#is both hospitable AND apologize for their space simply looking as if it's actually used for its purpose

[liesreblogstheworld]

I love how this is essentially an old timey 'character working companionably in a creative workspace' picture AND how the perspective makes you feel like you are a spider up in the corner who is there to share in the productive energy so you can finally just get your homework done.

“Please excuse the sorry state of my cabin.”

[titanicsimp]

Been too long

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Female!reader

Genres: Smut/lemon, fluff

Warnings: Sexual content including; vaginal sex, creampie, oral, general foreplay. Brief mentions of injury and trauma

Summary: You have known Reiner since you were both kids, and though life has separated you, a second chance might be in sight.

A/N: I finally wrote a story about my n1 love 🥺

It’s been over a decade since you’ve last seen Reiner, not counting the little glimpses at parades. It’s odd, the two of you had been so close when you were kids. You had known Reiner since he was 6 years old, and you had stuck to him like glue till the very last day before he went on his mission.

When you had finally pushed yourself to the front of the crowd the day Reiner had returned from paradise island, you looked straight at him, and he had looked back, but his gaze had been vacant. You had been too taken aback to wave or say anything. He had looked straight through you.

From your glimpses and the rumors you had overheard, it was clear that Reiner had changed. You refused to hear the whispers in the alleys about him having lost his mind. He might be not be the same anymore, but you knew that he would never give up. He was strong, not only a warrior by rank. Yet you would be lying if you said you weren’t worried.

❦

Now Reiner had returned from war once again, you were determined to at least speak to him this time. You followed the parade all the way up to the hall where the Warriors gathered and situated yourself outside the building. The guards made you anxious, but the fact that you’re an honorary Marleyan kept you relatively safe. It was okay for you to be there, unless it started taking too long.

When Reiner finally exited the building, you said a quick prayer to the gods and stepped out of the shadows.

“Reiner!”

He kept walking, seemingly so lost in thought he didn’t hear you.

“Reiner!” You tried again, quickly walking after him.

Reiner turned around suddenly, a warning look on his face. You gulped and instinctively took a step back.

When he realized it was you, his expression softened and then turned to confusion as he mumbled your name. “It is you, right?”

You smiled at him shyly. “Yes, it’s me.”

Now you got a good look at his appearance, your heart skipped a beat. His haircut had changed, and he had grown a beard, but the most striking was the way he had aged. Sure, he seemed older than he was, but he looked incredibly handsome.

“Sorry to hunt you down like this, but I really had to talk to you.” You told Reiner and nervously rubbed at your arm.

Your rubbing turned his attention to your arm, making him notice the red band around it. The sight of it made his expression turn cold.

“You.. got married?” He questioned.

You frowned, confused at the sudden question. When you noticed what he was glancing at, you realized why he thought so.

“Oh! No, I’m not married. I’m a doctor, actually.” You told him and couldn’t help but sound a bit proud. The work you had to put in for that band had been exhausting and neverending, but you made it.

Reiner scratched the back of his head and looked away from you. “I see, my apologies.”

Disappointment settled over you at his standoffish attitude. Was he not even slightly excited to see you?

You tried to shake off the feeling and gave him a smile. “It’s alright, we haven’t seen each other for a while... Perhaps we can catch up?”

The glint in his eyes gave you hope, but that quickly faded as he shook his head and sighed. “I don’t have time.”

No, you wouldn’t cry, no matter how much that stung. Looking into his eyes like this and still feeling alone was the worst.

“Ah, of course.”

Reiner turned his back to you and you watched him walk off, your heart feeling like a brick inside your chest.

❦

Another month passed and you heard nothing from Reiner, so you told yourself you were over it. If he thought you would first wait 9 years and then some more he was sorely mistaken!

You angrily pursed your lips at your thoughts as you picked out tomatoes at the market. Forget about him already.

You had filled your bag with the needed tomatoes and had paid the salesman when you turned to be on your merry way, but instead stepped right into someone’s chest.

“Gods! Ever heard of personal space?!” You grumbled as you backed off.

Your face paled when you recognized who you had bumped into. Reiner was peering down at you with that serious face of his.

“Sorry about that.”

You casted your eyes down, heaving your bag over your shoulder. “I-it’s fine, I didn’t realize it was you.”

He simply nodded at your words. You were uncertain as to what he wanted as he stared at you in silence. He didn’t even seem sure himself as to what he was doing.

You cleared your throat. “So, what is a warrior doing at the market?”

Reiner raised the basket in his left hand. “I’m getting vegetables for mother.”

A smile clawed it’s way onto your face. You guessed he was still a mommas boy. “That’s very nice of you, Reiner.”

More silence and staring followed before he finally decided on something to say.

“What clinic do you work at?” He asked.

You chuckled at the question. “How many do we Eldians have?”

The corners of Reiner’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Right.”

It made you feel nervous when you made eye contact with him, like you were a teenager again. “Well, if you ever get injured, you are free to visit.”

As soon as you said it you felt like hitting yourself. “But Warriors regenerate... oops.”

You waved off your own comments. “Injured or not, you are more than welcome.”

Reiner seemed amused, and you were unsure if it was because you were making a fool out of yourself or not, but it made you happy to see him warm up slightly.

“See you.. soon.” He said and waved you off, leaving you with a flushed face to match your tomatoes.

❦

A week later, you just got done with a long shift at the hospital and were getting ready to leave. Even though the soldiers had been back for some time, more and more kept showing up. Some that weren’t healing, some that were traumatized beyond believe, and some that had never come to get treatment and now their wounds were festering. It was exhausting, and terrible to witness, but you were happy you could at least do something to help them.

Darkness had already settled over the town when you exited the hospital grounds. When you turned the corner next to the gate you felt your heart jump in your throat at the sight of a silhouette.

“Hello?”

The figure stepped out of the darkness after you called out to it. You sighed with relief when you saw it was Reiner. “Gods Reiner, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” He said and stook his hands into his pockets.

“It’s alright.” You looked around the area. “Were you waiting for me?”

His lips quirked into a tiny smile. “I told you I would visit.”

That he actually did made you so happy. Perhaps he hasn’t grown as cold towards you as you first thought.

“Yeah, you did. You could’ve just come in though, it’s pretty cold out here.”

Reiner shrugged. “I’m fine. Join me on a walk?”

You nodded and gave him a warm smile. “Of course.”

He lead you through the dim alleyways and you wondered what he was planning. You were expecting him to say something, but he seemed to be mauling over every word again.

When you entered the plaza you knew why he took you here instantly. It was quiet, the cobbling of fountain in the middle of the square the only sound. It was peaceful like this, not crowded like during the day.

Reiner turned to face you, looking slightly nervous. “This is where-“

“I remember.”

The day before he had left for paradise island the two of you had snuck out and met up here. You could still remember how thrilling it had been.

You shook your head and looked down at the uneven street. “Why did you take me here?”

“I... I remembered you liked the fountain.” He responded, a slight shake noticibale in his voice.

“Reiner...” You looked at the small fountain. “If you remember, then you know why I’m not happy.”

His face, so young and hopeful, was still clear in your memories. He had been overjoyed he was now a warrior, finally having reached what he felt he needed to. It had given him the courage to tell you he liked you, and he had promised you he would return so you had to...

“Wait for me.”

You turned back to face Reiner. “That’s what you told me.”

He made a face like you just struck him, distress in his eyes. “I-I know. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You shook your head and laughed sadly. “It wouldn’t have been unfair if you had actually come for me when you returned.”

“I wanted to...” He gripped his forehead with his hand. “But the Reiner I had promised you died long ago.”

“It was too late.”

