#i always meant to do a hospital scene with them :') | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urmum-lovesme · 1 month ago

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Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P11

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: My babies I'm sorry for the last chpt but it gets a little better (not really I'm a liar). Y/n is struggling in this and I love Sarah she's my queen. I hate y/n's mother, no further debate. Topper and Kelce blessing the situation with their dumbasses but most importantly what we've all been waiting for, will Rafe and Y/n finally talk it out even though they're stuck in a sticky situation.....? Read and find out BAHAHAHA.

p.s: I made a reference to a TikTok meme that's so big rn and a movie that's one of my favourites all in the same scene, see if you can spot them ;)

warnings: hospitals, mentions of sa and non-con, bad mother daughter relationship, being held in custody, emotional turmoil, tense conversations, crying, mentions of violence, alcohol, panic attacks, soft!Rafe (about damned time)

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

Rafe sat at the cold metal table, his hands were cuffed, the sharp clink of the chains echoing in his ears everytime he shuffled his hands. He could still feel the adrenaline coursing through him, though it had long since faded to exhaustion. The night had gone from confusion to chaos, and now, sitting here, he couldn’t fully grasp how it had gotten this far. He tried to keep his composure, but every time his mind wandered, it drifted back to Y/N- how she looked… covered in bruises. His stomach twisted at the thought. How could anyone do that to her? And then Cooper- he’d done what had to be done, right? He’d stopped him, even if that meant the boy was left barely breathing.

He didn’t regret that for a second.

The door opened with a creak, and Shoupe walked in, his heavy boots making soft thuds as he approached. He wasn’t a stranger to Rafe, or to the rest of the group for that matter, he knew them all too well, and he had a stern look on his face as he took a seat across from the boy.

“Rafe,” Shoupe started, his voice calm, “you’ve been here for a while now. You want to tell me what happened?”

Rafe looked at the sheriff, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to explain himself- not without sounding like a guy trying to justify his own uncontrolled anger.

“I was just protecting her.

Rafe’s voice was low, his eyes meeting the sheriff’s. Shoupe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I know you were trying to protect her, but you’ve got to understand, the way you went about it…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly.

“You beat the hell out of him. That’s not self-defense.”

Rafe clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. “What was I supposed to do, huh?”

I should have killed him that's what

Shoupe studied him for a long moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know you did what you thought was right, Rafe. But you have to understand, beating a guy into the ground like that? The law doesn’t care about intentions. It cares about actions. And right now, your actions don’t look too good. Cooper’s in the hospital. He’s unconscious.”

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the thought, if he died he was done for- so he hoped the boy survived, for his own sake of course. Rafe’s voice broke slightly,

“He was hurting her… and I had to do something.”

“You did something alright.”

Shoupe said, sitting back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Now the question is, what’s gonna happen because of it. What’s your story, son? You’re lucky that Y/n is okay but you might be facing some serious charges.”

Rafe wanted to lash out, to argue, but the words got stuck in his throat. He could still see Y/N in his mind, trembling, crying, covered in blood. He couldn’t think straight.

“Did you talk to her? Did she tell you what happened?” Shoupe’s voice broke through Rafe’s thoughts.

“You know, if she doesn’t back up your story, it could get a lot worse for you.”

“She’ll back me up.”

Will she?

Rafe said firmly, though there was doubt creeping into his mind. What if she didn’t? What if she was too scared to speak? He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through right now, after everything.

Shoupe’s gaze softened. “I hope so, Rafe. I hope so.” He paused, then looked at him seriously. “If you want to have any shot at getting through this without more problems, you need to get your story straight. Don’t try to make excuses, be honest with me.”

Rafe nodded, feeling like he was in way over his head. But he didn’t care about anything else right now. He just wanted Y/N safe, he would face whatever consequences came his way as long as she was okay.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Rafe finally said, his voice quiet but resolute. “I’ll tell you the truth, I’ll uh- tell you what happened.”

Shoupe stood up slowly, giving him one last look. “Good. We’ll see what we can do from here. But right now, you’re staying here. Just… think it over.”

Shoupe left the room, leaving Rafe alone with his thoughts. He leaned back against the cold metal chair, his mind racing. He could only hope that Y/N would understand, that she wouldn’t be too scared to tell the truth.

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

The sterile smell of the hospital room was almost suffocating. It clung to the walls, to the sheets, and to Y/N. She could barely focus on anything- her mind was swirling in a haze of confusion and fear. She should be relieved that she was away from Cooper, but all she felt was numbness, like her body had turned off in self-preservation. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the thin hospital blanket wrapped around her. She couldn’t stop shaking, despite the warmth of the room. The whole process of the rape kit had been a blur- cold, clinical, invasive- but the worst part was the silence that followed; the silence that consumed her now, sitting in the hospital bed, as she tried to process everything that had happened.

Sarah was sitting quietly beside her, offering her some semblance of comfort, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to talk. She wasn’t even sure what to say. What was she supposed to feel? The guilt that gnawed at her stomach, the shame that twisted in her chest, and the confusion about what was happening with Rafe- she couldn’t sort through it. Sarah tried her best to fill the silence, her voice gentle and soft. She spoke about random things, about the date she'd been on with John B, about how JJ had almost burnt the chateau down trying to make an omelet, her tone casual and light; but Y/N barely registered it as she nodded absently, staring at the covers of the bed. Then, the conversation slowed, Sarah’s voice quieted, and Y/N could feel her friend’s gaze on her, like she was waiting for something. Finally she spoke again, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant,

“Y/N, I… I called your parents.”

...

She froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her head jerked toward Sarah as the shock hit her,

“What?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and rising anger.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

Sarah flinched at her sudden outburst, but she didn’t pull back. She looked at Y/N, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding.

“They deserve to know, Y/N… you’re their only child. They need to know what happened.”

Y/N couldn’t comprehend it. Her parents were miles away, on a business trip, and the last thing she wanted was them to find out about this. She felt a sickening knot form in her stomach, her chest tightening even more. “No, Sarah. No.” Her voice broke, thick with a mix of fear and rage.

“Why couldn’t you just leave it? I don’t want them to know. I can’t have them knowing what happened-”

Her voice cracked as she trailed off, her eyes returning to the bedspread, her hands gripping the fabric of the hospital gown as though it could hold her together. Sarah didn’t press her further, but all Y/N felt was shame.

Deep, overwhelming shame.

Shame that she wasn’t able to protect herself, shame that someone had hurt her so violently, and now, even worse, that her parents would have to find out. They’d been away, living their busy lives, not knowing the horror their daughter had endured. Y/N’s vision blurred as her tears began to fall, quietly, silently. She wasn’t even aware of them at first until the cold wetness hit her cheeks. The shame was unbearable, her shoulders shook slightly as her body began to tremble again, the pain of it all seeping through every inch of her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them, “I’m so sorry I yelled at you.”

“Y/N,” Sarah’s voice was soft, trying to soothe her, trying to offer any kind of comfort. She gently placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, her touch warm.

“It’s okay you don’t need to apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Y/N couldn’t believe that. How could she not have done something wrong? Her mind screamed at her, telling her that she should have fought harder, should have screamed louder, should have somehow stopped what had happened. She didn’t want her parents to know, but a part of her knew that she had to face it. They deserved to know. But the fear- the fear of their disappointment, their anger at tainting the family name- was too much to bear.

“I’m scared Sarah.”

Y/N whispered, barely audible. Sarah’s fingers gently squeezed her arm in reassurance. “We’ll get through this, okay? One step at a time, I promise.”

But even as Sarah said those words, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she was alone. Alone in this hospital bed, with everything she had endured, with everything that was about to happen. She sat quietly in the hospital room, the weight of the hours passing pressing heavily on her chest. Nurses would come in and out of the room, asking her how she felt, talking to Sarah, checking her vitals, but her thoughts were scattered, her mind in a haze. Sarah sat next to her, quietly trying to comfort her, but Y/N couldn’t fully engage with her because her thoughts kept drifting back to memories of the night- of what she could’ve, what she should’ve done differently.

Get me out of here

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the door open. Her heart dropped, as she looked up to see her parents standing in the doorway. Y/N’s mother, her perfectly done hair trench coat buttoned up to the top, looked as if she were about to burst into the room with the composure of someone who had rehearsed the scene in her mind. Y/N’s father followed behind her, his stern expression softening when his eyes landed on his daughter.

“Y/n”

Her mother said, her voice strained and much too formal. Y/n didn’t miss the way her mother took in the state of her, her eyes scanning the room quickly before locking onto her daughter. There was concern there, but also something else, something distant. Y/N felt her anger welling up, a bubbling knot in her throat. Sarah stood up, giving her space but staying lingering by the doorway, close enough to offer support. The silence between them was thick, her father stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering a silent comfort but she shivered at the feeling on his hand on her skin. His voice was gentle as he spoke,

“My sweet girl.” Her father leant down, softly placing a kiss on her forehead, his voice low and reassuring.

“Whatever you need, we’ll help you through this.”

Her mother, though less expressive, sat beside her on the bed. She reached out, placing her hand on Y/N’s wrist in an attempt at comfort. It was a gesture that felt stiff, like she didn’t quite know how to be vulnerable with her own daughter.

“I’m so sorry this... happened.” her mother said, her voice wavering slightly.

“We’ll make sure you’re taken care of, I spoke to the nurse about moving you to a more… secluded room.”

As much as Y/N wanted to accept their comfort, the weight of what had happened was still clouding her mind. However her misery was forced down by a bitter feeling of hatred, of anger, of irritation that she was now stuck with this burden leering over her. She took a shaky breath, then spoke with quiet determination, her voice thick with emotion, her words falling into the silence of the room

“I want to press charges.”

Her father’s expression softened, and he nodded in agreement, “Of course Y/N, whatever you want.” His hand smoothed over her hair delicately as he looked down at the girl, a small smile on her face, Y/N felt a flicker of relief at his words. But then her mother spoke, her tone skeptical and weary as she pulled her hand away from the girl and stood up, straightening her coat,

“Is that really the best idea, Y/N?”

Her voice lacked the softness her father’s had, and Y/N’s heart sank as she looked at her mother.

“W-what do you mean?”

Y/N asked, confused. Her mother’s gaze was distant, avoiding her eyes. Her mother spoke, her tone a bit too controlled, too measured,

“It’s just… you pressing charges will cause all this public attention. The media will make a circus of it. Do you really want the whole island knowing about this.”

Her mother’s words hit Y/N like a slap. She blinked, staring at her mother, unable to process the implications of what she was saying. “What… what do you mean?” Y/N repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You want me to just… let him get away with it?”

Her mother sighed, a long, heavy sound. “I just think it would be better if we kept this quiet. The less people know, the better. No one needs to know about this. We can handle it… privately.”

“Marie-”

Who are you?

Her father spoke out looking at his wife with a displeased expression across his face. Y/N’s heart started to pound in her chest. She shook her head in disbelief, she had never expected this reaction from her mother,

“Are you serious? You want to cover this up?”

The words felt like acid in her mouth. Her mother’s eyes hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“I’m not saying it didn’t happen don't put false words into my mouth Y/N, I’m just saying… we need to think about the bigger picture here. Our family’s reputation, your future… This could ruin everything.”

Y/N felt as if the room was spinning. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother was more concerned about the family’s image than about her daughter’s pain and suffering. The hurt and anger surged up in her chest, threatening to overtake her.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N muttered, tears welling up again. “You’re more worried about how this will look than about what happened to me?”

Her mother stiffened but didn’t respond right away, her gaze flicking to her father, as if searching for some sort of support but his eyes were already looking at his wife, narrowed slightly. Y/N could feel the distance between them widening, her own mother now a stranger in her eyes. Then, through the rising tension, Y/N spoke, quieter now, her voice small,

“Do you even like me?”

Her words hung in the air, fragile, desperate for an answer. Her mother paused, the words seemingly caught in her throat. After a long silence, she hesitated before speaking.

“Of course I love you,” she replied, but her voice lacked the certainty Y/N had hoped for.

“But do you like me?” Y/N pressed, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

Her mother exhaled sharply, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I… I want what’s best for you, Y/N.”

No you don't

The room fell silent once more. Y/N felt a sting in her chest, her heart aching as the reality of her mother’s words sunk in. She didn’t have the strength to argue, her father, sensing the tension, stepped in.

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, let’s focus on getting better, yes?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her body felt heavy, like every ounce of energy had been drained from her. Her anger was still there, but it was buried beneath the overwhelming sadness that had taken root.

She turned her gaze away from her mother as the woman walked out the room, looking at the window instead, as if trying to escape the four walls of the room she found herself stuck in.

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

Rafe’s palm rested against the cool brick wall, his fingers clenching the phone tightly, his heart pounding against his ribs. He didn’t know what to expect next, but there was one thing he couldn’t let go of, one person he needed to reach.

I need to talk to her

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It'd been hours since he'd been taken in to the precinct and he had no clue if she was okay, if they'd cleaned her up, helped calm her down. The last thing he remembered was her panicked eyes before he got into the police car, Shoupe roughly shutting the doors behind him. Yet most importantly, he didn't even know if she wanted to speak to him, would she refuse to take the call, what if he couldn't hear her voice from the other side of the phone.

“C’mon”

He muttered under his breath as he dialled Sarah’s number, his voice shaking with frustration. The sound of the dial tone rang in his ear, followed by the faint click of the line connecting. After a few moments, Sarah’s voice answered,

“Rafe?” Her tone was laced with concern, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

He swallowed hard, “They’re arresting me Sarah. I don’t know how long I’ll be here-” His words rushed out, "-just give the phone to Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

There was a slight pause before Sarah responded, her voice soft and understanding. “Yeah, yeah okay...”

He heard the rustling of the phone being handed off, then a soft, shaky breath. The sound of Y/N’s voice was all he needed to hear. It cut through the haze, grounding him.

“Rafe?”

Thank God

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, his tone soothing, though he could feel the knot in his chest. “I’m at the station, they’re holding me but I’ll be out soon.”

Y/N paused before responding, her voice firm despite the tremor in it. “Are you alright? Are your knuckles okay? I remember they were bleeding.”

Always so observant

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the question. He’d forgotten about the pain in his hand, but hearing her bring it up made his heart stutter, reminding him of times when she would patch him up after things escalated at the boneyard.

“I’m fine, they’re not bad just bruised up, nothing I can’t handle.”

She wasn’t convinced but let out a small hum of acknowledgement. The question was burning in her but she hesitated, unsure if she should say it, her voice was tense as she spoke out,

“Has... has he pressed charges?”

The question hung in the air, and Rafe swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “No, he hasn’t pressed charges yet. But I’ll make sure we do what’s right for you, okay? I’m just… I’ll be okay, don't worry about me alright- are you okay?”

Y/N paused, the questions weighing heavily on her.

I don't know...

“I'm fine, Rafe. I’m just… trying to figure out what to do. I’m worried about you, I don’t want you to stay there.”

Rafe’s heart ached. “I’m not going anywhere. Just stay strong for me, yeah? I’ll be out of here soon.” He knew the girl was lying, no one would be okay after experiencing what she did, but deep down he knew she was saying so not to worry him further.

“Y/n” He sighed, hand thumping against the wall in front of him, unsure if he should ask her this now, but he needed to know.

“Are you going to press charges against Cooper?”

Y/N’s silence spoke volumes. Rafe knew she was processing everything, trying to figure out what was right. He waited for her to respond, his heart pounding in his chest, he didn’t want to push her but the time on the phone call was running out. Finally, she spoke softly.

“I don’t know, Rafe. I… I don’t know what’s best.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, frustrated with how helpless he felt. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… -I’ll stand by you, no matter what you choose.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, her tone still steady but full of worry. “Just be careful, Rafe, don’t do anything stupid please.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, a soft chuckle escaping him at her concern. “But you’re my priority, yeah? You need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll handle this.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt,” she replied, her voice soft.

I care about you

“I know, I- I won’t. I promise.”

They shared a quiet moment over the phone, both of them trying to find comfort in each other’s words, even though the situation was anything but comforting. As the conversation started to wind down and the phone was passed back to Sarah, Rafe’s voice became more urgent. “Hey, Sarah?” he said, his tone firm but still laced with the stress of the situation.

“This was my one call, so you need to call dad and tell him to come down and get me the hell out of here, I don’t care how, just- I need to get out okay?”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before Sarah responded standing from the chair near Y/n's bed and walking over to the window of the room, her voice lower now, not wanting to alert the girl,

“Yeah, I’ll call him,” she said, her tone resigned, “don’t worry, he’ll get you out.”

Rafe exhaled a shaky breath, relief and frustration mixing in his chest. “Thanks.”

“Just… hang in there.”

He let out a small sigh before speaking again, softer this time. “Tell Y/N I’ll be out soon, I don’t want her worrying about me, she doesn’t need that shit.”

“ 'course,” Sarah said, her voice softening at the mention of the girl. Sarah paused, and when she spoke again, her tone softened slightly,

“You know Dad will come through.”

He took a moment, her words sinking in. For the first time, he let himself lean into the comfort of her confidence, even if just a little. But it didn’t erase the gnawing feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah.. this whole thing… it’s just so fucked up.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it faltered slightly.

“I know, Rafe,” she said, her voice softening with a touch of concern, “but you did the right thing- well maybe not entirely but you kept her safe.”

Rafe sighed again, hand rubbing over his face as more out of frustration than anything else. The phone beeped indicating his time was coming to an end, he muttered out,

“Yeah, well, I don’t think anyone sees it that way,”

“I’ll take care of it. Just don't do anything stupid, dad’s coming.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m waiting.”

The phone call ended with a quiet click, and Rafe leaned back against the wall, his mind racing. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but no matter the cost, he’d make sure that that nobody ever placed their hands on his girl again.

Get me the fuck out of here

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

The adults were deep in conversation, their voices rising and falling in heated debate over the next steps. Marie and Ward seemed to be clashing again, Andrew attempting to mediate, while Rose sat quietly, interjecting with the occasional remark. The legal jargon and logistics were swirling around Y/N like a cloud, but she wasn’t listening anymore.

She had moved from the couch to the window, the noise behind her fading into a dull hum as she stared out at the darkened sky, palm trees dancing in the growing wind. The faint reflection of the room in the glass showed her parents gesturing animatedly, but she couldn’t focus. Her arms wrapped around her body instinctively, trying to hold herself together. It had been a week since she’d been discharged from the hospital, Ward had gotten Rafe out of jail, although at a high price, and it was clear that Cooper’s family was anything but pleased at the Sheriff's actions. Now, both families were collected at Tannyhill, debating what they were going to do with the situation at hand.

“Hey.”

The low voice startled her, and she turned to see Rafe standing a step away, his expression soft. “You okay?” he asked gently, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

She flinched. It wasn’t dramatic, just a slight jerk of her body, but it was enough for him to notice. His brows furrowed, and he quickly pulled his hand back, letting it drop to his side.

“Sorry,” he murmured, taking a step closer but keeping his distance.

“No, I’m-” Y/N cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Rafe could see through her words. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the others were still distracted before returning his focus to her.

“You don’t have to be fine Y/n...”

Y/N shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just-” She hesitated, her voice cracking slightly. “I just want to make sure Cooper gets what he deserves, I want him in jail. I want him...”

I want him dead

Rafe studied her for a long moment. “You’re right,” he said finally. “He does deserve that but this,” He looked faintly to the room, to the chaos of discussions and decisions swirling around them. “this is a lot, Y/N, for anyone.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Does he think I'm weak?

Her jaw tightened, and she looked up at him her eye's narrowing slightly, “I can handle it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice calm. “Okay, just… don't push yourself too far, too fast. Whatever happens, I’m here alright?”

She blinked at him, her irritation at him faltering, “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Always.”

They stood there for a moment in silence, the tension in her body softening under the weight of his steady presence. Behind them, the voices of their families carried on, oblivious to the quiet moment by the window. Their relationship was rather bizarre. Of course both of them knew there was a distance between them, the event’s of Y/n’s party had not gone forgotten, however the girl was less hostile towards the brunette, her gaze often staying on him a second too long so he’d catch her eye. But she wasn’t ready for things to go back to normal between them, just because he’d… intervened on the night of halloween did not mean she’d forgiven him, not fully anyways; his words would sometimes linger in the back of her mind and after what had happened she couldn't help but think they were true.

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken anxieties, Y/N sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, as Sarah perched beside her, offering silent support. Across the room, Ward paced restlessly, his powerful presence dominating the space. Rafe stood against the wall, his bruised knuckles wrapped in gauze, a storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. Rose, sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her serene demeanour masking the tension she felt, Marie mirroring her expression. However Andrew, Y/N’s father, exchanged worried glances at the young girl on the couch, as though silently debating how far they should push his daughter on such a delicate subject.

“This isn’t just about what happens next,” Ward said, breaking the silence. “We need to think about the bigger picture. Rafe’s already been charged with assault, and if this goes to trial, it won’t just be about him. It’s going to pull Y/N into the spotlight too.”

Y/N straightened slightly her voice soft, “Because of what Cooper- did…?”

Ward hesitated before nodding. “Yes. That’s going to come out, whether you’re ready for it or not,” his eyes looked at the girl as he spoke out, yet she had to avert her gaze, looking away, feeling oppressed by the man's cold stare.

“She’s not the one who did anything wrong,”

Rafe snapped, his voice sharp as he noticed his father's gaze at the girl, “Why does it matter if it comes out?”

“It shouldn’t matter,” Sarah interjected, her voice rising slightly as she fiddled with the blanket placed between her and Y/n, “but you know how people are, they’ll twist it into something it’s not.”

Andrew leaned forward, addressing Ward directly. “So what are you saying? That Rafe shouldn’t fight this? That he should plead guilty?”

“Of course not,” Ward said with a scoff, halting his pacing.

God forbid someone stains the Cameron name

“But we need to be strategic. If Y/N presses charges, it could complicate Rafe’s case. They’ll try to paint him as an angry kid looking for a fight.”

“That’s not what happened,” Y/N said, her voice wavering as she looked at Ward shaking her head with a small frown, “he was protecting me.”

Rafe’s heart clenched at the girl’s words, his eyes finding hers amongst the uneasiness of the room. Ward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. We know. But the court doesn’t always care about the truth. They care about what they can prove and how it looks to a jury.”

“Why are you all acting like I was in the fucking wrong”

Rafe said angrily, stepping forward as he gestured around to the parents at the table. Rose spoke for the first time, her voice gentle.

“Rafe, no one is questioning why you did what you did. But the law can be difficult.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Ward. “That I shouldn’t press charges because it might hurt Rafe’s case?”

“No,” Ward said firmly. “I’m saying we need to think carefully about how we handle this. Your testimony could help Rafe, but it could also backfire if they twist it the wrong way.”

Andrew nodded. “He’s right. If we’re going to fight this, we need to be ready for anything Cooper’s lawyers throw at us, and considering their family deals with law I suspect they've already started planning.”

Marie, who had been quiet until now, glanced at her daughter, her lips pressing into a thin line. She rose from where she sat walking over to her daughter placing her hand on the girl's shoulder as she asked,

“Y/N, maybe… maybe we should handle this quietly hmm? I know it’s not what you want to hear, but think about how much worse it could get if it goes public.”

Seriously?

Rafe's brows pulled down into a frown at the older woman's words, Y/N stared at her mother in disbelief. “Are you saying I should just let this go?”

Marie sighed, tightening her grip slightly. “I’m saying… it might be better to keep this private. No one needs to know.”

“No one needs to know?” Y/N repeated, her voice rising. “He- He assaulted me. He-"

Don't say it-

"Either way if no one does anything, he’s just going to do it again, if not to me then to someone else.”

Rafe moved closer, his voice low and full of conviction. “She’s right he deserves worse.”

Ward looked at Rafe sharply. “Justice isn’t always that simple. You know that well enou-"

"Okay!"

Sarah leaned forward, her hands resting on Y/N’s knee. “Can we just stop acting like this is a chess game? Y/N deserves to make her decision without feeling guilty about how it affects Rafe’s case.”

Rose nodded in agreement. “Sarah’s right. We can support both of them. We just need to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Y/N turned to Rafe, her voice soft but steady. “Have you thought about what’s next for you- I mean, with Cooper pressing charges...”

Rafe hesitated, glancing at his father. “Yeah. I talked to the lawyer this morning. They’re saying it depends on what Cooper’s camp does. If they push for jail time…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.

Ward finished for him. “They’re pushing for jail time. Cooper’s family has money, connections from New York. They’re not going to let this go easily.”

Y/N’s hands balled into fists on her lap as she looked down at them, Andrew's worried gaze darted to his daughter as his wife's voice spoke up,

“Y/N, you don’t understand how this works. If you press charges, they’re going to drag you through the mud to defend Cooper and they’ll use Rafe’s case to make you both look bad.”

Is she always this much of a bitch-

Andrew reached for his daughter’s hand, his voice calm but firm. “Sweetheart, if you’re sure you want to press charges, we’ll stand by you. But you need to be ready for what’s coming.”

Y/N met her father’s steady gaze, a small frown on her face. “I am ready.”

Ward looked at Rafe, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the table, “And you need to be prepared too. Cooper’s lawyers are going to argue that you acted out of rage, not defense. I’ll talk to the Thorton's about it, see if they can help in court.”

