJ made! (With some of mine!) It’s under the tag Candy Kingdom!

- 6 -

After basically chasing Ouma around for what felt like hours, he finally caught up to him and managed to slow him down. While Shuichi was struggling to breathe properly, Kokichi kept going on about how he could keep running for hours on end without getting tired. Though, he ended up helping him breathe properly once he realized he was still wheezing.

“Saihara-chan, you okay now?” He asked, his voice softer than usual. Shuichi nodded, glancing at the other boy. “Good!” Kokichi jumped up and grabbed his hand. “Well c'mon! We can’t sit here all day!” He grinned again, squeezing his hand a little too tightly. 

“Just,” he paused, taking a few deep breaths, “No more running around, okay?” Shuichi asked warily, squeezing back without a second thought.

Kokichi pouted, gently kicking Saihara’s ankle. “Why? Are you already tired? Are you Saihara-chan? Huh?” He asked, getting closer to his face. 

“Yes, I’m tired. I don’t know how you aren’t,” He murmured, gently pushing him away. Ouma stuck his tongue out at him, letting go of his hand. 

“It’s because I spend all my time running away from the guards!”

“Really?” Saihara asked, astonishment seeping into his voice. “Yep! I cause allll sorts of trouble just to inconvenience them!” He chirped, placing a hand on his chest. 

“All by yourself?” He tilted his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Kokichi stared at him for a moment before smiling and poking his cheek. 

“Welll, I have an organization with 10,000 members! So you can imagine how much help I can get.”

“Is that a lie?“ 

Kokichi stared at him for a moment before laughing. "Wow! Saihara-chan’s catching on quick!” He chirped, a sly grin on his face. “That’s good,” He murmured, fondly smiling at the other boy. He just giggled and skipped away, leaving Saihara to chase after him again. 

Luckily, Kokichi skidded to a stop once he arrived in front of a large shop. Shuichi was still a bit out of breath, though he tried to not show it. He had a feeling the other would tease him about being unathletic. It wasn’t exactly his fault. He would often get in trouble for running in the castle, and after a few lectures he gave up. Though, it did bring up some fond memories of playing tag with his older sister. (And being chased around by her while he screamed in pure fear. He obviously didn’t enjoy it as much as she did, but he was glad he had more memories with her. They didn’t talk as much once they got older, after all.)

Kokichi suddenly yanked him forward and dragged him into the shop. Saihara let the other boy drag him around aimlessly, not knowing where he would go. He was pretty much never allowed outside the grounds of the palace, seeing as his father would always worry he would get hurt or lost. At some point, they let him explore a bit with a guard following him around. He didn’t end up doing much though, he got too nervous around them due to their serious personality and just asked to go back home.

When he stopped day dreaming he noticed Kokichi glanced around him before grabbing something and slipping it into his pocket. After that, he went back to looking around, easily playing it off. After a second, Shuichi whispered to him, “Why’d you do that?” From what he saw, it wasn’t anything valuable. It was just a small bag of some sort of cookies, and it didn’t look too expensive. Ouma could’ve just asked Saihara to buy it for him.

Kokichi just grinned at him and pressed a finger to his lips, obviously telling the other to keep quiet about it. Shuichi just looked away, a nervous smile on his face. He quietly giggled, grabbing his arm and dragging him to another isle. After roaming around for a few minutes, they ended up leaving empty handed. After walking away from the store, he pulled the bag out of his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand, grinning.

“I could’ve bought it for you,” Saihara muttered, a small frown on his face. 

“Yeah, but my many subordinates can only eat food that wasn’t paid for! It’s a tragedy, really,” Kokichi had tears in the corners of his eyes and sloppily wiped them away. “I’m sure that’s a lie. Ouma-kun, you shouldn’t do that. You could get into lots of trouble,” He stated. He made sure to be polite but firm, knowing Ouma could easily change the direction of the conversation if he wanted to.

“Jeez, you sound like a guard Saihara-chan,” he rolled his eyes, beginning to twirl a strand of his hair. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Shuichi quietly sighed, gently covering his mouth. 

“Well, you don’t need to! I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself, promise!” Kokichi’s voice was playful as usual, but he had a certain edge in his eyes, telling Saihara to drop the topic. 

“If you say so,” Shuichi pulled at his sleeve, feeling the tension he created. He was worried that they would continue walking in silence, though his worries quickly diminished when Ouma spoke up again. “Saihara-chan! You should meet more of friends!” He said in lighthearted tone, grinning at him. “Your friends are very..” Shuichi paused for a second, making a few hand gestures. “Unique.”

“Oh? Does Saihara-chan not like my friends?” Kokichi feigned a shocked expression, barely supressing a grin. 

“It’s not that! They’re just very different from people I know,” Shuichi nervously laughed and looked away. 

“What kind of people are you used to then?” He asked, tilting his head. Saihara paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “They’re very serious and formal.”

He expected the other to question it, but Kokichi just nodded and continued walking. It was quiet except for the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. They were starting to become uncomfortable at this point, he was almost constantly wearing them and was walking around a lot more than usual. He was usually in his room reading detective novels.

It reminded him of his uncle, that was part of the reason he read them so often. He couldn’t remember his face anymore, the last time he saw him was so long ago. He was a detective, and he influenced Shuichi a lot. So much in fact, that he told his parents he wanted to be a detective like him. When they heard that, they swiftly took him away from his uncle, and he hasn’t seen him since.

He doesn’t tell his parents much after that. 

“Hey, Saihara-chan, you’re spacing out again,” Kokichi had a small pout on his face. He assumed he had snapped in front of his face, seeing as his hand was directly in front of him. 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Shuichi would always have to apologize when he did that at home, so it became a habit at this point. 

“It’s okay! I’m used to it by now!” He giggled mischievously, poking Shuichi’s chest.

Before Saihara could even think of a response to that, the other clapped his hands and smiled at him. “Anyhow, we’re gonna go meet up with a few more friends! Then we can do whatever your emo heart desires!” Kokichi chirped, rocking back and forth on his feet. Shuichi decided not to protest and just nodded, causing the other to cheer and drag him somewhere else. 

Ouma was holding onto his hand again and was speed walking somewhere. He was swinging their arms back and forth. He was talking about his organization and how he could order them to do anything at the blink of an eye. It went on like this for a few minutes, until he arrived in front of a group of small houses. 

Kokichi let go of his hand and started banging his fist on the door. Shuichi was going to say something at first, but decided against it. A string of curses was heard before the door swung open, revealing someone with purple hair that stuck up. (He still wasn’t exactly sure how that worked.)

He looked like he was about to yell at Ouma, but his agitated expression quickly disappeared when he noticed someone was standing beside him. “Hiya Momota-chan! I brought a friend with me this time!” Kokichi grabbed Saihara by his shoulders and gently shook him, earning a confused look from the other boy.

“Hey! Name’s Kaito Momota! Sorry you had to deal with him for a while,” He stated, motioning towards an offended-looking Kokichi. “Don’t act like I’m a pest! It hurts my feelings, you bully!” He started wailing, drawing attention to them all. 

“C'mon, you’re causing a scene!” Kaito complained, flicking his forehead. That only caused Ouma to scream and cry even louder. 

“Ouma kun, please stop crying,” Shuichi murmured, gently nudging the other boy. 

“Finally someone asks nicely. I was gonna pass out from dehydration because of all of those precious tears lost,” He complained, looking at his nails. Kaito just sighed and turned towards Saihara a welcoming smile on his face. 

“I never got your name, what was it?”

“Oh! My name’s Shuichi Saihara,” He said sheepishly, feeling a bit embarrassed he had forgotten to say his name. 

“It’s nice to meet ya Saihara!” He exclaimed, patting (more like hitting,) Saihara’s back. Kokichi stared at Momota for a second before trying to walk past him. Kaito let him, but not before saying, “You’re supposed to ask before coming inside, dumbass.”

Kaito moved to the side and let Shuichi walk in. He was surprised to see the house was filled with talking people, who he assumed were friends and family. He quickly followed Ouma, not eager on being alone. Kokichi looked over his shoulder and grabbed his arm, grinning at him. He pushed him into the kitchen, which only had a few people in. Ouma tossed Saihara a bag of sweets before grabbing one for himself.

“Isn’t Momota-chan nice? He stocks his pantry full of sweets for me, you know!” Kokichi stated, chewing on a piece of candy. “But that’s a lie. They’re still tasty though,” He giggled to himself. Shuichi just fidgeted with the small bag, moving closer to the other boy. Ouma gently nudged him, tilting his head. “Oh, I’m just not a huge fan of sweets,” Saihara murmured, nervously laughing.

“Really?” Kokichi tilted his head. “Yeah, so you can have it,” He murmured, motioning to the bag of candy. “If you say so!” He chirped, snatching the bag from him and slipping it into his pocket. Saihara chuckled at the other, covering his mouth. Kaito strolled into the kitchen, perking up at the sight of the two boys.

“Hey, Saihara!” He waved at them, an energetic smile on his face. “So, you new around here? Small town, practically know everyone here,” He stated, giving a thumbs up. Before Shuichi could start panicking, he said the first thing that came to his mind. “I live pretty far, I just got lost and ended up here,” Kokichi stared at him for a second before grinning. “Yep! I found poor Saihara-chan all alone! If it weren’t for me he’d probably be dead!” He exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand on his chest.

“I’m sure he would’ve been fine without your help Ouma,” Kaito stated, a small frown on his face. “C'mon you dont have to be so mean to me!” He whined, tears in the corner of his eyes. 

“I’m not being mean!” He exclaimed, a bewildered expression on his face.

“Yes you are! Isn’t he being cruel Saihara-chan?!” Kokichi turned towards Saihara, a small pout on his face.

Shuichi was quiet for a moment, genuinely thinking it over. “Well, I don’t think Momota’s intention was to be rude. Though, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to get out safely without your help,” Kokichi was quiet for a moment before sighing dramatically, deflating. 

“I guess. I’m still right though,” He murmured, crossing his arms. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” was all Kaito said, a fond smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know I sleep soundly on a mattress filled with the softest stuff around,” Kokichi stated. Before Momota could even respond to that, he continued, “My organization with over 10,000 members only give me the best!” Kokichi pressed a finger to his lips, a mischievous expression on his face.

“That’s gotta be a lie,” Kaito muttered, looking a bit agitated. 

“Maybe you’d know if you were, you know, less stupid.”

“You shouldn’t call people stupid Ouma-kun,” Saihara chided, hearing him whine. Kokichi just pouted and started messing with a colorful bandaid on his finger, seemingly looking bored. 

“How come you never listen to me when I tell you that?” Kaito asked, frowning.

“Because I don’t listen to idiots,” Shuichi lightly glared at the other, gently nudging him. 

“Stop calling me that! It hurts my feelings, you know!”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Kokichi muttered, but not before kicking Momota in the ankle. “I appreciate it,” Kaito said sarcastically, being able to tell he was lying. Still, he ruffled Ouma’s hair, earning a surprised squawk and a slap on the hand. Shuichi quietly giggled, causing Kokichi to half-heartedly glare at him. “The sun’s setting, do you two wanna stay here for the night? I don’t need you two getting in trouble for staying out past curfew.”

“Curfew? What’re you talking about?” Saihara asked, slightly tilting his head. “Yeah, they made that a rule recently because of crime rates or whatever. It sucks, but we don’t really get a say in it,” Kaito sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Usually I would say no, but because Saihara-chan is such a rule follower, I don’t see why not,” Kokichi stated, obviously thinking of when he took that practically worthless bag of cookies.

Shuichi quietly sighed, gently pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re fine with us staying, I’d appreciate it,” Kaito pat his shoulder, a smile on his face. “Don’t worry about it! You can make up for it by training with me tomorrow morning!” Kokichi grinned at Saihara, shaking his arm excitedly. “It’s mostly just some simple work outs. Trust me, it’ll help at some point! Especially if you’re chasing him for whatever reason,” Kaito motioned to Ouma and grimaced, seeming to remember something.

“You’re just salty about the fact I came up with a genius prank,” Kokichi sing songed, grabbing a blanket off the couch. 

“Said prank was taping firecrackers to my toilet seat,” Kaito muttered, loudly sighing. 

“He what?” Shuichi turned towards a grinning Ouma. “It was hilarious! Not only did he chase me around for like, ten minutes, he also-”

He was cut off by Kaito throwing a pillow at him. “You’re sleeping on the couch for that. Ouma, show him the guest room, I am not going to bed angry. Goodnight you two,” Kaito disappeared into his room. 

“Well, follow me Saihara chan!” Kokichi dropped his stack of pillows and blankets onto the couch and lead Saihara to another room. “This is where you’ll sleep. Maybe forever if I decide to kill you!”

Shuichi quietly laughed, feeling fatigue settle in. “Whatever you say Ouma-kun,” he said, yawning into his hand. 

“Hey! You should be more scared, you know,” Kokichi’s voice was quieter than before. 

“Maybe, but I’m tired and just want to sleep right now,” Saihara lazily pat the other boy’s head. Kokichi just pouted and crossed his arms. “Since I’m so nice, I guess you can go to sleep. Night Saihara chan!”

Shuichi closed the door and laid down, finally letting exhaustion take over.

—

And of course, he woke up tightly wrapped in blankets with a small note that read, “I decided not to kill you, maybe next time Saihara-chan!” -D.A 

~~

i cant draw but this chapter was so adorable ohmg the serotonin,,

-

5 | 6 | 7

Read it on AO3!