You took a step closer and felt tears sting at your eyes. “You’re right, it was too late.”

Reiner’s fingers clenched at your confirmation.

“It was too late for those kids, but not for us as we are now, Reiner.” You told him.

You chuckled. “I mean, I’m sure as hell not the same as I was 9 years ago, why would I expect you to be?!”

Silence fell as Reiner let your words sink in, dropping his hand from his face in shock. You could sense his doubt, and you felt it too. There were zero guarantees that you would fall for each other again, but you felt it in your heart that you had to give it a chance.

“I’m not asking you to feel the same way you did all those years ago. I just want you in my life, friend or lover.”

He remained silent for another minute before he spoke up. “Are you sure?”

You smiled and blinked away the tears that had built up. “I am.”

Reiner stepped closer to you hesitantly. “I don’t want to burden you. I’m not-“

You took one of his hands into yours. “I don’t care what you’re not! I want the Reiner that you are, nothing more and nothing less.”

He looked both terrified and happy with you’re declaration. You were scared he would pull his hand back, but he let you hold it. When he looked down at your joined hands, he seemed to relax slightly.

No more words were exchanged, there was no need to. His eyes spoke volumes, and you had said all you wanted to. In silence the two of you reunited, and a new promise was formed.

❦

The tavern is crowded tonight, the people of Marley having been in a surprisingly joyous mood lately. Pints are spread over the table in front of you and your group excitedly chats away with each other, some blaring instead of talking after having a few too many beers.

You had felt so nervous to join the Warriors tonight. Sure, in the last few months you had seen them around and had brief conversations with them, but sharing a whole evening with them was new.

In the end you had been worried about nothing. Zeke, Porco and Pieck had been more than welcoming, and not a single thing regarding their statuses had been brought up. Tonight they had just been people, and you were happy to see this side of them.

You lean back into Reiner’s arm, peaking up at your boyfriend. He raises his eyebrows and glances between you and Porco who is drunkenly arguing with Zeke about what beer brew is the best. You chuckle and roll your eyes at Reiner.

Your heart had been right. It had been a rocky road, and you both still had a lot to figure out, but after years of pining and separation you could finally call him yours.

“My, my, seems like those two had a bit too much.” Pieck notes with a laugh.

Zeke and Porco have quickly moved on from arguing and are now half sleeping on each other.

You laugh as well. “You think so?”

Pieck shakes her head disapprovingly, but her smile stays. She pushes at the men’s shoulders, but besides mumbles she gets no response. “I’ll have to carry them back home. What a pain.”

You sit up. “We’ll help you get them back.”

No way you’re letting poor Pieck drag them back all by herself, walking alone is already enough of a hassle for her.

You look at Reiner, who gives you a hesitant nod.

“Thank you!” Pieck says happily and sighs in relief.

The three of you stand up, rounding the table to haul the drunkards up. You and Pieck carry Porco while Reiner takes care of Zeke. You are happy you have experience with dragging men around in the hospital, otherwise this would be even harder.

“Come to think of it, you haven’t visited our place before have you?” Pieck asks you as the two of you carry Porco through the streets.

You shake your head. “No, I haven’t.”

She glances over at Reiner, who is walking a bit ahead. “I suppose it’s not much to show off.”

You all walk on in silence as you ponder if there’s a reason he hasn’t taken you there.

You meet up with Reiner in the hallway after everyone has been brought to bed and you have said your goodbyes to Pieck.

“I can bring you home.” He tells you.

You frown and shake your head. “I’d rather go to your room, unless you mind?”

He regards you for a moment before he gestures you to follow him. “I don’t.”

When you see his room, you get an idea as to why he didn’t want you to see it. There’s a one person bed, a chair, a desk, and a gun. The walls are painted grey, not decorated in any way.

“It’s... cozy.” You struggle to say.

Reiner sighs behind you as he closes the door. “It’s nothing.”

You turn around and throw your arms around his neck. “Should I be offended you don’t have any pictures of me?”

He quirks his eyebrows. “I don’t remember you giving me any.”

You laugh at his seriousness. “I suppose I’ll have to chance that then.”

You lean in to kiss him, but he frees himself from your grip and takes a step back.

“Reiner?”

It hurts to see him shrink away from you like this.

“Did I do something wrong? We’ve kissed before.” You ask him.

Reiner shakes his head and walks towards his bed, sitting down on it with a troubled look. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What’s wrong then?” You question, your confusion resonating in your voice.

“I should just bring you home.” He says and stands up.

Before he can take a step towards the door, you stop him, putting your hands against his chest. “No! If I’m going too fast or if you don’t want me, just tell me, please.”

“What? Of course I want you! But I can’t-“

You feel frustration starting to bubble inside of you. “Why can’t you?!”

“Right now you can leave!” He shouts out. “If we... I don’t want you to feel tied to me.”

His pained expression absolutely breaks your heart. Gods, you would do anything to bring the peace his mind needs.

You cup his face in your hands. “Reiner, I’m here because I want to be here. I don’t want to leave, I want to be with you.”

“In every way I can be.”

“I think-“ Reiner starts but you give him a quick kiss.

“Stop thinking.”

You stroke his hair out of his face. “If you want me, then please, take me.”

Convinced, he grabs your hands in his and kisses you. His lips move against yours roughly, his kiss desperate.

His hands let go off yours and instead start exploring your body through your clothes. You gasp into the kiss as he cups your breasts, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips.

Your tongue tangles with Reiner’s, your body heating up from his touches. You rest one of your hands onto his shoulder as you grab the back of his neck with the other.

Gods, how long have you wanted this? The fact that it’s finally happening is dizzying.

Not breaking the kiss, he picks you up and carries you to the bed. You mewl as he presses his body to yours. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin even through the layers of clothing.

You are left panting when Reiner breaks the kiss, needing more. It feels like a dream when he starts unbuttoning your blouse and you shiver when the air hits your exposed skin.

He drinks in the sight of you, gaze gliding over you chest slowly.

“Worth the wait?” You tease but blush regardless.

Reiner gives you a smile, and it’s bigger than usual. You melt at the sight. How hard you have fallen for this man yet again.

“Ten times over.” He mumbles as he moves to take off your skirt.

You feel yourself growing slick with excitement as your left only in your underwear underneath him. He hooks his fingers into your panties, but your stop him.

“You first.” You say and tug at his button up.

Complying, Reiner sits up slightly between your legs and takes off his button up and undershirt.

You smile and run your hands over his now exposed chest. His muscles feel so good under your hands that it makes you regret not taking him to bed sooner.

He chuckles at your fascinated expression. Even though he’s glad that you ogle him just as much as he does you, he’s impatient to finally have you fully.

Reiner swiftly takes off his pants, giving you another smile when he’s left in his underwear. “Seems it’s your turn again.”

You giggle and shake off your blouse completely. You unclasp your bra and slowly take it off to tease Reiner. He groans when your breasts are finally exposed, his hands coming up to squeeze them immediately.

He leans his broad form over you, capturing your mouth in a kiss as he fondles your breasts. You wrap your arms around his neck and moan into his mouth.

When he gently squeezes and rubs your nipples, you arch up into his touch. He breaks off the kiss, dragging his tongue over your bottom lip before he moves down. He kisses a trail down from your neck to your breasts before licking over your nipple.

“Reiner!” You moan out encouragingly.

He flicks your nipple with his tongue and sucks softly before he moves on to do the same to the other.

After giving your breasts several more kisses, he moves down again. Your breath hitches when he reaches the hem of your panties.

Reiner looks up at you, and you can easily read his expression, ‘Is this is okay?’, and you mumble a quick yes under your breath. He slides your panties down your legs and throws them to the side.