Marie leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Y/N, are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s not just about Cooper. It’s about everything that comes after…”

Y/N’s hands trembled, but her voice didn’t waver. “I’m sure, I’m not going to let him win.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over them.

Ward nodded, his voice firm. “Then we fight for both of you. No hesitation.”

Y/N looked at Rafe, and he looked back, their mutual understanding unspoken but clear. They were in this together whether they liked it or not, no matter how messy it got.

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

The house was quiet again after the tension of the family meeting. The echoes of Ward’s commanding voice and Marie’s sharp tones seemed to linger in the air the voice’s heard from the nearby office, but now it was just Rafe and Y/N sitting on the couch. The dim light of the living room lamp cast long shadows across their faces, and the weight of everything unsaid hung heavily between them. Rafe leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly. He’d been quiet ever since their parents left, staring at the floor like it held answers to questions he couldn’t answer. Y/N sat next to him, her knees tucked under her, fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on the blanket she held in her lap. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Are you okay?” her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

What?

Rafe scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re the one asking if I’m okay?” He glanced at her, his blue eyes tired but sincere.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Probably

“I mean… yeah,” she said, hesitating. “But… I don’t know. You’ve got so much going on with… everything.”

“So do you,” he countered quickly, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now.” He stopped, exhaling sharply, trying to control the frustration he felt, not at her, but at everything else. Y/N looked to him, her voice firmer this time.

“Rafe I mean it, are you okay?”

He let the question hang in the air for a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m so pissed. I’m pissed at Cooper, at the cops, at my dad for acting like he can buy his way out of this.” His hand hit softly against the edge of the couch as he spoke, he glanced at her again, his jaw tight. “I’m pissed at myself for not finding you sooner, for-” His voice faltered, and he looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Get your shit together

“Rafe,” she said softly, hand moving slightly closer to his which now rested against the cushion of the couch between them. “It’s not your fault, c’mon don’t do this to yourself.” She shook her head slightly as the words passed her lips.

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, not looking at her.

“I do,” she said firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you- you were protecting me.”

You saved my life what if he-

“And now Cooper’s trying to fucking flip this, like I’m the bad guy?”

He sighed, leaning forward again as he pointed his fingers into his chest angrily before he rubbed a hand over his face.

“And you pressing charges against him- it’s the right thing to do, but… it’s going to cause so many problems. They’re going to try to twist everything around and make it look like it wasn’t what it was; they’re gonna talk about you but you don't deserve that shit.”

Her eye’s flickered over the boy, noticing his leg moving restlessly, jaw clenched. “I don’t care what they try to do,” she said, her voice shaking with conviction. “We’re not going to let him get away with it.”

Rafe turned to look at her, his gaze searching hers. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“...no” she admitted. “I don’t think I ever will be, but if I don’t… who else is going to stand up to him?” She looked down at her lap, her voice quieter now.

“I’m scared, but I’m more scared of him doing this to someone else. I can’t live with that… knowing I could’ve prevented it.”

He looked at her, taking in the bruises wrapped around her neck, now a deep purple. He looked down to her hand, wrist tainted in the same coloring, a mocking reminder of what had happened. His hand moved forward slightly, fingers resting inches away from hers.

“You’re braver than I am, you know?”

No I'm not

She shook her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything they were facing pressing down on them. Finally, Y/N looked up at him,

“We’re going to figure this out, right?”

“Yeah we will, no matter what.”

Rafe nodded, though his expression was still somber. As they sat together in the dimly lit room, the sound of the wind rattling the windows outside, Y/N realized something: for the first time in days, she didn’t feel completely alone. The silence stretched between her and Rafe, heavy but not uncomfortable- just the weight of everything they’d been through present upon both their shoulders.

Rafe shifted slightly, his hand still resting near hers, he had the undeniable urge to take her hand in his but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. He already was overcome with relief every time she spoke to him, thanking whatever higher power that she would look at him rather than shut him out.

I don't deserved it.

His jaw tightened, like he was working up the courage to say something, but nothing came. Y/N glanced at him, noticing the way his gaze lingered on the floor, the corners of his mouth downturned. The memory of their last real conversation- the one before Cooper, before everything else that had happened- suddenly pushed its way into her mind. The words she’d said, the way his voice had cut through her like glass, it all replayed vividly. Those two months that she had spent away from him were agony, and she wished it had never come to that. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurring, before she finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Rafe looked up sharply, his brows drawing together in confusion as he noticed the tears collecting on her lower lashes.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, louder this time, though her voice still cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

“For what I said to you that night for—” Her breath hitched as she fought to keep her composure. “For calling you a junkie I shouldn’t have… that wasn’t fair.”

Rafe’s face softened instantly, the lines of tension around his mouth easing. He opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N kept going.

“-and for slapping you,” she added, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I shouldn’t have, I never should’ve done that it was disgus-”

“Stop,” Rafe interrupted gently, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “I was angry, I was so, so angry and I took it out on you but I shouldn’t have said that. I just… I didn’t know how else to handle it. Seeing you in his room…”

She trailed off, biting her lip to stop it from trembling, her hand coming up to wipe the tear off her skin. Rafe’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “You weren’t wrong,” he said quietly, his voice rough.

“I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have been doing that. And I… I shouldn’t have called you what I did.” He exhaled shakily, as he turned his body to face her properly now, “That was so fucked up Y/n, and I hate that I said it I don’t even know where the words came from I- you didn’t deserve that.”

Y/N blinked at him, her tears spilling freely now. She said softly,

“You meant it though-”

“-no, no I didn’t.”

Rafe said quickly, his voice firm. He frantically pushed his hair out of his face shaking his head at her,

“I didn’t. I was angry and so fucking stupid, and I wanted to hurt you because… because you were right. If you think that’s what I think of you I- I would be a fucking fool to think that of you…”

Her breath hitched at his honesty, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I’m sorry”

He said again, his voice breaking. His eyes were glossy now too, his usual bravado stripped away.

“For everything. For that night, it was…- it was your fucking birthday and I just- I’m so sorry and-”

Rafe shifted beside her, his jaw tight, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart constricting at the tension in his features.

“What I said about your brother I-”

The memory made her chest ache, she looked away shaking her head slowly the air was thick with the debris of unspoken emotions. She didn’t know why, but suddenly she was back in her brother’s room, Rafe’s words from that night slicing through her mind. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly.

“Y/N…please look at me…”

Please, please-

Her voice was trembling as it rose from her throat, “Seeing you in his room- doing coke- it just…” She broke off, shaking her head as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I couldn’t handle it and…”

She couldn’t find her voice to finish the sentence, her hand rising to her face once again to wipe the salt water off her cheeks. Rafe was silent for a moment, his throat tightening.

“You had every right to be mad,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have been in there- I shouldn’t have been doing that. I- I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

Y/N lifted her head, her tear-streaked face meeting his regretful gaze. “You told me to get over it,” she said softly, her voice shaking.

“...that I should just forget about him.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I said that, and I didn’t mean it. I just…I was hurt because you were with-... It doesn’t matter but I wanted to hurt you too and I know it was a petty thing to do...” He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident.

“I was being selfish.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face now, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. “It felt like everything you’d ever said to me about him was a lie. After he died, Rafe you were the only one I would go to, it felt like.. It felt like you didn’t mean any of it like- like none of it was true” She trailed off, shaking her head as she struggled to put her feelings into words as she pursed her lips together.

“That room is all I have left of him. And you just… how could you do that to me Rafe?”

“I know, I know- ”

Rafe said again, his voice breaking. “I was an asshole, and I hate that I said that to you, I hate that I hurt you I-” He stopped letting out a breath, he could feel the lump growing in his throat as he spoke,

“I’ve never regretted anything more in my life than what I did. Those two months we were apart, not a day went by where I didn’t feel guilty about what I said… I- I’ve never been so miserable-”

A soft sniffle cut through the air, and Y/N’s eyes flicked up from the floor to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat. Rafe’s eyes were bloodshot, glistening with tears that slipped freely down his flushed cheeks. His chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and his hand gripped the back of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His other hand came up, roughly swiping at his tears, but more fell, relentless.

“I was so- fuck. I was so alone and I lo- I care about you so much I’m so sorry-”

His voice shattered, and he dropped his head forward, the palms of his hands came up roughly to rub his eyes as the sobs broke free, raw and unfiltered. His entire body shook with the weight of it, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. She’d never seen him like this- so vulnerable.

What are you doing man up fucking man up

It made something inside her crack.

Slowly, she shifted forward, inching closer to him. Her hands trembled at her sides, the feeling of fear, terror of someone touching her, of touching someone, it still clung to her, making her hesitate, but the sight of him crumbling in front of her pulled her forward.

It's okay, it's just Rafe he'd never do anything to you

Her hand reached out, hovering in the air, uncertain, before she gently placed it on his arm. The contact was featherlight, almost unsure, but it was enough. Rafe’s head lifted slightly, his tear-filled eyes locking onto hers in surprise.

She gave him a small, fragile smile- barely there, but it was something, and that was all he needed.

Rafe blinked, and without thinking, she moved closer, her arms slowly wrapping around him. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud and anxious, but she didn’t let go. She pressed herself into him, holding him tightly, and for a moment, Rafe froze. Then, carefully, his arms came around her. He pulled her in, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he let out a broken breath, his body still trembling.

“I’ll never- ever- do that to you again,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry- I’m so fucking sorry.”

I love you

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, spilling over as she held him tighter. “It’s okay,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. Rafe’s arms tightened around her, but his hold was careful- gentle in a way that made Y/N’s chest ache. His hand moved slowly, fingers smoothing over her hair with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.

“I’ve missed you so much”

He breathed out, his voice hoarse and uneven, barely holding together. Y/N’s grip on him faltered for a second, her heart thudding in her chest. For the first time since halloween, someone’s touch didn’t feel threatening. It didn’t feel wrong. She let out a shaky breath, her body slowly starting to relax into him.

“I’ve missed you too”

She whispered, the words fragile but honest. Rafe let out a soft, broken sound- half sigh, half sob- and tucked her closer, like he still couldn’t believe she was in his arms, he never thought it would happen again. His hand continued its slow, calming path through her hair, grounding both of them.

“I swear I’ll- I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

I love you so fucking much

He murmured, his voice cracking. Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her face into his shoulder as she let out a quiet hum. Neither of them moved to let go, they stayed locked in that quiet, fragile moment, holding onto each other as if letting go would shatter them both.

"Y/n I lo-"

A knock at the door startled both of them.

Y/N’s head snapped up as she instinctively moved away from Rafe, body tense again. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her hoodie, and her eyes darted toward the door like it might burst open on its own. Rafe noticed immediately.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he reached for her hand. “You’re safe yeah, It’s probably just Sarah or Wheezie.”

She nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced, her nerves still on edge. He squeezed her hand once before letting go and heading for the door, eyes flickering back to the girl who remained on the couch. When he opened it, a familiar voice filled the quiet space.

“Did someone order a party?”

It was Kelce, grinning like he owned the place, holding a cake box in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. Topper stood behind him, awkwardly clutching a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers, clearly unsure what to do with them.

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, his voice slightly hoarse as he wiped his face quickly off any tears left on his cheeks, “What are you guys doing here?”

Kelce pushed past him into the house, offering the cake out like a peace offering. “We figured you two could use a little cheering up, s’been a rough week. Cake makes everything better, right?”

Y/N appeared in the doorway of the living room after hearing the boys’ voices, her nervousness giving way to curiosity. She looked at the bouquet in Topper’s hand, then up at him, a small flicker of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Flowers?”

Topper shrugged, looking sheepish. “I panicked. They were next to the bakery.”

“Nice touch,” Rafe said dryly, shutting the door behind them. Kelce held up the box like it was a prized trophy.

“Chocolate cake aaannnnnd, because we’re such thoughtful friends, beer for me and Topper- ” He pulled something from the grocery bag, holding it out to Rafe. “-some bandages for your beat-up knuckles.”

Rafe stared at the box of bandages and rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You guys are idiots.”

“You’re welcome,” Kelce said, completely unfazed.

Y/N stepped forward hesitantly, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “You didn’t have to do this.” Her eye’s flickered over everything they’d started taking out on the kitchen table.

Are those hello kitty band-aids?

“Of course we did,” Topper said, setting the flowers on the counter. “You’ve both had a tough week so consider this… a friendship intervention?”

Kelce set the cake on the table and began rummaging through drawers, searching for plates. “We’re not saying cake and beer will solve all your problems, but hey, it’s a start.”

Y/N let herself lean against one of the stools by the island, a real, albeit small, smile forming on her lips as she watched the two boys bicker over who got the bigger slice of cake. Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, observing the scene. His eyes flicked to Y/N, who caught him watching and gave him a shy smile.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly, just for her to hear.

She nodded. “A little.”

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the moment. “Because apparently they’re not leaving until we ‘eat that damn cake’.”

Y/N laughed—a light, genuine sound that made both Topper and Kelce look up in surprise. “Hey, if you’re laughing,” Kelce declared, pointing his fork at her, “then we’re doing our job right.”

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

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of easy conversation, a brief reprieve from the storm they all knew was still brewing. For a little while, it was just friends and cake, and Y/n found herself forgetting about the events of the past couple of weeks.

Topper managed to pull up a movie on the TV, one they had all watched together countless times when they were kids. The flickering title screen of an old animated film illuminated the room, and the familiar opening music filled the space. Y/N looked at the screen for a second, her lips curving slightly at the sight of something so familiar and comforting;

“I forgot about this movie,” she said softly.

“Yeah, we used to watch it all the time at my place, right?” Kelce chimed in, sitting down with his slice of cake. Y/N let out a soft giggle, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

“You’d always eat all the Twizzlers before the movie and end up falling asleep halfway through.”

“Hey, I was a growing boy!” Kelce protested, but there was no real heat behind his words.

“Yeah, well, it was more like a sugar coma,”

Rafe teased from the other side of the room, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Topper leaned back on the couch with a sigh, his eyes focused on the screen but his mind clearly drifting.

“I remember watching this with you guys, like, what? Ten years ago? I don’t think we really appreciated how good we had it back then.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a moment, the weight of everything that had happened creeping back into her thoughts. She shook her head slightly, trying to push the darkness aside. “Yeah, things were so easy…” she said, her voice quiet. Rafe glanced at her from across the room, his expression softening.

Don't do that

“It wasn’t all easy,” he said quietly, his eyes on the TV but his mind on the past, “Remember the time we got stuck in Topper’s treehouse after you dared me to climb it without the ladder and I broke my arm?”

Y/N laughed despite herself, the sound light and genuine. “I never made you climb it. You insisted on it, and then-” She paused for effect. “-you screamed like a girl when you fell.”

“That’s because it fucking hurt, Y/N,” Rafe shot back, rolling his eyes but clearly amused. “And I was eight, so sue me.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know Rafe was a pussy from an early age,” Topper chimed in with a grin. “But I gotta admit, that was pretty funny.”

Y/N snickered, shaking her head as she leaned back into the couch. “You guys were a mess, honestly. All I did was watch.”

“Liar,” Rafe said, raising an eyebrow at her. “You used to egg us on.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” she said, her eyes softening as she glanced at him.

“Good times.” Topper added, shaking his head.

Y/N smiled faintly. “Good times,” she agreed, her voice wistful.

The room settled into a comfortable silence as the movie continued to play, and as the night wore on, the group grew more relaxed. The movie had long since become background noise, with everyone scattered around the room. Topper and Kelce were sprawled out on the other couch, barely paying attention to the screen as they were more focused on the conversation that was slowly developing between Rafe and Y/N.

Y/N’s feet were comfortably resting next to Rafe’s lap, her body slumped into the couch as exhaustion from the past few days started to settle in. It had been an emotional rollercoaster, but right now, in this peaceful moment, she felt safe. Rafe absentmindedly rested his hand on her foot, his touch comforting and steady. Kelce, catching sight of their proximity, exchanged a knowing look with Topper. They were both silent for a beat, as if contemplating whether to ask the question hanging in the air. Finally, Topper broke the silence with a raised eyebrow.

“So…” He gave a small grin. “We didn’t want to ask before, but are you two, good now? I mean, last time we checked, it was a bit…”

Rafe and Y/N exchanged glances. She couldn’t help but smile, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the question. Rafe returned her gaze, his expression softening as he squeezed her foot gently, a silent reassurance.

“We’re good,” Rafe said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of relief in it as he glanced down at Y/N, giving her a quiet smile. Y/N nodded slowly, her lips curving upward humming back in agreement. Kelce raised an eyebrow but didn’t press any further, exchanging a knowing glance with Topper.

“Well, good,” Kelce said, his tone light but with an edge of relief. “About time, right?”

Smug assholes

Topper smiled. “We were both waiting for that.”

The weight of the past few days hadn’t disappeared, but in this moment, surrounded by the people who cared about her and Rafe, it felt a little bit lighter. However the comfort couldn’t stay forever, the atmosphere shifted once again, this time taking a more serious turn. Topper and Kelce were leaning forward on the couch now, their attention focused on Rafe and Y/N, ready to face the reality of what was happening.

“So… Cooper’s pressing charges against you?”

Party's over

Kelce asked, his tone trying to sound casual but not fully hiding the tension in his voice. Rafe’s eyes flicked briefly to Y/N before he answered.

“Yeah. He’s pressing charges,” Rafe muttered, his jaw clenching slightly as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “But we’re gonna handle it.”

Y/N looked over at him, her gaze heavy with both concern and support. “And um… I’m going to press charges against him,” she said quietly, “you know, for what he did...”

The room grew heavy with the weight of her words, Topper and Kelce exchanged an uncertain glance, the truth of the situation sinking in as they processed her decision.

“You sure about that?” Topper asked, his voice quieter than usual, a note of concern underlining his words. Y/N nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I have to, I can’t let him get away with it.”

Topper nodded at her in support, “I’ll see if I can get my pop’s in the court for the hearing… I doubt the Millers will know about him being family.”

Rafe looked at him, his lips pursed as he turned to the girl, sending her a small reassuring smile. “We’ve got your back, always,” his voice was steady despite the turmoil around them.

For a moment, Y/N felt herself ease slightly, the weight of her upcoming choices lessened by boys’ presence, their unspoken promise to stand with her. However, when a new question arose in her mind she hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously tapping on the armrest as she swallowed hard, trying to find her voice.

“Do people… do people know?”

Please say no

Her voice cracked just slightly, the raw vulnerability in her words making everyone in the room pause. Topper and Kelce looked at each other, uncertainty flickering between them. Neither knew how to answer immediately, neither of them wanted to add to her problems, but Y/N could see it in their eyes, and she knew she was bound to hear something she didn't want to. She sat up a little, her heart pounding, and looked at them, almost pleading with her eyes.

“Please,” she said, “tell me the truth.”

Topper sighed, looking down before he looked back up at her. “Yeah. People know… There’s been talk. There was a video… of you, uh, crying.” He winced, as if just saying it was enough to make him uncomfortable. “We don’t know how much it’s been spread, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to say more, but the reality was clear.

Y/N’s hand immediately came up to her face, biting the nail of her thumb to try to block out the sting of embarrassment. She felt her chest tighten, the overwhelming shame flooding in once again.

She hadn’t been prepared for this.

“It’s… it’s not just you crying…”

-what?

Kelce continued, choosing his words carefully. “It’s after Rafe broke down the door, when he found you… your nose’s bleeding, and your dress is uh- well it’s ripped. Someone caught it on their phone.”

Y/N froze, her stomach churning. She felt like the world was crumbling around her. The image they painted in her mind of that moment made her stomach twist in shame. She couldn’t help the feeling of being completely exposed, the thought of others seeing her in such a vulnerable state made her feel sick. The image she’d worked so hard to create, of the perfect ‘Kook Princess’ was no longer valid, and she knew that everyone knew that. Her breath caught in her throat, and she fought the urge to cry, the weight of the situation heavier than she’d imagined. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of it all, her voice barely escaped, merely a whisper,

“I didn’t want anyone to see that…”

Topper gave a small, understanding nod, his voice softer now. “Listen,” he started gently, “I know it’s a lot to deal with, and I’m sorry, but…” He paused, searching for the right words.

“Most people, they’re on your side, Y/N, they’re behind you.”

Y/N’s gaze lifted from her hands, her eyes still clouded with shame, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression now. “You really think so?” she asked quietly, barely above a whisper. Kelce, noticing the shift in her demeanor, leaned forward, his expression softening,

“Look- Kooks, Pogues, they’re all behind you, Y/N. People care. Last week at the country club, apparently Matty overheard someone talking shit about it and uh- you remember Elijah?”

“The guy who crushed his dad’s yacht?” Rafe asked, his eyebrows drawing down in curiosity.

“Yeah yeah, you remember?” He looked over to the girl who sent him a small nod in return.

“So Elijah called this guy out in front of everyone there, gave him a lecture, said he was a ‘shit talker with no future’, I really wish I was there. And then- imagine this- management escorted the guy out and revoked his family's membership.”

Her brows raised as the boy finished talking, taken aback by the story, taken aback by the fact that people were so involved in what had happened, and not in the way she was expecting. “Yeah,” Kelce confirmed, his voice firm but kind as he noticed the girl's surprise,

“People see what happened to you, and they’re with you, not with him.”

For a moment, Y/N stayed silent, processing their words. She had been so worried about the fallout, the judgment, the rumors. But hearing that people were on her side, eased the tight knot in her chest, just a little. She looked at Rafe, her words a little shaky.

“I just… I feel like everyone’s seeing me as something I’m not.”

“You’re not defined by that video, or by anyone else’s opinions. We’ll make sure of that.” Rafe’s voice spoke out, low and soothing.

I'll make sure of it

Y/N took a deep breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand, the sting of her earlier tears still there but the fire of resolve slowly taking its place. “Thanks,” she said softly to the guys, her voice quiet.

“It helps… hearing that.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged another glance. They could see how much this was hurting her, and while they couldn’t fight this battle for her, they had her back, she was like their sister.

Topper cleared his throat, his voice low but firm. “We’re with you, Y/N. No matter what.”

Kelce shook his head in agreement, then smirked. “Yeah, and if anyone’s got a problem with you, they can catch these hands… or Topper’s.”

“Yeah cause you cry like a bitch when you bruise your knuckles”

“Man shut the fuck up”

Y/n rolled her eyes amused at their banter, but she had a nagging question at the back of her mind, from the moment they told her about the video. She cleared her throat as she spoke,

“Whose video was it?”

Topper and Kelce stopped shoving each other pausing in hesitance, neither of them seemed to have an answer. “I don’t know,” Topper admitted, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just kind of circulating, you know? People saw it and… well, it got around.”

“Have you guys… do you have it?” she asked, a growing sense of urgency in her tone as she picked at the skin on her thumb. Topper’s face turned serious, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, Y/N, maybe it’s best if you don’t see it. Honestly…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Kelce nodded in agreement, glancing down at his phone, his discomfort palpable.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s pretty bad. We didn’t want you to have to relive that.”

“Please,” she said, her voice stronger now, her eyes pleading.

“Y/n-” Rafe spoke out his hand pushing his hair out of the way. He knew the girl was desperate to see what everyone else had but something gnawed at him, a feeling of unease which made him cautious about the girl seeing the footage.

Don't do this to yourself

“Send it to me, I deserve to see it. It’s not fair that everyone else has seen it but I haven't.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, both of them hesitating for a moment longer looking over to the boy sitting next to Y/n in uncertainty but he simply let out a sigh, his head nodding ever so slightly, so they reluctantly agreed. Kelce fingers worked upon the screen of his phone, and in seconds her pocket was vibrating. She pulled her phone out of her pocket with sweaty palms, her fingers were shaky as she clicked on the message the video opened.

Her heart sank as the footage played before her eyes.

There she was- barely clothed, a version of herself she barely recognized. Her face was blotched with dried blood, streaked across her hairline and crusted beneath her nose. Her cheeks were stained with tears,, body visibly trembling; the video on the screen was muted, but she didn’t need sound to know she was sobbing because her chest heaved in shallow, rapid breaths, her lips quivering. Her dress- once something soft and beautiful- hung in tatters. The delicate ribbons that once tied it together were shredded, barely clinging to her shoulders by fraying threads. The fabric was torn and wrinkled, offering little coverage, leaving her exposed in a way that made her stomach turn. She stared at the screen, frozen, unable to tear her eyes away.

Oh my God-

And suddenly, it wasn’t just a video. It was real again.

The cold floor under her skin, the crushing weight on her chest, the way her limbs felt so heavy, so useless. The panic, the fear, the suffocating helplessness, It all slammed into her at once, like a tidal wave she hadn’t been bracing for.

Her breath hitched painfully in her throat.

Until now, it hadn’t felt real. In the days after the party, her mind had blurred it out, like a fog rolling in to protect her from the truth. She hadn’t let herself think about it—not fully. Whenever the memories clawed their way to the surface, her brain shut them down, drowning them in static. Now, the reality of what Cooper had actually done to her hit her with full force. Without thinking, she got up suddenly, her hand trembling as she gripped the phone. Rafe’s voice was full of concern as he jumped to his feet, trying to keep up with her.