[harryhandstan]

you bring me home

tw: death

word count: 2,356

This is a piece that was something more personal to me and I'm thankful to Olivia (@bfharry​) for allowing me to include it in her bf!harry fic-a-thon. My aunt died in early December of 2019 very suddenly. She and my uncle had been together for almost 20 years, but since common law marriage is not recognized in my state, her sister was in charge of all arrangements. Her sister lived in another state and basically just called and set up everything for her cremation over the phone. My uncle was too devastated to really speak up and say anything, so my family and I never truly got a chance to have the experience of a funeral for her. I never felt like I got that closure I needed, so for the past 8 months since her death, my brain has cycled through this vicious cycle of denial and depression, never fully reaching acceptance. This piece is basically just the experience I wish I had and Harry helping me through the grief process.

It's also the very first Harry thing I've ever written and posted here so any and all feedback is welcome!

also lots of hugs to @geoffwittek​ for reading over everything for me and being such an angel in general 

"Linds? We're gonna be late, love. Your family's still meeting at 3, right?"

His voice sounds distant, despite you both being in the same room. Your brain registers the noise but is unable to form a response.

He stands near the end of the bed, hands in his pockets, head down, "We don't have to go if it's too much for you. I'm sure your family would understand."

The black dress Harry helped you shop for 2 days ago lays, taunting you, at the end of the bed. You remember mindlessly wandering around before you had a breakdown in the middle of the department store. Harry had to sit with you on the bench outside of the store until you pulled yourself together enough to go back in.

Nearly a week ago, you had answered a call from home only to find your world turned upside down. Your Nanna cried on the other end, she couldn't believe the news was true either. It was so sudden and so unbelievably unexpected.

Your Aunt Linda was dead.

Thankfully, Harry had invited you over for dinner and a movie that night. You still don't remember how you stopped crying long enough to tell him the news. He held you on top of his chest, letting you sob until exhaustion took over and you fell asleep.

Currently, you were sitting on the side of the bed. Something in your brain had prompted you to gather enough strength to take a shower a couple of hours ago, but you hadn't had the energy to move since then. Harry's warm hand squeezing your shoulder brings you back to reality long enough to look at the clock and see you only had 10 minutes to get ready and be out the door.

"You coming back to me there, angel? Anything I can do to help you get ready for this?" he kneels in front of you, one hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face, wiping one of the many tears that were starting to form and fall.

"No, no, I can do this. I still wanna go. Just give me 5 minutes to get ready?"

"I'll go warm up the car." he leans up slightly and kisses your cheek before grabbing a set of keys off the dresser and disappearing down the stairs.

You throw the dress over your head quickly. Dread builds in your stomach but you push through, selecting a pair of pantyhose and taking longer to put them on than you have to spare, making sure you don't rip the delicate fabric. Shoes waited on the floor at the foot of the bed, a simple pair of black flats with a small silver buckle.

The bathroom lighting does you no justice as you try your best to do something to make yourself look somewhat presentable. You know there's no point in makeup, it'll all end up washed away by tears most likely before you even arrive at the funeral home. You apply a quick layer of moisturizer, hoping your skin will have a chance to recover before it's all washed away too. Your hair gets swept back into a low bun and at the last minute you grab a pair of earrings to loop through your ears on the way down the stairs and out the door.

The cold, winter air of December surrounds you as you make your way to the car. Harry was true to his word and had the car warm and waiting for you.

You take a shaky deep breath once you're settled in the passenger seat. Harry rests a hand on your knee, "You sure you're ready, peach?" you smile faintly at his nickname for you.

You'll never forget meeting him for the first time and comparing accents; your Georgia drawl versus his British one. Some nights when you were both delirious with sleepiness but unable to drift off, you would just exchange single words back and forth, trying to mimic one another. The nickname tended to roll off his tongue easier when you were in your hometown.  

You shake your head no. How could you ever be ready for a day like this? Despite she and your uncle never getting married, she always supported and loved you and your siblings as her own nieces and nephew from day one. How were you supposed to live without a woman who always had an encouraging or motivational word to offer when you were sad or frustrated? A woman whose light was so bright in your life that her absence surrounded you with a darkness you could never imagine pulling yourself through? ______________________________________________________________

"You're making your lip bleed, lovie. Here." He swipes a thumb softly over your bottom lip. He pulls a tube of lip balm out of his coat pocket and you gratefully take it and use it.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, H." You look down at your hands, a few frayed tissues lay on your lap, messy and still wet with tears. Your gaze meets his, eyes pleading for some sort of escape.

His arm wraps behind your back and a hand rests on your side, pulling you closer to him. He kisses your temple, "Do you want to leave?" His voice is a low, comforting rumble in your ear.

You look around at the small funeral home chapel. Only two of the twelve long wooden pews were filled. Most of your aunt's family still lived in Virginia, where she was originally from, and none of them could be bothered to pay their respects here in small town, Georgia. You couldn't leave now.

He reads your face, a brief glance over your features, feels your body relax into his, "Just say the word if you change your mind, alright?"

You rest your head on Harry's shoulder for the remainder of the sermon. The preacher is nice enough, but the speech he prepared is all wrong. Your aunt would have appreciated this, but it just wasn't her. Wasn't an accurate representation of who she was and the impact she had on your universe.

The preacher finally wraps up with a prayer, asking all to stand and bow their heads. You've never known Harry to be a particularly religious sort, but he grabs your hand and squeezes as he bows his head. A quick and thoughtful reminder that he's still there. He's not leaving your side.

The small gathering of guests parades past the casket now, all expressing their final goodbyes as they pass. Harry stands back, quiet and respectful, letting your family through first before he rejoins you. His hand lands on the small of your back and wanders around to rest on your hip as you walk back into the lobby together.

You accept a few hugs and expressions of condolences from the few friends that came. Your hand stays loosely tied to Harry's the whole time, and he uses his free hand to greet everyone you introduce him to. Your family offers you a spot in the family car to the graveside, but you decline. Harry assures them he'll drive you to the cemetery safely.

The graveside service is thankfully quick. Another gathering of guests and more kind words from the preacher. A small prayer. Emotional exhaustion is settling into your body, and Harry easily supports your weight back to the car when the service is over.

"Your Nanna cornered me in lobby before we left the funeral home while you were talking to your cousin," he starts the car and fiddles with the controls, adjusting the heat, "she wants us to come to her house for a bit. Are you up for that?"

You nod your head yes, still not sure if your voice is strong enough to not break when you answer him. You know it will only be your family there. 8 people, including Harry. You could handle that.

"Should we grab a bite to eat before we go? You haven't eaten much today, honey."

You chuckle. The first genuine laugh in a week bubbling up through your chest. You stop when you notice Harry's adorably confused expression, his brow furrowing together with slight concern.

"Oh, no. You don't eat before you go to Nanna's house, trust me." ______________________________________________________________

Harry is a warm addition to the small house on the hill.

His eyes go wide when he sees the amount of food spread across your grandmother's small round kitchen table. His gaze follows everyone already seated around the table and then back to you. All you can manage is an "I told you so" shrug.

"Is all this just to impress me or..?" his voice is a whisper in your ear, but the kitchen is so small it echoes around to the whole table.

"No, babe. This is how it always is at Nanna's."

Your Nanna and Aunt Donna, who you're sure spent all day making everything, insist that it's not THAT much food, but you know you'll all be guilted into at least finishing a full plate AND taking leftovers home for later. You're thankful to see even your uncle has a plate in front of him, knowing his appetite hasn't been the same since he lost your aunt.

When dinner is finished, a pot of coffee is made and passed aroud to accompany dessert. The aroma fills the house, the strong scent a comforting reminder of your Aunt Linda. She always said she hated the taste, but loved the smell. You inhale, the essence surrounding you and bringing back warm and lovely memories. You catch Harry's eye, a small smile crossing your face.

He makes his way around the living room, refilling a few mugs along the way. The open entryway between the two rooms allows you to watch the path he takes. He stops where your momma sits in a green plaid armchair, her lips are moving but you can't make out what they're saying. They both look at you and he turns back to her, a charming smile lighting up his face.

By the time he makes it back to the kitchen, you've slipped into your Nanna's bedroom. You know it's normally rude to disappear, but this place is home. Had been your second home all your life and you knew no one would care that you were slipping your shoes off and crawling under the covers of the freshly made bed.

You hear a lull of voices outside the door, and you're thankful for the noise, for the small comfort of gentle chaos. If you listen closely, you could pinpoint individual noises throughout the house; your dad and Nanna talking politics, your momma and sister flipping through channels on the living room tv, your Aunt Donna and your uncle questioning Harry about his favorite British television shows. You hear water running and picture Harry, his tall frame towering over the tiny kitchen sink, helping with the dishes. You feel a slight bit of guilt for leaving him alone, but by the sound of his laughter, he's making himself right at home too.

You drift to sleep, and when you wake, Harry is next to you. His long fingers smoothing comfortingly up and down your arm, "You disappeared, love. Thought you might like some company. Hope you don't mind me joining you."

You shift your body closer to him, your head on his chest, his arm resting behind your head, "Is everyone still here?"

He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face, tucks it neatly behind your ear, "Your uncle just left a minute ago, but everyone else is still around. Your brother called, said he was sorry he couldn't make it. I came to find you, make sure you were okay."

Your little brother was in his last semester of college. It was finals week and you know he would've been here if he could.

"I'm okay...I mean as okay as you can be after a day like today, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

You slip off the bed and Harry follows you, hands on your waist to steady your balance while you slip your shoes back on. He helps you remake the bed, and the two of you make your way back towards the kitchen, now quiet that everyone moved to the living room.

"Harry?" You turn back at the last second before you leave the room. He's following so closely behind you you end up pressed against him.

"Hmm?" He catches you, pulling you even closer, the light from the kitchen shining on his face.

"I haven't had a moment to thank you today. For all of it..dropping everything and flying out here with me, spending the whole day with my family, driving me everywhere, just being here with me. You've kept me sane and I could never repay you for something like that."

"You don't have to thank me. I wouldn't have dreamed of being anywhere else than right here. You needed me and that was all that mattered, everything else can wait."

______________________________________________________________

“Ha! Look at baby peach! How old were you here?”

Your lap was covered in pictures, the few favorites you had brought with you from home. Harry was plopped next to you on the couch. The picture in question is a baby picture of you, chocolate icing all over your chubby cheeks.

“That’s my first birthday party.” You giggle at his smile, the way he can’t stop staring at the photo.

You shuffle through a few more, Harry being curious about each one and questioning you about every detail.

“Who’s this?” The picture he hands you takes your breath away for a second. You forgot it was mixed in and he instantly knows by the tears filling up your eyes.

“It’s your Aunt Linda, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I didn’t know..”

“No, it’s okay. This is a good picture of her. She had such an amazing smile.” He rests his head on your shoulder. 

“She loved you so much, babe. She would be so proud of you.”

“Yeah, she would’ve thought you were pretty great too, H.”

[beyondthetower]

Sacred & Common Ground (Annette x Felix)

Summary: Felix stumbles across a conversation he should never have heard, and his reaction surprises even him.

Characters/Pairing: Annette x Felix

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Spoilers for Annette’s character.

A/N: Wow! What a surprise. I wrote more Netteflix fluff.

It had been a long day, and it was beginning to stretch into a long night. Felix wandered around the monastery grounds, still too jittery from his training to turn in for the night. His body was tired but his mind was awake. Hopefully a walk would help that. 

When the moon was high in the sky and most of Garreg Mach had gone to bed, Felix found himself outside of the cathedral overlooking the Goddess Tower. He leaned over the stone wall, staring at the tower and trying to remember that ridiculous legend people always told of the place. On their trip to the monastery at the beginning of the year, Felix’s father had blathered on about the legend. It had something to do with “lovers meeting” or some such nonsense. His father had mentioned in passing that he had met a girl there himself on the night of the ball. Whether that was his mother or not, Felix didn’t know. And he didn’t really care. 

He couldn’t concern himself with that kind of thing. He was and always would be a lone wolf. He didn’t need a girl by his side nor did he ever think about it.

Well...sometimes... 

Quickly, he shook the thought from his head. He was more tired than he thought. As he walked back toward the dorms, he heard the muffled sounds of conversation coming from inside the cathedral. 

“Why do you pretend not to recognize me?”

Felix recognized her voice at once. Annette always seemed to annoyingly sneak her way into his thoughts unwarranted. Without thinking, he peered past the nearby column into the cathedral. Lanterns flickered lowly, most already out for the evening, and a few others illuminating two figures as they stood at the far side of the room.

Annette was standing by the alter, behind a large, imposing figure whose head was bowed low in prayer. “Annette, I-”

Felix had seen the man before, and his voice only reinforced that. But he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from. He strained to try to catch a better glimpse of him, but he couldn’t make out anything other than the faint glint of armor.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

Annette’s voice cracked, and Felix realized that he had stumbled across an extremely private moment. He knew that he should leave, but a strange pull was keeping him tethered to that spot. In fact, he realized after a beat that he was actively restraining himself from marching over to her.

“Please stop treating me like a stranger, I can’t bear it.” 

There was a pain in Felix’s hand, and when he stretched his fingers out he realized he had been clenching his fist. Small, red, divots appeared on his palm where his fingernails had almost broken the skin. He tried to rub them away with his thumb and leaned against the wall when he heard the familiar sound of thick boots on the floor. 