He lovingly kisses the top of your mount before he lets his tongue slide against the sensitive skin next to your folds. He teasingly continues licking around it before he finally dips into your core.

You thrash your legs at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your slit, and in response he grabs you by your thighs to keep you still.

Moans leave your lips when Reiner pushes his tongue past your entrance. He groans lustfully when he tastes you, making you blush.

He moves his tongue in and out of you eagerly till you feel like you are drenching his face.

When he feels your thigh muscles clench under his grip, he knows you’re close. He takes his tongue of you and you whine in protest.

Your protests are quickly silenced when Reiner’s tongue starts playing with your clit. He slides two of his thick fingers into you while he licks and suck at your clit. You see stars as his finges inside you curl to hit your sweet spot while his tongue drags circles over your sensitive nub.

“Yes! Yes!” You scream out as you cum.

Your walls quiver around his fingers as he continues moving them to ride out your orgasm.

When Reiner removes his mouth and fingers from your cunt, you give him a satisfied smile, telling him without words that he did well.

His hands stroke over your thighs. “I’ve dreamed of this so many times, but this is better anything I could’ve imagined.”

You sit up, which seems to surprise him. You quickly erase the fear of you stopping this from his mind by stroking your hand over the bulge in his underwear.

Fuck he’s big. His cock is straining against the fabric, his precum staining it already.

“I need to know what you taste like as well.” You whisper seductively and take off his underwear.

You do your best to hide your gulp when you see for yourself how big Reiner is. That thing is going to fill you the brim, but that’s exactly what you want.

You bend over, arching your back in the hope your ass looks good as you take his cock into your hand. He groans breathily when you stroke him, and you feel him tense up and stutter when you wrap your lips around the head. His reactions sound like music to your ears and make you eager to for more.

Deciding to focus on the head of his cock first, you drag your tongue flat over it and then circle it. Reiner’s hand goes to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as you start sucking.

When his cock twitches in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and sink the first few inches into it. You don’t take him into your throat yet, first working your way up and down so you can get used to it.

His groans and pants start increasing and you can tell he’s getting close. Mustering your courage, you breath in through your nose and slide the rest of his inches into throat.

“Shit!” He curses and the hand in your hair tightens.

You keep still like that for a second, savoring the sounds he’s making. When you start taking his cock in and out of your throat, it’s Reiner’s turn to see stars.

Surprisingly, you are doing better than you expected. You are convinced that only he can make a cock down your throat feel good.

“Fuck, you need to stop or I’ll cum.” He chokes out.

You look up at him, and he can tell you have no intend of doing so. Instead you slightly speed up your motions, and it doesn’t take long before Reiner forces you to still on his cock.

He shudders as he cums into your mouth, keeping your face snugly against his pelvis as he does so. You wanted to taste him, and now you are. He doesn’t disappoint either and you happily swallow the ropes of cum he spurts down your throat.

After he lets you pull away, you swallow the remaining cum in your mouth and give him a smile.

Reiner’s face is just as flushed as yours now. “Gods that felt good, but you didn’t have to.” He pants.

You giggle as you wipe off your mouth. “I know, but I wanted to.” You grab onto his shoulders and guide him to lay back down with you. “And I’ll do it again.”

Your words make him grunt in anticipation. His cock is still hard, and as he retakes his place between your legs you feel it poke at your cunt.

You wrap your arms and legs around him and take in his face. You note his stern eyebrows and the little frown creases between them, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose, his sharp jaw and so many more little things. You want to remember them all, so even if he goes away again, you’ll carry them with you.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You nod and give him a smile which he returns. After your confirmation, he positions his cock at your entrance and slowly starts pressing in.

The old bed creaks underneath your combined weight as he presses closer to your body, his cock sliding in and stretching your walls.

“Reiner!” You squeal in pleasure when he bottoms out in you. You feel so full of him.

One of Reiner’s hands strokes your hair out off your face and you can tell it feels so good for him as well.

He gently starts sliding his cock in and out of you, letting you adjust to his size before he goes harder.

You moan and writhe underneath him, experimentally bucking your hips to meet his thrusts now and then. The dull throb of pain that was present at first quickly having faded into intense pleasure.

Reiner groans your name over and over when he starts going faster. You’re so soaked from you earlier activities that your cunt makes a lewd sound every time he thrusts in, filling the room with even more noise. Neither of you care about whether or not someone hears, too lost in each other.

One of his hands moves to stroke your clit while fucking you. Your eyes roll back as your walls twitch around his cock in reaction to the extra stimulation.

“Yes! Don’t stop!” You cry out, feeling your orgasm approach you overwhelmingly fast.

Reiner continues rubbing circles over your clit, giving it gentle pinches now and then and making sure he keeps fucking you at this fast pace.

You grab onto the hair at his neck as you cum, too overtaken by pleasure to notice. He curses but doesn’t mind it, continuing to slip in and out of you. Your cunt feels so good, tightly wrapped around his cock as you cum, that you could do anything to him right now and he wouldn’t care.

Your breathing is ragged and your legs shake as your second orgasm fades away. Even through your foggy mind you realize Reiner hasn’t cum yet, so you start moving back against him.

“You feel so good! I want you to cum inside me!” You tell him boldly.

His eyes widen in surprise but you feel his cock jerk inside of you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, gods yes!” You cry out.

He smiles and chuckles at your enthusiasm. If only you knew how happy he is that you want him to.

Reiner stills and grabs onto your legs, making you yelp as he unwinds them from his waist and instead pushes them closer to your chest. When he sinks back into you in this position, he feels unbelievable deep inside you.

You scream his name as rams his cock in and out of you hard. Clearly you telling him to cum inside spurred him on.

His face is closer to yours now and you can hear every groan and ragged breath that leaves his mouth, causing your cunt clench around him.

Reiner’s pace becomes erratic as he approaches his orgasm. He presses your legs down further unconsciously, but you don’t mind at all as his cock is the only thing you are focusing on.

With a sharp finally thrust, he grunts your name and empties himself inside you. He kisses you as his hot cum fills you, his tongue quickly finding yours. You continue making out till his cock stops twitching, completely spend.

He gives you gentle kisses after he’s done filling you up. You giggle at him and return his affections by planting a kiss on his nose. Seemingly satisfied and assured that you are happy and okay, Reiner frees himself from your arms.

He seems hesitant to pull out, and when he does he watches his cum drip out of you. The sight almost gets him hard again, but he knows you need rest.

You scoot over to the edge of the bed so he can lay down, nestling yourself on top of his chest and against his side after he does so.

His fingers run through your hair, and as you lay basking in the after glow, you wonder if you should tell him again how you feel. When you look up at him though, you know it isn’t needed. He looks at peace, fully happy and relaxed for once. And those hazel eyes of his which you love so dearly, finally shine again.

[romioneficfest]

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

Title: Double Hazlenut Almond Milk Macchiato

Prompt: Day 2/Meet-Cute

Tumblr Name: 

Rating: General

Summary: Muggle AU. Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a pretty complicated coffee order.

Trigger Warnings: N/A

xxx

It’s seven o’clock on a Monday, and the morning rush is in full swing at The Burrow. Forming a line out the door and around the block are dozens of important, yet fidgety business people with complicated coffee orders, and little patience.

Ron Weasley opens every morning, Monday through Friday, and he handles it well. Most customers are regulars, and he’s already memorized their morning joe specifications.

The majority of the morning crowd has been forgiving of the occasional slip-up. Seven years of working the first shift at the family-owned coffee shop means a history of accidental extra-whipped cream, almond milk instead of soy, and finger-slips on the espresso machine, and the customers always return.