“Woah, woah, slow down, what’s going on?”

“This is-,” Y/N said quickly, her voice quivering. “-this is evidence we can use in court.”

Rafe looked at the girl, not taking his eyes off her slightly jittery frame as he processed what she was saying. The urgency in her voice made it clear that she was ready to expose herself for a chance to take control of the situation but he wasn't sure this was a good idea. Topper stood up from his seat, clearly concerned by the girls reaction, of course he was happy that people’s crude invasion of her privacy was going to at least help in some way, however from the way she gripped the phone in her quivering hold, her eyes flickering down to it’s lit up screen repeatedly he could tell she was on edge. His brows drew down slightly as he opened his mouth to speak out but the girl swiftly turned away from the boys and made her way toward the stairs. Rafe, sensing the urgency in her movements, followed closely behind her.

Shit

“Hey wait! Where are you going?”

He asked as he jogged up to her, his voice a mix of concern and confusion, as his legs moved quickly to keep by her side. Y/N didn’t stop to look back as she continued up the stairs, the video replaying in her hand. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her fingers tightening around her phone. She didn’t answer immediately, her mind focused on one thing,

“We need to show Ward,” she said, her voice almost distant, “We need to show him, so he can send it to the lawyers. It’s… it’s evidence.”

Her steps were steady at first, but as she ascended the staircase, her breathing began to quicken. The video on her phone flickered in her hands, and the reality of what was being shown to her- of what had happened- slowly started to grow heavier. She hadn’t realised it before, but the anxiety was creeping up on her, a tidal wave of panic hitting her chest with every step. Rafe noticed immediately. Her breathing was irregular, quick and shallow, like she was struggling to catch her breath. He’d seen this before- seen her tense up like this, and he knew what was coming.

Shit-

“Hey, hey, slow down,”

Rafe said, his voice firm but gentle. Y/N didn’t hear him at first, her focus still fixated on the screen, her hand holding it as her eyes watched the repeating video as if it might change the painful reality flashing before her eyes. But Rafe, sensing her distress, stepped in front of her, his hand gently took the phone from hers, switching it off and slipping it into his back pocket,

“Y/N, hey, look at me, how about you come sit with me, hmm?”

She shook her head, her hands still trembling, but Rafe didn’t let go, he held his hand out for her to take, his voice unwavering.

I can't, I can't-

“Look at me. Slow down, okay?”

Her breathing was erratic now, chest rising and falling with rapid, uneven gasps. She barely noticed the way her hand was clutching her chest

“Rafe…” Y/N whispered, her hand now twisting the material of her hoodie in her grasp, her breath shallow and quick.

“I… I can’t breathe.”

She leaned against the railing, trying to steady herself, her heart pounding in her chest. Rafe’s eyes softened as he took a step closer her,

“It’s okay, Its okay here-”

He took her hand softly, the panic starting to make her dizzy. She nodded slowly, and Rafe guided her to sit down on the stairs. She lowered herself carefully, her legs feeling weak, and Rafe followed her, sitting a step below her so they were facing each other, still holding her hand to try and ground her.

“Breathe with me,” he reassured her, his voice low and steady. Y/N’s eyes locked onto his, and took a breath in. But it wasn’t enough. Her chest felt tight. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head at him, chest rising and falling as exasperating breaths past her lips.

I can't do this- fuck

“No? That's okay”

He watched the girl as she squeezed her eyes shut, the hand that wasn’t holding onto his was gripping the railing of the banister, his heart clenched as he searched his mind for a way to help her. When he first started going to the therapist Y/n had recommended to him to help with his addiction, Rafe had told him about his lack of control over his emotions, over his actions. He thought it was pointless, because how was a random man he didn't know meant to help him with his problems, when he didn't even understand what he was going through. The therapist had taught him about calming strategies, about the importance of grounding yourself and momentarily, the boy doubted the man’s techniques, he thought they were stupid, but now as he sat here in front of the hyperventilating girl in front of him, he couldn't help but think he needed to send the man a thank you note.

“Just want you to focus on me okay? Can you do that for me Y/n?”

The boy squeezed her hand gently trying to get her attention as he saw the tear roll down her cheek, the girl’s mind clearly spiraling as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked at Rafe infront of her, her head moving up and down in a frantic gesture.

“I want you to tell me three things you can hear,” he instructed gently, observing as she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to center herself as her brows drew down into a small frown of focus.

“I can hear the TV downstairs, my uh- my heartbeat and, and I c-can hear your voice.”

Her words were breathless and her eyes were closed but Rafe smiled at her anyways, “Good job,” he encouraged.

“Now, tell me three things you can feel.”

She took a another shaky breath the grip on her hoodie loosened slightly, as her eyes squeezed together,

“The stairs,” she murmured. “my chest… my heart and… your hand…it’s warm- in mine.”

Rafe nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “Doing so good my sweet girl. Can you do one more for me?”

She could still feel the pressure in her chest, but her breathing had calmed, her lightheadedness retreating, she nodded her head slightly in a ‘yes’.

“What do you see right in front of you?”

Rafe’s voice rang out in her ears and her eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly to adjust to the light before opening fully. She looked around, trying to focus on the details, but her eyes landed on what was right in front of her. She spoke softly, her voice shaking slightly.

“You”

Rafe’s lips curled into a faint, comforting smile, “What about me?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate this time, her voice steady, “Your eyes.”

“You’ve always had a thing for my eyes, huh?” He chuckled softly, his smile widening as he leaned in a little closer. She nodded, the faintest blush rising on her cheeks.

“Always”

Rafe’s smile softened, his hand still holding hers, a gesture that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything. He leaned back against the stairs, still close but giving her space to breathe.

“Take your time, don’t push yourself so much Princess.”

Her brows drew down slightly as the nickname passed his lips.

Please don't call me that

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders still tense. She turned her head, resting it back against the railing, and closed her eyes for a moment, still trying to regain her composure. Rafe, watching her closely, stayed quiet for a while, giving her space to process. He knew she was battling a whirlwind of emotions. Fear. Anger. The pressure of what lay ahead. Finally, she opened her eyes again, her gaze soft but still heavy with the weight of everything.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to freak out- I uh, I didn’t realize… it just hit me.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

Rafe said, shaking his head. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them. No words needed to be said, they had been through too much together to be embarrassed of each other's fragility. She sighed deeply, looking down before speaking again.

“I just feel like I’m drowning in all of this. It’s not just the case, it’s everything else. The video… and the fact that everyone’s seen it… I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Rafe, who had been leaning forward, put a hand on her knee slowly not wanting to startle her, his touch gentle. “You’re not drowning, okay? You’ve got people here who are fighting with you... I’m fighting with you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes brimming with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. She took another deep breath, hand running over her face to try and regain her composure, this time more steady than before, and stood up slowly, offering a hand to Rafe as she did. He took it, standing up in front of her.

For a moment, they just stood there in silence.

Then, like a thread finally snapping loose, Y/N leaned forward, her body moving on instinct. Her forehead gently pressed against his shoulder, the fabric of his t-shirt soft but solid beneath her skin. She didn’t say anything- didn’t need to. Her body sagged slightly, the tension in her muscles slowly starting to uncoil as if letting herself go as she breathed in the comforting scent of the boy. Rafe stilled for only a moment, surprised by how vulnerable she allowed herself to be. Then, without thinking, his hand lifted and rested softly on the back of her head, his touch was light, careful. Protective.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice low and steady near her ear. His thumb brushed lightly against her hair.

“I’ve got you, yeah? You’re safe.”

A soft hum left her lips, barely audible, but it was enough for him. Her shoulders dropped slightly, the last of her rigid posture melting away as she leaned into him more, hand coming up to rest on his chest. The storm inside her, though still rumbling, quieted just a little in his hold. Rafe didn’t move, not wanting to destroy the perfect tranquility formed between them.

He just stayed there, holding her like he had all the time in the world, his hand cradling her head and his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

I love you

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

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420

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xlatiwritesx · 1 year ago

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Serious, serious | CL16

A/N: an F1 imagine 🏎️ !!! Yes, yes, I’m into F1 finally, so I of course had to write something and who else would it be than THE Charles Leclerc. Ngl, this isn’t my best work but I just had to get this idea out of my system 😵‍💫. Hope you guys enjoy it !!

Words: 1.6K

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: after your first serious scare being an F1 girlfriend, you’re rewarded with a new found emotion.

…

Time is a funny thing. Humorous, at times. It goes fast or slow as it pleases. Chooses its pace to get on your weakest nerve.

For instance, the past three months flew by. Meeting him, texting for the first time, your first date, your first kiss, attending his first race, getting to know his friends.

It felt as fast as blinking an eye. Or as fast as you were falling for him.

"A Ferrari car is off the track!" The commentator's voice boomed through the TV speakers. You jumped to your feet from the leather couch you were sat on.

"Oh no" the commentator said soon after. Soon after Charles' car crashed into the concrete wall alongside the track.

Your heart fell, your breath quickening at a dangerous rate. You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of what Charles always said to you.

"Crashes happen. All the time. These cars, though, they're meant to protect us. So, crashes aren’t as dangerous as they seem in F1"

"He's okay" you whispered to yourself. However, when you opened your eyes, everyone's face didn't confirm that, though.

"Right?" You asked, looking around the Ferrari unit. Everyone was frozen, eyes glued on the screen that showed smoke coming out of the crashed Ferrari car.

Charles' car.

Your legs moved before you even decided. You ran so fast. Faster than any car still racing out there even though the world seemed to crumble and break into pieces.

You gasped for air, the wind making it colder than usual. You reached a half empty Ferrari station. All those screens deserted. You barely held yourself up. You wondered how bad was it that half the team had to go to the scene.

"Crashes are normal in Formula One. Almost inevitable"

Not when it's the guy that you were realizing meant much more to you than you thought. The thought terrified you. So much terrified you all of a sudden.

"How do I get there?" You didn't realize how panicked you were until you heard yourself speak. The man stared at you in confusion.

"How do I get to the crash?" You urged. You couldn't believe you were saying that.

"Ma'am, you can't just go-“

"No, no! I have to!" You could feel your eyes well with tears.

"It's Charles Leclerc! Hurry!" A group of paramedics ran to their veichle. You ran after them.

"Ma'am this is not allowed-"

"Please!" You begged them.

"I'm sorry, this is for authorized-"

"Y/n!" You turned around, desperate to believe what you were hearing.

"Carlos! Carlos, please tell me he's okay" you ran to the only person that you felt would care enough to tend to your worries.

"They're taking him to the hospital" he sighed, bowing his head, his fingertips barely holding his helmet.

"W-why?" You stuttered. He finally looked at you.

"Let's just go"

You silently followed Carlos to his car after he quickly changed out of his suit. The drive to the hospital drove you insane. So many questions. Wondering about so much, too much at once.

As soon as Carlos parked outside the emergencies, you ran out of the car and through the glass doors, not caring about all the chaos going just outside of them.

"How serious is it?!"

"Do you think Leclerc will be able to go back to racing?!"

"Will he be there for the next race?!"

It was a lot. Too much, even. You wanted to scream them away. Tell them that this wasn't the time to ask all those questions with bright cameras and microphones everywhere. To respect the other patients' and their families' privacy. But you care more about Charles right now. So you kept running until your hands hit the edge of the counter.

"Charles Leclerc just came in" you breathed. The nurse widened her eyes at your state and just pointed to where he was.

You got to his bed in no time, him just lying there, unconscious. You immediately held his hand and the waterworks began. Carlos walked into the curtain closed space and stood in front of the bed, leaning on the edge.

"Hey" he called so quietly. You just kept crying.

"I don't recommend dating a Formula One driver if you'll cry this hard every time he crashes" he said casually. You stopped sobbing and looked up and to your left. You glared. Carlos shrugged.

"Just saying" he said, looking away.

"Carlos!" You whined. He looked at you, but you just went back to looking at Charles.

You noticed some bruises already forming on his hands. You held it tighter. You felt like time was not moving. It just dragged on and on. Carlos stood there. You sat there. Charles laid there. Just like that. For eternity.

"You didn't eat anything. What do you want?" Carlos' voice reminded you of his existence. You slowly turned to look at him, your tears barely dried on your face.

"How can you be so…chill?" You asked. Not in annoyance. Just out of pure curiosity. Carlos frowned at you for a second, before breaking into a fit of laughter. You stared at him blankly, your hand still holding Charles' tightly.

"I'm telling you! This sport is not for the faint of heart!" He waved a warning finger at you and you frowned at him. This time in annoyance.

"We just" he sighed when he stopped laughing, only a smile left behind from it.

"We get used to this. To seeing it. To being victims of it" he said ever so casually that it terrified you. It was terrifying the things passion makes a person do. How far people would go for what they love.

"I'm getting food and you will eat it. Charles would kill me if he woke up to a starving you while I was just hanging here. Deal?" He raised a brow at you. You hesitated, but Carlos kept his gaze. You finally nodded.

"Good. I'll be back in a bit" he said before leaving. You watched him go and something warm filled you. Gratitude.

You were grateful for him staying with you. With Charles. Not all drivers care enough to do that, unfortunately. You didn't notice the smile on your face until a few minutes later. When Charles spoke.

"What's so funny?" He mumbled. Your eyes shot to his and you stood up in an instant.

"Charles?!" You exclaimed, tears filling your eyes for the millionth time today. He just blinked, wincing.

“Who won the race?” He asked, still trying to find his voice.

"Oh my god" you covered your face, walking away from his bed in disbelief.

“Seriously?!” You spun around, crying. You wanted to fight even harder when a smile slowly took form on his tired face.

“Charles do you know how terrified I was?! And all you’re worried about is who won that race?!” You kept scolding. He placed one arm behind his head, still watching you in amusement. You breathed heavily, not bothering to wipe your tears as you crossed your arms over your chest.

You watched him laying there, smiling with his arm under his head, giving him better view of your tear-stained face.

“You know what?” He spoke. You had to walk a step closer so you could hear him clearly.

“I don’t want to know who won the race. I want to know how on earth did I get this lucky” he started.

“Yeah! I’m so glad it just cane down to some bruises. And, and, you’re awake, and you’re talking, and you seem okay!” You rambled, now sitting by his side on the edge of the bed. He chuckled softly at you missing what he meant, raising a hand to wipe your tears, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Right when I realized what was happening, there was one thought that kept echoing in my mind” he whispered, suddenly all serious. Your heartbeat quickened, not enjoying the memory of watching him crash and not knowing what he was feeling or if he was going to be okay.

“I just kept thinking ‘fuck. I didn’t get to tell her I love her’” he confessed. You raised your brows slightly, surprised at the sudden confession. You’ve been together for three months now and neither of you had said it, yet.

But there it was. And it felt like the world that crumbled after the race was patched and stitched back to perfect, pristine condition.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. Charles smiled as well, his heart monitor exposing how important this moment was to him.

You leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck carefully, holding him tightly to make up for all the fear of losing him. For all the fear of him not feeling the same way.

“I love you, too, Charles” you whispered.

You held each other for as long as it took for your flushed cheeks and racing hearts to quiet down, giving your new found feelings some sense of privacy.

Once you pulled away, your faces met, less than an inch apart. Charles leaned in. You were grateful there was no heart monitor on you, or that would’ve been the end.

“So, I didn’t know which is your favorite, so I got all flavors-“

Carlos’ voice sent you flying to your feet. Charles sat where he was and pierced his lips shut, staring at nothing in particular.

Carlos’ eyes danced between the two of you and he broke into a grin when he realized.

“I think it finally happened?” Carlos asked, hinting at what you both just confessed to one another. You glanced at Charles just to catch him glancing at you. He cleared his throat and you held back a smile.

“So now it’s serious, serious?” Carlos asked excitedly.

“Serious, serious” you both answered.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc ferrari #formula racing #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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bratzkoo · 4 months ago

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[M] merging arrangements | wonwoo pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, smut Rating: NC-17 Word count: 6k~ Warnings/note: for my Anna, my beautiful nurse. smut scenes, not graphic but it’s weird. don’t look at the first sex scene as romantic that much, pls. MINORS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, don’t read !!!

summary: Jeon Wonwoo's been smitten with you for years, as the two of you enter an arranged marriage, he hopes you'll feel the same.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The Maldives stretched out before them, a paradise of turquoise waters and powder-white sand beaches. Y/N stood on the balcony of their overwater bungalow, the warm breeze tugging at her hair. The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, reflecting off the calm ocean surface. It was breathtaking, like something out of a dream. And yet, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that she was living someone else's fantasy.

Behind her, she heard the soft slide of the glass door. Wonwoo emerged from the room, two glasses of champagne in hand. He approached cautiously, as if afraid to startle her.

"It's beautiful," Y/N murmured, accepting the glass he offered. The crystal was cool against her palm, grounding her in the moment.

Wonwoo nodded, his eyes on her profile rather than the view. "It is," he agreed softly. There was something in his tone, a warmth that made Y/N glance at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before both looked away, suddenly self-conscious.

An awkward silence fell between them. They were married now, alone together for the first time, and neither quite knew how to bridge the gap between stranger and spouse. The weight of expectations – from their families, from society, from themselves – hung heavy in the air.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, clearly searching for a safe topic. "So," he began, his voice a little too loud in the quiet evening, "tell me about your work at the hospital. What made you want to become a nurse?"

The question caught Y/N off guard. She had expected inquiries about her family, about her upbringing – the usual chaebol small talk. But this... this was personal. Genuine. She found herself smiling, grateful for the familiar topic.

"I've always wanted to help people," she began, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. "When I was little, I used to patch up my dolls, pretending they were patients. But it wasn't until high school that I really understood what nursing meant."

She paused, lost in the memory. "There was a car accident outside our school. A little boy was hurt, and I saw a nurse who happened to be passing by take charge of the situation. She was so calm, so competent. She knew exactly what to do to help that child, to comfort him until the ambulance arrived. I knew then that's what I wanted to do with my life."

As Y/N spoke, her eyes lit up with passion, her hands gesturing animatedly. Wonwoo found himself captivated. This was the Y/N he'd fallen for years ago – passionate, determined, alive with purpose. So different from the quiet, reserved bride he'd married just days ago.

"That's... amazing," Wonwoo said softly when she finished. "You must be very good at your job."

Y/N blushed slightly, unused to such direct praise. "I try to be. It's not always easy, but it's always worth it."

"I can imagine," Wonwoo nodded. "The responsibility must be immense."

"It is," Y/N agreed. "But there's nothing quite like the feeling of knowing you've made a difference in someone's life." She paused, then added with a small laugh, "Even if that someone is yelling at you because they don't want to take their medicine."

Wonwoo chuckled, a warm, rich sound that surprised them both. "I can't say I've ever had a client yell at me for trying to help them with their taxes."

This time, it was Y/N's turn to laugh. The sound seemed to lighten the air around them, easing some of the tension. They fell into a conversation about their respective professions, comparing the challenges and rewards of nursing and corporate finance.

As the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, Y/N found herself relaxing. Wonwoo was... not what she had expected. He listened attentively, asked thoughtful questions, and even made her laugh with his dry observations about the corporate world.

Maybe, just maybe, this arranged marriage wouldn't be the disaster she had feared.

---

The days of their honeymoon passed in a blur of pristine beaches, gourmet meals, and tentative conversations. Slowly, the awkwardness began to fade, replaced by a cautious friendliness. Wonwoo proved to be a thoughtful companion, always ensuring Y/N's comfort and happiness. He remembered how she liked her coffee in the morning (one sugar, no cream), made sure there were always fresh flowers in their bungalow (he'd noticed how she admired the local blooms), and never pressured her for physical intimacy beyond what she was comfortable with.

Y/N, in turn, found herself warming to his quiet charm and genuine interest in her thoughts and dreams. She discovered that beneath his reserved exterior lay a sharp wit and a surprising depth of knowledge on a wide range of topics. Their conversations ranged from the latest advancements in medical technology to the intricacies of global finance, from their favorite books to their childhood dreams.

One afternoon, as they lounged on the beach, Y/N found herself studying Wonwoo's profile. He was handsome, she had to admit, in a classic, understated way. But it was more than that. There was a kindness to him, a gentleness that she hadn't expected in an arranged marriage.

"Wonwoo," she said suddenly, causing him to look up from his book. "Why did you agree to this marriage?"

He blinked, clearly surprised by the question. For a moment, Y/N thought he might deflect or give some generic answer about family duty. But then he closed his book, his expression thoughtful.

"Honestly?" he began, his voice low. "At first, it was about duty. About fulfilling my parents' expectations and securing the future of our company." He paused, his gaze drifting out to the ocean. "But then... I remembered meeting you at that charity gala a few years ago. Do you remember?"

Y/N shook her head. She'd attended so many galas over the years, all blending together in a haze of forced smiles and polite small talk.

Wonwoo smiled softly, lost in the memory. "You were talking to a group of doctors about your dream of becoming a nurse. You were so passionate, so determined. I remember thinking, 'This is someone who's going to change the world.'"

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, touched by the sincerity in his voice.

"When my parents suggested this arrangement," Wonwoo continued, "I thought maybe... maybe this could be a chance. To get to know you, to see if we could build something real."

For a moment, Y/N was speechless. It was perhaps the most Wonwoo had said at one time since they'd met. And the raw honesty in his words... it stirred something in her, a flutter of possibility.

"I... I don't know what to say," she admitted.

Wonwoo reached out, gently taking her hand. "You don't have to say anything. I know this isn't ideal for either of us. But I want you to know that I'm committed to making this work, whatever that means for us."

Y/N squeezed his hand, a small gesture of acknowledgment and perhaps, just perhaps, the beginning of something more.

---

On their last night in paradise, as the sun dipped below the horizon painting the sky in brilliant hues, Y/N and Wonwoo found themselves alone in their bungalow. The air was thick with unspoken expectations and nervous anticipation. They had shared kisses throughout the week, tender moments of connection, but nothing more. Now, with their return to Seoul looming, the weight of their unconsummated marriage hung between them.

Y/N stood by the window, watching the stars emerge in the darkening sky. Her heart raced, but not with anticipation. Instead, a heavy sense of duty settled in her chest. This was what was expected of her, wasn't it? To be a proper wife, to fulfill her role in this arranged marriage. The thought of her first time being born out of obligation rather than love left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Wonwoo approached slowly, his own heart pounding. He had dreamed of this moment for years, but now that it was here, he found himself terrified. Not of the act itself, but of disappointing Y/N, of hurting her in any way.

"Y/N," Wonwoo said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. She turned to face him, carefully schooling her features to hide her inner turmoil. He reached for her hand, his touch gentle. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I want you to know that I respect you, and I hope that in time, we can build something real. There's no rush."

His words, so full of consideration, made Y/N's heart ache. Part of her wanted to confess her fears, to tell him that she wasn't ready, that she was only considering this out of a sense of duty. But the larger part, the part that had been raised to always meet expectations, to never disappoint, pushed those feelings down.

Instead, she squeezed his hand and met his gaze, forcing a smile she didn't entirely feel. "Thank you, Wonwoo," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I... I think I'd like to try. I trust you."

Wonwoo's breath caught at her words. He brought his free hand up to cup her cheek, his touch reverent. "Are you sure?" he asked, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation. "Y/N, I know this is your first time. We can wait if you're not ready."

For a moment, Y/N almost broke. The genuine care in his voice made her want to be honest, to tell him that she wasn't sure, that she was scared and conflicted. But the weight of expectation, of duty, pressed down on her. She leaned into his touch, drawing on all her strength to maintain her facade. "I'm sure," she whispered, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. "I want it to be with you."

What followed was a night that left Y/N feeling more conflicted than ever. Wonwoo was incredibly gentle, taking things slow, always checking in with her. His tenderness only made Y/N feel worse about her deception, about the fact that she was going through with this out of obligation rather than desire.

As Wonwoo kissed her softly, his hands caressing her with utmost care, Y/N found herself torn between her sense of duty and unexpected moments of genuine response to his touch. Her body reacted to his gentle ministrations, even as her mind whirled with guilt and confusion.

"If anything feels uncomfortable, or if you want to stop at any point, just tell me," Wonwoo murmured, his forehead resting against hers. "Your comfort and happiness are the most important things to me."

Y/N nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She wished she could take him up on his offer, to stop and be honest about her feelings. But the thought of disappointing him, of failing in her role as a wife, kept her silent.

When the moment finally came, Wonwoo was incredibly patient and attentive. He distracted her from any discomfort with tender kisses and whispered words of encouragement. Y/N was surprised to find that despite her emotional turmoil, her body responded to him. The initial pain gave way to sensations she hadn't expected, moments of pleasure that only added to her confusion.

"Are you okay?" Wonwoo asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of ensuring her comfort above his own pleasure.

Y/N nodded, her hands coming up to cup his face. "I'm okay," she whispered, and for a moment, it wasn't entirely a lie. "Please, don't stop."

As they moved together, Y/N found herself lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. There was the physical pleasure, yes, but also guilt, confusion, and a growing affection for Wonwoo that she hadn't anticipated. She looked up into his eyes, seeing in them a mixture of desire, affection, and something deeper that made her heart twist with a combination of warmth and regret.