“How long are you going to keep avoiding me like this?” Annette’s voice was starting to come undone; the strained composure she had been holding up until then was slipping and she was starting to sound like a girl holding a tantrum. She stomped her foot, and the man paused just close enough to a nearby lantern for Felix to get a better look at his face. 

He remembered now. Gilbert, the knight, had joined them in their most recent mission to the Kingdom; to stop Sylvain’s brother from doing any more damage and to take back House Guatier’s relic. He was a skilled knight, and had been pretty familiar with Dimitri. In fact, he seemed to know a lot about the Kingdom.

Felix tried to scan his memories for any hints that Annette had known him too. Judging by this conversation they weren’t newly acquainted. He remembered the day the Professor introduced Gilbert to the class. Annette had skipped in with Mercedes, cheery and energetic as usual. Professor made the necessary introductions, not bothering to go all the way around the room for names. He remembered catching a glimpse of Annette at one point (he annoyingly found his gaze wandering to her a lot more than it should) and realized now how different she had looked. Her face looked somber, like she had seen a ghost. 

“I have lost the right to face you or your mother,” Gilbert said now. 

Her mother? Felix thought to himself. 

“This has nothing to do with rights!”Annette said exasperatedly. “We're family, I'm your daughter.”

Daughter?

It all made sense: the color draining from her face as she stared at him that first day, the way she had been so shaky and distracted during that mission. She had seen a ghost. She had been searching for her father for however long, and now that she found him he was acting as if he didn’t even know her.

Felix had a sudden urge to punch a wall. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but the idea that Annette’s own father had not only abandoned her but refused to acknowledge her even now infuriated him. The idea of anyone hurting her upset him, if he was being honest. But her own family? He may have hated his dad but at least he was always there. 

He shook himself back into the present moment, where Annette and Gilbert had continued with their conversation. Whatever Felix had missed had been final, because he could hear heavy footsteps bounding toward him before he had time to react. 

Gilbert emerged from the door, and did a double take before fully seeing Felix lingering there in the shadows. There was a long pause between the two of them, where Gilbert blinked in surprise and Felix bit back his urge to hit him. Gilbert furrowed his brow, as if he was about to scold him. But before he could say anything, he glanced back at Annette, as if he knew why Felix had been listening in (even if Felix himself hadn’t known). So, instead of saying anything, Gilbert merely turned back toward the bridge and disappeared behind the thick, iron gate. 

Inside the cathedral, the eerie quiet was only broken by the soft sound of sniffles coming from one of the pews. As he walked up to Annette, Felix realized that he should have made his footsteps more prominent, if only to announce himself in some way.

He cleared his throat. “Annette?” 

Annette whipped around, pulling her hands from her face and gasping in surprise. Her cheeks were red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot and glassy with tears. 

“Felix!” she said quickly. She wiped at her cheeks as if that would hide the fact that she had been crying. “W..what are you doing here?”

“I was taking a walk when I heard you arguing with someone.” He realized this wasn’t an actual excuse, that he was really just admitting to eavesdropping, so he cleared his throat again and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I thought maybe you were...in trouble or something.” 

Annette studied him for a moment, sizing up his story. But rather than prod any further she just let out a frustrated sigh. “My stupid father,” she explained. Her small face distorted into an angry pinch as Felix took a seat beside her. And as much as it broke his heart to see it, he found it almost cute. “He left mother and I a few years ago, and I’ve been looking for him ever since. But now…”

Felix wasn’t sure what to say, so he kept quiet. 

“I just don’t understand how he could be so cruel. It’s nothing like the man I knew growing up. It’s like Duscar-” Annette stopped herself suddenly and sighed. 

It suddenly made sense: why Dimitri would stumble over Gilbert’s name, why Ingrid thought he looked so familiar, he must have been a Kingdom knight when it happened. When the King was killed. When his brother…

Felix shook the thought from his head, tried to refocus on Annette, who looked so much smaller and more fragile when she cried. He had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her that he fought off out of sheer embarrassment. His face got hot at his own internal struggle, and he hoped she was too wrapped up in her story to notice. 

“I’m sorry,” Annette said then. 

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. 

“You lost your brother in Duscar, didn’t you?” 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “So?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he noticed her eyes were starting to get back to normal. “So here I am complaining about my own father, when you lost your brother for real.” 

Felix shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be much difference from where I’m standing.”

Annette stared out at the doorway that Gilbert had disappeared through. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Off in the distance, a bell toll. It was getting late, and the chimes reminded Felix that he had better get to sleep if he wanted to get his morning training in before class the next day. He knew that he should bid her farewell, but something kept him glued to his seat in the somewhat uncomfortable silence. 

“Thanks, Felix.” Annette sniffed and offered him a weak smile. “You know, I’ve got to admit, you are surprisingly easy to talk to.” 

While it didn’t sound much like a compliment, even Felix knew that, for him, it was high praise. He was prickly and hard to read. He purposefully presented himself that way. “Yeah, well,” Felix tried to hide the smile tugging at his lips by looking down at his shoes. “Don’t get used to it.” 

“Of course. I won’t,” Annette promised. 

He could hear the smile in her voice, and when he looked back at her, her blue-green eyes were gleaming up at him. Heat rose in his cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to hide it. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “You shouldn’t be out by yourself this late. You could get hurt.” 

Try as he might to make his words sound accusatory, even he could hear the compassion in his tone as he turned on his heel to storm out. He checked over his shoulder as he walked toward the bridge, and sure enough, Annette was following him with her eyes down and a sweet smile on her lips.

[onebourbon-oneshot-onetear]

Forever- Bucky Barnes x y/n Oneshot

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 5

(Not my Gif: Credit goes to Owner)

Warnings: Mentions of Hydra torture

Synopsis: You had loved Bucky for a long time, and finally he realizes he might feel the same.

You had been with Bucky through it all. Through Hydra, breaking free from Hydra, being on the run, him being Blipped, all the court process, being pardoned, therapy, amends. And somewhere through all of that, you had fallen in love with him. Which was very nice, except he didn’t love you. Or maybe he used to, but he didn’t anymore, and you weren’t sure which was worse.

You had been taken by Hydra in the 60’s, held captive by them, and given a super soldier serum. They tortured you and trained you into being a perfect spy, minus the memory wipes. You were always partnered with the Winter Soldier. You were a perfect deadly team, committing your assassinations and completing missions as planned. As much as you absolutely despise being put on ice and doing Hydra’s dirty work, there were nights where you and the Soldier could spend time together. On those nights, you would usually talk enough for the both of them, but sometimes he would quietly reply and then fall silent again.

As the decades passed and the two of you worked together, you were able to form a semblance of friendship. As the friendship deepened over the years, there were little buds of romance that began to flower. Whether it was the Soldier protecting you on missions, to him laying with you as you both came out of cryo. It didn’t matter if he had just come from a wipe, he always remembered you. Perhaps that’s where it started. This continued on and on, until one night you finally made the confession.

The three words quietly slipped from your lips in the still of the night before you could even stop them, and the Soldier looked down at you in surprise. Before he could even think of replying, alarms went off and you were dragged from the huddle of blankets that the two of you were sitting on on the floor. The Soldier was dragged down the hallway and out of sight, and if you closed your eyes on a quiet night and listened, you could still hear his agonized screams as he was wiped over, and over again. Hearing his screams was almost as bad as what Hydra did to you. It had been years since they beat you that bad.

It was a while before you were able to work with the Soldier again, but this time there was no recognition in those steel blue eyes of his. You completed your mission in silence, and as soon as you were back at the Hydra compound, you were both put on ice again.

This continued on and on until you were given a specific mission. To kill the leader of SHIELD. And then to kill Captain America. You could remember a little of learning about him from school. He was a war hero, and a good man. That was the first mission you had genuinely questioned your orders.

That was when you first met Steve, when the events of Washington D.C happened. You had left Hydra that day with Bucky, having finally learned who he actually was. Learning how to live in a normal society while being on the run. It had taken a lot to earn Bucky’s trust after everything. He thought you were still a Hydra soldier, and it took a good 6 months of persuasion and small acts before he realized you could be trusted. After that, you were inseparable. Living in crappy hotel rooms, stealing little bits of food to eat, always looking over your shoulders. Maybe that’s when the feelings actually started.

Both of you would lay on the floor of wherever you were staying at, talking about memories from before Hydra. Bucky would tell you stories of Steve, and you would tell Bucky about your childhood friends and family. After two years of being together you definitely saw Bucky as more than a friend, but you would never in a million years tell him that, not right now. Not with both of you being too fragile. Not since the last time you said those three words he was tortured so badly he couldn’t remember you.

And then Steve came back, and you were arrested, and then had to fight the re-awakened Winter Soldier. And then had to comfort the re-awakened Bucky. And then had to fight Zemo. That had been a long week.

Then you were in Wakanda together, hiding from various governments. You had hardly left his side when he was put back under a cryo freeze, the only exception being when Shuri made you flee when everyone thought T’challa was dead. And even then, it took every fiber in you to leave his side. You were there through all the trials of getting the trigger words out of Bucky’s head. Every failed attempt, you were there for eachother, holding him as he cried, watching him take his frustrations out in the gym or the woods surrounding the palace. Even when he told you that you deserved more than him, you didn’t leave. And you still hadn’t said those 3 words again.

Even when the trigger words were gone, and Bucky sobbed beside the fire, for the first time in almost a century as a free man, you held him and said you were so proud of him. And he grasped you like a drowning man grabs a life preserver. And the words still weren’t said.

The next time you said those words was after Bucky had turned to dust. After you had lost him. You whispered them in the trees in the middle of the Wakandan jungle, alone. And for five long years, you would repeat those words in your head. And you never said them to anybody else.

When the rest of the team figured out a way to get everybody back, you went with them. Fought with them. And when Bucky walked out of one of Strange’s portals, it took all your strength not to leap into his arms, say those three words, and never let go. But there was still a battle to fight. And then you won. Sacrifices were made, and you were still with Bucky.

And through the government pardons, and the mandated therapy, and the poor attempt at an adjustment back to normal life, you tried to stay with him. Except it seemed like he didn’t want to stay with you.

You were offered a place to stay together and he said no. Any conversation you had didn’t last longer than a minute, and was always met with one word answers. Texts were ignored, calls were ignored, even knocking on a door was ignored. So you ignored back. And whenever he was brought up in your therapy sessions, you shut down. The only person you would talk about it with was Sam. And ever the optimist, Sam said to give him time. Except you had given him decades, and the words still hadn’t been said. And you had decided that they would never be said again.

Sam asked you to help him first with the whole Flag Smashers scenario. And imagine your surprise when Bucky showed up. And imagine your surprise when Bucky almost ripped off John Walker's face, not about his comments about Steve but when he made a derogatory comment towards you. And imagine your surprise when Bucky still did everything he could to protect you during fights.

So now that the fighting had stopped and you were staying at Sam’s house, you had time to actually reflect, you were filled with sadness. Because despite Sam’s usually contagious optimism, you didn’t think you would ever say those three words again.

At first Bucky wasn’t sure what had woken him up, that is, until he turned his head and saw Sam’s nephews playing with the shield. He watched them for a moment before flicking his hand up in a small wave. “Hey.”

Quicker than what Bucky thought was possible the boys had put the shield back in it’s bag and had scurried away. A small grin had planted itself on his face as he watched them leave. ‘That’s what our kids will be like,’ was Bucky’s first thought. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering where the hell that thought had even come from. And then he wondered where you had gone to, because you weren’t on the couch opposite of him in the living room.

And like a bolt of lightning, it hit him. James Buchanan Barnes loved you. Bucky stared at the ceiling as his mind reeled. He loved you. Of course he did. How could he not? Even from the small snippets of his early days of Hydra, you were there. Through every fight, through every punishment, you were there. After he woke up from every cryo freeze you were right there, waking up next to him. You were with him when he was on the run, never wavering from his side. Everytime suggested you leave, you would flash him your dazzling smile and roll your eyes, quietly telling him that you weren’t going anywhere. You were there for the hundreds of nightmares that Bucky had as his memories finally came back, just like he was there for all of yours.

You got arrested with him after he was framed for the UN bombing. You had to fight the Winter Soldier, and when he realized that he had hurt you, he was physically sick despite you telling him that you had worse. You fought the Avengers for him, you fought Zemo for him. You fought Iron Man for him. You stayed in Wakanda. You helped control him when the trials failed and he reverted back to the Winter Soldier. You held him as he was a free man for the first time in his terribly long life. You had wiped his tears and whispered that he was free, letting the tears fall down your own cheeks.

Bucky sat up from the couch, his mind a reel of every moment the two of you had ever had. You were the last thing he saw when Thanos had blipped him. You were the first person he looked for across the battlefield when he was brought back. You were by his side when Steve came back, much older than he should have been. When the end of the line finally came. You were still there now, even after Bucky had tried pushing you away because how could a man as broken and tarnished as him ever be able to be worth something to you? How could a man who deliberately stopped talking to the only person who could understand the horrors that you both had gone through be loved? And the answer was right there. Because you loved him too.

Bucky had never moved so fast in his life, throwing shoes on that he didn’t even know if they were his to get outside to find you.

The sun had just risen as you stood on the dock near Sam’s boat, your worn out flannel shirt wrapped around you to fight off the cool breeze coming up off of the water. Every morning you woke up before the sunrise so you could watch it. A reminder that it was a new day, with new beginnings.