Maybe it’s because they’re too tired to notice their Americanos are actually Flat-Whites. Or maybe it’s the hospitable vibe of The Burrow that makes complaining about bad latte art seem as petty as telling Grandma her muffins are dry.

Every now and then, there’s a new customer, and Ron has to whip out his earnest, people-pleasing attitude to assure that the newbie sticks around. He’ll do what it takes to turn them into a regular, and make them thankful that they chose the local joint over the cookie-cutter corporate shop across the street.

‘Take an interest in their day!’ his Mum would say. ‘Validate their order! Then make sure to ask their name, and use it!’

Monday morning, at seven o’clock, is one of those times.

“Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato.”

“Size?”

“Medium.”

The customer is about Ron’s age, and probably new in town. She doesn’t yet know that at The Burrow, ‘Double Macchiatos’ are simply called ‘Tall Macchiatos’, and instead of ‘small’, ‘medium’, and ‘large’, The Burrow’s sizes go by their family pets in order of mass: Pig, Errol, and Chudley.

“Great,” he says, grinning, “coming right up.”

“Make sure it’s almond milk,” she reminds him.

“Yup.”

“And hazelnut,” she adds.

“Yup.”

“Double-shot—”

“I heard you,” says Ron impatiently. Have a little trust, lady.

“Okay, just making sure!”

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Hermione.”

Ron stares at the girl. Her brown eyes are round and drowsy, her hair is unkempt and wild, which contradicts the clean lines of the business suit she’s wearing. She looks so normal. “Can you repeat that?”

“Hermione. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E.”

He hadn’t asked her to spell it, and the way she emphasizes each syllable reminds Ron of how adults would read to him when he was a kid. It’s condescending.

“Coming right up, Hermione.”

“Great.”

Ron resists rolling his eyes. He can handle a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato, and if he screws it up, she probably wouldn’t even know the difference. Most customers wouldn’t.

As Hermione paces by the counter checking her watch, he whips up a medium, double, hazelnut, almond milk ...cappuccino. Just to test his theory, of course.

“Here you go!”

He hands the drink to Hermione and watches as she takes a sip. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, he’s convinced she can tell…

Then her face melts back to a polite grin. “Thank you!”

Maybe she can’t. Ron shakes his head as she turns and leaves, turning his attention to the next customer’s order.

Hermione returns on Tuesday morning at 7 am sharp. Her hair is pulled back into a stiff, tight ponytail that just barely lassos her wild mane, and she probably checks her watch fifteen times while in line. Ron suppresses a scoff—she can just make coffee at home if she’s in such a rush.

“Morning, Hermione!” he says with a forced smile. “Same as yesterday?”

She looks taken aback at first, clearly not expecting him to remember her name. “Um, yes, same as yesterday.”

“Coming right up.”

“Medium, Double, Hazelnut—“

“Almond Milk Macchiato,” he says. “I got it.”

“Okay,” shrugs Hermione, eyebrows raised. “Then do it.”

What’s her problem? “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she snaps. “I need coffee, not a counseling session.”

Wow. He wants to retort back, but his mother’s nagging voice in his head stops him.  ‘Always be extra-polite to grumpy customers; remember they haven’t had their coffee fix yet.’

“Of course,” Ron says through gritted teeth, in as polite a tone as he can manage. To satisfy his desire to argue, he whips her up a medium, double, hazelnut soy macchiato, only half-hoping she doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t get a chance to see if she does, because she’s out the door before a single sip.

Her Wednesday return is accompanied by a looming dread in the pit of Ron’s stomach. He hates rude people, especially at 7am. Ron spots her impatiently tapping her foot in line, as usual, and prepares himself for their interaction.

“Hello,” he says politely, stopping himself before the natural ‘how are you?’ escapes his lips. “What can I get for you today?”

“Hi,” she says with a sheepish smile. “The same as yesterday.”

“Which is?”

“Erm,” she stammers, her expression confused, “a medium—“

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, “I know your order.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She pays, and Ron fixes her a medium double caramel almond milk macchiato.

“Sorry about yesterday,” she says when she picks up her drink. “You were just trying to be nice, and I was rude.”

“Oh,” starts Ron, who isn’t expecting an apology. “That’s okay. Happens a lot during the morning shift.”

She smiles and nods before turning around to leave, taking a sip on her way out the door. Ron watches for her reaction, but doesn’t catch it.

She seems to be in a better mood by Thursday.

“The usual,” is all she says when she arrives at the counter, but this time she’s smiling. She looks different when she smiles—pretty. Something else unidentifiable replaces the dread in his stomach. Ron wonders if it’s the first time he’s seen her smile or if it’s just the first time he’s noticed.

But based on the tired circles under her eyes, she’s exhausted, so Ron prepares her a medium triple hazelnut almond milk macchiato. An extra shot of espresso never hurt anyone, and maybe it’ll help her get through the day. Or maybe, she’ll experience a coffee crash and have to return to The Burrow later.

Both good things.

“Just so you know,” she says as Ron hands over her cup, “it’s been a stressful week. I started a new job, and it’s not going well.”

“I’m—I’m sorry to hear that,” says Ron. He looks into her eyes, and for a moment, they soften. There’s more to her tough and professional exterior.

“These have made the week just a little better,” she adds, holding up her macchiato, before smiling softly and turning to leave.

Of course, Hermione requests her usual on Friday, and Ron is quickly running out of ideas for ways to screw with her order.

In celebration of the weekend, he might be able to pass a large off as a special treat. Other than that, he has to stick to the request—a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato. The first of the week. Better not mess it up.

As soon as he pops the cap onto her cup, it looks empty. He reaches for his marker again and scribbles something else—his phone number.

He’s not sure what compels him to do it. Maybe it’s because the larger size leaves so much white space. It could be because the grumpy brunette has been occupying his thoughts all week — he’s never purposely tried to fuck up someone’s coffee five days in a row.

Or maybe, it’s because when she walked in this morning, he smiled, and he just wants to learn more about the woman who thinks she knows what a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato tastes like.

She’ll probably ignore it anyway.

But later that day, his phone buzzes on the counter, and he scrambles for it faster than he’d run away from a mob of spiders.

The text is from an unknown number, but there’s no mystery. It only took five days, but you finally got my order correct!

Ron scowls at his phone. She knew? She was duping him?

Well, Hermione, why’d you keep coming back?

As soon as the message sends, he’s impatient, tapping his foot, pacing, and jittery. Just like Hermione every morning.

His phone flashes and buzzes, and Ron almost drops it by checking too quickly.

It wasn’t for the coffee…

[sidespromptblog]

The Accident

Warning: Medical scene, mention of broken bones, blacking out (once mentioned), cast, and Logan angst.

Summary: While out on a date with Remus and Janus, Logan falls and hurts his wrist.

Word Count: 1,631

“Are you sure that it’s alright?” Janus asked suspiciously, as his cold fingers gingerly touched the tinder flesh of Logan’s wrist. His eyes were narrowed as if he was already on high alert to see if Logan was going to dare even lying about something like this.

“It looks a little swollen,” Remus helpfully added, circling around them like a wild hyena protecting his little pack, his eyes barely stood still long enough to even get a glimpse of Logan’s wrist.

But when he did, without a moment’s worth of hesitation…

He cringed every time.

That should have told Logan everything he needed to know about the situation. Remus wasn’t making jokes, and was well past being worried. Janus was using his literal body as a shield so that no one could even dare to get close, and there wasn’t the slightest bit of sarcasm coming from him. Logan should have been more worried about the state of his wrist, in his writing hand no less. But all he could feel was the sharp throbbing of where Janus’ grip was, and the occasional fleeting touch from where Remus would look over his shoulder and down at his injury.