For Wonwoo, the trust he believed Y/N was placing in him was humbling. He took his time, savoring every gasp, every soft moan, committing to memory the way she felt, the way she moved with him. His only goal was her pleasure, her comfort, unaware of the internal struggle raging within her.

As they reached their peak together, Y/N felt a sense of completion she hadn't expected, accompanied by a wave of guilt. It wasn't just physical satisfaction – it was emotional turmoil, a confusing mix of pleasure, duty fulfilled, and shame at her deception.

Afterward, as they lay tangled together, Wonwoo pressed soft kisses to Y/N's forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice filled with tender concern. "How do you feel?"

Y/N took a moment to assess her feelings, surprised by the warmth and contentment flowing through her. Despite her initial reservations and the sense of duty that had driven her decision, the experience had been genuinely pleasurable and emotionally moving. "I feel... wonderful," she said softly, and realized with a start that it wasn't a lie. The guilt she'd expected to feel was there, but it was overshadowed by a confusing mix of physical satisfaction and emotional connection.

"Thank you for being so patient and gentle with me," she added, her voice thick with emotion.

Wonwoo's arms tightened around her, and she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. "Thank you for trusting me," he said quietly. "Y/N, I... I want you to know that this means everything to me. You mean everything to me."

His words brought tears to Y/N's eyes, which she didn't try to hide this time. She was overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice and the depth of her own response to him. She snuggled closer, partly out of a growing affection, and partly to process the complex swirl of emotions inside her.

"You mean so much to me too, Wonwoo," she said, and this was entirely true. Despite her initial motivations being rooted in duty, she had grown genuinely fond of him over their honeymoon, and this intimate experience had only deepened that feeling.

As they drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other's arms, Y/N found herself grappling with a confusing mix of emotions. The guilt at her initial deception was still there, but it was now intertwined with genuine affection for Wonwoo and a surprising contentment with their physical intimacy. The sense of duty that had initially driven her had been transformed into something more complex, more real.

Y/N's last conscious thought before sleep claimed her was one of cautious hope. She might have entered this marriage out of duty, might have approached this intimate moment with mixed motivations, but the genuine connection she felt with Wonwoo now gave her hope for their future. Moving forward, she would try to build something real with him, based on the unexpected feelings that had blossomed between them.

---

The return to Seoul brought with it a harsh return to reality. No sooner had they unpacked their suitcases than both sets of parents descended upon them, full of questions and expectations.

Y/N's mother cornered her in the kitchen, ostensibly to help prepare tea but clearly with an agenda in mind. "So," she began, her tone deceptively casual as she arranged delicate porcelain cups on a tray. "How was the honeymoon? Did you and Wonwoo... get along?"

The implication in her mother's tone was clear. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. "Mother," she said, a warning in her voice.

But her mother was undeterred. "I'm just saying, darling, it's never too early to start thinking about the future. When can we expect news of a grandchild?"

Y/N nearly dropped the teapot she was holding. "Mother, we've only just gotten back."

"And?" her mother pressed. "You're not getting any younger, Y/N. And the merger between our companies will be much more secure with a heir in the picture."

Before Y/N could respond, Wonwoo's voice came from the doorway. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as they took in Y/N's flushed face and tense posture.

"Of course, of course," Y/N's mother said smoothly, picking up the tea tray. "We were just having a little mother-daughter chat. Shall we join the others?"

As they made their way to the living room, Wonwoo fell into step beside Y/N. "Are you okay?" he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N nodded, grateful for his concern. "I'm fine. Just... family pressures, you know?"

Wonwoo's hand found the small of her back, a comforting touch. "I understand. We're in this together, remember?"

His words, so similar to those he'd spoken on their honeymoon, helped steady her. Together, they entered the living room where their fathers were engaged in a discussion about the merger while Wonwoo's mother looked on with barely concealed impatience.

As Y/N and her mother served the tea, Wonwoo's father turned his attention to the newlyweds. "So," he began, his tone businesslike, "have you two given any thought to your future plans? The merger papers will be signed next week, and it would be good to have a clear picture of the next steps."

"Next steps?" Wonwoo asked, though the tightening of his jaw suggested he knew exactly what his father meant.

"An heir, of course," Wonwoo's mother chimed in. "It's never too early to start planning. The future of both our companies depends on a strong succession plan."

Y/N felt Wonwoo tense beside her. She reached for his hand under the table, a silent show of support.

Wonwoo's voice was calm but firm when he spoke. "We understand the importance, but we'd like some time to settle into married life first. Y/N's career is important to her, and to me. We'll start a family when we're ready."

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable. Then Y/N's father cleared his throat. "Of course, of course. No need to rush. But do keep in mind the bigger picture. This merger is about more than just business – it's about creating a legacy."

The parents exchanged knowing looks but dropped the subject – for now. As the conversation turned to other topics, Y/N felt a mixture of relief and dread. This was only the beginning, she knew. The pressure would only increase as time went on.

Later that night, as they prepared for bed in their new shared apartment, Y/N found herself watching Wonwoo. He moved around the room with a quiet efficiency, his face thoughtful.

"Thank you," she said suddenly, causing him to look up in surprise. "For what you said earlier, about my career. It... it means a lot to me."

Wonwoo's expression softened. He crossed the room to her, taking her hands in his. "I meant what I said, Y/N. Your dreams, your ambitions – they're important to me because they're important to you. We're partners now, in every sense of the word."

Y/N felt a rush of warmth towards him. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was different from their honeymoon kisses – more familiar, more comfortable. When she pulled back, Wonwoo was smiling, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes.

"We'll figure this out," he said softly. "Together."

As they settled into bed, Y/N found herself believing him. Whatever challenges lay ahead, at least they would face them as a team.

---

Y/N's return to the hospital was a welcome respite from the suffocating expectations at home. The familiar bustle of the emergency room, the beeping of machines, the controlled chaos – it all felt wonderfully normal. As she changed into her scrubs, Y/N felt a sense of rightness settle over her. This was where she belonged.

She made her way to the nurses' station, nodding greetings to familiar faces as she passed. The hospital staff had been curious about her sudden marriage – gossip traveled fast in the healthcare world – but most had been respectful enough not to pry.

"Well, well, look who's back from paradise," a familiar voice called out as Y/N approached the nurses' station. Alexys, her friend and sometimes-nemesis from the medical technology department, was leaning against the counter, a mischievous grin on her face. "How was the honeymoon? Did you even leave the room?"

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. "Alexys!" she hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard. "Behave yourself."

"Never," Alexys grinned, unrepentant. She lowered her voice, leaning in conspiratorially. "But seriously, how are you doing? This whole arranged marriage thing... it's got to be weird, right?"

Before Y/N could respond, Dr. Ela joined them, her white coat crisp and her expression warm. "Welcome back, Y/N," she said, giving her friend a quick hug. "We've missed you around here. The ER just isn't the same without you keeping everyone in line."

Y/N smiled, grateful for her friends' presence. "Thanks, Ela. It's good to be back. I've missed this place."

"More than your new hubby?" Alexys teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, a new voice joined the conversation. "Hey, Y/N. Welcome back."

She turned to see Seungcheol approaching, a stack of files in his arms. He hesitated for a moment upon seeing her, then approached with a forced casualness. "Glad to have you back on the team," he added, his voice a little too bright to be natural.

Y/N felt a flutter in her stomach, a mixture of fondness and guilt. "Thanks, Seungcheol," she managed, acutely aware of Alexys and Ela watching the interaction with interest. "It's good to see you."

An awkward silence fell over the group. Ela, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat. "Well, we should probably get to work. Y/N, why don't you join me for rounds? I can catch you up on what you've missed."

Grateful for the interruption, Y/N nodded. "Sounds good. I'll see you guys later," she said, directing a small smile at Alexys and Seungcheol before following Ela down the hallway.

As they walked, Ela lowered her voice. "Are you okay? That seemed... tense."

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm fine. It's just... complicated, you know? Everything's changed so fast, and I'm not sure how to navigate it all."

Ela squeezed her friend's arm sympathetically. "I can't even imagine. But you know we're here for you, right? Whatever you need."

Y/N smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ela. That means a lot."

As they began their rounds, Y/N found herself falling back into the familiar rhythm of hospital life. The complex cases, the worried families, the rush of adrenaline when a critical patient came in – it all reminded her why she'd fought so hard to continue her career.

However, throughout the day, she couldn't help but notice Seungcheol finding reasons to be near her – offering to help with difficult patients, bringing her coffee during her break, lingering to chat whenever possible. His attentions, once welcome, now filled her with a confused mix of emotions.

During a particularly hectic moment in the ER, Y/N found herself working alongside Seungcheol to stabilize a patient with multiple injuries from a car accident. Their teamwork was seamless, born from years of working together. As they successfully got the patient stable and ready for surgery, Seungcheol caught her eye, a look of admiration and something deeper in his gaze.

"We make a good team," he said softly, his hand brushing against hers as they both reached for the patient chart.

Y/N felt a jolt at the contact, memories of their past flirtations flooding back. She stepped back, creating some distance between them. "We always have," she replied, keeping her tone professional. "I should go update the family."

As she walked away, she could feel Seungcheol's eyes on her back. The guilt that had been simmering all day intensified. She cared for Seungcheol, she couldn't deny that. But she was married now, committed to making things work with Wonwoo. The situation was far more complicated than she'd ever imagined it would be.

Later in the day, Y/N found herself in the lab, waiting for some urgent test results. Alexys was there, bent over a microscope with intense concentration.

"Any chance those results are ready?" Y/N asked, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

Alexys looked up, a smirk playing on her lips. "Patience, Nurse Jeon. Quality takes time."

Y/N bristled at the use of her new surname. "It's still Nurse Kit at work, Alexys. And my patient doesn't have the luxury of time."

"Well, excuse me, Florence Nightingale," Alexys shot back, rolling her eyes. "But unlike some people, I can't just stick a thermometer in an ear and call it a day. These tests are delicate."

"And my patient's life depends on those results," Y/N retorted, her frustration mounting. "So if you could maybe work a little faster instead of making snide comments..."

"Ladies," a firm voice interrupted. They turned to see Ela standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Let's remember we're all on the same team here. Alexys, how much longer for those results?"

Alexys had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Five minutes, tops."

Ela nodded. "Good. Y/N, why don't you go check on your patient in the meantime? I'll bring the results as soon as they're ready."

As Y/N left the lab, she could hear Ela gently admonishing Alexys. Despite her frustration, she felt a surge of affection for her friends. They might bicker and tease, but when it came down to it, they always had each other's backs.

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of patients, paperwork, and the usual hospital drama. By the time Y/N was changing out of her scrubs, she felt physically and emotionally drained. As she gathered her things from her locker, she heard a soft knock. Looking up, she saw Seungcheol standing in the doorway of the locker room.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentle. "Tough shift?"

Y/N nodded, too tired to maintain her earlier professional distance. "Yeah, but we got through it. That's what matters."

Seungcheol stepped into the room, closing the distance between them. "Y/N, I... I know things are different now. But I want you to know that I'm still here for you. As a friend, as a colleague... as whatever you need me to be."

The sincerity in his voice made Y/N's heart ache. "Seungcheol, I—"

"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I know you're married now. I respect that. I just... I needed you to know."

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Wonwoo: "Hope you had a good first day back. Dinner's waiting at home when you're ready."

The message was a stark reminder of her new reality. She looked back at Seungcheol, seeing the mixture of hope and resignation in his eyes. "I should go," she said softly. "But thank you, Seungcheol. For everything."

As she left the hospital, Y/N felt the weight of her complicated emotions settling over her. She was married to Wonwoo, committed to making their arrangement work. But her history with Seungcheol, the ease of their connection, the what-ifs... it all swirled in her mind, making her question everything.

The drive home was a blur, Y/N's thoughts too chaotic to focus on anything but the road ahead. As she entered the apartment she now shared with Wonwoo, the smell of home-cooked food greeted her. She found Wonwoo in the kitchen, plating what looked like a gourmet meal.

He looked up as she entered, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Welcome home," he said, his voice gentle. "I thought you might be hungry after your first day back."

The domesticity of the scene, so at odds with the turmoil of her day, nearly brought Y/N to tears. "You cooked?" she managed, setting down her bag.

Wonwoo nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm not as good as the chefs at the resort, but I wanted to do something nice for you. How was your day?"

As they sat down to eat, Y/N found herself opening up about her day – the challenges with patients, the bickering with Alexys, the comfort of being back in her element. She carefully avoided mentioning Seungcheol, guilt gnawing at her for the omission.

Wonwoo listened attentively, asking thoughtful questions and offering words of support. As they cleared the dishes together, he suddenly turned to her, his expression serious.

"Y/N, I want you to know how much I admire what you do," he said. "Your dedication to your patients, your passion for your work... it's incredible. I know our families are pushing for you to give up nursing, but I want you to know that I support you, completely."

Overwhelmed by his words, Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. Without thinking, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Wonwoo in a tight hug. He returned the embrace, his strong arms enveloping her, providing a sense of safety and comfort she hadn't realized she needed.

As they stood there in the kitchen, holding each other, Y/N felt some of her earlier confusion begin to fade. Yes, her feelings were complicated. Yes, there were challenges ahead. But in that moment, with Wonwoo's steady heartbeat against her ear, she felt a sense of rightness. This was her husband, the man she had committed to building a life with. And maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

"Thank you," she whispered against his chest. "For understanding. For supporting me."

Wonwoo pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "Always," he murmured. "We're in this together, remember?"

As they prepared for bed that night, the air between them was charged with a new awareness. The physical intimacy they'd shared on their honeymoon had been tentative, exploratory. But now, with the reality of their daily lives settling in, there was a different kind of intimacy developing – one built on mutual respect, understanding, and the beginnings of genuine affection.

When Wonwoo kissed her goodnight, Y/N felt a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with duty or obligation. As she drifted off to sleep, Wonwoo's arm draped protectively over her waist, she found herself looking forward to the future they would build together.

But even as she succumbed to sleep, a small part of her mind couldn't help but wonder about the path not taken, and the man she'd left behind at the hospital. The road ahead was far from simple, but Y/N was beginning to realize that the heart rarely followed a straightforward path.

The next few weeks fell into a rhythm. Y/N threw herself into her work at the hospital, while Wonwoo divided his time between the office and working from home. They were still finding their footing as a couple, but each day brought small moments of connection – shared meals, quiet evenings watching dramas together, gentle kisses goodbye in the morning.

At the hospital, Y/N continued to navigate the complex dynamics with her colleagues. Alexys remained a constant source of both irritation and amusement, their bickering a familiar dance that often ended in reluctant laughter.

"Seriously, Alexys," Y/N sighed one afternoon, exasperated by yet another delay in lab results. "How long does it take to run a simple blood panel?"

Alexys leaned against the lab counter, a mischievous glint in her eye. "About as long as it takes you to take a patient's temperature. Oh wait, that's right – you nurses have those fancy ear thermometers now. Must be nice to have technology do all the work for you."

"Says the person whose entire job revolves around machines doing the work," Y/N shot back, unable to suppress a smile.

"Ladies," Ela's voice cut in, equal parts amusement and exasperation. "If you two have enough energy to bicker, perhaps you could channel it into, oh I don't know, actual work?"

As they both mumbled apologies, Ela shook her head fondly. "I swear, sometimes I feel more like a kindergarten teacher than a doctor."

Despite the teasing, Y/N was grateful for the normalcy of these interactions. They were a welcome distraction from the more complicated aspects of her new life – namely, her conflicted feelings about Seungcheol.

True to his word, Seungcheol had maintained a respectful distance. But Y/N couldn't help but notice the longing looks he sent her way when he thought she wasn't looking, or the way his hand would linger just a moment too long when passing her a patient chart. It was torture, in a way – a constant reminder of what might have been.

One evening, as Y/N was finishing up her shift, she quite literally ran into Seungcheol as she rounded a corner. His hands came up to steady her, and for a moment, they were closer than they had been in weeks.

"I'm sorry," Y/N said, stepping back quickly. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's okay," Seungcheol replied softly, his eyes searching her face. "Y/N, I—"

"I should go," she interrupted, suddenly desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze. "Wonwoo's waiting for me."

As she hurried away, she could feel Seungcheol's eyes on her back, full of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises.

When she arrived home that night, she found Wonwoo in the living room, surrounded by stacks of papers and looking thoroughly stressed.

"Rough day?" she asked, setting down her bag and moving to massage his tense shoulders.

Wonwoo leaned into her touch with a grateful sigh. "You could say that. The merger is... complicated. There are a lot of moving parts, a lot of people to please."

Y/N felt a pang of guilt. In the whirlwind of her own conflicted emotions, she'd almost forgotten the enormous pressure Wonwoo was under. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she offered.

Wonwoo turned to look at her, a soft smile on his face. "You're doing it," he said, reaching up to squeeze her hand. "Just being here, being you... it helps more than you know."

In that moment, looking down at her husband – this man who supported her dreams, who cooked her dinner after long shifts, who was working so hard to make their families' vision a reality – Y/N felt a surge of affection. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Wonwoo responded immediately, deepening the kiss as he pulled her around the couch and into his lap. As things heated up between them, Y/N found herself fully present in the moment, thoughts of the hospital and Seungcheol fading away.

Later, as they lay tangled together in bed, Wonwoo trailing lazy patterns on her bare skin, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. It wasn't the all-consuming passion she'd once dreamed of, but there was a warmth, a tenderness to their relationship that was beginning to feel like home.

"Y/N," Wonwoo murmured, his voice husky with sleep. "I know this isn't how either of us imagined starting our lives together. But I want you to know... I'm happy. With you."

Y/N felt her heart swell at his words. She snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I'm happy too," she whispered, and was surprised to realize she meant it.

As she drifted off to sleep, Y/N knew that challenges lay ahead. The pressure from their families for an heir would only increase. The complications at the hospital wouldn't magically disappear. But for now, in the warmth of Wonwoo's embrace, she allowed herself to hope. Hope that they could build a life together that was more than just duty and obligation. Hope that the affection growing between them could blossom into something deep and lasting.

The road ahead was uncertain, but Y/N was beginning to believe that with Wonwoo by her side, they could face whatever came their way. Together.

186 notes · View notes

chisubi · 25 days ago

Text

from the lovers’ grave — h. ran

content. fem!reader, one (1) suggestive scene near the end, something about grief, mourning, and love

word count. 10.7k

note. this was not meant to be long. originally, all i had planned was the scene with ran and rindō at the end talking and the confession scene for practice (i hate confessions) i am not sure what happened . . . also, this is unedited.

In the grand scheme of things, there were more good times than bad.

Of course, there’s no denying that during their teenage years of growing up, at some point, things have been deteriorating. Spiraling and spiraling and sprialing. They were just boys being boys, doing the only things they knew how to do, fighting and surviving; those moments were full of fun, exhilarating, a temporary bliss in this little corner of the world of theirs.

However, boys like them don’t live for long. They aren’t meant to. Just like how the saying goes: live fast, die young. Ran supposes the saying is true. Many of the people he’d known died before reaching adulthood, just like him — Kurokawa Izana. That’s just life, after all.

His funeral is a simple one. Nothing grand, and rather than how plain it is, it is more surprising how someone without a family – an orphan – is able to have a proper funeral. People like them never have one, forgotten by everyone and everything. And the one who stays forgotten by the world is Izana [to no one’s surprise], except for the few remaining members of the S-62 generation. Multiple police officers that keep a keen eye on all of them, and none of them are stupid enough to try and escape on a day like this — their bond with Izana is worth much more than that. It wasn’t something so shallow.

There are no decorations besides the white chrysanthemums and white lilies sitting in front of an old picture of him — a picture of when he first was admitted into juvenile detention all those years ago, he looked so young, his eyes were the same then as they are now. Dead. No sign of light. His cold body lies in a plain wooden casket. It’s an empty, stifling ceremony.

Shion is uncharacteristically quiet, and that alone would’ve been an insane sight if it were another day, but everyone understands his silence today. Nobody mentions it. Nobody says anything at all. It’s so silent, each breath drawn echoes, and something feels extremely off about the ceremony — something that has Ran glancing around the room every couple of minutes.

An obvious reason for this is how Kakuchō is not here; that kid would never miss this for anything, everyone knows this, and Ran can assume what happened. His injuries must be quite severe, and it’s rather a miracle that he had woken up, heck, even much earlier than the doctor’s expected. A sign of God’s mercy (and for a moment, in that cramped cell, Ran is a believer of faith). If Kakuchō is still awake, there’s no doubt he would be longfully staring out that white hospital room. Those cold, sad eyes of his watching the way the snow falls, burying the world.

And the other reason is how at the front of this cramped room, right next to the casket, sits a girl Ran has never seen before. It's alarming. Your head stays down as you only look at Izana, you haven’t bothered to look up since they have entered the room earlier. Ran can’t help, but wonder who you are. Who you are to Izana. An outsider to the S-62 generation that Izana had built from cold, scarred hands for delinquents like him. Ran wants to know so badly, but he is too tired, and now isn’t the time to focus on people he doesn’t know nor cares about.

Ran slips the singular white flower into Izana’s folded hands, all stiff, scarred, and freezing cold. A body of a dead man. He decides to place another: Kakuchō’s offering. Perhaps, that kid’s prayers would reach him, his heart has always been more pure than all of theirs combined, a softer soul trapped within this cruel world. Ran doesn't know why, but he whispers to Izana that he is sorry (he doesn’t know for what — maybe, everything), yet his eyes dwell on you.

When you turn and catch his curious eyes, he doesn’t look away; neither do you. Attempting to smile, it’s almost as if he’s looking straight into a mirror; a shiver runs down his spine.

He smiles back.

—

August tastes like cigarettes and bitter cherries. Just like it had last year in February, when blood, bones and ash had fallen and scattered around Yokohama that cold night, moments before the snow began to fall down. Gradients of whites and reds painting the town.

It’s a rather cool evening for a summer day when Ran finds himself visiting Yokohama after so long (even after his release, which had been quite some time ago, he hasn’t stepped foot here). There’s melancholy lingering in the air, much like how it always clings onto to long summer nights. Ran welcomes this, allowing his feet to lead him. Anywhere, everywhere, or nowhere at all. He just walks down the bustling streets, endlessly.

Something feels strange. . . Something is going to change this summer, something big; the unexpected always comes to people like him.

Downtown, there's a small bar that catches his eye. There's nothing too special about the shop — decorated with tacky neon flickering signs. Open, reflecting within his eyes. There's something inside of him that tells him he needs to enter, and so, he does just that.

And that feeling of his comes true within minutes. Ran sees you again. Coincidentally [or perhaps, fate, or by total chance].

The Izakaya isn’t really filled with people; either due to it still being early, since work hours are still going on or it just isn’t popular among the many identical shops along this street. And he should’ve invited Rindō to come with him; who enters and eats at an Izakaya alone? Ran has never gone out to eat or drink alone before, either way, it’s not like he’s a kid, so it doesn’t really matter that much, but he knows Rindō will be bitching to him about going out to eat alone. Well, that’s something he’ll have to deal with later.

Ran sits down at a table for two; ordering a small plate of yakitori and umeshu, something sweet and cold to drink. A waitress comes over and places his food down, his eyes widening at a familiar face, he speaks before he thinks, “Do you remember me?”

Your brows draw together, you look him up and down, then shake your head. “I. . . I am not too sure. I don’t believe so. Have we met before?”

He pauses. Disappointment swirls in his stomach, sinking. He tries not to think about why it makes him feel that way — like, disappointment is normal, but he knows he’s not someone unforgettable. “No. I must’ve been mistaken. Sorry ‘bout that.” He offers you a polite smile and that’s when he sees your eyes widen in recognition, the bar’s yellow lights flickering in yours; shining, shining, shining.

His finger glides against the rim of the glass cup, as he waits for you to speak — he knows you will say something. The ice cube clinks against the glass.

Clink. . . clink. . . clink.

“Oh—! Wait, um, you’re from the funeral. . .?” Uncertain as you carefully utter those words, he confirms this, and your eyes brighten. “Oh, hold on. Sorry, I can’t really talk right now, but my shift ends in twenty minutes,” you drift off, eyes darting toward the old big clock that hangs on the wall. You hopefully ask, “Wait for me?”

He nods. “Yeah, sure,” Ran casually says, ”take your time.” You thank him with a smile.

[Twenty minutes turn into fourty, and for some reason, he stays and waits for you. The yakitori was worth it, anyway. He’s grown to appreciate the taste of plums a little more today, too. It’s sweet.]

The both of you don’t say much tonight. Only indulging in introductions and small talk. The pier isn’t so far from the Izakaya, barely a ten minute walk away. When the two of you sit on the ledge, close yet not close enough to be touching, it’s all silent. Not a comforting one — one where the air feels thicker and there’s this itch where he feels as if he needs to say something to break this awkward tension. Curiously silent, because Ran has a lot of things to say — things he needs to know, but that can wait for another day.

“It’s a little breezy tonight,” you attempt to break the silence. He can tell there’s a lot on your mind, too, but you probably won’t say anything either. Not tonight, at least.

He offers, “Would you like my cardigan?”

You shake your head, declining. “No, but thank you. You might get cold without it.”