The quiet of the morning was broken by Bucky’s frantic voice. “Y/N?” he called out. He called again as he ran down the yard, spotting you on the dock. You started walking towards him, a little confused as to what had rattled the super soldier.

“Bucky, what-” you were cut off as Bucky slammed into you, nearly knocking you off balance until his hands found your waist and his lips touched yours. It was a frantic kiss, one that almost sent you into a panic because you thought something was wrong, even though his lips melting into yours felt so right.

You gently pushed Bucky away, catching your breath and staring into his brilliant blue eyes. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” you whispered.

“I love you.”

You blinked as your breath hitched and his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint that you felt the same. “I love you, and I should have said it years ago. I should have said it every day. I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day. I love you and I want a house to ourselves, with a dog and cats, and I want kids running around. I love you and I want to get better with you. I love you so much-”

This time it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss, except this kiss was much gentler than his. You had cupped his cheek in your hand, and reached up on your toes to meet him. It was a slow kiss, that sent chills across your body and butterflies erupted in your stomach. A kiss that ended with you smiling into each other.

“I love you too, Bucky.” You whispered. “I’ve loved you forever, and I want to love you for the rest of our forever.” He chuckled, and pulled you into a hug, so tight that you could hardly breathe, but you wouldn’t dare say anything.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” He whispered into your hair. You were already shaking your head in protest.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad we could say it at all.” You said, pulling back so you could look into his eyes again. Bucky chuckled and kissed you again.

“I can’t wait to start forever,” He mumbled against your lips. You laughed and kissed him again. Until Sam peeked his head out of the boat.

“Do you guys mind starting your forever away from my boat?” he asked, but the grin on his face said it was only in jest.

“Don’t mind if we do,” Bucky said just as he lifted you by your waist and hoisted you over his shoulder, marching you up the hill where you could continue your forever.

[romiithebirdie]

Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 2

Present day.

Inko Midoriya entered her apartment, softly closing the front door behind her after dropping her shopping bags in the hallway. A harsh breeze slapped her bare arms and she shivered, quickly removing her shoes and padding into the living room to close the window that she hadn't realised she'd left open.

Cheerful music rang out in the direction of the kitchen and she immediately followed the sound up towards one of her kitchen worktops. Within seconds, Inko slid her arm across the space and picked up the mobile device with a questioning frown.

UNKNOWN CALLER

Timidly, she pressed the Answer button and slowly put it to her ear;

"Midoriya Residence, may I ask who's calling?"

Her response came from an intangible grunt followed by loud rustling, like the caller was fumbling through plastic liners. She sighed, "Hello?"

"Y-yeah," the audio was fuzzy, almost like they had a bad signal connection from wherever they were calling from. "I'm looking for an Inko Midoriya."

"Speaking."

"I see."

Inko huffed, switching her phone into her other free hand; "So? Is there something you needed or-"

"You were his wife, right?"

And her instinct to slam the phone down at that moment faltered and she immediately was hit with old painful memories.

"E-Excuse me?" her voice was hushed, like she'd been winded by those words alone.

"Your husband. Hisashi Midoriya."

"Who is this?"

"Just somebody who wanted to talk."

"My husband hasn't lived here," since he disappeared, "for a while. I'm sorry if you were trying to reach him, I can't help you."

With that brief explanation, she immediately ended the call and dropped it on the table top. With a stifled gasp, she clamped a hand over her mouth and leaned over one of the kitchen chairs as if she were in pain.

Emotional pain.

She really needed Izuku right now…

UNKNOWN CALLER buzzed across her phone screen for the second time and a shiver ran from the back of her neck all the way down to her spine. Was someone trying to pull a sick prank or something? She had no clue.

Reluctantly, she pressed Answer once again and whispered an anxious, "Hello?"

"You know you cry way too much, right? Same old Inko."

Crying?

She gingerly touched her cheek and immediately felt the wetness. Then it dawned on her what this person had just said and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Who is this?" she repeated, firmer this time while brushing the back of her arm against her face. Somebody had been watching her, the problem was she had no idea where. "Listen," her voice was jittery yet she ignored it, "I don't know how you got my number or where you've seen me but if you don't stop right now, I will be calling the authorities."

"Call them," the voice cackled gruffly on the other side of the line, "besides, who said anything about having seen you? You shouldn't leave your window open when you leave the house."

The window.

It had been open when she'd returned home from her errand.

She lowered the phone from her ear, heart racing against her chest while her ears picked up every tiny sound coming from the floorboards, thumps against the walls from the neighbours and a slow ticking sound coming from the kitchen clock.

The front door was only along the hallway. Almost taunting her with the reflective rays of the sunshine outside.

Tick, tick, tick.

It felt like she was stuck in slow-motion, her legs trembling violently under the assumption there might be an intruder hiding somewhere in her home right now…

"You've gone quiet."

Was that this person's plan? To lure her outside?

"I-I…" Inko choked on her own words.

"Don't you like talking to me?"

No. I really don't.

"I like talking to you."

Inko closed her eyes and bit her lip before shaking her head.

"After all, we're practically family."

                                                .-.-.-.-.

"You serious, Deku?" came the sneer of a young boy with spiky ash-blond hair. Behind him stood two other boys around the same age as they towered over a smaller boy with messy green locks. "You really think a weakling like you can do a fucking thing against the three of us?"

"He was crying, Kacchan!" the green-haired boy pleaded, wiping furiously at his tear-stained cheeks. "You can't keep acting like a bully; it's wrong!"

"The hell did you just say to me?!"

It was the wrong choice of words.

Something Izuku had quickly learned when dealing with Katsuki Bakugou, a boy that used to be his friend. However, when Izuku confided to the other child about the secret that greatly upset his parents, he was met with complete scorn and eventually became the class outcast.

Defenseless Izuku, the freak that saw dead people and nobody wanted to be friends with.

However, Katsuki's bullying tendencies halted after one of his friends, Tsubasa, vanished without a trace. The fiery boy grew more withdrawn and unsure, keeping Izuku at a great distance rather than choosing to torment him.

Katsuki Bakugou eventually moved away from Musutafu to live with his grandparents after a gruesome event that deeply traumatised him;

Early one morning, the remains of Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou were found along the coastal side of Dagobah Beach. The media kept a lot of the details brief due to the case's sheer horrifying nature.

Masaru Bakugou was found with his throat slit and hands cut off while Mitsuki Bakugou was covered in various stab wounds with her tongue removed. The forensics and autopsies had ruled out that they had been dead for quite some time due to the fact that their corpses were spread with heavy decay.

Izuku only remembered fragments of the dreadful news; his father being more reserved while his mother broke down over discovering their demise. From what he remembered, his mother and Auntie Mitsuki had met in Junior High and had remained friends in their adult life.

Despite Katsuki's ill-treatment of him, Izuku still found himself feeling concerned for the louder boy. Sadly, Izuku never got a chance to try and rekindle his friendship with the youngest Bakugou due to him immediately being sent away.

It was something that Izuku still found himself longing for many years later in his teenage years…

"Hi, everybody. My name is Izuku Midoriya and I'm visiting today to talk about things that have affected me since I was very young."

And I'd rather be anywhere else than here right now…

Izuku forced himself to smile, despite the overwhelming feeling of nerves tugging away at his chest that made him feel more like a wooden puppet than an actual person at this point. It was pretty on point, he'd been rehearsing his greeting for a while now anyway...

"Thank you, Midoriya, please take your seat," one of the group therapy leaders smiled, sitting forward while hunched over her thick clipboard in an extremely awkward manner. Izuku bared his teeth in another forced grin before sitting back down on his plastic chair, trying to ignore the burn of embarrassment scorching his freckled cheeks.

While various names chorused amongst each other, Izuku chose to tune out. His emerald green eyes focused completely on a particular spot on the floor tiles as voices blended into one incoherent fuzzy noise. Almost sounding like television static.

Therapy had been his mother's idea. Izuku hadn't been thrilled at the proposition but he knew how much it would mean to her if he tried it out. That was several months ago.

They had attempted medication and counselling in the past too, thus why Izuku was understandably growing more and more tired with it. It was the same old story to him.

While he had grown up seeing things that would be… odd to most, the idea for counselling had nothing to do with the invisible people that clung to him in desperation. They still talked to him, though Izuku often found himself tuning out more nowadays.

Maybe he was just crazy?

That would explain why his mother was always sad and his father cut them off years ago.

Perhaps it was the stress of dealing with a problem child?

Izuku shook his head, chiding himself internally for even daring to consider such a ludicrous possibility;

Both of his parents loved him.

His mother was still grieving her husband's disappearance, it had nothing to do with Izuku's quirky little ability to see dead people…

"Get a grip, Izuku," he muttered to himself.

"Uh, is everything alright over there, young man?" one of the counsellors blinked, everybody's attention solely on the greenette as he flushed in humiliation.

Add talking to yourself to that pile of issues too, Izuku thought miserably to himself while the group therapy session came to end. The second that the adults dismissed the teens, Izuku snatched up his bag and bolted for the exit door like his life depended on it. Luckily, it was a short ride on the bullet train back to the city of Musutafu's Tattooin Station and then a ten minute walk back to his apartment complex.

As he made his way along his neighbourhood street, he noticed a large number of people crowding around the apartment blocks, some people were filming while police were running around and taping the area off to the civilians.

What in the…

While he craned his neck to try and see what was happening, his shoulder bumped against another member of the public and they made a short, restrained grunt as they were pushed to the side.

"S-Sorry, are you-" Izuku froze, emerald orbs meeting an intense crimson that sparked an old feeling of anxiousness and bad nostalgia.

"It's fine," the guy muttered, lowering his head before turning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction of the scene.

That was odd, Izuku frowned, watching the guy disappear amongst the sea of people flocking around the teen while using their phones to record.

Paramedics dressed in green appeared from the stairwell of the apartment complex and rushed across the lawn, pushing a stretcher on wheels. Izuku carefully pushed his way towards the front of the crowd and immediately froze in complete horror.

On the stretcher was his mother.

Thick gauze and towels were drenched in red that could only have been blood and she had an oxygen mask over her face. Izuku's vision suddenly swam and he clung to the nearest stranger, gasping for breath.

Police, paramedics and people were surrounding the entire vicinity. Realisation smacked Izuku as hard as a blunt object striking him across the face.

Holy shit. Who had done this?

His mother was being taken away on a stretcher covered in blood. He honestly didn't understand what was currently happening. Why was this happening?

The last that Izuku saw of his kind, gentle mother before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors were three random letters that had been carved into her arm;

A.F.O

[zhowongli]

footprints in the sand

notes: merry christmas, shin! being your secret santa and having the chance to get to know you were some of my highlights of these past 2 months :") i hope you like your present! merry christmas again, and happy new year! 💖 @gojjo

wc: 2.5k

summary: for once, kuroo does not look back. - kuroo centric, bokuroo

To Kuroo Tetsurou, family has always been the definition of love as he knows it. Love, he thinks with his six-year-old mind, is being happy despite scraped knees and dropped ice creams. He loves his mom, who holds one of his hands, his older sister, who holds his other hand, and his dad, who holds his sister’s hand. In those moments when his family is all together, Kuroo feels like he can conquer even the hardest kanji he’s learning that day or successfully hit the volleyball before it hits him. 

As such, Kuroo loves going to the beach because it amplifies what he sees love as: his family is together, the skies are clear, and they can all play to their heart’s content by the end of the day. He loves wiggling his toes in the sand with his family. He loves leaving his footprints in the sand, marking his presence on this Earth, and he hates seeing them go so he keeps on retracing them. He loves watching the water crash into the shoreline as he jumps into the waves with his older sister, laughing without a care in the world. He loves building sandcastles with his dad and creating new stories about the imaginary residents of the castle. He loves eating shaved ice with his mom and hearing her soft laughter as she wipes away the mess he makes. He just loves them, loves life, loves love because it never fails to make him smile, never fails to make him feel like it’s truly the most magical thing in the world.

But for something that’s supposed to be the most magical thing in the world, love sure is fragile, Kuroo thinks bitterly, as he watches the slow decay of the warmth of his home turn into a cold house full of only memories. His older sister still holds his hand and tells him love will always find a way, but he thinks love must have lost its way when his parents separate and take his sister away. In a new city with an absent mother and a workaholic father, love becomes something that seems so dull.

His grandparents, of course, notice his downcast eyes and distant responses, so they take him to the local beach one evening. When he wiggles his toes in the cold sand under the setting sun of blended reds and pinks, he cries. He misses his parents, his home, the love that is his world as he knows it. His grandma pulls him into a hug and whispers comforting words, and his grandpa wraps his arms tightly around them both. For a while, he feels so warm, so loved, and he thinks that maybe love isn't completely lost, that love may just be in a different form. 

When he finally stops sobbing, he thinks that while love as he knew it is different now, the love he knows now will be still as good. While the hands he's holding now aren't his parents', they are equally as warm. As he retraces his earlier steps that are now washed away by the ocean, he stomps extra hard to leave a deeper imprint and wishes that the ocean won't take them away. When he finally looks up and sees the soft glances between his grandparents and the tenderness in their eyes and honesty in their smiles, he thinks that maybe love isn't so breakable after all, that there is hope that love is still the most magical thing in the world.