Stupid.

He had been so stupid.

Of course there would still be patches of ice, even with the weather being over the standard freezing of thirty-two. The wind chill matched with it being later time of day should have made it obvious, he had been too careless. Too…

Stupid.

“Logan?” Remus’ worried voice struck up again, as he took up the position on his other shoulder. “You’re not going to black out again are you?”

Ah yes, that one moment of pitch darkness the moment his head had connected with the frozen sidewalk. He doubted that any of them wanted to recall that, especially given the way that Janus had screamed and he had come to being cradled in Remus’ arms like a limp noodle.

Swallowing thickly Logan attempted a smile. “It hurts,” He honestly said, because what was the point in lying with a human lie detector right in front of him. “But, I’m sure that once we return back to Thomas’ mind, the injury will go away. Just like they’ve done before in the imagination… right?”

An uncertain whine curled in Remus’ throat, like he was a dog that had been left chained outside on a rainy day.

That alone told Logan that even he wasn’t exactly sure just how much the imagination could and couldn’t cure.

“No.” Janus firmly shook his head, “If we don’t know then there’s no use in going back and just causing you more pain. We’ll…” Here Janus grimaced just a little bit, the scales in his face shifting into something more socially acceptable. “We’ll have to take you to the hospital for an X-ray…”

Two groans accompanied this declaration.

It was almost three hours later that Logan was able to see the doctor in question.

But by far the most annoying and anxiety inducing tribulation was the fact that he had to be separated from the other two sides when he needed to have the X-ray done. Which he had known going in, of course he had known it. But knowing it and actually having to do it we’re two entire different things. When it had come to him leaving the mind space, he had never been alone. Usually he’d had Thomas, or some of the other sides to accompany him on his days out and to be without them for some terrifying and quite painful procedure, was… scary.

He was scared, and also quite a bit embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

Sitting back in the doctor’s office with both Janus and Remus on either side of him waiting for whatever news was to come, made him feel both worse and better at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” He finally mumbled, a bolt of shame ramming itself into his guts.

A part of him wasn’t even sure what to be sorry for, but another part deep and loathing knew exactly what he was apologizing for.

Janus who had been staring ahead at the posters decorating the walls immediately snapped his attention back to Logan, his brows furrowing for a moment before an unreadable expression took over his face. It was an expression that both Remus and Logan knew all too well. “Sorry?” Janus asked, his voice carefully clipped. “For what might I ask.” Having just started he shifted his entire body to face Logan. “For having an accident? For slipping? For falling? For doing something that wasn’t your fault to begin with?”

Behind him Remus cringed back, they both knew what was coming.

“I ruined our day.” Logan tried to argue, trying being the key word there.

Just for Janus to immediately shake his head, his cold fingers seeking out Logan’s cheeks and cupping them carefully enough to avoid the scrapes on his face. The look on his face was adoring and yet exasperated at the same time, as his eyes watered but no tears seemed to fall in Logan’s presence.

“You,” Janus choked out, “Didn’t ruin anything. We can always have another day, hopefully with you being hurt a little less. It’s okay Logan… I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Behind him Remus dug his fingers into the fabric of Logan’s thick winter coat as he buries his face into the logical side’s neck. His bristly whiskers tickled as he merely held Logan in place, bestowing all the love he could possibly give to him.

A laugh then shook Remus’ middle, “Hopefully Thomas has insurance.” His muffled voice finally got out.

And just like that the other two sides were tearfully giggling, knowing that thanks to Virgil’s worrywart tendencies Thomas had the best possible medical insurance he could get. And whether Logan knew it or no, which he did, he was technically going to be committing insurance fraud simply by the fact that he looked so much like Thomas.

Almost another several hours later though, with a dark blue cast now seated on his hand and wrist with the instructions to come back in a months time it was time to go home.

“So,” Remus popped the word out of his mouth, as he took up the duty of spoon feeding Logan some ice cream before they actually had to go back. “What are you going to tell the others, you know… about the cast and everything?” There was a quick glance shared between him and Janus. “The truth?”

It took genuine effort to not snort in Remus’ face after swallowing his mouthful of ice cream, and by a lot of effort it obviously meant that he coughed right into the crook of his arm in an attempt to hide it.

“No.” Logan answered back almost immediately, “Are you kidding me?! Virgil would never let me leave the house again if I came back looking like this. Roman would more than a little bit blame you. Patton would go along with it, in an effort to keep me ‘out of harm’s way’, and Thomas would just be concerned.” He gestured with his newly casted arm, they all knew that if it was discovered that Logan had left to go on a date with Janus and Remus, and had come back with a broken wrist they would be dramatic as possible when it came to any future dates with the dark sides.

He wouldn’t allow that.

Janus hummed as he nodded his head, his lips twisting just a little at the unpleasant thoughts that came with the scenario that Logan had just explained. “So what are you going to do?”

Surely Logan couldn’t just hide in his room until a month passed, and then get the cast off.

“I’ll just stay in my room until it’s time to get the cast off,” Logan shrugged, “I’ll put a sticky note on the door saying that I’m working on a big project and I don’t want to be disturbed. They usually listen to my sticky notes, a lot better than me since there’s no actual listening involved.”

“Are they threatening, these sticky notes?” Remus teased.

Instead of replying to his teasing with a retort Logan merely rolled his eyes, grabbing the front of Remus’ shirt to pull him in for a short sighted kiss.

“You know,” Remus mumbled in between kisses, “You can just stay with us right? The couch is always open for you, and so is any of our bedrooms.”

Logan pecked one last kiss on the corner of the creative side’s mouth, a warmth stirring in his chest at the offer of another place to stay if he wished to.

But…

It would be easier to recover in his own bedroom without Janus’ or Remus’ room effecting him in anyway, and recovering from a broken wrist on the couch didn’t exactly sound like fun to him.

“I know Rem,” The warmth he felt blossomed onto his face as a loving smile. “And rest assured you and Janus will see me in this month. But my room is probably easier for me.”

Satisfied with his answer, Janus nodded as he threw away the plastic spoons and cups that they had been eating from. Finally ready to head on back to the mind space, as both he and Remus held tight to Logan’s hands on the way back. It’d be a while before they could go on another date again, and maybe a little bit longer before it was anywhere in the wintertime again. But that was okay, because he could wait.

So with him lovingly holding onto the blue cast that kept Logan’s broken hand safe from the world, Janus felt at peace for the first time since the accident.

Everything would be okay.

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (09)

word count; 13,103

summary; following up a storm, there’s a crash on one of the highways, and things don’t always go as planned in rescue attempts.

notes; there is going to be some big realisations in this part. it’s angsty, but you’ll love it.

warnings; reference to death, panic attacks, car crashes, near-death experience, mild injury/gore reference.

“Holy shit..” You mumbled, staring out at the scene ahead of yourself on the intersection, Newt’s jaw dropped much like your own as you looked out at it all. Smoke curling up into the air, crushed cars and contorted metal with flames curling up. Blue sirens of other ambulances and firetrucks, the other side of the amalgamation of cars, and you stepped down from the ambulance in shock.

The call that had come over the alert ten minutes ago had been no joke, it was a true disaster, the no longer muffled wails of emergency vehicle alerts, the crying of people in pain, the workings of machinery and metal grating against metal to make you shudder in uncomfortable shock. The firetrucks of your own house pulled up next to you, the ambulance having the edge on this case as it was easier to weave through other cars along the highway, and the same look of shock was mirrored on all of their faces. 