Relief runs over him when you decline because he is cold, he tends to get cold easily (which is something he and Rindō argue about because Rindō always, always, always turns the heat down in their apartment because he gets hot easily, even though Ran tells him not to touch it), and doesn’t like sharing his clothes or anything he owns with anyone. But Ran is a gentleman, or so he tries to be, girls feel special when he acts like this, and he likes making them think that. Well, sometimes he does. Sometimes, he doesn’t know.

“If you say so. That was my one and only offer so don’t complain after,” he halfheartedly teases (he still thinks you should’ve accepted it, because anyone would’ve if he was the one offering, but that’s your loss, really).

Maybe the way he was joking misses, because you simply reply, “I won’t.” And he hums. Silence falls over again.

“He was such an idiot,” your voice is anything but harsh when you say this. So soft, fond, a whisper of love. Too angelic, Ran is sure it will never reach him. He almost misses your words under the waves, too.

He doesn’t know who you are to Izana. A part of him understands, though. No matter what you two were or who you are, he knows you have loved Izana so dearly, you probably have for a long time. It’s quite obvious, the feeling of him that lingers onto you — he can feel it all.

His fists tightens around nothing, nail digging into his palm. How come he has never seen or heard of you before? Ran knows for a fact that Kakuchō knows you. Does Shion as well? He’s obsessed with Izana, obsessed to an unhealthy degree, so surely he knows or at least has caught a glimpse of you before. Maybe he really didn’t know Izana at all.

It’s kind of frustrating, he thinks.

Ran agrees with you. Though, he doesn’t verbally express it. Izana really was an idiot, a selfish one who was always stuck in his own head, and Ran would never get to tell him that. He’ll never get to tell him anything again. Bitterness, regret, and anger fill him for a split second, only a second, not a millisecond longer, because these emotions quickly fade back into nothing. Nothing because Ran can do nothing, but feel nothing.

“Do—Do you usually sit out here, doing nothing? Watching the world?” he sniffles. It’s summer, midsummer, heat is supposed to consume them, especially during these short nights, but the weather has been strange lately. He’s not even cold, it’s just when the breeze passes by, he gets bad shivers.

The flame of the lighter flickers, you’re lighting a cigarette — he didn’t peg you as a smoker (despite only knowing you for less than an hour at maximum), and he grimaces once he catches sight of a little pink box sliding back into your pocket. Pianissimo. Peach flavoured, of course, he almost snorts.

“Sometimes,” you reply as you breathe out the smoke. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

You pass the cigarette to him, he accepts, saying, “Nah, it’s fine.” Your smeared lip gloss stains the tip of the cigarette, his lips overlap with the marking, inhaling the bitter smoke to feel that familiar burn, it’s quite mild compared to what he prefers, something sweet lingers within, too.

“Okay, but that was my one and only offer.”

Ran chuckles at the familiar remark, and you let one out, too. “Okay. I get it.” He passes back the cigarette. “A cheeky one, aren’t you?” It comes off more flirtatious than intended, but it makes you smile at him, cheekily.

You’re captured by the moonlit water, cigarette ashes drifting down, down, down, eyes taken by the ashes, his eyes drift back to you, and that sentimental expression you wear.

(Losing someone isn’t anything new. It’s normal in a world like this. He wonders if you know this; you definitely do.)

—

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I am sure,” you tell him, “it’s not even a party, it’s just a get together. Go have fun with your boys. Hasn’t it been a while since you’ve hung out like that?”

“Knowing them it will be a party instead,” Kakuchō replies with a short sigh. He has never been too fond of crowds and strangers. You wonder why he is so insistent on you joining, however you don’t ask. You tell him you are sure and want to stay home, before shoo-ing him out the door.

And despite your warnings [nagging, as Kakuchō likes to call it], when you go to see him the next day, you’re met with a hungover Kakuchō and two boys knocked out on his old, leather couch. One of them is barely hanging on, half of his body is dangling off, and you aren’t sure how he didn’t wake up from being uncomfortable. And the other, you are quick to recognise as Haitani Ran.

Kakuchō was indeed right. It’s always a party with the Haitani brothers, you’ve heard this from others before, too. You take a second glance at Kakuchō. Poor, poor, poor Kakuchō, who can barely open his eyes and stumbles his way towards you, more so to what you have in your hand, that glutton, you almost burst into giggles.

You greet him, asking him simple questions like: did you have fun last night? Too much fun, you guess. Are you hungry? And he’s replying to each one with nods and grunts and incoherent strings of ‘yeah’, ‘uh-huh’, and the most annoying one of all, ‘what’. Maybe, you both were too loud because the sound of shuffling behind catches yours and Kakuchō's attention. Both boys are awake — stuck in a similar state as Kakuchō — sets of tired purple eyes peering around the room as if they didn’t even realise they crashed at their younger friend’s place.

After a few seconds, Ran speaks up. “Oh. Good morning.” He doesn’t look too surprised seeing you. His hand ruffles through his wavy hair, smoothing out his bed head as he flashes you a grin. Ran has a pretty smile. He’s pretty first thing when he wakes up, and that alone makes you envious. It’s unfair.

“Hi, good morning,” your voice comes out a little quieter than you wish it had.

Ran is still smiling, as he repeats, “Good morning.” A slight pause as you smile, too. He cocks his head to the side, introducing the boy beside him. “My baby brother, Rinrin,” he lazily introduces.

“Don’t call me that,” the boy [Rinrin] grumbles as he turns to you and gives a slight nod, “Rindō.” Rindō, not Rinrin, bends down to sweep up a shirt from the floor, slipping it back on, covering his tattoo, long black ink that paints half his chest. Your eyes linger for a moment too long, before moving onto Ran, whom for some strange reason, you know to have the other half of that tattoo on his body. They look so different yet alike.

Ran raises an eyebrow, a grin tugging on his corner of his lip once he catches your lingering gaze. Like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He mouths, ‘What?’, you turn your head away, feeling embarrassed. Your body heat rises to your neck, cheeks, and ears.

You can feel another set of eyes on you, not belonging to Ran, however you don’t look back up. You place the homemade bento on the counter, Kakuchō lets out a sigh, “Finally.” You roll your eyes at the boy.

“Sorry, I didn’t know Kakuchō would be having guests, so I only made enough for one person. . .”

You aren’t actually sorry. It’s just a little awkward. Kakuchō could’ve given you a heads up. It feels rude only bringing a meal enough for one when there’s a party of four (though, you didn’t plan on staying over after dropping off his food).

“Nah, it’s cool. We can share,” Ran says.

“No. Let’s order something else, too. I’m starving.” Rindō brings up. You all collectively agree with him because there’s no way the food you had brought is enough for the four of you.

Ran orders yakisoba and soda for all of you. Kakuchō loudly complains when he notices the two of them picking at the food you made for him, even with the yakisoba right there.

—

“So,” Ran begins.

You look up at him. “So?”

“Can I call you later?”

“For what?”

“To see you again,” he replies, “I have a feeling we’re going to keep running into each other.”

“That may be so.”

—

Haitani Ran was right. You do meet again and again and again. Sometimes he will get a call, lips pressing into a thin line, threatening to fall into a frown as he slips into another room for a few minutes before coming out to tell you that he has to go. He doesn’t say what, you don’t ask, but you know. It’s the same thing that has Kakuchō leaving his apartment in the middle of the night, too. You try not to think about it – acknowledge it – it has nothing to do with you.

He stops by from time to time, dropping by whenever he is in the neighbourhood, much like today. You’re no longer surprised when you open the door to be met with that charming smile of his, rather once you hear the familiar sound of knocking or ringing of the doorbell, you sort of expect it to be Ran.

“You play the guitar?” His line of gaze falls onto the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner of the living room.

“Hm? Oh no, that belongs to Izana.” Used to. A pause, before you add, “There was a time when I used to beg him to teach me and he gave up after an hour.”

Ran snorts as his lips curl up. “That’s a good job for you then. He would’ve given up on the guys in less than five minutes so you probably did okay, right?”

You laugh at his words. It’s the truth, because Izana has always been an impatient (impulsive) guy. “Maybe. Kakuchō was able to learn how to play it, and I remember being a little jealous of him because Izana seemed happy to have someone to talk about music with.”

You were jealous, upset, embarrassed at your lack of ability — you thought, maybe you just aren’t talented? You eventually came to terms with it. But there were moments when you would watch Izana and Kakuchō play their guitars (—Izana set money aside and bought a used guitar just for Kakuchō, you assume Kakuchō leaves it hidden away, far away from everyone and everything), the room fills with music and you would be sitting on the couch listening, listening, and listening until you’re slowly drifting asleep to their melodies.

You take a hollow breath.

“Those two have known each other since they were kids. . . Ah, you, as well, right?” he asks and you nod your head in confirmation.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Ran lifts his eyes to meet yours. Ever so purple, beautifully vibrant, like a gem, you’re afraid it could shatter. He smiles, softer, sadder. “I see. The three of you have a special bond then. Something others cannot replicate.”

Your heart races, then pangs at his words. Something special.

Yeah, it is special, you could never forget it. Even if you wanted to.

“Just like you and your brother. The charismatic brothers of Roppongi: the Haitani brothers,” you say, voice light with a small smirk on your lips. “I have heard some stories about you two.”

“Mhm, I bet you have. All good things, I assume?”

You tease, “Maybe, maybe not.”

He chuckles to himself. “So, good rumours,” he concludes with a satisfied look, “I am Haitani Ran, after all.” Definitely nothing good, you both know, or so, you assume Ran knows.

You agree, “That’s right, Mr. Haitani.”

He smirks at the name.

Ran doesn’t ask if it’s okay to touch the guitar, he just takes it, yet you can’t find yourself getting upset or complaining about it. You watch as he plops down onto the couch, patting the spot next to him, indicating you to come over, in which you do. “Ran, do you know how to play?”

He looks over at you and winks, “Oh, honey, that’s what you are about to find out. Keep your eyes on me.”

You roll your eyes.

It’s not even two minutes later, when you do find out, just like Ran had said. You learn he doesn’t know how to play at all. Ran plays the same tune over and over again, or he attempts to, it sounds nothing like the pretty way Izana plays. It’s clunky, off-tune, yet something about it feels tender. So, so gentle; your heart trembles along with the tune. Ran doesn’t seem to care about his lack of skills; lavender eyes softly gazed on the way his slender fingers move against the strings — a faint smile to his lips, rosy and glossy from your cherry lip balm you saw him put on earlier, as he plays Izana’s beloved acoustic guitar.

You remember Izana at this moment. The way he played all his favourite songs — how Bohemian Rhapsody and Under Pressure was played on repeat in his little apartment. How, on this very couch that you and Ran are sitting on, he used to get frustrated at how you couldn’t memorise or understand what he was teaching you (and in your defense, he sucks at teaching, definitely one of the only things he has ever sucked at), and you would cry at his frustration. Izana eventually gave up and instead learned to play your favourite song for you.

You wanted to learn it yourself, but you were so happy at the same time. It felt special. You felt special.

You remember, you remember, you close your eyes, and you remember it all. It dances to the memories every day, a little record stuck on repeat. It’s all you have left of him. What if one day your heart suddenly doesn’t remember?

“Falling asleep to my playing?” His voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, all you see is Ran in front of you.

You shake your head and smile at the sight, Ran catches it and flashes a pretty smile back, laughing beneath his breath as he attempts to show off by playing a series of random chords quickly. Giggling at his antics, you attempt to sing along; humming a random tune as the two of you try to match each other, clearly missing the beat. Soft laughter, light teasing, Ran playing the guitar and you singing along fills the room in your apartment. Your hearts dance along, ever so intimately. You feel light, so light, and you haven’t felt this way in a long time.

Maybe you could get used to this (perhaps, you already are).

“I don’t know anything about guitars or any instrument,” he admits, “maybe besides the recorder.” He looks disheartened at the fact as he stops playing and his fingernail taps against the wood, it echoes back.

“It’s okay, I am no good at it either. I also only know how to play the recorder,” only because it is mandatory to learn in primary school. “I am probably better than you at it, though.”

“Oh? Is that a challenge, young miss?”

“Maybe.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” he says. “Someday, of course.”

You nod. “Someday.”

—

Ran sleeps with you for the first time tonight. After dinner, he was too lazy, and your couch was too comfortable, so he didn’t want to leave, and you didn’t really seem to think of anything when you offered for him to stay the night. He didn’t think much of it when he agreed. It’s so innocent, yet more intimate than everything he has ever known. He feels. . . strange.

Your mattress is quite small, however Ran prefers it this way for obvious reasons. The dip in the mattress that allows you to get closer, he can feel your body heat so vividly, if he closed his eyes he could probably imagine it, except he doesn’t. He just stares at your bare face, who stares back at him.

“Your hair looks so pretty like this, Ran. I like it.” Your compliment makes him smile, it’s not often when someone witnesses his hair down, wavy and what he considers to be a mess. Your finger runs over the loose waves, twirling the end with your fingertip. He thinks you look pretty, too, in your pajamas, and bare faced.

You ask, “Can I braid your hair when we wake up tomorrow?”

“I like my hair a certain way.” He replied without much thought. He almost doesn’t notice that he didn’t necessarily reject the request.

You pout your lips, and give Ran your best puppy eyes — little gems are shooting out of your eyes towards him, but he is not one to fall for that. Do you think he’d be the type to fall for a cheap trick? If he were, he would’ve been screwed ages ago. You picked the wrong person for that. “Is that a no?”

He softly hums, debating to himself. “I am just—” he tries to think of the right word. He just hates when others touch his hair, his clothes, his jewelry, he spends so much time perfecting his appearance — he hates when others ruin it. “I rarely let Rindō touch my hair.” He decides to say this, because it’s something people can come to understand.

“I learn quickly. . .”

He sighs. Not one out of annoyance, more so at how he is so quick to give into your wishes. “Alright, fine. I will teach you how I like it done tomorrow.” You’re lucky that you’re cute, he almost adds.

He bites his tongue.

But he doesn’t know why. He says those types of things all the time. It’s a strange night. He’s been doing things he doesn’t do or say.

You lift your hand to his face, your pinky sticks out, “Promise?”

A pinky promise. Ran almost snorts — he would’ve if he weren’t so tired, if you didn’t look so cute and serious, and he would have laughed if it were someone else. Ran hasn’t pinky promised since he was a kid, barely eleven, promising something mundane to Rindō (the world, Roppongi, a new house, a new life, he remembers, he always will).

He softly sighs, sending you a sleepy smile as he locks your pinky with his. His thumb presses against yours, sealing the promise with a kiss. His eyes flicker down to your soft lips, you are grinning so happily over a mere pinky promise, what a simple thing bringing you happiness. “I promise.”

For a moment, he thinks he could give you something worth more than this little promise — pretty, shiny things that could make you smile even more. But he knows you aren’t someone like that. And that’s fine to him.

If braiding his hair makes you happy, for some weird reason, then he’s okay with it, too.

—

Ran awakens in the middle of the night, the room is coated in darkness, the moonlight shines through the crack of the curtain and that is how he knows it is still night time. He is not used to not sleeping in his own bed, he immediately notices your lack of presence, fingers tracing the empty surface, the side you had slept on is barely warm; you were still here not too long ago.

He slowly gets up, quietly walking down the hall to find you sitting curled up on the couch, on the side that is closest to the wall where Izana’s guitar rests. Unaware of him, his presence, and everything else in the world.

He lingers everywhere in your apartment, your home, your mind. It leaves Ran questioning: when you make a person your home, where do you go when they’re gone? Where do you go? Tell him.

He leans against the wall, asking, “You can’t sleep?”

Your body jolts. Your head snaps up, as you glance in his direction, and you shake your head, beginning to relax. “Oh, Ran. . . No, I was just getting some water.”

He hums, going along with your poorly webbed lie, your heart is exposed bare on your sleeve, so cold, lonely, he glances from the empty coffee table to the acoustic guitar to your unshed tears. You are seriously a terrible liar. That’s a good thing for him. “Do you mind the company?” He doesn’t want to intrude somewhere he doesn’t belong.

You shake your head once again, “No. Not at all.” You pat the spot next to you, and Ran moves from the wall to the spot next to you. You’re watching him silently, sinking back into the cushions.

“Are you thinking about him?”

You tilt your head towards him, sending a weak smile, unable to find the words for an answer that the both of you already knew.

“It’s okay. Sometimes, I still think about him, too.” He assures.

You ask, “You do?” You sound rather surprised, and he is also surprised by his own honesty.

“Yeah. He was. . .” Words die easily on his tongue as he struggles to find the right words to say. There’s not much he can say, despite all of the memories and feelings he once had. What can he even say about Izana? He can’t think of anything nice or normal that one would say about an acquaintance (friend, comrade, boss). “He was an interesting guy. I kinda admired him.”

He was an interesting guy, Ran had thought so their first meeting, years ago back in juvie. He was the only person that left a deep impression on him. Izana was many things. Anything, but a good man. He used to be a good boy (probably), once so long ago. Ran really did admire him, he wouldn’t have followed just anyone. He admired him to the point where he spent his entire youth following the boy.

“I did, too.” Barely heard even in this room containing only the two of you, it sounds a little bitter. Just a tad.

“Yeah, I’m sure he knows,” he says, leaning his head down to rest on top of yours. You breathe quietly next to him, all of the little noises can be heard in this silence. Your legs stretch out, dangling beside his.

It’s a long time before either of you speak. And then, you look up at him. There’s something glimmering in your eyes.

You tell him a story and then two more of your childhood. You laugh and tear up through them. He laughs, stays silent, and smiles as he tentatively listens to your every word. It’s his turn, you don’t ask him, but it’s only fair if he shares something personal with you; something he and only Rindō know. He wants you to know. He wants to tell you sides of him that he’s outgrown and sides that nobody knows. He tells you about the dog Rindō wants to adopt one day, you say you want to see it, but Ran tells you about how he doesn’t really want to have pets in his apartment (though, it’s sometimes hard to say no to Rindō). You tell him about the stray cat you used to feed a few months ago, and how you haven’t seen her in a few weeks. She’s probably fine, Ran tries to assure you, there’s a chance somebody had picked her up and adopted her. You hope so.

The two of you fall asleep on your couch, one far too small for him, curled up, and entangled together. He sleeps so soundly, the cotton of his shirt soaking up your silent tears.

[Ran believes — no, he knows that he visited you in a dream last night. He must’ve. You look so at peace.

The sun hits, orange light shining through the gaps of the curtains, and you look so at peace as you sleep, leg wrapped around his waist as you lay against his chest. His fingers run through your hair, carefully, not wanting to wake you. His index finger ghosts over your cheek and Ran freezes when you shift in your sleep, smiling when he realises you aren’t going to wake.

You must be a heavy sleeper. Or maybe, you’re having a sweet dream and aren’t ready to wake yet.

He admires you for minutes that seem to last forever. He comes to terms with the fact that he’s doomed, and decides he doesn’t want to think about it or you anymore, before drifting back to sleep.]

—

When morning hits (or rather afternoon), Ran stops to look at you before leaving. His hand lingers on the doorknob. “You’ll be okay?”

You nod. “. . . Should be,” you reply, smiling. “See you later, Ran, and thank you.”

His eyes are gazing down at you, his expression seemingly confused — conflicted, before his eyes soften, turning back into pretty little gems. His smile is so pretty. “I’ll call you,” he says.

It’s a promise.

—

It’s Wednesday, your afternoon lecture was cancelled due to the professor’s sudden family emergency, so you invited Kakuchō to hang out around Shibuya. Luckily, he didn’t have any of those meetings to attend. “Are you dating Haitani Ran?”

Your heart almost stops at hearing this.

“What—no, of course, not,” you reply — one far too quick, your voice raises and you hear Kakuchō scoff under his breath. You almost stop your tracks, instead you turn your head in his direction, narrowing your eyes, clearing your throat before asking, “Why are you asking me that?”

He shrugs, opting on not replying to your question, and you frown, pressing your lips into a thin line. When you lightly hit his shoulder, he sighs, giving into you. “You always hang out these days.”

What a ridiculous reason. “Is that so weird? You and I see each other almost daily,” you reason.

Another scoff escapes his lips as if you had just said the most insane thing in the world. He tells you, “I’ve seen him leave your apartment in the morning. More than once.”

“We didn’t sleep together,” you defensively reply. A growing sense of irritation quickly builds inside of you. “It’s nothing like that. I swear.”

“So, it’s nothing.”

“Well, you know. . .” You trail off, looking at the people fleeing in and out of the cafés and clothing shops. You don’t deny it. You don’t know if you should, yet it’s not really anything, maybe something. He’s your friend. Just like Kakuchō. Just like Izana.

He sighs before saying, “You look at him like how you did with Izana.”

You freeze.

Kakuchō steps stop the moment yours do.

You look at him like how you did with Izana. You grow cold from those words alone, your heart tightens by an old memory of Izana flashing by. Those words play on repeat with the memories.

Just like Izana.

You feel faint.

There’s a tap on your shoulder, you notice the guilt on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you upset. I won’t ask, you don’t gotta say anything. I get it.”

“No, don’t be sorry, I am not upset.” You aren’t upset, but you don’t know how you are feeling. You know you aren’t upset by his words, but your heart stings. You want to cry, but you don’t understand why. [You do, and this makes you feel like sobbing.]

“Okay, well, can I ask why Ran? Rindō is the cooler brother,” he says.

Why Ran. You don’t know this yourself. You just know you like being with Ran. His presence is comforting, he makes you feel less alone in moments you feel alone. You just like being with Ran. You just want to be around that person. It’s as simple as that.

You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger into his forearm, lightly pressing your nail into his muscle. “You only say that because he works out with you.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. That’s the manliest thing someone can do. And he drinks more than any guy I know, it’s kind of insane, and he will still show up to the meeting the next day.”

You grimace. You could never pull yourself out of bed if you were that hungover — and, well, you’re sure that Rindō is dragged and forced to go to these ‘meetings’. Probably. There’s no way it is solely dedication.

“Right. Don’t be drinking with him, got it?” You don’t need Kakuchō developing even more bad habits. Sometimes you can’t help, but nag, even if it doesn't really reach him (if you were Izana, it’d be a whole different case), always going in and out the other ear. “Kaku, are you doing okay these days?”

“I’m fine, but also, a little hungry.”

“Kakuchō.” You lower your voice in an attempt to sound more serious — threatening, maybe. Obviously, it doesn’t work because Kakuchō doesn’t reply or react in any way. “Come on now. Talk to me, I know it’s something.”

He sighs, his eyes don’t meet any part of you. He turns away, the long, faded scar running across his face becomes hidden. “It’s always like this. In the end, I am always the only one who ends up surviving.” You’d prefer bitterness, anger, or sadness – anything – over the empty feeling in his words. Your heart aches, you don’t want Kakuchō to leave you, too.

You don’t even want to imagine such a thing.

You want to hold him.

Your hand reaches out to grab him, so firm and all of his little scars and calluses are felt and seen. Kakuchō looks down at you the moment you touch him. He doesn’t pull away. “I am sorry to say this, I know you won’t want to hear it now, but I am grateful for that. I’d be sad if you weren’t here with me. You are my family, Kaku. Don’t forget that. So, please don’t say something so sad.”

And he’s quick to look away again, too.

He says, “. . . I’d be lonely without you, too.”

Your hand tightens around his. His hand is warm, like it always is, his body always runs hot, too hot, but he is still alive. You’re alive. “You could at least look at me when you say that.”

He grumbles something incomprehensible, you tilt in your head in confusion, “Hm? What was that?”

“I said, ‘what do you want to eat?’”

“Aren’t you being too shy? I guess you’re at that age now,” you continue to tease him, watching as the tip of his ears turn red. Kakuchō has never been good at voicing his own feelings, he speaks through his actions alone — through iron fists and undying loyalty — just like most of the men you have ever known. You grin at the reaction. “Hmm, well, how about we have okonomiyaki tonight? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The three of you used to eat that quite often back then, Kakuchō would be the one who would always make it for you and Izana. You haven’t had it since then. You’re craving it like crazy now.

“Yeah, sounds good. Let’s find a place less crowded, though.”

He really is still the same. Just older now, maybe maturing and experiencing life in all the wrong ways. But he is still your Kakuchō.

You wonder if he thinks the same of you.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

And similar to Kakuchō, you’ve never been so fond of crowds, either. Arms linked, you walk to an old restaurant owned by a cute elderly couple. You tell him you love him (because you do, since back then and now and in the future), he almost pushes you away right then and there, you burst out in laughter.

Kakuchō sits in front of you, in the past he used to sit beside you, you assume maybe it’s because it’s easier to talk this way. A guess because you aren’t so sure. He accidentally makes an extra okonomiyaki the first round, a habit he cannot erase, you both know why, you don’t say anything. You take the extra okonomiyaki and eat it for him.

—

Ran believes that some things are meant to happen for a reason.

You and him.

Him and you.

He throws a party for his brother’s birthday as he does every single year. He only invites their friends who immediately invite other people they know as it always goes and the apartment is filled to a brim. Just like every year.

You arrive a little later than most people, due to work and having to get ready, and Ran immediately removes himself from a group of people surrounding him (a chorus of boo’s are thrown at him), and rushes over to you.

“Hey. You took a while.”

You’re all smiles around him already. “I had to shower and get ready first.”

“You still look pretty in your work uniform.”