~☼~☼~☼~

Kuroo is thirteen when he revisits the beach. He thinks of the text message on his phone and the worrying eyes of his grandparents during dinner, and he can't help but think that this really is over, that love is over. Nonetheless, he doesn't want his grandparents to worry, so he tries his best to keep his smile through jokes. Act normal, act natural becomes a mantra in his mind until he almost starts to believe it.

But when the clock ticks twelve and rings in a new day, he finds that he cannot sleep, cannot escape from the three weightless words sitting in his phone and heavy on his mind. He gets up and quietly puts on a jacket and his shoes before he tiptoes out his window. 

The beach has always been a sort of solace for him. It reminds him of happier days in the past, when life was full of love and laughter, and it gives him hope for the future, where life will be full of love again. He is currently in the middle, in between a spot where he believes in love but love does not regard him. Now, he thinks that love may have abandoned him as he takes out his phone and stares at the text from his sister.

"mom's getting remarried" 

In hindsight, he's not that surprised. The love between his parents, his family has long faded into sepia photos of the past, but he just couldn't help but hold onto a small ray of hope that maybe, just maybe love will return. He scoffs at his thoughts as he throws a rock into the ocean. It doesn't skip and sinks, and he almost wants to laugh because he feels that. He just wants to close his eyes and sink into the ocean of memories where his mother feeds him shaved ice on a hot summer day and holds his hand when he's too scared to go to the bathroom alone at night, where his mother is more than just an idea of someone who used to be here.

He walks aimlessly around the beach, each step is taken with another memory he has of his family, of love, and he finds that he keeps on looking back at his footprints, looking back as the waves kiss the shore and wash away his mark. He's angry, upset that the ocean is taking away the last means of his existence, of a love that no longer exists in this world, and he stomps even harder into the sand.

On his way home with blurry eyes, he accepts that this is now his new reality. He realizes that he doesn't understand what love is, that maybe he doesn't want to understand. Maybe love is just a fleeting concept of happiness, that love isn't so beautiful after all.

~☼~☼~☼~

Bokuto Koutarou comes crashing into his life just before he turns fifteen. If the world is a stage, then it is meant for Bokuto and his two-toned hair and loud presence on the volleyball court. He has so much energy, so much passion, and the way his every movement is so graceful despite his powerful presence amazes him. 

Kuroo never realizes how bright Bokuto truly shines until he smashes the ball across the court, scores a point, and starts yelling a series of "hey" with the brightest smile. Soon, as he keeps getting blocked, his smile turns into a small frown until he feels so small. Kuroo thinks it's hilarious, but he also admires him a little bit for being so direct with his emotions. He's glad he sees Bokuto, sees Fukurodani in action before their game tomorrow.

Funnily enough, they meet in the showers after the day ended. Kuroo is humming a familiar tune from the science anime he's been watching, and as he hits the chorus, the door to his shower stall swings open. Bokuto stares at him in excitement, eyes sparkling and lips grinning. "Is that Dr. Stone?!"

Kuroo can only stare at him, frozen in shock. His mouth hangs open and his hands are still shampooing his hair. "Uhhh," he finally answers, "Yeah."

"Oh, yay! I love it! The science-y stuff is kinda confusing, but it's a lot of fun!! I'm really hooked on it!" Bokuto continues the conversation. Kuroo really wouldn't have minded it if Bokuto didn't interrupt him mid-shower by swinging his shower doors open.

"Oh, cool. I like the science-y parts too, but I get where it can get confusing," Kuroo nods in agreement, "Uh, do you mind if we continue this conversation after my shower?"

"Oh… Oh!!! I'm sorry!!" Bokuto immediately apologizes, "I just got excited!!!"

Kuroo laughs. It's been a while since he's met someone so interesting. "It's okay," he reassures, "I'll see you in 10."

Bokuto bobs his head into a series of quick nods before he leaves. 

~☼~☼~☼~

When they hold an impromptu beach volleyball practice - or really, it's just mostly Bokuto, Akaashi, and him messing around - after training camp, Kuroo realizes that he hasn't had this much fun at the beach since his childhood. He's not sure why, but Bokuto has this power that makes him live, to just be, to just exist at this moment. Maybe that's why when the two of them combined, it is the definition of chaos that leaves Akaashi sighing before joining in. 

As he looks at Bokuto trying to catch the waves, he thinks that maybe Bokuto is kind of like a wave. Like the first wave of the ocean crashing into him as he walks alongside the shorelines, Bokuto comes into his life the same way - by surprise, loudly and unapologetically, and it leaves him shaking to the core. Unlike the ocean waves that unkindly take away his footprints, he finds that Bokuto is the kind of wave that takes your sadness and brings it to the ocean with his boisterous demeanor. 

He thinks maybe friendship too, is a form of love. One that isn't hand-in-hand with your parents as you play on the beach or sinking rocks on a lonely night, but one that is devoted and consuming, fun and loud, one that will make footprints in the sand with you by your side as he glances at his friends on his side, leaving a trail of footprints alongside his to let him know he's never truly alone. 

~☼~☼~☼~

He’s not sure how he ends up at the local beach with Bokuto. The skies are clear, and the sound of the waves brings him back to his childhood days when his family is still together and love is in the form of his family. As he sees a lone boy sitting by the edge skipping rocks by himself, he remembers coming here by himself at thirteen, lonely and sad because love fails him. After all, it ends so effortlessly, so suddenly when his mother remarried. When he sees the bickering friend group sprinkle around the beach, it reminds him of the days when he would come here with his friends and learns that friendship is also love too.

“Hey,” Bokuto asks, head tilting to one side, breaking Kuroo out of his reverie, “Wanna build a sandcastle?”

Kuroo blinks once, twice before he laughs. It reminds him of his younger days when he’s building sandcastles on the beach with his dad, feeling like he’s on top of the world. When he sees Bokuto Koutarou, he learns that love can be rebuilt, that love is friendship but also volleyball rivalry and casual hangouts, heated cheeks and flustered stuttering, beating hearts, longing eyes, and lingering touches in between chaotic shenanigans. 

“Let’s do it,” Kuroo grins easily and Bokuto mirrors his mirth. 

Their sandcastle is nothing perfect or extravagant like the ones he used to build with his dad, but he finds that he couldn’t bring himself to care. This messy sandcastle, sloppy and flawed, is the most perfect one he’s ever built. It’s full of chaos, but it's holding its ground against the rising tides. It’s full of love as he knows it at eighteen. 

Love, Kuroo realizes, is not what he expects. He knows love comes in many forms, and while he believes in love, loves love, it is a concept that seems so distant and foreign to him. He expects it to come in the form of someone gentle, someone who comes subtly, but love comes crashing in the rambunctious form of Bokuto Koutarou, boisterously laughing his way into his heart. The transition is quiet, soft, but love shines so brightly when one of his best friends is standing beside him, shouting something at top of his lungs as he watches the sunset. The fading oranges hit Bokuto's features, and it amplifies the natural glow of his personality, his sparkling eyes, and hearty laughter. He knows he can trust Bokuto, but love is just such a scary thing to fall in. So, he tries it out; he falls freely anyway. 

"Hey Bokuto!" Kuroo starts, thoughts falling back to the four-letter word he's been thinking about a lot lately, "Catch me."

"Huh?" Bokuto barely breathes out as Kuroo sprints - quickly, purposely, desperately. As he leaps into the air, he can only fall, fall, fall, and hope that Bokuto catches him, that he doesn't have to be afraid, that he isn't the only one who sees the world in colors and feels the flutters of his heart.

He does. Bokuto naturally catches him with a grin on his face. He tilts his head in confusion as he holds Kuroo up. He doesn't understand where this came from, but he looks into Kuroo's eyes intensely and honestly anyway. 

"I got you."

At those three words, Kuroo grins and accepts the deafening beat of his heart. Seeing his smile, Bokuto smiles too. His brown eyes flicker towards the fading oranges and reds of the sun, and as the ocean sparkles in liveliness, he feels the pulsing of his heart and finally realizes that the love maybe also like this - easily, full of laughter and crazy shenanigans, like someone who will catch him even when he's afraid to fall. He's not sure if it's love yet, but he's sure it's something because it feels like his soul has finally found someone to come home to.

Kuroo is eighteen and possibly in love, but he's not sure if he's ready to say those words quite yet. So, he settles for a short, “You’re awesome.”

Bokuto's laugh resounds loudly in the air and the sparks in his eyes shine brighter than the setting sun. There's a softness in there that makes Kuroo think maybe he isn't the only one feeling this way. In between soft, almost hesitant brushes of calloused hands and quiet laughter along the beach, Kuroo thinks that maybe he's not the only one dumb and in love. 

After all, it seems like they do share the same brain cell most of the time anyway. 

As they walk on the beach, toes wiggling in the sand and hands hesitantly, shyly touching, his habit of retracing his footsteps comes creeping into his mind. He always retraces them because he wants it to last, wants the world to acknowledge his existence, but when he feels Bokuto’s callous hands in his, he feels like he already won the world, that he’s okay that his existence is just briefly beautiful in this world, that love is finally here to stay.

He feels Bokuto squeeze his hand, and he smiles and does not look back. 

[abarbaricyalp]

Quiet Birds Circling in Flight

am i reposting my favorites from the prompt meme from last night just by themselves? maybe

AO3 link in the reblog

Touch 47: Touching their elbow to get their attention

Sam stood outside the cenotaph long after everyone else had left the service. And that was quite the feat in and of itself. It felt like the mourning could go on for years. There’d been enough tears around him that he wasn’t sure what his own would add to the spectacle.

To everyone else, the cenotaph was a mausoleum. But Sam had been next to Bucky when he told the military to quietly bury him in the cemetery where his parents were both buried.

“You know,” Bucky had said one afternoon while they watched the cenotaph being built stone by stone, engraving by engraving, “I’d wager that most mausoleums are just cenotaphs. Grave robbing and reactions to grave robbing mean probably everyone just got moved somewhere safer.”

“Plus decomposition.”

“Well, shit, Wilson. When do you stop being you after death? When does dirt become dirt again? When isn’t it your resting place? Does it even matter where your body is when alls said and done? Is that ever actually you or just a space filler?”

Sam had elbowed Bucky’s ribs and they’d each taken a piece of stone and pretended they didn’t see.

Sam weighed the shield against his shin, knocking it slightly to the side, and then looked up at the stone one ten more feet above his head.

Steve would hate this so much. Sam felt like he could feel his raging blush from the after life. Sam and Bucky had both asked for something more muted, something quieter. Hell, something that would do good for the world Steve was always trying to save. All this money and work and art, for what? A place to take pictures for likes on the internet?

No, Sam had to remind himself, it was a place for memory too.

As much as Sam kind of hated the whole thing, he couldn’t deny that looking up at the effigy of his friend inspired him the same way glancing over at him had in life too. The words wrapping around and around the base of the cenotaph sparked the same intense pride and righteousness they had the first time he heard them.

Maybe he didn’t hate the cenotaph. Maybe he just wanted the real thing back.

He startled at a gentle touch at his elbow. He thought it might’ve been another mourner come to offer condolences, though those mostly went to Bucky when someone was brave enough to approach him. Most people hadn’t looked at Sam twice. Not when Captain America was, in theory, laying in rest thirty feet beyond.

Sam was not in the mood to listen to anyone else talk about the time Steve smiled at them in a cafe or grabbed their cat out of a tree. If he heard his name again, he was going to break down.

But he had the shield now. He had to do the things Steve did. Smile when he didn’t want to. Hide any sign of weakness, lest it reflect poorly on the red, white, and blue he carried now. So he ground his teeth together until his gums ached and turned with a screwed on smile.

But it wasn’t a mourner. Not a random one anyway.

Bucky still had his fingers on Sam’s elbow, a sad look on his face. Dawn was creeping over the horizon and Sam realized with a start and a bloom of despair in his stomach that he’d spent the entire night in the park.

“Think if we wait two more days he’ll shove that stupid stone shield out of the way and come out?” Sam asked, voice wavering like a flag in the wind.

“We would literally never hear the end of it if he did,” Bucky pointed out.

Neither of them smiled. Neither of them really meant their jokes.

Sam finally broke down.

He collapsed against Bucky’s chest. It wasn’t until he lost his breath in the middle of a sob that he realized he wasn’t the only one shaking. Bucky was crying too. They clutched at each other, both terrified they might drift away, that the other might decide this was too difficult too and go back to something better at the first opportunity.

Sam didn’t even blame Steve. He’d laid awake in the temporary accommodation the government had put him up in and tried to convince himself that if he was in Steve’s shoes, he wouldn’t have saved Riley and stayed in that timeline. But he couldn’t. He knew he would have, almost certainly. And it wasn’t fair to ask Steve to give up a happy, quiet ending after more than a century of fighting and hurting.

But understanding it and accepting it didn’t make it hurt any less. “What are we supposed to do, Bucky?” he asked with an irritatingly genuine hiccup at the end of his words.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, sounding for all the world like he was grinding his teeth together, trying to pull himself back together. “You have a lot more options than me.”

And it was true. Sam had had a job. The Air Force had reached out since he’d been back stateside. He had a family who missed him, who he missed. But it felt like something heavy and tethering had been locked away in that empty cenotaph. He didn’t want to walk away yet.

Bucky stepped back, kept a hand on Sam’s elbow. “For now, we should get back home. You need to sleep.”

Sam didn’t want to sleep. Everything hurt too much.

“Sam, come on,” Bucky insisted. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.We could both use a few hours of being quiet, right?