This wasn’t the first car crash you’d dealt with, far from it, but it was certainly the worst. Police and traffic wardens were beginning to divert traffic, all the lanes with cars moving in both directions being stopped, and you planted your feet tightly to the ground and wrapped your jacket more tightly around yourself as the strong and chilling winds that had been the cause of the accident came back to claim more victims. The females roared up, only encouraged by the howling winds, and you cursed under your breath at the cold. 

An oil tanker had tipped over, blocking all of the lanes in both directions, broken fences from where it had tipped and cars had simply managed to smash into it and one another repeatedly as they tried to swerve, leaving the mixed wreckage of at least twenty cars littered across the tarmac. Bumpers, glass and framework, and there were too many pieces to began even starting to try and match them to smashed vehicles. 

Opening your door back up and hopping back up into the warmth of the ambo’ cabin, Newt ran a hand over his hair, scratching at the back of his head lightly as he sighed, gaze scanning repeatedly over the sights before him, and Brenda bumper her hips against his as she came to stand next to him. Twisting the dials on the radio, you unhooked the speaker from the set screwed into the dashboard, bringing it to your lips and listening as it crackled. 

“First responder dispatch centre, how can I help?”

“This is the paramedic of Firehouse ‘21, reporting to a call on the bridge entered-” Flicking your wrist up to take a look. “-eighteen minutes ago. Please notify all local hospitals to expect heavy patient incoming, various degrees of injury. Most likely to be expected is concussions, broken bones, burns and smoke inhalation, as well as various lacerations and punctures.”

“Noted, and the local hospitals will be informed. Thank you for your call.” The buzzing across the radios returned, static to fill the space as the call came to an end, and you hooked the material back up. Reaching backwards and behind your chair, you fished around for your bag, snatching it up in one hand and taking Newt’s with you, the man having paced away to stand with groups of firemen as they waited for their instructions. 

This was yet another call that Vince would take control off, ready to discuss a plan with the other house Chiefs to come up with a plan of action, divide and conquer the scene before you all, everybody coming at it from another angle to handle it. Slamming the door shut and wrapping your arms around yourself tightly once again to shield yourself from the cold. Stepping along towards your partner, your cheeks were already beginning to sting from the low temperature, and you came to stand before him, handing him his bag.

“Thanks.” He took the pack from you, hanging it on his shoulder, just with one strap, and tucking his hands securely into his pockets, bunched up in fists for warmth. “You call it in?”

“Notified all hospitals in the area, and gave them a vague list of injuries to expect.”

“Good call.” He mumbled, and you tried to tune into the chatter you were hearing. From what you could gather, the Chiefs had all divided up the area into sections, a certain number of cars and rescues to make. 

Three other teams on sight, one would deal solely with the tanker, neutralising oil and saving the driver from the cabin while making sure that the punctured and leaking tanker never met fire; arguably the most pressured job of them all as they struggled to fight off the looming explosion. The second and third team would split the cars on the other side, the morning rush who had all been heading into the city leaving far more casualties than those on your side who’d been heading the opposite way, and you would be left to deal with those on this side of the overturned tanker that was covering the entirety of the highway. 

There was so much commotion and noise that you couldn’t even hear the racing of the waters underneath, despite the crushing strength of the icy water running under the bridge below your feet, the rumbling of it normally audible when it was this chaotic, right after a storm had hit, but it was overpowered today. You shook again, the chilling temperatures making everything that much more difficult, the knuckles in your fingers already beginning to go stiff with the cold weather. 

“Alright, team. Listen up.” Your head snapped up as Vince spoke, his hands clapping together, rubbing for warmth before they were tucked back inside of his pockets, and you envied the heavy-duty jacket he already had on. “We have everything to the left of the overturned tanker. We are not - under any circumstances - to venture out of our zone. There is spilt oil, fires, and a lot of jagged metal. I don’t want to hear anyone telling other teams what to do.” He shot a pointed look to Gally, he scowled a little, everyone else chuckling and you supposed there was a story that you had yet to hear. 

Vince continued on, commanding the firemen, but you and Newt were able to tune out as you were left to your own devices, the two of you turning in unison to explore the area with your gazes. There weren’t as many cars to be attended to as you suspected there were on the other sides, but it was still over ten, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth as you tried to establish where to start. There were groans of pain, calls for help, and your fingers wrapped around your bag handle as you gripped on and tried to steady your thoughts.

The most concerning of it all was the van on the edge of the bridge. Clearly spun out, the side was dented and scraped from the collision. The barricades on either side of the van were missing, torn and unstable as one of the front wheels hung over the edge, but it seemed reasonably stable, no wobble or shake to it, even with the howling winds. 

“You wanna’ take that one?”

“Oh, no, that’s a treat for you.” You smirked, turning to look at Newt, and he rolled his eyes, holding out his fist and raising his brows. Matching his pose, you twisted to face him more fully, your fist landing on an open palm. “I can’t read you anymore. You used to suck at this game.”

“I have tactical skills now. It’s all about logic. I’m basically a Vulcan.”

“You’re basically a nerd.” You teased, and he scoffed, his good foot swinging up to kick you lightly enough in your shin that it didn’t hurt, but it still made you tremble as you tried to avoid it. He moved again, stepping towards you, and you shoved at his shoulder as you backed away. “Cut it out! I take it back!”

“Yeah, you better. Just for that, you’re taking the van!”

“Rock, paper, scissors!” You demanded, and he shook his head, turning his back on you and wandering away towards the car closest to himself, and you gaped at him a little, before turning back to analyse the van. It would no doubt need to be stabilised, and yet it was barely over the edge, but it was still concerning, and as you peered inside, you could pick up no movement, finding that there was an unconscious driver inside, if not unconscious passengers, too.

Turning back to find a fireman to help you, you jumped violently in shock at finding one directly behind you, your entire body jerking as you stepped back, and a familiar and raspy chuckle met your ears, held low to hide his brief amusement in a tense situation, and you scowled flashy up at him.

“Fucking hell, don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry.” He grinned, holding up a peace offering and apology that made your eyes widen. “I brought you a coat, so you wouldn’t get cold. Might restrict your movement a bit, though.” Thomas lifted the jacket up to sit over your shoulders, and you dropped your medkit to the floor, pushing your arms through your sleeves and wrapping it up tightly around yourself. For once, with the lack of any fires near yourself, you didn’t feel so overheated by the jacket, and instead comforted by it. 

“Thanks, I was freezing, actually.” He only hummed, letting go of the lapels as you fastened it up at the front, pressing down the velcro seals but not bothering to zip it up in case you needed to remove it frequently for your venture. Grabbing your bag from the ground beside your feet again, you stood back up. He was staring at you, a soft smile on his face but there was uncertainty hidden behind it, and you hated that you were at fault for it. 

You knew he was waiting for some kind of response to his actions of only a few days ago, the sweet touch of affection he had offered you after your visit to the vet. The dog was sitting happily and warm back at the station now, probably curled up on the couch, and yet you were standing here in the cold, trying to work out what to say to the man before you. 

Your mind had been clouded these last few days, spinning with too many thoughts to process. Your job, your friends, the life you’d lived for the last half a decade as opposed to the one looking you in the eye now, and whether you were willing to let yourself open up to that change. You wanted to, you wanted to let them in and to know that you had a true place in this house, but with your track record it was hard, and you were unfamiliar with having a family so intense after years of being alone. 

“I just need to think, okay?” Reaching out a hand when his shoulders slumped, he perked up a little as his fingers curled back around yours, loosely but enough to show he appreciated the gesture, and you squeezed gently. He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and while you knew that the look in his eyes was disappointment, there was also understanding. “I need your help.”