You look up at him, pointedly. “And smell like alcohol and chicken and fish?”

Ran grins, “Not much different from here, yeah? I love eating chicken.”

You playfully shove him and his grin widens as he pulls you into the drunk dancing crowd.

When he makes eye contact with Rindō, who is DJing (like always), his brother is clever enough to change the music to keep the two of you close. Bodies are bumping into him and you, you’re really close and your hands are in the air, in your hair, and on him. People are too close, too loud, too intoxicating. He has to lean down every time you attempt to say something to him — a lot of it is just you singing — and your lips brush against the shell of his ear every time.

Every. Single. Time. Electricity jolts through him.

Hair is sticking to your forehead, face red and glowing from dancing, sweat, and the mixture of body heat; you’re stunning and all Ran can think of is how badly he wants to kiss you when you bite your lower lip when you meet his gaze once again.

He pulls you closer, and it happens within a second. You kiss him first. Lips briefly pressing against his, you’re quick to pull back before he can reciprocate, and you flash him a smile more blinding than these flickering neon lights. He pulls you back in for a proper kiss this time.

Admittedly, this is not your first kiss together. He had kissed you once before – barely a peck – one night when he had picked you up from work and drove you home. It can barely be called a kiss, but Ran would be lying if he said it didn’t cause a shock that ran through his entire body. Later that night, alone in his room, his thumb brushed over his lips and they still tingled with the feeling of you.

This kiss, unlike the previous brief and fleeting exchange, he can taste all of you. Openmouthed, desperate, and a little shameless, too (but he doubts anyone is actually paying attention). Your hands find their way to his hair — much like they always seem to do — and Ran sighs when your fingers run through, gently scratching the nape of his neck. You look up at him with a gleam in your eyes, and he swears he wants to undress you right then and there.

Except, he wouldn’t do that. Plus, a loud whistle and a familiar voice jerks him back to the present (reality). It takes so much in him to hold himself back, he has to physically pull himself away from you for a second. He turns and glares at the interruption — Shion. Obviously. That fucker.

“What?” he asks, slightly annoyed and amused at the boy’s fucked appearance.

Shion grin widens, face glowing with sweat, red eyes, high and drunk on whatever someone had snuck in. Someone sure is having a good time. “Just—‘m just enjoying the show,” he slurs as his eyes make their way behind him, to you.

Ran steps forward and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Shion wobbles with a faint touch. “Go sit down, Madarame. You’re gonna fall over.”

Shion ignores him, brushes past him, and asks you to dance. Ran groans, calling out his name, but Shion blocks out his voice and smiles at you.

So, sure, he and the boys have this thing of cockblocking each other for shits and giggles, but now was definitely not the time for that. He needs to learn how to read the room. Damn idiot. (This is probably Shion’s payback from the last party, and all the times before that, but Ran swears it’s funny when he does it.)

You look from Shion to him and Ran shrugs, as if a shrug is enough to let you know that it’s just Shion, so it’s fine if you wanna dance with him, or not. After a second, you accept his dance with a curt, “Sure.” And Shion smiles, wide with all teeth.

“Behave yourself,” he warns Shion before turning to you. “I am gonna get some water. I’ll leave you to it for a bit.”

Ran walks over to join Rindō at his DJ booth.

Rindō looks at him with a raised brow as he makes his way behind the booth. “You lost your girl to Shion,” Rindō loudly snorts.

“Just letting him be around a girl out of his league for once,” Ran jokingly replies, and they both laugh. “Change the song for me.”

The song switches to something more upbeat; everyone is spinning and jumping, you and Shion, too. He can barely hear his own thoughts through the loud vibrations of the bass. He and Rindō talk about nothing, and Ran lets Shion dance with you for two whole songs. Shion is an idiotic lunatic, especially when he’s drunk, but he’s not stupid enough to do something he knows he shouldn’t. His hands don’t leave your hands, rather, Ran thinks you’re making sure Shion doesn’t let go of your hands, so he doesn’t fall over. Ran thinks you might be too nice. He’s having a good time and so are you, so that’s all that matters. He likes watching you dance, even if it’s not with him.

At some point, he runs to the kitchen to get a cup of water, and when he returns to you, Shion is nowhere in sight. That boy never stays in one place for long.

“Sorry, Shion is an idiot,” he tells you as he offers you the cup in his hand, basically forcing it into your hand to drink.

You chug back the water, no doubt exhausted and dehydrated from all the dancing and sweaty bodies around you. “He’s a funny guy. I had fun.”

Ran gives you a skeptical look. “Guess so, but feel free to ignore him next time.”

You grin, “Really, Ran, he was nice!”

“I sure hope so.” He leans down as whispers against your ear, “My room?”

You nod.

And finally, you’re on top of him. Ran is laying on his back, propped up by his elbows as he watches you take off your top, far too slowly, because you like to tease, and Ran is an impatient man deep down. But in this moment, he lets you do your own thing, and watches, watches, admires your every subtle movement. The real thing is much better than his daydreams. Yes, in the moment, he almost thanked Buddha.

You lean down to kiss him. Rather soft and innocent compared to the way you shift on top of him, and the way your hand runs down between the two of you. He’s rather shameless, and doesn’t bother hiding the way you make him feel. There’s nothing greater than pleasure.

Your movements come to an abrupt stop, and Ran suddenly becomes more aware. For a moment, he thinks you must be teasing him once more — Ran doesn’t beg.

He asks, “You okay?”

You stay quiet, he can’t see your eyes, something is wrong.

“Hey, is there something wrong?” His hand is immediately searching for yours, unknowingly. You pull your hand away before he can reach it. You pull your hands together.

Your voice comes out too quiet. It shakes at the end.

“. . . I’m scared,” you admit.

Ran pauses, his expression drops and he’s quick to sit straight up, reaching over to grab your hand, pulling it into his. His thumb brushes against the back.

He pulls you in his arms, your head lays against his chest as he whispers, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.” He doesn’t need this. “It’s alright, don’t force yourself.”

“No, that’s not what I—” you’re cut off by a whine; your own cry.

He’s scared to death the moment you begin to sob. Full on sobbing, you’re choking, and he can’t calm you down. He’s frantically trying to speak to you, but his words are not reaching you.

He wants to know what’s wrong. He needs to know what he can do to help you. There’s nothing he can do, except hold you.

“I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He frowns. Wrong. Your words alarm him. “There’s nothing wrong. It’s not wrong. Trust me.” He tells you, more firm than his usual tone with you. “You’re okay, baby.”

You shake your head. “It’s not.”

“It is.” He grabs the blanket beneath the two of you and wraps it around your naked figure.

You try to say you’re sorry — words don’t come out, but Ran knows you’re trying to apologise for something that only exists in your mind. There’s nothing wrong at all and he needs you to understand this.

“We’re okay, trust me. We’re more than okay.” He reassures as he holds you a little tighter when he feels your shaky form against him. “Don’t force yourself to do anything, yeah?” His voice drops to a comforting whisper, “Just breathe for me. You can do that.”

You cry into his chest for an hour. He says nothing, but strokes your hair and quietly calls your name from time to time.

After a long time, when your sniffles begin to slow and the party outside the door begins to die down, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say, and leave it at that.

(You think Ran doesn’t understand, and you feel bad because you don’t know how to tell him how his sweetness and understanding and patience with you causes you to cry even more. He’s so sweet, it aches, and aches, and aches, but his arms around you bring comfort and security, and then, so do his lips.)

—

Leaves decay, autumn passes, and it’s almost Christmas. Snow fell greatly last night, piles and piles of snow pack up, and Rindō is dragged outside to play. Play as if he is some seven-year-old kid once again.

The three of you are outside their apartment complex, you’re rolling snow to make a snowman next to one that has already been made — probably by the family that lives on the first floor. They have two little kids — one boy and one girl. Rindō remembers bumping into them in a drunken state, and the mother looked at him in disappointment and disgust as she blocked him from her children (obviously, he wasn’t going to do anything, but he can’t exactly blame the woman, either), Rindō scoffed at her and stumbled his way upstairs.

He and Ran aren’t doing anything, just standing on the sidelines, lighting a cigarette, and watching you. When Ran passes him the cigarette, Rindō is quick to take notice of the difference in smell and taste. Since when did he start smoking another brand? Especially something like this. Still, he smokes it with him without complaint.

“So,” Rindō starts off, gaining his brother’s attention. “How are you?”

Ran’s face twists, he stares at his little brother strangely, as if he had grown another head. “Huh?”

Sure, it is a weird question, because no matter how close they seem (are), they don’t talk about feelings or anything like that, even if they are together almost 24/7. But Rindō just wants to know this time, he’s so curious, because something has changed about his brother. It’s noticeable in everything he does.

His eyes flicker from him to you. “You and her. The two of you are together now, or what’s going on?” Rindō is curious. He knows there’s something more going on, he’s no fool, and the way your eyes always seem to find each other basically screams it to his face. “Hasn’t it been a while?”

Ran shrugs, poker face, as always.

Rindō just lets out an ‘Ah’, and that’s that. There’s never much to say between them because they’ll just accept anything about each other without an explanation.

However, Ran continues speaking about it, much to his surprise. “I am actually fine with it, y’know.”

“Fine with what?” he asks.

“How there will always be a little part of her who loves Izana.” Ran says this so casually, Rindō’s mouth opens slightly, yet there’s nothing he can think to say so he shuts it and stares on ahead. “Even if he were still here. . . yeah, I’d be okay with it, too.”

Ran has always been complex in ways that nobody can understand, and when they finally think they do, he shows them that they never knew him at all. When he wants something, he’s quick to dive in and take it. He takes, takes, and takes. He’s quite cruel at times, it’s how he learned to survive.

(And Rindō learned that from him, too.)

If Izana were here, somewhere in another life, he knows you would still choose Ran — that’s probably what his brother is thinking. That cocky, confident smile tells all. And Ran is probably right about it, he always is, and he’s annoying about that fact, too.

Ran’s eyes have always been a shade darker than his. Yet, in this light, they seem to shine brighter than his.

“Ran!”

The both of them look up. You’re running over, there’s snow in your hair, frosting over. Your smile is bright, teeth showing, the snow around is sparkling. Ran’s smile is suddenly all soft.

“What?” Even his voice is all smiles, and internally, Rindō gags.

“Come here,” your hand pulls him along. Ran follows you like a dog.

And suddenly, it’s only the two of you in the world; moving slowly, kicking snow onto each other, pushing, running, hands never letting go. It’s pure, gentle, something so rare and hard to find, Rindō's heart shakes at the sight of Ran and you.

The idea of Ran and you.

He’s a little jealous, but he will never admit to something like that.

He thinks about taking a picture of Ran to show him how idiotic he looks, but in the end, he decides not to. Ran won’t see what he looks like in this light, unless, as cheesy as it sounds, through the reflection of your eyes.

—

January rolls around, the very first day of the year, and Yokohama’s seaside never seems to change. Dawn is blue, forever blue, you feel as if your soul is about to cry.

Ran had shown up at your apartment right before the hand of the clock struck midnight to no one’s surprise. Well, maybe, you were a little surprised. His brother was throwing a New Year’s party (one you had declined the invitation to), yet here Ran is with you. You ask why, to which he replies with, “I just wanted to see you.” And that is enough for you to let him inside.

The two of you attempt to stay up all night — that attempt is quick to fail, because you both become entangled in your bed, falling into slumber. And once your alarm sets off at five in the morning, you’re dragging Ran out of your bed, pulling his clothes off from your bedroom floor, and pushing him out the door. His hand in yours. You take him to your spot by the pier, almost jogging. It’s nearly six.

“Sleepyhead,” you eventually call out, glancing at the sleepy boy beside you. He could sleep anywhere, you think. It’s a fact known to everyone around him. “You are dozing off. You’ll miss the sunrise.”

After a few beats, your words register through his head. He lazily nods, almost as if he’s nodding off again. “If you don’t say anything, I think I really will pass out,” he mumbles back, voice groggy and deeper than usual from his sleepiness.

You ask, “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Mhm. . .”

You ponder for a moment, before asking, “Do you think people ever truly move on from their first love?”

This is enough to wake Ran up. The weight on your head is lifted, he shifts. “That’s heavy,” he breathes out.

“You said anything.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he gives you an answer.

“It depends on the person.” He turns his body to turn and look at you. “Why do you ask? Scared to move on or do you think you’ll never be able to?”

You don’t lift your gaze, settling on the waves below. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You can feel his eyes on you and the smirk that is tugging on his lips, even though you know he is being serious with you. He wants to know. He needs to hear your answer. “I don’t know. . . Do you ever think about your first love?”

“Nah, I don’t think about things like that, sweetheart.”

“Liar. You could at least pretend and go along with me.” He smiles when you say this. You softly sigh, going along with his silence. “But fine. If you did think about those things, do you think you would eventually forget about them?”

Ran’s eyes flicker, violet hues staring deep into you, as he huffs a silent laugh — one that feels a little sad compared to his usual ones. “I think I would carry a part of them with me no matter how much time has passed.”

His words make you softly smile. And they feel a little sad, too. “I see. . . You are quite the romanticist,” you tease.

For some reason, you feel as if your teasing never seems to work against him, he remains as composed as he always is. He whispers, “Aren’t we all?”

It’s strange how easily Ran’s words bring comfort to you. In ways where you feel heard and seen even in darkness. Ran is always like that. There’s a part of you that will never forget Izana, not now or in another life. He will always be someone you love and cherish. Ran understands this — he understands you, never judging. You understand him, too, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, Ran, can I ask you something?”

“You sure have a lot of questions today,” he says with both amusement and curiosity swimming in his tone. “Shoot. What else is running through that mind of yours?”

You open your mouth, then pause.

“Hm? What’s with the sudden hesitation? Is it something embarrassing?” he teasingly asks, nudging his shoulder against yours, prompting you to speak your mind. “You can tell me. Promise, I won’t laugh.”

You know he wouldn’t laugh at you — always with you. Never at you. You just can’t find the right words to say to him. [Or maybe the courage.]

“You know I don’t judge you.”

“You judge everyone, Ran.”

His smile drops, and his expression turns more serious than you would like. “Surely you know that you’re not everyone.” He asks, “You understand, don’t you?”

You quietly reply, “I know.”

“Then is it something bad?” His voice goes quiet, too.

“No, it’s just,” you deeply inhale, turning your head back to the sea, averting your gaze from those eyes that look at you so softly [tenderly, with his full adoration], it causes your heart to tighten every time. You fidget with the ends of your hair, exposing your nerves. Another short pause and then you breathe. “I think. . . I think I like you, Ran. Like, a lot, and it terrifies me. Maybe you don’t believe me—I would find it hard to believe, too, because of—”

“I believe you,” his reply comes immediately. Voice so clear among the waves and seagulls calling above. “I can tell. You make it quite obvious sometimes, it’s hard for me to ignore, y’know?”

You blink. “Oh. Um, is it really?” you meekly reply.

Ran hums and heat rises up to your ears in embarrassment. You don’t think you’re somebody who is that obvious. Your face no longer feels the coldness of winter brushing by, internally groaning. You guess it was obvious. The two of you kiss a lot, you’ve gone further than that on a few occasions, and he stays over at your apartment more often than not. It is obvious. But liking and loving someone are two completely different things. (Love. . .)

“I feel the same. But how I feel . . . it is probably too soon to say how I feel for you, so I will wait until you are sure you want this.” His hand brushes against yours — cold from the cement and winter air, pinky dragging across the back of your hand. “Not too long, though. My patience isn’t so gentlemanly.”

Your heart flutters, embarrassment shifting to shyness. I feel the same for you, too. You try to not burst out smiling, lightly biting down onto your lip. Your cheeks betray you. You can feel the heat rising against the wind.

“Oh? Is that what people call you now? I don’t recall you being that much of a gentleman.”

Ran scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Really now?” Beginning to mutter to himself about how he treats you so well, that he’s been born a gentleman — it’s engraved into the very depths of his soul. And to some degree, those words are true. Ran has been nothing but patient with you. Someone who is always there when you need it.

I will wait until you are sure you want this. You do want this, you want to be with him — with the person beside you now. You want us. “Me too,” you say as you gather more courage, leaning towards him a little, your hand rests on his shoulder as you stare straight into those pretty lavender eyes. “I am falling in love with you,” you say to him, more sure than before.

You don’t waver.

A second passes, a wave crashes.

“Mm, I missed what you said. Say it again for me, sweetheart,” he says with that signature smile to his soft, pink lips, “for me, please?”

His plea makes you roll your eyes. Ran loves attention — both good and bad. He loves pretty things and pretty words, even more when they hold something so precious and meaningful in them. I love you. I love you. I love you. I like you so, so much. I want to be with you, Ran. Ran, Ran, Ran — sweet words that have been whispered to him many times before in the past (and many more times in the future, including now).

You lean over, cherry lips brushing against his ear, as light as a feather. You whisper a confession. A heartfelt confession. The wind rushes by, his hair tickles your flushed cheek, and a sweet confession only for the two of you to know, drowned out by everything else in the world.

It’s just you and Ran.

Snow gently falls, your hand found itself in Ran’s, his fingers intertwined between yours. He doesn’t let go. You don’t let go. Even when the sun begins to rise over the blue horizon, not when you’re walking back to your apartment, not when Kakuchō and Rindō stop by later for dinner and Ran is doing nothing, but admiring you as you cook. Neither of you let go for a long, long time.

It’s just Ran and you.

#tokyo revengers #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #haitani brothers

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curtsycream · 1 year ago

Note

I apologize if the request makes no sense this is only my second one. You don't have to do this, but I was wondering if you could do a one shot of TF141 x fem!child reader (6 y/o&platonic) where they are on a mission in an abandoned city and they find the reader stuck in one of the buildings with the bodies of her dead parents and no way to escape the building without help. How would they get her out of there? Would Gaz and sope step up to comfort her? How would ghost deal with the child given his past? What would happen after they healed? Would price decide to adopt them as TF141's daughter?

Their Daughter

Platonic!TF141 x Fem!Child Reader

I hope you enjoy this I kind of got carried away, I hope it’s to your liking. Also not proofread I really suck at that sometimes. It makes perfect sense to me don’t worry!

It would be Gaz that finds you first when they’re scoping out the buildings for any signs of life. The second he takes you in he felt sick to his stomach noticing who you were laying between. Gaz would try his best to get you out alone, it isn’t protocol but he tries without thinking. That is until he realizes what he as to do and uses his comms to call over the rest of 141.

I’d like to think that they have a code word for when it involves something as devastating as this. In which Ghost would stick back unless absolutely needed. It’s mostly a precaution just in case seeing the scene triggers his PTSD.

But luckily he doesn’t need to see that unfold as Price and Soap are just as capable of helping. The three men would carefully examine the situation before deciding what to do. It wouldn’t be long before they get you out of there. With Price and Soap raising a few support beams for Gaz to crawl under and pull you free.

When you’re finally free it seems you don’t react to what is happening. Which is normal sometimes there are mental delays when it comes to experiencing something so traumatic.

But even when you’re still in shock Soap speak calmly to you trying to make sure you’re okay. “how’re you, lass?” His gentle voice comforting causing you to lean into it.

When you weren’t in Soap’s arms you would be in Gaz’s both men taking turns. A hint of attachment due to what you seemed to go through. But honestly you weren’t complaining your mind was off of the situation.

At first when Soap explains what happened and why he had to stay back. Ghost would keep his distance from you not because he didn’t like you. But because he didn’t want to break down around you. He didn’t cry often, at least publicly, but he knew he would when looking at someone so young who had already went through so much.

Your injuries from the accident left you in a leg splint with minor bruising on the rest of your body. Luckily they got you out in time as you were close to passing out from a lack of oxygen. The tiny space you were stuck in between your parents was close to falling by the time Gaz found you.

While you healed you would get visited by Gaz and Soap at least two times a day. Price would stop by at night to read you a bedtime story. It was his way of showing he cared about your situation. His care was paternal in nature, he always made sure the doctor was doing his job right. Any time you had the slightest look of discomfort on your face he would address the doctor. “Are you sure you’re doing that right? Can’t you see she’s in pain?” He always meant well of course.

The only person who didn’t visit you was Ghost at least to your knowledge. He would always visit when Price left at times when you would sleep. He never stepped foot in the hospital room only looked through the glass window.

When you were finally released from the hospital you found out quickly that Price meant business. The 6 months you were in the hospital he was working and fighting for custody over you. You had no other living relatives but it was a bit of a struggle since you were from a different country. Though with what seemed like pure luck he was able to adopt you.

While they were deployed you stayed on base in your own room. It was located right beside Price’s which you were okay with.

Ghost didn’t speak to you until one night when he was walking down the hall. He heard the sounds of screams alerting him. He realized they were coming from your bedroom. Something clicked in his mind as he rushed in without hesitation. The sight of you wringing around in bed with tears streaming down your cheeks hurt him emotionally.

Due to his experience with his own nightmares he stepped closer to you. Sitting on your bed he gently woke you up making sure not to startle you. When you were up he allowed you to cling to him as he held you close. The two of you sitting there in the comforting silence. From that night forward Ghost couldn’t see himself straying too far from your aid.

From the second they met you, you were their daughter even if it was only legal on Price’s end. When they were on missions you were in the care of Laswell at times. The station chief didn’t mind she liked spending time with you.

When they weren’t on missions and had time to go back home they made a change. It only made since to be nearby so that you could actively see Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. They may have decided to invest in a house big enough for all five of you. These men are passionate about those they love and you’re like are a daughter to them.

During there time off they don’t waste a second giving you any and everything you want. From movie nights to family game nights.

As you get older and start school they make sure it’s somewhere close to where they can travel between the base and home. You’re a military kid, but don’t worry you don’t change schools often.

You tend to go to Soap for stress relief as he knows how to cheer you up with ease. Ghost is someone you go to when it comes to your nightmares and worries as he makes sure to give you the best advice. Sometimes the best advice is none in his opinion though. Gaz is who you stick to a lot for comfort he gives the best hugs and cuddles. While Price is the one you look to for protection, not that you don’t with all of them, it’s just he’s your central father figure.

You never have much to worry about with them behind you.

#x reader #fluff #tf141 #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #child!reader #fluffy headcanons #platonic!tf141

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madlori · 3 months ago

Text

Sometimes the delulu IS the solulu.

After some thought, and reading a lot of really insightful thoughts here and on Discord, I think I've reached a conclusion.

I'm going full tinhat. Not in an unhinged way, though.

I don't think this is the end.

I'm not going to count on it. I'm barely going to hope for it. But I am going to...keep an eye out for it.

The one common refrain we've heard from each other is that this did not feel like a permanent breakup. It felt so obviously and blatantly like a setup for Buck to fight for the relationship. It was that "one partner freaks out a bit and the other has to show their commitment" relationship hurdle which is so common it's a trope. In fact, most of us assumed that's just what it was...until those interviews

Now, I do not put Tim Minear up on some kind of pedestal of writerly greatness - far from it. And he did not write this episode, but the plotlines all go through him.

BUT.

He has always been very attached to Tommy as a character and to this relationship. He loves it. He loved red string theory so much that he wrote it into this episode. And I'm about halfway convinced he's in love with Lou but that's beside the point. (I mean, we get it, Tim.)

Tommy's what he always said he wanted to get for Buck. Firefighter, integrated into the 118, yadda yadda, we've been over this a lot. Someone he chooses, someone he works to build something with. Someone who shows up for him. He had Buck SAY in this episode that he'd never felt like this since Abby.

The thread of Tommy wanting a found family like Buck's. The intense settled/caregiving vibe of 8x05. It all felt so...purposeful. And yes, I agree that this could have been done just to punch up the angst for Buck when it ends. But that's not the only explanation.

The many, many comments of wanting to move Buck along in his personal life. Oliver wanting to do settled, domestic storylines with him. Giving Tommy the big hero romcom entrance in that hospital.

And what now? Cycle Buck through another love interest? It's hard to imagine recapturing what he had with Tommy with anybody else, or for the GA to embrace it as much as they did. What little we can see of the GA reaction (because the official socials are weirdly quiet and have not posted) is that they're not happy about this. Tim knows this.

I can buy Tim making some dumb writing decisions but he's not stupid. I find it very hard to swallow that he'd voluntarily toss away all this, and this potential, and what they'd already established, and a pairing/character/actor he loves, for what? For nothing.

So I think that it's not for nothing.

I think the plan IS to reunite them...

...they just don't know when, or how.

For some reason he wants to give it a break for awhile. I don't know why. There could be off-camera reasons. But I think it happened recently. Two weeks ago we got interviews talking about hurdles being overcome, relationships deepening, etc etc. It's a great episode for them, came out of Oliver's mouth. Not important, not consequential - great. And hey, what happened to that very important Bobby conversation where he gave Buck important advice? It wasn't there.

I think a change was made in the last two weeks. And yes, I know the loft stills were dated 9/17.

Two weeks is plenty of time to reshoot one scene, between when those interviews came out and last night. The stills could be from the first time it was shot, in September. Put the guys in the same wardrobe, we'd never know the difference, or that those stills weren't from the scene we actually saw.