Sam reached up to wipe the tears from his face. He had the shield. He had to act like it. “My place or yours?” he asked, still watery.

Bucky pretended like he didn’t notice. “Yours is nicer than mine.”

“And I have a bed.”

“I have a bed.”

“It’s unassembled in a box.”

Bucky squeezed his elbow and then tugged him into a brief hug that Sam was pretty sure they’d never speak of again. “Let’s get out of here. He’s not goin’ nowhere.”

Sam rubbed at his face again and nodded. “We– We should order in. When’s the last time you ate?” he asked as they walked away.

“I had a better breakfast than you.”

“You didn’t have to give a speech.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t throw up in front of everyone.”

“Shut up, I’m a great public speaker.”

“Sure, Wilson.”

“Screw you, Barnes.”

The dawn bloomed before them.

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

[theficplug]

l Next Lifetime l Erik Killmonger l

warnings: none, but the usual 18+ for the eventual smut and a possible tw for grief but i promise it gets better and its a romcom

synopsis: reader grieves Erik until she doesn’t (i’m trying not give too much away). I really want to make it a series that i actually keep up with (sorry Girls Trip readers) because I have up to part 4 written. alright thats all i hope yall vibe with it. 

erik killmonger x black reader 

Every night since Erik crossed over into the ancestral plane he has visited you in your dreams. You went through every single stage of grief before you began to accept the facts. 

At first you sat and festered in your anger for him and refused to talk to him. The audacity of him,  after you begged him not to follow through with the idiotic plan of trying to take on all of Wakanda. 

You told him that his ideas and his heart would’ve been in the right place had they not have been clouded by rage and carrying years of hurt and anguish. You understood where he was coming from but you knew and he knew that the way he was going about it was only going to leave him with one ending. 

He loved you more than anything but once his mind was made up about something there was nothing in Heaven or Earth that could change it. 

You knew that he would have to see it through even if that meant to his own demise . 

On the first night you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cuss him out for leaving you like that and going off and getting himself killed. You told him that he had done the same thing to you that “King” Azzuri had done to his father. Left you feeling alone and to deal with the loss of not having your heart with you. 

“I COULD HAVE LOVED YOU THE WAY YOU WANTED TO BE LOVED. I COULDN’T HAVE LOVED YOU MORE EACH DAY IF I TRIED. FUCK YOU E. THAT WAS SO DAMN SELFISH OF YOU. FUCK YOU. I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU. AND YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO INVADE MY DREAMS LIKE THIS. YOU AREN’T EVEN REAL.” you would yell into his face and watch as his demeanor was a lot different there. 

It was as if his Earthside worries didn’t bother him as much his face seemed much more relaxed and his scars had healed over. 

You would run your fingers over his chest as the tears well in your eyes and you take in the sigh of him for a moment. 

“I know… It wouldn’t have been enough. I couldn’t contain it. It felt like something had come over me . Possessed by the idea of revenge. I needed it. I felt like my father’s memory was worth avenging until I sat down with him here. He and moms sounded a lot like you at first. They were pissed off, but they understood. The ancestors told me that “a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth”. I wanted their warmth at first. To know what it would feel like to have what T’Challa and Shuri got to experience their whole lives. But it was something about the heat of fury that felt different. But I realized somethin’.  On this side, don’t none of that matters. None of it. The only thing I see and think of is you and how I wished I would have focused on growing old with you instead.” he explains and you fall into his arms to let out the sob that you had been holding in for a while.

You wake up in the dark room in cold sweats and gasping for air. You realized that you had been crying in your sleep and wiped your eyes before trying to shake it off and smack at your phone to get the alarm to stop. 

For weeks it would go on like this every night. You would settle into bed and fade into hues of reds and purples as you wander around finding him sitting in different sections of the flowers and creeks. He was holding a little bouquet of random tulips and wildflowers in his hand for you. 

You settle on the grass next to him and rest your head on his shoulder as he turns to kiss your head. 

“You ever wonder what life would be like if it wasn’t like this? If we could truly do anything, be anything and not have to worry about everything else.” you ask him and he takes your hand in his. 

He looks at you pondering your question for a moment before tucking a lilac into your hair.

“Nah, I can’t let myself think like that because I'll get stuck in wishing I were there. Instead of getting to enjoy these moments and building my own lil slice of heaven with you.” he says quietly thinking things over before leaning into kissing you softly. 

You wipe at the tear falling down his cheek before replacing your thumb with a kiss. 

“Take me back to being 6 years old in the cool murky ass Toll Plaza waters,feeling weightless, not caring about a damn thing.”

 “We’re reaching out for each other with our popsicle stained hands and laughing at shit that doesn't even make sense but it made sense to us. My gramps yelling at us to not go too far out so that he can get to us. We called him crab pawpaw for the rest of the day...What I wouldn't give to be sitting on my grandmother’s porch swing, trading cards with you. Our birthday is coming up soon. I’m going to miss getting charms from you.” you say to him softly as you run your fingers through his thicker beard and take in every second that you get with him. 

“I’ve been promised that I can give you something more special than a charm. You gotta just trust that everything gon’ be alright.” he reassures you and pulls you closer into his arms 

“GIRL IF YOU DON’T GET UP RIGHT NOW. YOU LEFT THE ROAST IN THE OVEN-” your best friend Tika yelled from the kitchen as she flailed around with the extinguisher and you wake up puzzled for a moment before letting out an “oh shit”. You remember that you laid down on the couch  to scroll while your roast baked and the next thing you know, you were sleeping and that that old ass oven is smoking. 

You spring up from the couch grabbing a towel and fanning the fire alarms trying to get them to stop blaring before the Super comes pounding at your door. 

“Alright. Alright, stop hollering. I was trying to surprise you with a nice dinner to thank you for being there for me over the last 9 months. I know it ain't been easy having me mope around and not be myself. I swear I sat down for 10 minutes tops and I was just flat out asleep. Them doubles at work has been kicking my ass and grad school-.” you explain and Tika shakes her head.

She puts the extinguisher down and holds up her hands. “When my dad passed junior year of college, you and your entire family were there for me and my mom. You guys made sure that we had food for weeks and were able to make rent on time and everything in between. I know what grief looks like. I couldn’t imagine losing the love of my life like that. I know that we didn’t know Erik like you knew him but the way you talk about him. You’ve convinced me that he hung the moon itself in the sky.” she reassures you and you nod while looking over at the blackened roast that's sitting in the pan, burnt to a crisp. 

“It’s only 6:30. Wong’s is still open. I'll just go get something real quick. Do you want vegetable noodles and the teriyaki chicken again?” you ask as you pull on your shoes and grab your umbrella. 

“Surprise meeee and you owe me flan for cleaning up this messss.” She sing songs as she grabs the mop.

“Leave it up to a theatre major to turn nearly burning down our apartment into a song. I got you.” you reply, laughing on your way out the door. 

You couldn’t shake what Erik had told you in your dream this time though. He had been promised that he could give you something better than a charm. What the hell did that mean though? You were sure you were probably just overly stressed and exhausted from working and classes. You were going to enjoy your birthday beach trip this weekend with your friends and try to put everything else behind you. 

Somehow as lost in your thoughts as you were you managed to make it to Wong’s and back home just in time to greet an overly dramatic Iridia at the door. 

“What the hell happened here?” she asks, sitting down her bags and surveying the burnt roast and little residues of foam still left to clean. 

“She fell asleep and almost turned our overpriced condo into dust.” Tika answers for you and you give her a small nod.

“I got you spicy egg rolls?” you offer and she hesitantly takes her order from you with a small smile.

“Got something to lift your spirits. It’s new dresses to wear this weekend cause girl I get it. I do, but grey is just not your colour sweets. You’ve got yellow undertones, you need scarlet reds, ochre. Something, not, this…” she trails off pointing at your baggy sweats and oversized sweatshirt. 

You laugh softly at her bluntness finding it kind of nice that some things have remained normal. 

“Whaaat? I thought this was hermit chic?” you retort sarcastically. 

“Thank you. That’s almost sweet of you.” you reply by taking the bags from her. You look at the red mesh dress and admit that if there’s one thing about Iridia is that her bougie self got style and you missed getting dressed up. 

 You thank the girls one final time before retiring to your room to finish some of your assignments up. You look over at the clock and notice that it’s 2 am. You crack open the fortune cookie on your nightstand and eye the quote etched across the small piece of paper 

“Pfft. If only that damn 10$ that i lost last week could circle back around to me. That’d be nice.” you thought to yourself before closing your laptop and trying to get some rest to have enough energy for this weekend. 

As you settle in the usual hues of lavender, violet, and scarlet come into view and you are taken into the field of flowers and you giggle as the butterflies land on your shoulder and one on the tip of your finger. 

Your plan worked. You only thought about E’s favourite double chocolate cake and hoped that you’d be able to bring it into your dreams with you.

You carried it proudly as you scan the field of flowers and beautiful willow trees for him. 

“E? E ! Happy Birthday to us! E. Where you at?” you call for him and look around but he’s nowhere to be found. You sat on a large boulder by the water hoping that he was just exploring and would find you eventually. 

You didn’t get much sleep that night after waking up shivering and in tears thinking about how the only connection you two still had left was broken. 

You do eventually fall back to sleep only to dream about running across campus and being late to a final even though you were nearly done entirely with university. 

A few restless hours later and you were already dressed and enjoying your fresh brew while watching the world awaken from the kitchen window. 

“Good morning.” you startle Iridia and Tika who were trying to sneak into the kitchen with breakfast and set everything up for you. 

“Damn we can’t get anything past your insomniatic self. Buon compleanno bambina!” Tika says sliding on her little party hat. 

“You’re wearing the dress! You look so pretty and is that eyeshadow I see on you? Okay lemme find out our girl is slowly coming back to herself.” Iridia says smiling at you. 

“Thank you, do I smell pancakes?” you question and they laugh as they hand over the box to you. 

After you have all gone over plans for the little weekend trip you grab your bags and are ready to hit the road. 

It was only an hour to The Smith’s beach house for the weekend but all 3 of you were well stocked with snacks and playlists. 

“We are heerrrreeeeee” Tika announces while parking the car.  

You get settled into the lavish and snazzy beach home, courtesy of Iridia’s parents. You hadn’t been since junior year of college and was just glad to be in a different setting.

“They said that the wine bar is open to us and we can have the party here as long as it looks the same as when we found it.” Iridia says already getting ready to change into her neon bikini to compliment her rich complexion and hit the beach. 

“What, it’s summer? You never know who the winds of adventure are going to blow in-”

 “FUCK MEEEE” you both hear Tika call from the bathroom down the hall. 

“HUN?” you call back and you both laugh at the long sigh followed by “guess who Mother Nature decided to surprise 2 weeks early? I didn’t even think about it and didn’t pack any tampons.” she explains

“On it. I’ll be back in like .2 seconds in the meantime toilet paper pad it and figure out which boutiques we’re going to damage our savings with first.” you say before hearing Tika’s protests. 

“It’s your birthday. I’ll go.” Iri suggests and you shake your head. “I love y’all but it’s our first birthday that we don’t get to spend together apart from when he joined the military and I know he wasn’t perfect and he had his flaws but I really wish that I could get to hug him once more. To make him feel special even if just for a second… So please, I'll get the tampons. I could use the fresh air.” you say quickly dabbing at the tears prickling the corners of your eyes. Iri pulls you in for a hug before nodding and starting the conversation with Tika through the door about if she would prefer to go for the street festival first or the carnival games.

- - - -

You pull at the top of the sundress getting it to hit just right and not fall down as you make your way down the aisle of the market and pick up a few things that y’all might need for the weekend like the small cups for shots, fresh fruits for your ‘cure to a hangover’ smoothies, and food. 

You pick up a small double chocolate cake with ‘happy birthday’ written in cerulean letters.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry ma. I don’t mean to bother you right now but  I got a head splitting migraine right now and can’t find the Advil for nothing and was hoping maybe you’d know which aisle? That’s what I get for listening to my friends talking bout,  drink “the beast”. Niggas had me dreaming in colours and flowers. I felt like I was traveling through space or something... It’s my birthday too. Happy Birthday “ you hear the man ranting away behind you and his voice reminds you of E’s. You chuckle softly to yourself before turning away from the cakes to see the man's face. 

You let out a loud scream and drop the cake on the ground . It crumbles instantly across your sandals and everything fades to black before you faint. 

When you came to you were sitting in the break room of the market with Erik and the store managers who were opening a ginger ale for you and asking if you were okay. 

You nod slowly, coming to, and closing your eyes again to count to 5 as they leave the room. 

“This can not be happening. I know that this is not happening right now.” you say to yourself and you look up at him again to see that he’s still standing there. 

“It’s hot as fuck outside. You probably just got a lil overheated. This ginger ale is cold so you should be alright.” Erik says to you and you shakily take the ginger ale from him. 

“Who are you? I don’t know what kind of joke this is or who put you up to this, or if my girls thought that this, whatever this is would be funny but it’s not. It’s really insensitive.” you say as tears fill your eyes again. 

“I’m N’Jadaka Stevens? My parents, I’m adopted, but those are my parents regardless, own Aloha Oakland so you ain’t gotta worry about paying for this” he gives you the bags of items you collected before you fainted.

“ I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. I never come down here so I don’t really know where shit is in this place. I'm actually here with my own friends, celebrating my birthday. So, I don’t really know what’s going on. You good?” he asks again before asking you to follow his finger. 