He took a sharp breath, his hand pulling back from yours as ‘Thomas’ disappeared and ‘Lieutenant Stephens’ took over. Jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, his eyes flickered to the van, brows furrowing a little. 

“It’s my job to head into that van, and in the interest of being less reckless, I figured you’d want to hook me up to some ropes before I do.”

“The fact that you even consider going in there without any deeply concerns me, y’know.” You rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head as he stepped back, but he was spinning on his heel to begin commanding his team. The Truck team were already spreading out across the space deemed to belong to your firehouse, and Newt was halfway inside of a slightly crushed car to reach a patient, while Thomas began to gather equipment and a team for the van. 

Stepping over to said vehicle as you waited, you pressed your hand to the back of the van in a feather-light touch. Skimming your fingers across the cold surface of the backdoor, your fingers hooked under the handle, pushing down on the button and pulling the warped metal out, the door swinging open. 

From what you’d been able to see through the windows along the side, there was no movement, but there was still hope to get a verbal response as you called out. The cabin remained silent, and you peered inside, finding only one person sitting within there, a driver slumped across the steering wheel, airbag deployed and beginning to deflate. You suspected lacerations and possible broken lungs, as well as a concussion and one hell of a headache when they woke up. 

Pulling back, you rounded the car, peering over the barricade over the edge of the road and swallowing thickly at the height of the drop down into the river, the waters raging below you, and you checked the sights of the engine. You were no mechanic, and you couldn't tell much from the outside, but it didn’t look like the metal had crumpled too much, meaning you wouldn't have to cut away metal around his legs to get him out, making your job a lot easier if he wasn’t trapped under an engine that had been forced into the main vehicle compartment. 

“Ready when you are!” Brenda was waving a harness at you as you turned to face her, and Minho was busy planting anchors in the ground. Enough to support you, the passenger inside, and the ropes that would be secured around the vehicle to hold it steady. The team were working quickly and efficiently, threading them through the tyres and around the van in various locations to keep it still while you crawled inside. 

Taking the bundle of fabric from her, you dropped it to the ground, beginning to become familiar with these harnesses now, and you were certain you could get it on yourself. Pulling it up after stepping one foot into each loop, you eased it up your legs, tightening it at your waist and around each thigh, making sure that the straps were secure enough to reassure you. 

“You’re going to have limited rope, alright? So, try not to get it stuck on anything, because we need a lot of these anchors, we’re going to have to stand far back and away from the cracking concrete to have any grip.

“How much rope is ‘limited rope’?”

“About three metres.” She winced, and you turned to look at the vehicle, a brow raising. 

“Bren, this van looks about three metres if not more, can’t we get a longer rope?”

“We need all the rope we have for securing the van.” You knew she was right, there was more distance to be covered there, and it as important to keep both yourself and the passenger safe and secure, but it didn’t make it any easier to navigate the carbon and be able to move when you’d be tugging on a leash with no give. “Take a harness into the van, try to secure the patient inside of it. We’re getting another rope and anchor grouping set up, by the time you tend to them, we should be ready.”

“Gotcha.”

She grinned, holding up her palm flat, and you chuckled a little, before slamming your own hand against hers. It may have been a childish gesture, but something about the silly actions of high-fiving in support of one another had relieved just a little bit of the crippling tension looming over you both in the moment, and so as you grinned to one another, it was worth it. “You got this!”

“You bet I do.” You winked, hearing her let out an encouraging cheer, before she was hanging over the spare harness to you and walking away to take the end of your rope through all of the anchors and support set up to take the weight off of her. Thomas was working on another rope, giving you a simple nod as he watched you go, approval and encouragement you were sure, before you were placing your first foot onto the metal of the van, and then a second, climbing up and into the precariously hanging vehicle.

Once you were balanced within, both feet on the wooden backing of the van, you were left to try and navigate your way through the space. It was cluttered, work tools and plywood, all strapped down for security, and you were grateful to see that at least those restraints were intact; if they’d swung forward when this van had hit the railing, there was a likelihood they would have unbalanced the van.

Setting your bag and the spare harness down on the passenger seat the driver was still strapped in, and as you took another step forward toward him, the breath was forced from your lungs, the harness pulling tight around your stomach as the rope ran out, going taut through the anchors and giving you no budge. 

“You okay in there?”

You turned back to look at Chuck, his eyes scanning over the inside of the van, bright eyes and flushed cheeks as his curls blew around his face in the breeze, and you nodded. Looking over the man before you, your fingers took his chin gently, tipping his head up to sit straight instead of at the uncomfortable angle it had fallen to lay at, and checking for a pulse in his neck. It was weak, and his breathing was shallow, but it was definitely there. 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can grab a neck brace and the board from the ambo’, I don’t think this guy is waking up anytime soon.” Chuck nodded, moving away to gather the supplies you’d listed off to him, the heavy sound of his boots scuffling on the tarmac fading out as you focused on the man before you. There was a nasty graze across the side of his neck, a fleshy burn from the friction of his seatbelt against his skin, but he could simply be glad he was wearing it, because otherwise, he would have gone through the windshield. 

The airbag was going down, and you pressed onto it, the hissing of air sounding out as you pushed it to help it deflate, giving you more space to work with, and see what you were doing, trying to reach across his body as you waited for the fabric safety precaution to reside. 

His nose was bleeding and it was swelling with purple bruises under his eyes and across his cheeks, a broken nose that was bad and would need professionally resetting, but that was the only initial examination that you could do with your limited range of motion. 

Tugging a little on your rope again, and hoping it would offer a little more give, you were disappointed as it held strong, trying to work out how to get closer to the patient, to be able to properly reach him, and start examining him for the further injuries you suspected he might have.

“Okay, I got the brace and the board.” Chuck was panting slightly, lugging both pieces of equipment, the support like a surfboard under his arm as the padded brace swung in the other hand, and you chuckled. “Alright, set the board down, I’m not sure how I’ll get him into it, but you can tell Brenda we aren’t going to need the spare harness, he’s out cold. I’ll trade ya’.” He nodded, placing the board down on the ground and letting the brace follow. 

Picking up the edge of the fabric you’d left with your bag, you shifted, swinging it over your shoulder and the van rocked a little at your sudden movement, your blood running cold, but it stopped after only a moment as the ropes that the Squad team had set into place held it steady; Chuck’s eyes as wide as yours. “Maybe no more sudden movements, then?”

“I think that’s a good idea, kid.” You grinned a little, trying to reassure the young candidate despite your heart leaping into your throat with fear. “Now, pass me that neck brace, nice and gentle. Roll it cross the floor.”

He did as told, tucking the straps in carefully and pushing it down the slight slope of the van, watching as the plastic rolled unevenly across the floor before getting wedged behind the passenger seat, stuck just underneath it, but the bright yellow plastic was still partially visible. You reached, the straps around your waist restricting your movements and digging into your flesh, almost to a painful degree, and your fingers brushed over it, but you couldn't grab a hold of it. 

“God, I can’t do anything on this freakin’ leash.”

“Oh, please don’t do what I think you’re going t-” You ignored him, fingers working over the latch on the carabiner that was keeping you secure, and you felt the tension around your waist give way from the second that it was unhooked. “You terrify me, do you know that? Do you have no concept of danger?”

“There is no danger, Chuck, I’ll be fine.” Clipping the band onto one of the poles in the headrest so that you could reach it again easily, you stripped off your coat to give you more flexibility, and left it in the footwell of the seat you currently resided next to. “You guys got this van all roped up, and it’s right there. I just need to be able to move if I’m going to save this man’s life.”