The scene was always the one we saw, but was always meant to be temporary, and the change was in how they talked about it in the interviews from last night. That is a simpler explanation, as it doesn't involve reshoots, but it doesn't explain those very incongruous interviews we got two weeks ago that do not match the scene we saw. Now, they have always vagued it up, and talked around things in interviews, but this was an entirely new level of misdirection and outright lying that isn't typical.

I'm really tinhatting it up now, but hey, what have I got to lose? I'm not investing anything in this. It's just...a thought.

If you think the network interfered (I don't, at least not for plot-related reasons, see below) or Oliver demanded the relationship be cut (I don't - I know lots of you are mad at him but I'm not), whatever it was...I just get a vibe. It could be as simple as money. It could be a ratings thing. Honestly? It could be that they've found out they're getting cancelled, and were ordered to cut bait on guest stars. They could be kicking the can down the road to goose ratings for spring when they do bring it back. There are lots of reasons I can think of and probably more that I can't.

I read a thoughtful and reasonable post about how it was more or less a mercy killing to post those interviews - most showrunners like to keep viewers guessing and coming back, so for them to say definitely BT was dead meant it's really, really dead (although how definitive they actually were is another question).

They might be right about that. I don't know.

Or they just might not know themselves. Even if the plan IS to reunite them eventually - if they don't have a plan for how or when, the safest course is to shut it down. No guarantees they can make it work, so play it safe. Oliver and Lou might not be looped in on this.

It's pretty thin. They probably would be, although we have ample evidence of actors not knowing stuff until the last minute. The other option is that they are looped in and are intentionally lying but I think that's very unlikely - although Lou has demonstrated a keen skill in keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I'm not going to get nuts about this and neither should anybody else. I'm not going to be scouring socials or the internet looking for support or clues. I'm not going to be holding my breath waiting for a sign.

The only thing I'll keep an eye on is how they handle any flirtation or dating Buck does in the near future. How they handle it might be telling.

This is ALL very unlikely, let's be real.

I'm still tinhatting, though. Why not? What have we got to lose?

But if I'm right, I expect that red dodgeball in my inbox toot sweet.

(And Buddie still isn't going canon, btw.)

#911 abc #911 speculation #911 spoilers #bucktommy #tevan #hope springs eternal #not for nothing but I accurately predicted that the Miceli's scene would be their first and it would be their 6 month anniversary

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tevanavernus · 4 months ago

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how about some angst for established bucktommy? i only got vibes for you: held at gunpoint on a call, one of them gets in between the gun and the other, wanting to shield them 👀❤️

[Thanks for the request! I see your angst and raise you: they're both idiots trying to protect each other. Hope you like this! Also, they're still...technically on call right? ❤️]

In hindsight, Tommy should have known the other shoe would eventually drop. He should have prepared himself for it, should have anticipated that the universe wouldn't let happiness linger around him for too long. But it was easy to forget, wrapped up in Evan's orbit, with his blinding grins and the way he wore his heart so openly on his sleeve. It made Tommy drop his guard, lulled him into a sense of security.

That's not to say it was all sunshine and smiles. They had their bad days—days when they got snappy with each other or when an argument dragged on for longer than it should. There were cold shoulders, fueled by pride or stubbornness, but those days never lasted long. One of them always caved, and they'd find their way back to each other, realizing that whatever it was just wasn't worth staying mad over. It had taken Evan a while to truly believe that Tommy wasn't going anywhere, but eventually, even he came to accept it.

So now, a year after their failed first date, Tommy's old house was cluttered with moving boxes and scattered belongings, as they tried to find permanent spots for Evan's things. The chaos drove Tommy a little insane, having to step over things and deal with the mess of combining their lives. But if it meant Evan was in his bed every night? It was more than worth it in Tommy's opinion.

The morning, though, should have been the first clue that the day was about to turn to shit.

Evan had an early shift, so by the time Tommy woke up, his side of the bed was cold—a sure deduction of points right off the bat. Then came the next blow: apparently, Evan had left in a rush and, in doing so, had used up the last of the oat milk. Which meant Tommy was now doomed to drink black coffee. He'd sighed in resignation as he spotted the sticky note attached to the fridge that read, "Sorry babe, I'll buy more after shift! Ily <3"—but pocketed it for safekeeping despite the frustration. Sure, it was a small inconvenience. But still, it set the tone, didn't it? Little things tend to pile up.

The biggest clue? The storm. It was meant to be stormy all day, and in Tommy's experience—other than meeting Evan—storms never led to anything good, especially for Harbour. People tended to get careless, acting like they weren't facing weather they were completely unprepared for.

Tommy's instincts were proven right when, not even halfway through his shift, they were called out to a massive pileup on the highway. Multiple vehicles were involved, and dozens of people needed transport to hospitals. So, as always, Tommy did what he did best: jumped into a helicopter and flew out to the scene with his team.

From the bird's-eye view, he hissed in sympathy at the sight. The wreckage was bad—mangled metal, cars overturned, and scattered debris everywhere. It wasn't pretty. But there wasn't time to dwell on that. As soon as they touched down, his team sprang into action.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the familiar 118 number at the scene. Over the past year, he and Evan had crossed paths at work more often than either had probably anticipated, but never for anything small. When Harbour and the 118 were both on-site, it usually meant there was no time to spare, not even for a quick hello.

Tommy knew how this went. Most of the time, he didn't even leave the cockpit while his team prepped patients for transport. And today wasn't any different. He stayed put, eyes scanning the scene, focusing on his job. He sighed, knowing he'd have to wait until they were home to talk to Evan. Though, for a brief moment, he thought he saw a familiar pair of wet curls rushing through the chaos, the saw in hand.

It wasn't until the fourth round trip that the storm really began to pick up, and Tommy found himself battling the wind and gusts of rain to safely land on the hospital's helipad. The helicopter shook slightly as the weather worsened, and Tommy had to grip the controls a little tighter, to guide the aircraft down through the increasingly erratic winds.

Just as they touched down, the call came in over his headset to ground them. The storm had escalated to the point where it wasn't safe to fly anymore. Tommy let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that even though it was the right call, it meant he wouldn't be able to get back to the scene. Grounded meant he would be stuck in the hospital, waiting out the weather.

His thoughts drifted back to Evan—out there in the middle of it. So, when Tommy was the last one in the helicopter, he took a moment to pull out his phone, hoping for a text or update. But the screen was empty. No messages, no missed calls. He knew he shouldn't worry—Evan had handled worse, and a storm was just another part of the job. But despite that knowledge, his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

Tommy pocketed the phone, feeling a bit ridiculous for worrying so much. He exited the helicopter, and even in the quick dash to the hangar door, the rain managed to half-drench him. His pilot suit clung uncomfortably to his skin, the chill seeping in. He grimaced, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

"Great," he muttered to himself, shivering slightly as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. From there, he navigated the labyrinth of hallways, heading down toward the ED. After years on the job, Tommy had learned a few secrets from some of the nurses—like the fact that the coffee in the cafeteria near the ED was much better than what they had in other wings of the hospital.

It seemed like luck was on his side when Tommy noticed the familiar set of curls hunched over the nurse's station as he entered the ED. Evan hadn't noticed him yet, which gave Tommy a moment to take in the sight—completely drenched, looking like a wet rat after being caught in the storm. Tommy had to bite back a laugh at how disheveled he looked.

"Hey, handsome," Tommy grinned as he slunk up to where Evan stood.

Evan jumped slightly, glancing up from his notes. His expression softened into a tired but genuine smile, water still dripping from his curls.

"Hey yourself," he said, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "What are you still doing here?

"Dropped off the last patient. We're grounded for now, thanks to the weather," Tommy replied with a shrug.

"You've got time?" Evan asked, his voice a little too eager as his eyes darted around the busy ED. "I could probably make up some excuse with Bobby... We could grab coffee?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Is my coffee going to have some milk this time?"

Evan gave him a sheepish grin, stepping closer until their shoulders nearly brushed. Without hesitation, he reached out and laced his fingers through Tommy's. "I promise, I'll grab some on the way home."

Home. Tommy felt that familiar flutter in his chest at the word again. Evan had started to throw it around more casually lately, and each time it hit Tommy in a way he wasn't quite used to. It made everything feel more real—not just some wishful daydream Tommy conjured up when his place felt too lonely with only him in it.

"Mhm, I have that in writing too," Tommy reminded him playfully, squeezing Evan's hand. "But, yeah, I've got time."

Just overhead, a loud roar of thunder echoed through the hospital, followed by a sharp crack of lightning that struck somewhere nearby. A moment later, the lights began to flicker and dim, casting the hall in an eerie, unstable glow. Instinctively, Tommy looked up at the ceiling, his grip on Evan's hand tightening ever so slightly.

"Great," Evan muttered, his gaze following Tommy's, as the lights struggled to stabilize. "Just what we needed—a power outage in the middle of all this."

"The generators should kick in any moment now," Tommy mumbled, more to himself than to Evan, his eyes still fixed on the flickering lights above. They stopped flickering.

When Tommy would look back at that moment, guilt-ridden as he replayed the events over and over in his mind, he would think of all the things he should have done. He should have grabbed Evan's hand and dragged him right out of the hospital, ignoring every instinct as a firefighter and instead said, "Screw it". He should have known, sensed it—should have put Evan first, before everything went sideways.

Except, he didn't.

When the shouts and screams erupted from a room somewhere to the side, Tommy didn't do any of those things. Instead, he frowned, shared a look with Evan, and stayed put by the nurse's station.

His mind went into a familiar mode: assess, analyze, act. The screams grew louder, panicked voices echoing off the sterile walls, but neither of them moved just yet. They were waiting, watching, gauging the situation. And then, there was no more time.

The next second, a commotion erupted from a nearby room. A shuffle broke out as one man pushed another through the door. Chaos spilled into the hallway. Tommy vaguely heard a nurse's voice shout, urgent:

"Security! Code silver! Active threat in the ED!"

And then a bang.

Tommy blinked against the brief, blinding flash of light that followed, and before he could process what was happening, a body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Tommy froze. For a split second, everything around him blurred—the gunshots, the chaos, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. It was a moment he'd never fully forgive himself for. His feet were rooted to the floor as security rushed past them, but it didn't matter. The gun was still raised, and another shot rang out.

Another body hit the ground.

The shattering of glass, splintering into a million pieces, finally snapped him back to reality.

Evan was already moving, ripping his hand from Tommy's grip and dropping to the ground to check on the security guard who had fallen. Tommy's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself into action, his mind racing to catch up as adrenaline surged through his veins.

A scuffle broke out, the chaos intensifying as some people scrambled to evacuate while few of the staff rushed to help the injured.

For a moment, Tommy lost sight of Evan, the blur of bodies clouding his vision. His heart lurched painfully in his chest, panic clawing at him as he scanned the area frantically, searching for that familiar figure amid the chaos.

He didn't see as the shooter grabbed someone in a choke-hold, with a gun raised to their head. His attention was set somewhere else.

"Evan!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he finally spotted him crouched. Relief surged through him, but it was short-lived. Just as Tommy moved to get to him, the shooter's attention snapped toward them.

The man's gaze locked onto Evan, and in that split second, Tommy's blood ran cold.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Evan exclaimed, raising his arms slowly, palms open. "We're firefighters! We can help!"

"No, no. Only one of you," he said finally, his voice shaky but determined as he waved the gun between the woman he was holding and their general direction.

Tommy's stomach dropped, a sense of dread settling in like ice in his veins. The shooter was barely in control, panicked and irrational, and every movement felt like it could tip things into disaster. This was spiraling, fast, and Tommy knew it was only going to get worse.

He was no stranger to guns. He'd grown up seeing them in his father's hands, the man recklessly firing off rounds in their backyard when temper mixed with alcohol took over. He'd seen guns in the military, had been trained with them, witnessed firsthand what they could do. He saw it almost daily in the gunshot victims he transported at the back of the chopper - too many lives torn apart by bullets. He had become desensitized to it, to the violence they brought.

If it was pointed at him, his pulse likely wouldn't even spike. His hands wouldn't shake.

But this was different.

Now, his pulse thundered in his ears, and his hands trembled with an intensity that terrified him, because the gun wasn't aimed at him. Instead it was dangerously close to pointing at the one person who meant everything to him— Evan.

The love of his life.

"Okay," Tommy finally managed to force out, though his voice wasn't quite steady. "What do you want?"

The man growled, his eyes wild and darting around the room. "How do I lock the doors?"

A nurse, her hands trembling, hurriedly pulled out a pair of keys from a drawer and held them out, showing them to the man. Tommy's heart sank; it meant their only exit was about to be cut off. The situation was rapidly closing in on them, both figuratively and literally.

But as the shooter's focus shifted toward the nurse, instructing her to do it, Tommy saw it—an opening, a brief moment of distraction.

Without thinking twice, he moved closer to Evan, subtly shifting his stance so he was positioned just enough to shield Evan from a clear shot, should the man spiral even further and snap.

He wasn't sure if Evan noticed the shift, and he didn't care. If something went wrong, he wasn't going to let Evan be the one in the line of fire. If he had to, he'd gladly take the hit first.

There was no universe, no reality in which he'd allow himself to be standing with his hands covered in Evan's blood today. Not ever.

"Tommy," Evan hissed quietly beside him.

Ah, so he did notice. But Tommy didn't dare glance at him, didn't risk looking into Evan's eyes and seeing the concern—or worse, the fear—there. There was too much at stake to get distracted, and Evan was his weak spot. Seeing those emotions would break his focus, distract him—and distractions could get them both killed.

"Hey, they can see where I... They're going to shoot me!" the shooter yelled, panic creeping into his voice.

'Yeah, no shit,' Tommy thought briefly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But he stayed silent.

"Hey, you!" The shooter's focus snapped back to them, and Tommy's shoulders tensed, his body instinctively shifting just a little more in front of Evan. "I have to cover the windows! What do I use?"

"I don't know." Tommy replied curtly, his voice clipped.

"How about- how about the sheets?" Tommy took a glance where he gestured toward one of the rooms "Alright, they have lots of those, right? Do it. Now."

Tommy's stomach twisted. He didn't have much choice, but still, he hesitated. His eyes flickered to Evan, who was still on the ground, kneeling next to the security guard as he tried to put pressure on the wound in the shoulder. Moving now would leave Evan completely exposed, utterly vulnerable.

If anything went wrong, if the shooter spiraled even further, Evan wouldn't stand a chance. Not even if he had the fastest reflexes in the world.

It would be an execution.

For a split second, Tommy's world shrunk, zeroing in on that one horrifying thought, the fear tightening its grip on his heart.

But the thought of that combined with Evan—his Evan—didn't compute in Tommy's mind. His brain outright refused to entertain the idea and his body locked up as if physically rejecting the command.

Whether the shooter noticed Tommy's hesitation or simply felt the walls closing in on him, he made a sudden move, shoving the woman he was holding toward Tommy and ordered her to help him.

Fuck.

Tommy finally moved, with a heavy heart, every step feeling like he was walking through a minefield that he might set off with one wrong step. His every instinct screamed at him to stay, to protect Evan, but he had no choice

It felt like betrayal, stepping away from Evan.

Almost like an out-of-body experience, Tommy moved mechanically, helping the woman as they covered the windows, sealing off any visibility into the room and sucking out all the oxygen.

The doctor with the first victim started to talk with the shooter, pulling his attention away. Tommy crept back to Evan, without taking his eyes off the shooter, Tommy squatted down beside Evan. His hand found Evan's instinctively—like it always did—and he squeezed it tightly. Whether it was to reassure Evan or to ground himself, he couldn't tell. Maybe both.

"Listen, I just want to get my girlfriend out of here. I don't want to hurt anybody else, but I will if you get in my way." The shooter's voice wavered as he spun around, his eyes wild and desperate. His gaze locked back onto them, and Tommy felt his muscles tense.

"Hey, you. Back where you were," the man barked, gesturing toward Tommy.

Tommy hesitated, his grip on Evan's hand tightening.

"It's okay. Go," Evan mumbled softly, when Tommy made no move. Tommy glanced down, eyes locking with Evan's for a brief moment, silently pleading for something. To tell him to stay? Maybe?

"Go," Evan repeated, more firmly this time, giving Tommy's hand a squeeze before letting go.

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tight as he slowly stood, feeling the warmth of Evan's hand slip away. Taking a breath that felt too shallow, he stepped away, forcing his feet to move back to where the shooter had pointed.

Tommy's blood ran cold as the gun swung in Evan's direction, the finger on the trigger making his heart lurch painfully in his chest. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

"You!" the shooter barked, voice harsh and desperate. "Get those cuffs. Now."

Tommy's pulse roared in his ears, panic clawing at him, but he forced himself to stay still, forced himself to swallow the instinct to rush forward.

"Take it easy," Evan said, his voice steady despite the danger. He reached for the cuffs, holding them up for the shooter to see. "I'm getting them. Just... take it easy."

"Cuff him to that desk."

Tommy flinched as the cold metal of the cuff locked around his wrist. He glanced down, frowning in confusion. The metal bit into his skin, his arm instinctively tugging against it, testing for any give. But before he could react further, another click echoed in the air—Evan securing the second cuff to the desk.

Tommy's heart dropped.

And then he felt it—Evan's hand briefly wrapping around his forearm. The words that followed were barely a whisper, soft but devastating.

"I love you," Evan murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

A wave of panic and dread crashed over Tommy, his throat tightening painfully. He shook his head, eyes burning as he met Evan's gaze.

"Don't," Tommy choked out, his voice strained. Don't say it like that. Please.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out from one of the nearby rooms—the same one where the shooter had come from originally. The noise set the man off. He jerked in response, taking several threatening steps closer to them, his movements frantic and unpredictable.

And Tommy couldn't do a damn thing. He couldn't move, couldn't act—his wrist still cuffed to the desk, helpless to stop what was about to happen. He could only watch Evan, without hesitation, moved in front of him, his arm stretching out protectively, shielding Tommy with his own body.

Of course Evan did. Evan, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, who rushed headfirst into things without thinking it through. Evan, who seemed to believe it was his responsibility to protect everyone.

Tommy loved him.

Tommy would never forgive him for this. For being so fucking reckless. As if Tommy needed his protection more than he need him. As if he wasn't Tommy's entire world.

But then the shooter spun around, distracted, pacing erratically as he moved in and out of the room. He could feel Evan tense beside him, could see the wheels turning in his head. His hart seized with paralyzing fear.

"Evan," Tommy hissed, grabbing at his arm, his grip tight with desperation. "Don't. Don't do anything stupid."

Tommy would plead if he needed to. He'd drop to his knees and beg if it meant Evan would stand down. Because he knew Evan. Knew how his mind worked, how he was wired. Evan wasn't the type of man to stand by and do nothing. He wasn't someone who waited for the danger to pass; he ran into it.

And Tommy couldn't lose him. Not like this. Not now, not when they had just really started building their lives together. Not ever.

His grip tightened on Evan's arm, his fingers digging into his skin, until Evan had no choice but to look at him. Evan's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Didn't move. Not yet.

And Tommy clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline. Even if he knew, deep down, that it was false.

For a fleeting moment, it was nice. Almost comforting.

It last all of a few minutes.

Because the next time the shooter passed by them, Evan, honest to God, lunged at the man.

Tommy's heart stopped.

"No!" Tommy's shout ripped from his throat before he even realized it.

The time stood still.

Tommy's eyes were wide open, unblinking, but it was as if he couldn't see. Maybe it was because Evan's back was turned to him, as he wrestled with the shooter for the gun. Maybe it was because Tommy's mind was too busy processing the raw sound of his own voice—hoarse and desperate—screaming as he pulled against the cuffs with every ounce of strength he had. Or maybe, he did see everything but his brain, in its cruel mercy, refused to let him process it.

It was too much. Too loud. Too fast.

Another bang erupted, deafening in the enclosed space, and Tommy's world stopped.

A body dropped to the floor.

The world tilted on its axis, and Tommy's breath hitched. His heart stopped for one agonizing second.

No. No.

Hands were suddenly on his face, trying to steady him, trying to make him focus. But Tommy couldn't. He flinched at the touch, his body trembling violently, too overwhelmed to respond. He shook his head, refusing to let the scene before him solidify into anything real.

He couldn't look. Couldn't force himself to look.

"Breathe, baby, breathe." Evan's voice cut through the haze, repeating the words like a mantra. "Breathe."

Tommy choked in a ragged breath, his chest tight and painful as the words slowly registered. He blinked, and slowly, too slowly, the world began to come back into focus. Evan was there, right in front of him, alive and breathing, with his hands still cupping Tommy's face, trying to steady him.

Tommy's hands instinctively reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real, even though there were specks of blood splattered across Evan's skin. But the cuffs yanked him back, cutting his reach short. A pitiful sound escaped him, more like a wounded animal than a man.

Evan did it for him, closing the gap, he wrapped himself around Tommy and buried his face in Tommy's neck. It took Tommy longer than it should have to wrap his free arm around Evan, to actually feel his warmth, his solid presence. To know he was really there.

"You're okay," Evan murmured into his neck, his breath warm against Tommy's skin. Soft lips pressed into his neck, bringing a flicker of warmth back into his cold, numb body. "We're okay."

"I hate you," Tommy whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking.

"No, you don't," Evan hummed back, his tone matter-of-fact.

Tommy let out a trembling choked out laugh, his body sagging. "No, I don't," he admitted quietly, finally squeezing Evan tighter.

There were so many things he wanted to say, things he needed to say. He will tell Evan how much he loved him. He will berate him for doing something so stupid, so dangerous. He will make sure Evan didn't leave his sight for days, maybe weeks.

But all that would come later. After his heart stopped racing like it was about to leap out of his chest. After his mind could fully register that Evan was here, alive, and okay.

Because there was an after.

[ ps: This was heavily inspired by an episode of Chicago Med, credit is where it's due]

#bucktommy #buck x tommy #tevan #kinkley #tevan fanfiction #tevan fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic

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beaulesbian · 8 months ago

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I've been thinking about the Whiskey Peak Luffy vs Zoro fight and how nothing is truly finished or contained within just one arc in One Piece - where the themes and character development always overlap and span over many later arcs as well.

It's an interesting scene, and I feel it's almost impossible to dissect that fight just within that arc alone - like it wasn't meant to be taken seriously by itself at that time, but later with more context of what's to come after that.

A short version: It's a great set up of how the trust between Luffy and Zoro would develop after this fight.

Specifically, how it gets to this in Skypiea:

And a longer version under the read more:

To start at the beginning again - Luffy knew about Zoro's reputation by the time he reached Shells Town and heard about him as Demon Pirate Hunter of the East Blue, and decided to see if he's a good guy to have on his crew.

Once Luffy freed Zoro and they took down Morgan together, they could see how the other was similary strong, as well as they were able to fight in sync and well together, but maybe they still didn't understand how much they could depend on each other.

With Luffy, anyone who offers him food becomes something like his hero. If they offer him hospitality, he would protect them with his life.

With Zoro, he's always looking out for the danger, used to travel alone (or with just Johnny and Yosaku), he does what's needed, and usually without telling the others.

And this is, I think, that crucial moment when they realize this about each other -

Luffy wakes up and sees the people who helped him lying on the ground, and telling him that Zoro was the one who did that. Luffy goes berserk without needing to hear why, because there shouldn't be a reason why. Whatever Zoro tells him must be a lie, right? He must have gone mad.

Maybe if Zoro didn't fight back, Luffy would see something was wrong, but Zoro isn't one to back down from a fight, especially when being falsely accused, and if he saw that Luffy was fighting him for real, he in turn would give him the same courtesy. They're both very stubborn in the same way.

The misunderstanding trope can be a bit annoying, but I think it's all just to see them actually fight together on equal footing. It was one of the first examples of what they can do together.

After this fight, where they defeat the two Baroque Works agents together, and after everything is explained, Luffy understands, in his own way.

When rereading this part of "I thought you got mad (...)", I had a feeling that Luffy might have even think Zoro could become a danger to others and was ready to just.. contain him. He heard about him as a demon pirate hunter - of course, those where a lot of talking from the Marine's side of the story perpetuating the myth of him, Zoro never called himself that and Luffy knows it, but part of me thinks maybe Luffy wouldn't care about that - he just wanted Zoro on his crew no matter what, and would deal with the consequences after that. Like in Whiskey Peak.

But what's even more interesting is, since this fight, they began to understand how they work separately.

I kind of like that they don't come back or talk more about this fight, because once it's done, they're past that. But both take it as a learning experience, Luffy still has a long journey to go as a captain, and I feel with knowing what Zoro does without saying, Luffy began finding the footing as captain with putting this specific trust in Zoro - learning he can fully depend on him to protect their crew when something would be amiss, when some danger would be nearby.

And that despite the sudden fight, the bad communication and the immediate resolve, Zoro sees another most important part of Luffy's character - how far he would go to help someone who offered him food or helped Luffy and his crew. And this knowledge has helped Zoro many times since this arc, in situation where the rest of the crew might not understand Luffy's thinking, Zoro's usually the first one who does understand.

On Jaya, that trust takes the main role when Luffy orders Zoro not to fight Bellamy's crew:

Later on Skypiea Luffy says it out loud how much he trusts Zoro to protect the rest of the crew:

It goes on each arc more and more, subtle but with that trust between them deepening.