You wrap your arms around him and break down sobbing. “Happy Birthday.” you whisper to him and he looks at you puzzled for a moment. 

“Ma, you lowkey weird but everybody needs a hug and I can’t have my birthday twin crying on her special day so come here.” he says squeezing you a little tighter. 

“If you’re here through the weekend. I’ll catch you around. Try to stay out of the heat but if you go out try to keep something cold with you to drink so you don’t pass out again.” he advises and you take him all in. 

 You slowly give him a once-over noticing that his hair was now faded and it was neatly lined up on the sides connecting with his beard. He slid off his hoodie and left the black tank top underneath, you quickly noticed that there were no scars or keloids. His jaw was unclenched and there was no vein popping from his forehead. There was a serene and relaxed look etched across his face despite him stating that he had a migraine earlier.

“But shiiit if you don’t mind. Can I get your number? Cause for some reason. I don’t know why I feel like I know you? To be honest I don’t remember much from before being adopted.” he admits 

You nod your head before putting your number into his phone and you grab your bags and quickly make your way to your car. 

You breathe in deeply through your nose before looking around. “I’m losing my fucking mind.” you say to yourself quietly. “I gotta be. This can’t- This can’t be happening right now.” you say resting your head on your steering wheel.

- - - -

“What happened to you? It’s been like an hour almost. Are you okay?” Iri questions as she eyes you and the bags. 

“I just. I fainted that’s all and they wanted to make sure I was okay before going home.” you explain and Tika thanks you for the tampons as Iridia overly dramatic self sighs and presses her hand to your forehead. 

“Poor thing, I knew I should’ve gone with you. Sit down, I’ll get you a cold glass of Stella Rose.” she says laughing at the wine part and walking to the kitchen. 

Group Text from DakaStevens84: Party @ Royal Rochelle’s Roller Rink. Yes, the roller rink cause who says you’re too old for a roller rink? Come skate fast and shake ya ass.

You laugh softly at the message knowing that this is something that he would’ve totally wanted to do but never took his eye off his plan or gave himself time to just breathe and be. 

“My fault.  It’s Daka from Aloha Oakland btw. My friend Orleans really tryna go through with this. Man a whole ass party planner and this the best he could come up with. Y’all can still come through though if you want. I wouldn’t complain if I got to see you again, and them pretty ass coffee eyes.” he texts to you and you smile softly at the butterflies fluttering in your stomach while looking at the text

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” you ask Iri as Tika joins you at the bar.

[tag list @doublesidedscoobysnacks @chaneajoyyy @mirandkimy​ @doitforthevine67 @dasia21 @depressionandfandomsinc @sinfully-dope @ambitionwood @heybriheyyy @wholelotta-melanin @theesotericqueen @mbakuwife @spookys-girl @teardropzih @bigchoose @ceo-of-baby @sweetpeachjones @lost-ssoull @love17us @beautifullmelodyxx​ @ghostfacekill-monger​ @shyblackgurl​ ]

[fanfoolishness]

until the rain (SUF)

One week after the events of I Am My Monster.  Steven is impatient to get back to normal, but the rain reminds him it’s not that easy. Connverse, angst, a tiny smidgen of hope. 2800 words.

***

It had been a week.  The longest week he’d ever lived, and yet it’d slipped by in a flash, the days so brief and hazy he could barely remember them.  A week since he’d transformed.  A week since his sickness finally reared its head and roared its name.

He sat in his room at eleven AM, blinking sticky eyelashes and trying to convince himself to get out of bed.  If he could just get out of bed instead of staying here all day, he could tell himself he was getting better.  And that was what everyone wanted, right?

He was doing better, Steven thought stubbornly, rubbing his eyes.  He’d realized this morning, with a hint of pride, that he hadn’t glowed pink at all since the incident.  That had to count for something, didn’t it?  Maybe everything’s better now everything’s out in the open, he thought, remembering what he’d sung to Pearl once.  He could almost believe it if it wasn’t for the way he still felt so wrong.

It didn’t help that his body felt alien to him in a way it never had before.  His clothes fit, but they didn’t.  Shirts stretched weirdly over his shoulders.  His jeans felt too tight, but some days too loose.  He tripped over the bottoms more than once.  But when he undressed at night and looked at them closely, they seemed just the same as ever.  Maybe he was just getting used to being human-shaped and Steven-sized again.

Adding to his disorientation, he found that his internal clock was off.  Time had gotten smudged somehow.  Mornings bled into afternoons, faded into evenings and the middle of the night.  He slept long parts of the day away and lay awake at three in the morning.  Meals broke up the hours somewhat, but he wasn’t up to cooking anything more complicated than a protein shake yet, and sometimes the Gems would make him breakfast at noon or Greg would swing by with takeout at nine PM.  He couldn’t make sense of it.  Not yet.

Maybe it was just the time difference from traveling to Homeworld.  Or maybe he was still wiped out from transforming.  Yeah.  That was probably it.

Connie told him a schedule would help, that she would sit with him and make one up with him together when he felt ready.  Greg tried to rouse him for a daily jam session.  The psychologist that Dr. Maheswaran had referred him to, Dr. B., had also talked with him about starting a routine, but if Steven was honest, he barely remembered their first session the other day.  He’d talked a little, and the doctor had talked some, and mostly he had sat there in silence: it was all a staticky blur in his head.  He wasn’t sure if it was really going to help.

Especially since his memory was just as fractured as his sense of time.  He’d already lost track of how many times he’d wandered into a room just to forget what he was doing, or trailed off in the middle of a conversation, leaving Amethyst or Pearl looking at him in concern.  Part of him hated those looks.  

But part of him was grateful.  At least they can see how messed up I am.  He felt a twisted sense of relief.  This had to be better than bottling everything up, forcing it to explode when the pressure got too much.  If they already knew how monstrous he could be, then he wouldn’t have to convince them --

Yeah.  This was better.  His family knew he wasn’t okay, and that was most of the problem, wasn’t it?  Now that they knew, things were sure to get better.  He felt another flash of pride, looking down at his peach-toned hands, no hint of pink in them at all. 

Despite his weird sleeping habits, and the way the days felt stretched too long and over too quickly, and the way his skin didn’t fit him… he was happy about that.  It was proof that things could get back to normal, even if they still felt strange now.

Maybe he was going to get better after all, sooner than everyone thought.  He’d always bounced back from stuff before.  Maybe he’d just go to the therapist for a few weeks, and get everything figured out.  Heck, maybe he could do one better, maybe he could figure this out mostly on his own.  Dad and the Gems and Connie knew, and they all wanted to help, and maybe that would be fine.  

Maybe that was a lot of maybes, but he tried not to think about that.

***

Late afternoon found Steven laying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, idly petting Lion curled up on the floor beside him.  He hadn’t managed to get up out of bed after all.  

Beside him Lion purred.  It was a low rumble vibrating in Steven’s chest, drowning out the sensation of his own heartbeat.  It was comforting.

Distantly he became aware of the sound of rain against his window.  For a moment, it lulled him. He’d always liked the sound of rain, the feel of the cold droplets against his skin, what the weather meant for the grass and trees and flowers.  He adjusted his head against the pillow, getting drowsy, and the rain battered the side of the house --

Running in the rain, her shards jagged in his palm, his chest burning, what did he do what did he do --

He jerked out of his drowsiness, sitting bolt upright.  “It’s fine,” he choked.  “I’m fine --”  Beside him, Lion stopped purring and raised his head, letting out a whuff sound.  

Steven wavered, staring at Lion.  He could ask Lion to find Connie.  Maybe -- maybe he should -- but she was studying right now, wasn’t she -- wasn’t she busy --

He took a deep breath.  Remembered her voice, far away and so, so close at the same time -- Steven, you must have been so scared to show us this side of yourself.  Remembered her holding him later, just the two of them, when she whispered against his cheek to please stop hiding.

Okay.  Okay.  He could do this.  Needed to do this.

“Lion?” he mumbled.  “Can you see if --”

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Lion roared and disappeared in a flash of light.  Steven slumped down belly first onto the bed, staring out the rain-smeared window.  He should have texted first.  Or even called.  She would probably send Lion straight back with a kind and apologetic text, telling him another time, telling him to talk to somebody else -- why would she want to talk to him when he was still so messed up --

“Steven?”

He blinked.  Somehow he’d failed to notice Lion’s return, lost in his own thoughts.  Connie sat down on the bed beside him, rubbing his back.  He shivered at her touch.

“I’m sorry --” he started.  Connie’s eyes flashed with sudden anger, and she leaned close to him, her eyes bright.

“Stop apologizing, Steven,” said Connie, and she looked so fierce and so worried he knew he couldn’t argue.  “You needed me, right?  You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

He gave her a quavering smile.  “I guess I’d better listen to you, huh?”

“That’s more like it,” she said, and the fierceness slipped away, replaced with a gentle look that made his stomach flip.  She swung her legs around, kicking off her shoes, and stretched out beside him, their shoulders and hips touching.  She rested her chin on her fist and gazed at him, only a few inches away.  “How are you today?”

He shrugged.  The rain blatted against the window.  

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Steven closed his eyes.  Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl staring as he burst into the house -- where have you been when they should have been asking what have you done --  

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.  “It’s just… the rain… I didn’t want to be alone.”

Connie was quiet for a moment.  “I thought you liked the rain.”

“It was raining when I --”  His mouth stumbled, forgetting how to make familiar sounds.  He was tempted not to say anything at all.  But Connie met his eyes, and he felt a pang.  She at least deserved to know why he’d interrupted her studying and asked her to come all the way out here.  

He swallowed.  “When I fought Jasper.”  He didn’t say the other word.

She stiffened, just a little, and laid her head on his shoulder.  “And the rain made you think of that?”  

“Yeah.  It was raining when I --”  He took a deep breath, a question aching in his chest.  “Do you want to know how it happened?”

“I do, but -- only if you’re ready to talk about it.  It’s okay if you’re not.”  She stretched one arm out over his back, letting it rest against him, a small but comforting weight.

“I ran away,” said Steven, burying his face in his blanket. He spoke in a rush, his voice muffled by the thick fabric.  “I thought no one would look for me out in the woods where Jasper lived.  I mean, why would they, right?  But I thought maybe she could help me, and maybe if I could just control these Diamond powers, then everything would be better, everything would be fine.”  He tensed, his hands digging into the blankets.  The words tumbled out of him.  “And if I couldn’t control them, then at least the only person I might hurt would be -- would be --”  

Shards glinting in the rubble beneath the stormy sky -- his stomach convulsing, vomiting fish in the dirt on his hands and knees  -- shrinking back to himself again, the fantasy over -- running home -- running --

“Steven?” Connie asked, worry in her voice.  “You’re glowing again.”

“No!”  He jerked away from her, nearly rolling off the bed in his haste.  He leaped to his feet, backing away.  “I -- I thought I stopped!” he gasped, staring at his luminously pink hands.  “I thought it was over, I thought I was done after that day on the beach, I haven’t turned pink since then --”

Connie reached out to him and he recoiled.  “You shouldn’t be around me when I’m like this -- what if I -- what if I turn into that thing again --”

“Then we’ll help you again.  All of us!”

“But I don’t want to do that!  I don’t want to be that!” he cried shrilly, his fingers knotting themselves into his hair.  He bent over, trying not to be sick.  His flesh prickled -- it crawled --

Connie’s hand was light but firm on his shoulder.  He heard her words tinnily, as if from a great distance.  “If you don’t want to be… then you won’t, right?”

“I -- huh?”  It was so hard to concentrate, his heart was trying to explode out of his chest, his face swelled and shrank like a balloon -- no, no, he thought he was getting better --

“Listen to me,” she said, and her voice cut through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.  “Before.  You said you were a monster,” she said softly.  “And then that’s what happened.  But if you don’t want to be one -- if you remember you’re Steven -- then you’ll be Steven, right?”

“I -- I guess --”

She reached up and took his hands by the wrists, slowly bringing them down to waist level.  She cradled his hands in hers as he breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, blinking back tears.

“You’re Steven,” said Connie firmly.  Her thumbs traced little circles on the back of his hands, and he focused on the feeling, soft aimless patterns against his skin.  His breathing slowed, a little bit, a little bit more.

“I -- I know, but -- I just wanna be okay, Connie, but I’m not --”  He faltered, his protests dying in his throat.  What was he trying to say?  Did he even know?  

Warily he remembered how he’d declared himself fine and shattered the glass in his door, and he kept his mouth closed, his lips pressed firmly together.  Don’t break anything, don’t mess up, not again --

“You’re Steven,” Connie repeated.  “And you’re not okay right now.  But you’re going to get better.  And if it takes time, it takes time, you know?  It’s hard… I’m not saying it won’t be hard.”  She frowned, searching for words, and he strained to listen, to understand her.

“Like, graduating from high school takes time.  Even when you cram.  And it’s hard and some days just don’t feel worth it and sometimes you just feel like you’re going crazy with all the stress and the expectations and --”  She managed a smile, blinking back tears.  “But I know I’m gonna get there if I put in the time.  So maybe think of this part of your life as… helping Steven school.  You’re gonna go to therapy and you’re gonna cram and sometimes it’s really gonna suck… but you’ll learn stuff.  And you’ll get closer to getting better, all the time.  Okay?”

He looked down at their hands.  His were still pink against her brown skin.  But they were the normal size, and they were steady, no longer trembling.

“That makes sense,” he mumbled.  He blinked back tears, glancing away and hoping Connie didn’t notice.  A memory from a few days ago flashed into his head.  “It sounds kind of like what the therapist said.”

“Did you like him?  Mom said she made sure to brief him on Gem stuff,” said Connie.  She led him back to the bed, and they sat down on the edge, still holding hands.  Steven laced his fingers into Connie’s.

“He was all right.  I’m supposed to talk to him again the day after tomorrow.”   

“What did he say?”

“He said…” Steven bit his lip.  “He said it’s gonna take time.  To get better.”  He hung his head.  “I just… I hoped he meant like two weeks, or a month… I could do that.  But if I’m still glowing and freaking out at things now… Connie, what if this takes months?  Or years?  What if I never get better?”

He started sobbing then, as the pink glow faded, as Connie swept him into a bonecrushing hug.  He cried into her shoulder until her shirt was damp, his chest heaving, his arms clinging around her waist.  He cried like he did seven days ago, beneath a sunny sky, the sound of waves in his ears.

He didn’t know how long it was until he settled down.  Connie was rubbing his back with one hand, brushing his hair away from his forehead with the other.  The rain pounded on the window, drumming louder than ever.  

“Thank you,” he murmured, lifting his head and scrubbing at his face with one hand.  

“For what?” Connie asked, smirking.  “You did all the work.” 

He snorted.  “If you call crying my eyes out work.”

“Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.  Huh.  

She was right.  It wasn’t easy at all.

“How do you feel?”

“Better, I guess,” Steven said truthfully.  He gazed out the window at the rain and the gray-black clouds, remembering what had turned him pink.  He folded his hands in his lap.  “I -- I don’t think I can talk about Jasper yet,” he admitted.  “I thought maybe if I just tried to talk through it, it wouldn’t be so bad… but I can’t.”

“Maybe it just takes time,” Connie said.  “You don’t have to deal with everything overnight.”

“But it’s already been a week,” Steven began.

Connie raised her eyebrows at him.  “Steven?  How long have I known you?”

He thought back, doing the math.  “Uh…. four years? Almost five?”

“And how long has messed up stuff been happening to you?”

“If you count gem stuff… about five years.  If you count living in a van as a baby after my mom died giving birth to me….”

Her brow arched even higher, and he had to laugh at himself.

“... okay, yeah, seven days might not be that much time to get better from all of that.”

“You see my point then,” she said matter-of-factly.  “So.”  She turned and looked out at the window, watching the rain.  “What do you want to do now?  ”

He hugged her again.  “I know I already interrupted your studying, but…. could you stay a little while?  Just -- just until the rain stops?”

“Yeah,” said Connie.  “I can do that.”  She kissed him on the cheek, her lips warm.  And he wanted to kiss her in a different way, but part of him knew he wasn’t ready, knew he wanted to get better for her before he tried.  

The thought struck him, warmer and more comforting than the fact he’d avoided turning pink for a few days.  It was a good thought.  A brave thought.  One that he held onto for a long, long time.

I want to get better.

They lay back against the blanket holding hands, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling twinkling in the dim light, the storm outside fiercer than ever.  And he remembered, just a little, how he’d always liked the rain.

[pinkykitten]

Hey Dad

The Good Doctor Neil Melendez x teen! platonic reader

Specific/Warnings: mentions of jumping from one foster home to another, accident, surgery, angst, fluff, one-shot, requested, race neutral reader, teen reader, platonic relationship

Words: 2,220

Requested: By anon Could you do a Melendez x Teen!reader oneshot where he fosters her and she’s like really chaotic and thinks he’s like all her others foster parents and he seems so lost, and she gets into an accident and he does the surgery and that’s when she changes and calls him dad pls?

Authors Note: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS ONE SO I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS ANGST BUT THEN FLUFF PIECE. I HOPE ALSO I GOT THE REQUEST GOOD CUZ THIS ONE MEANS A LOT TO ME. I HOPE U ALL LIKE THIS ROLLERCOASTER. 

“She comes tonight?” Claire asked curiously to her boss. “I can’t believe you actually signed up for something like this.”

“I saw her a couple years ago on the E.R. and I felt bad for her. She was hopping from one foster parent to the other and that’s no life for a kid. She seems like a great person so why not help her and let her stay with me until they have a proper home for her.”

Claire couldn’t help but fall in love more with her boss. “I think that is the sweetest thing you have ever said. I never knew you had this side to you.” She nudged him. 

He rolled his eyes and showed a picture of you to the rest of his colleagues. “I have her room all ready but I’m really nervous.”

The whole room erupted in a symphony of awes. 

“You’re so cute,” Claire smiled wickedly as she messed with Neil’s doctor’s coat.

Neil rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying, this is a new thing for me. I’ve never had a child. I don’t know what she’ll like, whats her favorite food? What’s her favorite color? What does she like to do?”

“Well, thats the beauty of it. You’ll get to talk to her and know her. Maybe nobody has really asked her that question.”

“I want to be the perfect foster dad. Is that too much to ask?”

Claire placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She wished in her life somebody like Neil was in her life. A father figure that was actually caring. “Nobody is perfect Neil. What matters is that you try your hardest and listen to her thoughts.”

Neil got dinner ready for you. He ordered from everywhere, not knowing what you enjoyed eating. 

He was setting up the table when the doorbell rang. 

Neil closed his eyes, getting himself prepared and ran to the door. As he opened it up you were there. His pride and joy. 

“Hey Y/N! Come in, come in.” He brought his arm up as he welcomed you into his home.

You looked around suspiciously. For a single man he lived quite nice. You knew he was a doctor but you didn’t know he lived this richly. You met him a couple of times during your trips to the E.R. and always opened up about your life in foster care but you never knew he was going to take you in one day. You were very surprised and shocked to see him make such an effort. But you were over foster parents. They let you down and didn’t truly care about you. Nobody really wanted a kid like you, nobody really wanted Y/N L/N.

With no enthusiasm you brought your suitcase to the entrance, “thanks. Want me to put this in a room?”

“Yeah, we’ll put it in your room.”

Your room? You thought. Not many foster parents gave you your own room. They always stuck you with the other children or put you on the couch. It was always the same. 

Neil led you up the stairs, picking up your suitcase for you. He led you to a big room that was spacious. It was plain but very beautiful with cream colored bed decorations and a light grey wall. 

“I didn’t want to decorate it and paint it in case you didn’t like it. You can pick what you want if you’d like tomorrow. And you have your own bathroom.”

You were stone cold, speechless. You never had this love before. You felt your heart was about to burst. “This is all for me?” Tears blurred your vision. 

“Yeah, I hope you like it.”

“It’s great, thank you for this.” It was a beautiful room. It was more than you could ask. Nobody ever did this for you. You touched the sheets and they felt like silk between your fingers. Neil gave you the best of the best. This meant a lot but you were still not certain. You still had doubts. 

“I got dinner in case you were hungry, its downstairs.”

You were hungry and your stomach growled. You were led downstairs and on the kitchen table was a feast. There were every type of dishes there. Your mouth was salivating as you smelled the aroma. 

“I didn’t know what you liked so I got everything.” Neil chuckled bashfully. He was such a dad and he was realizing this. 

You laughed as you dug into everything, “can I say that all this is my favorite?”

Neil sat down beside you, “I’ll make note of that.”

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, you thought. Maybe this was going to be fun and someone in your life you could depend on and trust. Someone who would protect you no matter what. 

You munched away as you stared more at his house. He lived in a mansion. You were astounded as to how one person could live like this. “Your house is amazing. When I grow up I want to live like this.”

Neil chuckled, “being in a house like this, when you’re one person its not all that its cracked up to be. Trust me.”

You played around with your dish as the air became awkward. “So whats the grossest surgery you’ve ever done?”

Neil wiped his mouth and sat back with his hands cupping the back of his head, “oh you wouldn’t believe this.”

“Try me doctor.”

Neil smiled, “well this one time this old lady came in with pain in her stomach well right when we lifted her dress she had waste come all out of her and onto me. It was like an explosion, right before my eyes.” Neil started to giggle loudly as the memory came back to him. “That’s when I was new.”

You covered your mouth from the disgust. “You’re right, I don’t believe it. That’s so disgusting oh my gosh.” You pushed your food away. “I think I lost my appetite.”

“Now what about you? Are you like the kids these days that go and dance on Tik Tok? Or are about sipping that tea.”

The drink you were sipping almost came out of your nose. You busted out laughing hysterically. “I can’t believe this, you are such a dad that’s its almost cringy.”

“Cringy? You lost me.” It was the truth, Neil was lost. As a foster parent he didn’t know what kids were into these days (he just did a quick search before you came) and he wanted to try his hardest. He wanted to be the best for you, he wanted to prove to you that he was serious about this. 

“You got a lot to learn. But no, I’m not those types of kids. I instead like to read and draw, it brings my mind out of reality and into my own imagination of something better.”

“I do the same with surgery.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I block out the rest of the world when I am performing surgery. This person is depending on me to help them so they can feel better and get back to their old lives. I hope to save them from reality in doing my best in saving their lives.”

“Wow,” you looked at his hands resting on the table. Those hands did miracles. “I would like to do that when I’m older. I want to help someone too.”

“Good goal.”

You were too much of a coward to open yourself up to love this person as your father. You were afraid he would leave you and not want you like the others. You couldn’t trust him. You blocked yourself from the world and nothing, nobody could stop the feeling. 

“Why don’t you trust me?” Neil patted your head. He wrapped you in his coat and hugged you tight, protective.

You had tears threatening to spill over. You wouldn’t let yourself succumb to the love that Neil was giving you. You couldn’t let yourself fall for something fake and then go through it all over again. Your heart couldn’t take it. 

You pushed Neil away, wiping your eyes. “No! Okay, no! I appreciate all that you did but they are going to take me away and they are going to tell you reasons to leave me. You are going to leave me. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’m not going to do any of that. Y/N I would never leave you sweetheart. I know it is hard to trust me but I am here for and I always will be. You didn’t such harsh treatment and I’m sorry for that but I am going to help you with it and I want to be the one to raise you and be there for you. It’s a hard thing to ask but please trust me on this. Please.”

You shook your head, “I can’t trust no more.”

You put on your hoodie and ran in the pouring rain. 

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You didn’t stop. The rain was cold and you almost forgot how you got into the conversation with Neil. 

It was about a woman. 

You weren’t jealous, you just had been through something like this already. Foster parent finds a new match and then they want to start their own family, without you. It was an ongoing and continuous thing. 

You didn’t know where you were going and what you were to do but you couldn’t go back and probably Neil wouldn't want you back. You wished the new family all the love in the world. 

The rain made the sidewalks slippery. It was coming down cats and dogs. You could barely make out what was in front of you. Rain dripped down your nose and onto your drenched clothes. 

You needed to go across the busy street in order to get to the other side. You thought the cars stopped. You went ahead and your life flashed before your eyes. As soon as your shoes touched the middle of the crosswalk a car tried to push the brakes but the road was so slippery it skidded to you and hit you so hard your body flew high and far. It all seemed in slow motion. What you didn’t know was Neil had ran after you and was on the side walk opposite from you crying and sobbing a mess. 

“Y/N no please no. Please sweetheart please don’t leave me like this.” He cradled your bruised face. Your eyes closed as you were knocked out and blood dripped down your nose. 

Neil brought you into his car and drove you fast, straight to the hospital to run tests and perform surgery on you. 

“Are you sure you can take this Dr. Melendez?” Clair asked, worried for her friend. 

“Just please let us do this! Please! Every second that passes by with us talking we are wasting time! I need to do this, I need to make sure she is okay!” Neil had tears stream down his wet cheeks. You were his life. You were his daughter. 

As Neil performed surgery on you he couldn’t help but whisper, “please don’t leave me Y/N, please don’t leave me.” He saw your precious face that made him smile. There was no way he would leave you. You were his family. 

His hands shook as he grabbed onto the scalpel, he gained his composure and needed to save your life. There were no if and’s or buts you were going to live and he was going to make sure of this. 

He completed the surgery and you were in your bed, out and quiet which was different for him since you were always talking and laughing and being chaotic. 

He was there with you through it all. 

He held onto your hand as you laid there. “Y/N if you can hear me know that you are my kid okay. I don’t plan on giving you up. I want you to be part of the family. I’m sorry if I didn’t show that in my actions or prove it but there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I don’t see you as a foster kid, I see you as my daughter. Forever and always, I love you.” He cried softly. 

Your eyes fluttered open. With a weak voice you said, “I love you too dad.”

Neil opened his eyes. He thought this was dream. Was it real? You called him dad. His heart almost exploded. “Y/N oh my God you’re awake! Oh thank God.” He embraced you tightly, almost fretting to let go. He kissed the top of your head as tears dropped lightly on your skin. 

“I’m sorry dad for making you scared and for running away. I was just afraid of trusting and opening my heart but I don’t want to run away anymore and I don’t want to be alone anymore. Can I stay dad?”

Neil cupped your face. “Can you stay? Of course you can stay sweetheart. Don’t apologize. You are more brave and strong than you know.”

You chuckled as tears blurred your vision as well, “thanks dad for saving my life. You saved my life twice now.”

“Twice?”

You hugged Neil, “yeah you saved my life by performing surgery and you saved my life by becoming my dad. Thank you, forever and ever.

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