With Zoro letting Luffy know being their captain is hard but he cannot falter,

in Post Enies Lobby it's Zoro telling him what rules need to be followed, otherwise the crew would fall apart,

It feels since that Whiskey Peak fight, Zoro really took it onto himself to protect the crew without having to say so, and Luffy understood that's what he does. It's Zoro's instinct to do that - Skypiea protecting Robin and Chopper, Thriller Bark - protecting Brook, saving Sanji and of course Luffy from Kuma. On Punk Hazard, while Luffy is against Ceasar, Zoro fights Monet so Nami and Robin could get away. On Dressrosa his final fight against Pica is to protect Usopp and Kinemon.

I also like this bit on Zou, where Zoro doesn't enjoy the Minks' attention on him, and Luffy reprimands him that it's rude to talk back to someone who's hosting a feast for them. Again, kind of a callback to Whiskey Peak, ch. 807

And then there's whole Wano, with Zoro protecting Tama, Otoko and Yasuie, Hiyori, and it gets very personal when they're hurt.

During Onigashima Raid he keeps reminding Luffy that he would go with him up to the rooftop to fight Kaido, because this time the enemies are too dangerous and he needs to protect Luffy as well. And they both protect each other there:

Conclusion: I love the Whiskey Peak fight now, because it brings up many small details that are so important over the span of many arcs later, slowly showing just how different these two are built and how much trust they learnt to put in the other.

bonus:

On their way to Enies Lobby on the train, this scene looks very similar to their Whiskey Peak fight, except this time they're intentionally using their strengths together against the Aqua Laguna.

Whiskey peak, ch. 112

Water Seven, ch. 367

#idk if this is coherent. i just had too much whiskey peak thoughts so i put them all down together #zolu #luzo #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece #one piece meta #mine #gif:zolu #gif:op manga #gif:op meta #long post #whiskey peak #whisky peak #one piece manga

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megalony · 1 year ago

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Strike Me Down- Part 2

This is the second part of my Evan Buckley imagine, I hope you will all enjoy, thank you so much for the amazing feedback on part one.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989

911 Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: When a lightning strike puts Evan's life in danger, he has to fight to get back to his family. His wife and boys need him to get better.

Enjoy.

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"Come on Evan, please… please I don't know what to do here," (Y/n) reached down for Evan's hand and tangled their fingers together. Her other hand feathered lightly over his exposed bicep that was still tainted with burnt red streaks flaming up his bicep, across his shoulder and beneath his gown down his chest.

This was coming on day three of sitting here, unsure what to do with herself or how to move forward.

It was somehow a Godsend that Evan's parents were staying in town. Deep down, (Y/n) knew they would have come down if they had been back home and heard about Evan's accident. But them being here meant that they could watch the kids when (Y/n) was here and then be here with Evan when (Y/n) went home.

Her and Eddie were taking shifts being with the kids then staying at the hospital together and when they went home, Bobby or Maddie stayed with Evan. No one wanted him alone and with his state fluctuating, it was safer to keep at his side at all times.

Sitting and talking to Evan was all well and good but (Y/n) didn't know what to say and she didn't like waiting around, begging him to wake up. He had to wake up, they had to bring him out of the coma and get him breathing on his own. No one could continue like this.

"Alfie's getting scared and they won't let me bring Tommy in here so I can't stay with you as long as I'd like… Theo had a tantrum last night when we tried to take him home. Eddie had to carry him out, he wouldn't leave you. Please wake up baby."

Alfie didn't understand why everyone was panicking, why his grandparents were staying with them and why he was barely seeing his mum who was always panicked and in tears. He wanted his dad, he wanted to go and see him like he knew Theo had but he wasn't allowed. And Bobby needed (Y/n) and he was only a toddler, he would be no problem in the ICU and he wouldn't understand what was going on but the nurses wouldn't let him in.

And Theo was starting to lose his control. He wanted to stay with Evan, he wanted to stay and keep an eye on his dad instead of going home to rest and be with the rest of the family.

When they told Theo Bobby was staying the night with Evan, he started to cry. He hit out at (Y/n) when she tried to get him off the bed and when Eddie dragged him away from Evan, he slumped to the floor and thrashed around, lashing out.

Eddie had to hoist his nephew over his shoulder and carry him into the nearest waiting room so they didn't attract any unwanted attention.

Theo had been told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going back to the ICU if he couldn't control himself. They had snook him in because they trusted him, he couldn't cause a scene and get them all kicked out.

A gasp left (Y/n)'s lips and she tightened her hand around Evan's when a twinge rocked through her stomach. She shuffled forward and pressed her free hand to her stomach, pressing on her lower abdomen. She couldn't tell if it was the baby wriggling and trying to tell Evan to wake up or if it was a pain she should worry about.

"Look what you're doing to me, baby." She groaned through gritted teeth and leaned forward to press her forehead against Evan's thigh.

Her breaths came out in huffs and she held Evan's hand against her lips, heating his skin with her warm, flushed breaths. She hadn't been eating much these past few days. Food made her feel sick, any drink other than water gave her heartburn and her body was so tired and disorientated that she wasn't even hungry. Eddie and Athena brought her food but she couldn't eat. She would eat when Evan woke up and got better.

More tears flushed her face and soaked into the bedsheets as she choked down a burning sob.

Why did this have to happen to Evan? Why was it always him who got hurt and endangered and threatened?

Evan always came home to her. He had to get better and come back from this, he couldn't leave her and the boys like this when they needed him the most. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

"I'm gonna be in labour with a comatose husband in the next room," She croaked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve when she lifted her head to look up at Evan. He wasn't even twitching in his sleep. (Y/n) couldn't sleep at home, she had brought Tommy into bed with her because Evan wasn't there tossing and turning or looping an arm around her waist.

She would be going into early labour at this rate with her husband lying motionless in the bed beside her. That wasn't how life was supposed to work out for them.

"I've n-never done this without you. You've a-always been there, you can't miss this one,"

(Y/n) wasn't having her fourth child without Evan holding her hand, talking her through it. They had been sixteen when they had Theo and Evan had been there from the start. He didn't sleep for thirty six hours, he paced the room with (Y/n), knelt with her on the floor and eventually laid on the bed with her between his thighs.

Alfie had been born three days before Christmas so Evan had been off work at the time in his old job. He coached (Y/n) through it and calmed her down and told her everything would be fine since he had been almost two months early.

And Tommy had been the quickest one of them all. Eddie had been driving and Evan had to take off his belt and kneel in the footwell of the car when (Y/n) started to push before they got to the hospital. Evan and Eddie both carried (Y/n) between them into the hospital reception and before a nurse could get to them, (Y/n) gave birth.

She gave birth to Tommy in front of a crowd of people with her husband knelt between her legs delivering their third child.

(Y/n) wasn't having baby number four without Evan.

Thrashing his hands out, Evan slammed every pill bottle within his reach down to the floor as a roaring scream left his lips.

This wasn't right.

His wife was in pain. She was hunched over his bedside in agony, crying into his arm that he swore he could feel the tears soaking into his skin from over here. She was supposed to be resting at home with the boys with Evan taking care of her. Not him laid up, useless and broken with his wife deteriorating at his side, begging him to come back to her.

It wasn't as if he wasn't trying. Evan had fought his way from a horrid alternate reality with his family. He had left Chimney and Hen behind and had been running around the hospital like a headless chicken until he found this window. He was watching his family sit vigil by his bedside, crying and screaming for him to come back.

He had broken down watching Eddie carry his son out of the room who was screaming at Evan to wake up and come back to them.

But he didn't know how.

"Baby I'm here… how do I get over there?" Evan glanced around the supply room he found himself in, wondering if Daniel or the alternate Bobby were still with him.

"You don't."

Bobby's answer was so simple and easy but it made Evan shiver. That wasn't what he wanted to hear and it wasn't something Evan was going to believe. He would get himself back to his real body if it cost him everything. He wasn't staying here.

"I will-"

"No, you won't. You're stuck here, this is your new world now," Bobby chugged down a handful of pills but his brows rose and he almost smiled when he looked through the window. "Oh look kid, maybe you don't have to get over there after all. She's so ill, she might be coming here to visit you instead."

"No! No, no baby no!"

Evan pounded his fists against the glass, yelling as loud as he could to reach her but it did nothing.

All he could do was stand and watch his wife double over and clench her stomach. Her forehead pressed into the edge of the mattress as she doubled over and started to cough. She needed to be sick. She wasn't eating which was messing with her stomach, she wanted to be sick but she had nothing left to throw up.

Evan couldn't have his wife joining him in here. He couldn't find his own way out, how on Earth would he get both of them out? She was pregnant, she needed someone to look after her while Evan couldn't.

He couldn't breathe.

Evan couldn't breathe. His hand pressed to his chest as he started to gasp and grog, parting his lips but nothing was going in or out. Why couldn't he breathe? Why was his chest starting to tremble and quake and pull inwards without exhaling? What was happening to him?

"You don't look so good kid."

He knew that. But Bobby wasn't looking at this version of him; he was looking through the glass at the real Evan. The unconscious Evan. The dying Evan.

His body was jerking up and down on the bed, chest rising and panting and choking on air he was being supplied by a ventilator. The machines were starting to blare out but all Evan could hear was (Y/n)'s cry that overpowered everything else.

He was panicking about (Y/n) so much that his body was starting to fail. He was scaring himself into a state of shock.

"Evan? God, Evan no don't do this," The moment (Y/n) sat straight in the chair, her stomach made an awful pang and she let go of Evan's hand.

He wasn't getting enough oxygen, the machine was starting to flash red and his body was shuddering, quaking and choking. (Y/n) had been praying for him to move but this isn't what she meant. She wanted his hand to twitch and squeeze or his arm to move or his head to turn in her direction. She didn't want him to start choking and getting worse.

She let go of his hand and pushed up from the chair, doubling over until her stomach felt like it was being squished to relieve the pressure. Her hands fumbled over the bedframe at the foot of the bed and she moved round just as the door burst open and Eddie ran in, followed by two nurses.

"He- he needs more oxygen," (Y/n) dug her fingers into the bed frame and hunched over, arching out her back as the nurses tried to level out his oxygen and stop him from crashing.

She felt Eddie's hand on her lower back and his other hand grabbed the bed frame with her but he turned to look at her when she started to shake.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" Panic blundered through Eddie's veins when he looked down at his sister. He had left the room for less than half an hour to get a drink and call their parents to update them. They were offering to come down to LA but that was the last thing either of them wanted right now.

They had enough family and friends around to help look after the boys, if their parents came down it would cement the fact that Evan might not wake up from this. That wasn't a reality either of them were ready to face.

"I just- I- he's given me a shock," Her fingers tightened around the bed frame as she tried to straighten up but it didn't help. Staying hunched over was the only thing relieving the pain in her stomach. Each breath came out in short pants and she twisted herself to the left so she could try and face her brother as her right hand moved to cradle her stomach.

"Come and sit down," Eddie moved his hands to her shoulders and tried to prize her from the bed. But as soon as (Y/n) let go of the bed frame and tried to straighten up again, another pain rocked her stomach and she doubled over. Her knees bent, her body hunkered down and her arm bound around her seven-month bump while her other hand moved to gripped Eddie's forearm.

"Do we need to call a midwife?"

"Yes-"

"No. Help my husband," She broke off with a harsh breath that burned past her lips as her eyes snapped closed.

The last thing (Y/n) wanted was to be fussed over when her husband was in distress, possibly on the verge of another cardiac arrest. She needed everyone to focus all their efforts on Evan and get him stable again. Only when she was assured he was okay would (Y/n) think about leaving his side and seeing someone herself. She could look after herself and the baby.

"(Y/n) you need a doctor." A burning fury boiled up in Eddie's eyes as he reached out for his sister again. She was in pain- no, she was in agony and she wasn't letting them help her. They were in a hospital, there were more than enough staff to help her as well as Evan.

"No. Oow… no." (Y/n) sobbed, gasping for breath almost as much as Evan as she turned her back on the nurses and looked at her brother instead. Her forehead pressed into his chest when he stepped closer and held onto her so she didn't go down on her knees.

His fingers dug into the back of her arms until he was leaving indents and bruising his sister's skin when she fought to get out of his grip. What was she doing? Why was she fighting him when he was trying to help her? She wasn't well.

"Stop fighting me-"

(Y/n) pulled out of Eddie's grip with a scream and turned to look back at Evan. Her arm pressed tighter into her burning stomach while her other hand pressed to her temple that was flushed and aching. He needed to get better. He needed to stop giving her jumpscares and frightening the baby like this. Evan had to come back to her because this wasn't fair.

She took two steps closer towards the bed before she hunkered down near the small bin and leaned over, coughing and gagging. Her stomach was telling her to be sick and her throat was gagging and tensing but she had nothing but bile to give.

"Fuck- get a doctor for him and a midwife for my sister!" Eddie threw an order at the nurse who was about to rush out of the room for help.

Evan needed to be regulated and calmed down and (Y/n) needed to be checked over and have the baby checked. She was making herself ill even if she didn't want or mean to. The last thing they needed was her going into premature labour. Evan would never forgive any of them if she had the baby without him.

"You need to sit down and listen to me," Reaching out, Eddie clamped his hands back down on her arms and pulled her into his chest. Once she stopped pushing him away, Eddie turned her around and heaved her down into the chair beside the bed.

"You're making yourself sick and we need a doctor to examine you, the last thing we want is you in labour and Buck in a coma."

Her body sank down, her nails scrunched up her shirt and dug into her stomach and her other hand slammed down on the wooden armrest.

"I need Evan!" Her voice echoed off the walls and bounced back to them with a desperate, pleading cry that could be felt at the end of the Earth. Her hand waved out towards the bed where her husband was still violently shaking. She didn't care about anything else and as horrible as she felt, (Y/n) couldn't will herself to care if her body deteriorated. She wanted Evan awake and alert o he could tell her everything was going to be okay.

What was happening to her husband?

"I need him! Wake him up!"

Leaning down, (Y/n) pressed her stomach into her knees and flopped her head onto Eddie's shoulder, a burning sob bubbling past her lips. She curled her arm around his neck to ground herself and stop from falling down onto his lap. But when she felt him wrap his arms around her and hold her, it only made her sobs worse.

"He's not leaving us. He wouldn't dare."

***

"I need to get back to my family."

Frustration soured through Evan's body as guilt racked his chest and sent his knees down to the floor. The corridor in front of him stretched out five miles long, extending his hospital room until he couldn't see it anymore and it could have been on the other side of the Earth for all Evan knew.

He couldn't get back. He didn't know how he was supposed to find his way into that room that had no doors and the only window was in the back of the medicine cabinet in the store room. It was a small window that let Evan watch his life and his family slip away from him and he was sick of watching.

He was sick to his stomach when he watched Eddie carry (Y/n) out of his room, leaving Evan's lifeless body to be meddled with by doctors and nurses.

There was no way for Evan to find out what was wrong with (Y/n), if she was alright and how he could get to her.

He couldn't stand and watch anymore. He had gone wandering in the hopes of finding his wife or brother in law, but this hospital was his alternate. It was an alternate universe full of his alternate parents and his dead older brother. A brother who was now following him around like a shadow, spitting poison in his ear whenever he could.

"Why? They don't need you."

Evan's brows furrowed and he turned on his heels, clenching his hands into fists as he looked at what he could only guess was how his brother would look if he were alive.

"Yes they do."

How could he say that? Of course they needed him. His wife was in agony, for all Evan knew she could be in labour. She could be somewhere in the real hospital, having their fourth child without him there to hold her hand and watch over her. If anything happened to her or the baby Evan was never going to forgive himself when he got out of here.

"Theo's fourteen. He's outgrowing you. At sixteen you moved out from home with a girl and a baby. He doesn't need you anymore." Daniel held a clipboard against his chest and shrugged with a horribly plain expression.

"That was different- I- I had a kid. But my parents didn't want me like I wanted him. He needs me because I love him and I'm not abandoning any of them like people left me."

Evan's situation had been tough.

He was barely sixteen when Theo was born and staying at home away from (Y/n) and his newborn wasn't an option. Neither was having (Y/n) and Theo move in with his parents. They barely acknowledged Evan in the house or gave him any love and comfort, he couldn't bring his new family into that mess and have his son grow up in that kind of environment.

Moving out was the only option and it had been the best thing for Evan. He had (Y/n) and Theo in his life, they shared a one bedroom flat for the first two years and then moved into a bigger flat. By the time they had Alfie they had a proper home for the four of them, and now they had Tommy and another baby.

There was no way Theo was outgrowing Evan. Theo had grown up with a loving home environment and caring, observant parents who loved the bones of him. Evan couldn't leave any of his boys, he couldn't die and be absent from their lives or leave (Y/n) to bring them up alone and he needed to meet his baby.

His life was far from over and he wasn't done.

"I need to get back to (Y/n), she's sick and it's my fault. She can't have our baby without me."

Pushing himself up to his feet, Evan took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began walking. He didn't care how long this corridor was, how long it took him or where he would end up. He wanted to be closer to his family than this and he would walk around this imaginary universe if it got him the slightest bit closer to home.

He wasn't staying here.

***

A quaking breath passed through (Y/n)'s lips when she looked up at the window and noticed who was looking in.

Her lips pressed together into a thin line and she untangled her left hand from Evan's as she sat up straighter in the chair. Her right arm cradled Tommy closer to her chest, snuggling him around her bump before she slowly eased up from the uncomfortable chair.

The toddler stayed cuddled up into her chest with his head tucked beneath her chin into the crook of her neck and his arms coiled into his chest. He had a pacifier between his lips and for the last hour or so, he had been fast asleep in (Y/n)'s arms.

Her hand moved to cradle the back of Tommy's head when she left the room and moved into the hallway.

"Hi," Her chin tilted down so she could kiss the top of Tommy's head and her eyes didn't dare look up at her in-laws.

"You're supposed to be resting," Evan's mother had a tight hold of her bag that was settled on her shoulder and there was something almost endearing in her eyes. If (Y/n) didn't know her any better, she would have thought she was a genuine, worried parent concerned with her son's family life.

"I may as well rest here, no better place to collapse than a hospital, right?"

"Thomas shouldn't be here, take him home. We'll sit with Evan for the night," Her father in law curved an arm around his wife and darted his eyes through the window to look over at his son.

Evan had been on an ECMO machine for two days to filter his blood and add more oxygen through his body which had worked well. His levels were back up, his body was calm and resting and they were looking at trying to get him to breathe on his own soon.

The doctor had confirmed (Y/n) wasn't in labour but she was pushing her body to its limits. She had to eat, drink and rest before she went into early labour.

So (Y/n) had spent two days at home under the promise that Maddie, Bobby and Athena would all look after Evan. She had spent the days tucked up in bed with all three of her boys, even Theo didn't leave her side and stayed next to her. She reassured the boys she and Evan would be okay and managed a few hours of sleep with Tommy cuddled to her chest.

She ate a little when Eddie or Maddie brought her food and protein shakes but she was tired of being at home.

She needed to be beside her husband and she wasn't leaving Tommy any longer. Theo was with Eddie and Chris, he was only staying calm and behaving for Eddie, for anyone else he was lashing out, crying and begging. When Theo begged (Y/n) to take him back to the hospital and she said no, Eddie took him home with him to calm him down. And Alfie was staying with Maddie and Chimney for the night.

"I'm not leaving him. Tommy's fine, he's sleeping."

"But this isn't good for you-"

"Julie, please… I've spent the last fourteen years by your son's side. I stayed with him when he went through four operations on his leg after an accident that didn't manage to concern you enough to come down and see us. I carried him up and down the stairs with a pot on his leg, I bathed him and held him when he screamed. I took him to therapy after he, Chris and Theo were caught up in the tsunami. I'm not going anywhere; I don't know how."

Why could no one understand?

Why didn't anyone realise that (Y/n) couldn't function when Evan was ill? She was giving all of her strength to him so he could come back to her, that was what they did for each other and that was how things had always been.

(Y/n) wasn't going home unless it was to spend time with her boys and she had been with them for two days. Two days away from Evan when he was in a critical state and that separation had taken everything away from her. She wanted to stay with Evan and show him that he had something to fight for. That he had to find his way back to them.

When the truck crushed his leg, (Y/n) was at the hospital by the time he arrived. She waited through each surgery, she made him behave for the doctors. (Y/n) heaved him up and down the stairs, she helped him wash and get dressed. She wrapped him in her arms when he broke down wondering if he could ever run again and do his job.

After the tsunami, (Y/n) got all the boys in therapy. Chris, Theo, Eddie and Evan all had to talk to someone and (Y/n) took them to their appointments and made sure they were okay.

She had done everything on her own without his parents getting in the way and as grateful as (Y/n) was that they were here now, she didn't want their advice.

"Evan didn't want us here-"

"No. No, he may not have wanted you, but he needed you. There's a big difference you never noticed. Evan has spent his life proving himself to you, begging for your attention or just some sign to show that you care and he made sure the boys never once felt that way with him."

(Y/n) had watched Evan prove himself to the boys every day since Theo was born. He went to every school play, every sports event and he patched them up when they fell down. He cradled them when they were sick and he played games and pushed them to do what they wanted and be their own person. Evan made sure they knew how much he loved them.

And (Y/n) needed him to get better and continue doing that with them. The boys couldn't cope without him and neither could she.

"We may not have always been there for Evan and… and maybe we didn't agree with his life choices, but we always knew how much you meant to him. And while he's like this, it's our job to look after you when he can't."

"Then don't make me leave."

(Y/n) turned on her heels and walked back through the door but she could feel the atmosphere change when she left the door open for them to follow. She wasn't going to shut them out and if they were that desperate to help and prove themselves, the best thing they could do was stay and give moral support.

"You can't go back. You're stuck here, where you belong so say goodbye to that old life."

Evan didn't like the cruel expression that landed on the face that mimicked his own. He didn't like the selfish, hardened version of himself that stood before him. His lips were curved into a catfish grin that showed nothing but malice and detest and his eyes were squinted and blown with desire.

He had been fighting himself all along to get back to his family. He was obstructing his own path. But not anymore.

"This is my chance and I'm not leaving them behind."

This had to be the moment everything was leading up to. Evan could see through the glass, he could see his life so clearly. His wife was stood holding his hand with their toddler in her other arm. He had just watched her argue with a nurse that Tommy was no danger or bother and he needed his mother so they let him stay 'just this once'.

Eddie was behind her with tears running down his face and his hands rubbing at the back of his neck, something he did when he was nervous.

Maddie was in the other corner of the room next to Bobby who was holding his rosary beads, muttering a prayer Evan really needed to hear. And his parents were at the window. They didn't have the strength to stand inside the crowded room and watch in case this didn't go the way they planned.

They were taking him off the ventilator.

This was Evan's chance to breathe on his own and somehow get from here, over there. His chance to get back to his body and back to his own reality that he had been separated from. He wasn't missing this chance and he wasn't letting his life slip away from him.

"No, this is you're reality, isn't this what you always wanted?" He stumbled back when the darker version of himself pushed him away from the window. "Go outside that door. You have parents who adore you, who cling to your every move. You have siblings who want you around and a job you can be proud of. You have a wife and a home here too, you have the things you always wanted. This is your dream."

Tears flushed his face as he stared at the window. That was what he wanted. That life he had never once taken for granted. Evan always had too much to live for, too much at stake to risk anything.

"I want my wife and kids. They love me. My sister loves me and out there, she's happy and safe. My parents are right there when I need them, that's what I need. Bobby is there, Eddie is my brother. This is a dream and I don't want it. My family is my life and they are all out there, waiting for me."

Nothing about this life appealed to Evan like reality.

Adoring parents were always the dream and he knew it would never come true. His parents were around when he needed them, they did what they could to be involved in his life and that was okay. He had Bobby and Athena who were the parents he always wanted so in part, his dream had come true. The brother Evan never had was waiting in that room, crying for him to get better. And he had been with Evan for nearly two decades.

In reality, Evan had a sister who was loved and happy and out of danger, he helped her in reality and he wouldn't stay in an alternate world where she was in danger.

And Evan's wife, his real, true, amazing lovely wife was out there in pain needing him to come home.

His three boys were waiting for him to get better and he would never trade them for an easy life. He wanted to go home.

"You don't need them."

"I can't live without them."

His eyes frantically searched round the room when sparks flew in his chest and his throat felt as dry as the desert. The tube was out, he could feel it. This was his chance to breathe and he somehow had to get back over there and take it before he died.

He could hear his darker self screaming when he launched a chair through the window and thrust his fists to make the glass break. Shattering the prison he had kept himself in, allowing himself to go back home.

Nothing was going to stop him from going home.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

"He's breathing."

Tears burned down (Y/n)'s face like acid rain drenching her cheeks and bluring her perfect vision of her husband. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed the back of his knuckles, smiling against his skin when Tommy leaned forward to pat Evan's hand.

He was too young to understand what was going on or that his dad was gravely ill, but he knew that was his dad and he leaned into Evan's touch the same as (Y/n) did.

(Y/n) could feel Eddie's hands on her shoulders and his lips pressing into the back of her head while everyone seemed to let out the same panicked, relieved gulps of air all at once. The atmosphere around them lifted like a cloud of smoke disappearing into the air.

"Stay with us baby, stay with us."

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