You rubbed sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants to dry them off, your first call was to unzip your bag, and to locate a pair of sanitary gloves, before interacting with him at all. Once the plastic covers were sealed over your hands comfortably, you were settling into a slightly uneven passenger seat to get a better look at him. 

Ideally, you really needed the seatbelt out of the way, but in his unconscious state, doing that would probably make the man fall forwards, and so you tried to work around it. Pressing your fingers gently along his chest under the unmoving strain of a locked safety belt, you pressed for hard patches, finding none under your fingers, breathing a sigh of relief as you found no external signs of immediate internal bleeding, muscles tense but skin not having hardened up.

Moving up to his eyes, you lifted one eyelid open, finding the keyring on your bag and unhooking it, flashing the small torch across his eyes, and watching for any pupil reaction. It was fast, an immediate reaction that was impressive and reassuring, and everything about the situation with the man in the truck was looking up. He was incredibly lucky. You were progressively growing more confused, however, as to why he was so heavily unconscious when so little seemed to be wrong.

Even the nerves in his legs were twitching when given stimulus, suggesting that he didn’t even have any kind of paralysis or delayed response time. His body seemed to be handling the shock and the adrenaline exceptionally well, and he should be awake. 

Reaching under your seat, you leaned forward, finding the brace and tugging it out, brushing it off and undoing the velcro seals that Chuck had put into place as it rolled, the ripping down of the two sides separating filling the cabin. 

“Chuck, time for you to go and grab another fireman, I’m going to work out how to get him loaded up onto a board, and out to you guys.” 

“I’m on it.” He gave you a salute, an ‘aye, aye, sir’ following it, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his antics, a heart of gold in the kid for being able to find amusement in the situation. You assessed the situation, ready to try and get him out of here, so that you could follow swiftly behind him, not wanting to be caught in the metal box any longer than necessary. Once you had him out and being carried to the ambulance, you could properly tend to his wounds. 

You’d need to put some disinfectant on the raw skin where his seatbelt had been, clean up his nose, and do a more thorough bodily exam to confirm your results but as far as you could see, there was no harm in moving him. There was only the trouble of getting him onto the board by yourself, in such a cramped and awkward position. Sweeping your eyes over the vehicle for anything to help, you scanned the chair, raising a brow, and twisting to look at your own. 

It took a moment, but your suspicions were confirmed, a handle on the outside of the chair near the door was present, to adjust the angle that the chair was sat at. Testing it, you reached around your seat, pushing the handle down and feeling the chair spring forwards, the wrong directions, and you huffed. Instead, you tried pulling up next, and it began to retract. The more you inched the chair backwards, the further it went, never reaching a limit as it sat halfway flattened, a good bet that the driver’s seat would do the same, and it was the best option you had so far.

 The door on the other side was a little more battered, the metal warped in, and as Chuck returned with Thomas by his side. He took a single look over the cabin, before his eyes were widening, and then narrowing on you. 

“Did you take off your harness?”

“No!” You moved, kneeling a little, half between the man's chair and half on the passenger as you hooked your thumb under the edge to show him. “I just undid the rope so that I could move around and actually do my job.”

“Are you insane? Do you have absolutely no concept of danger?” Thomas hissed, and you stuck your tongue out at him, moving to get a better look at the gap between his chair and the door, and whether you were going to be able to get your hand to the lever.

“That’s exactly what I said!” Chuck agreed, and you sighed at the pair of them.

“Put your rope back on, right now, or else-”

“Or else what, Tommy? What are you gonna’ do, huh?” You paused, raising a brow at him, and his jaw snapped shut. “You gonna’ come in here and make me? Unbalance the van with all your stomping around as you wrestle me back onto the rope? I think not.” His lips flicked up at the sides, lips rolling together to contain his smile, and his head ducked, but you didn’t miss the quiet chuckle he let out. When his head lifted, however, the amusement was gone, and that same endearing concern was back, making you sigh. “You got this whole thing hooked up with wires, I’m perfectly safe. I trust you.”

He swallowed thickly at your words, nodding his head, before his shoulders slumped a little. “Alright, fine. So, you got a plan or what, sweetheart? Because I don’t see how you’re going to get him onto that board alone, so maybe I will have to come in and wrestle you back into your ropes anyway.”

“Oh, ha ha.” You scoffed, adjusting yourself to be able to reach, and wincing as the screeching sound of metal and the slight wobble at the uneven weight distribution toward the driver’s seat brought back unsettling memories of your time in the elevator month’s prior. “I’m going to lower the chair back, and loosen his seatbelt as best I can. We can wiggle the board under him slowly, I’ll get the neckbrace on him, and push him up far enough for you to drag him the rest of the way.”

Thomas chewed on his bottom lip, nodding slowly as he thought through, and watching as you moved to lean over the man. Your hand was pressed tightly between the side of the chair and the metal as you worked your way down, blindly searching by touch for the lever you needed, and finally, you squeezed your fingers over the handle, but barely able to move to pump it and lower the chair carefully. “No sudden movements, okay? I don’t want any extra stress on those ropes.”

“No sudden movements, I promise.”

You flexed the handle, the chair lowering by an inch, maybe a little more, and you kept it up, your arm beginning to ache from the angle you were working at already, but with each squeaky sound, his chair was lowering more and more, straightening his spine out carefully as he lay down, your other hand resting against his forehead delicately to keep his head straight.

As he was lowered further and further, you pumped the chair as far as it could go, getting his body as streamlined as you could, and you were already making progress with him. Chuck was ready, holding the board up for you, and you nodded your head, letting go of a tense breath and leaning back to rotate your arm slowly to ease the cramp that was building in the muscles and tendons of your shoulder.

Shifting between the seats, and standing hunkered over as not to bump your head against the roof, you positioned yourself before him, Thomas holding one side of the board for stability, and Chuck on the other, watching for your advice silently. Cupping his head carefully, glove covered palm under the back of his skull to keep him steady, you lifted his head forwards just slightly, holding him still and curling your fingers in a motion as though to say ‘come hither’, and the board inched forward. 

As the plastic came into your peripherals, you reached out, guiding it to rest on the fabric of the chair under his head, pressing in until they reached the junctions of his shoulders, and then they stopped. Your palm was held up flat to them in signal, and while it would have been just as easy to talk, something about breaking the tense silence felt wrong, as though it would disturb the concentration you all had going.

Supporting his head still, you moved your other hand to lift his shoulders up, grunting a little at the added weight and strain on your arms in the less than ideal position, but it worked. With each wiggle and shift, they got the board a little further down under his body, sometimes stopping when it got caught on the safety belt or his clothing, but otherwise being completely successful. As the board bumped the backs of his legs, still bent over the seat with his feet pressed to the floor, you placed his head down, facing a whole new challenge. 

“What now?”

“I need you to get in here with me.” His face deadpanned, and you grinned, the blank look on his face amusing you. “Relax, not right up here with me. I just need you to pull him upwards very slowly onto the board while I adjust him. Once he’s on the board, I can strap him securely, and get the neck brace on him. You guys get him out, I get out of this death trap, and I see some other patients.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Try to keep his head still, okay? We don’t want him getting any more injuries that we could have prevented.” Thomas only nodded in conformation, before he was stepping up, the van wobbling a little as he did, and he lowered himself down to one knee.

Reaching over the man, and inching two thicker-gloved hands under his shoulders, finding it harder to get a grip than you did in just your rubber gloves. He didn't move, though, waiting to be told to do so as you unclipped his seatbelt, the material slinking away across his body and back into the holder. Just as you prepared yourself for the neck brace, turning back to the passenger seat beside it, you watched his head roll to the side, cheek pressing into the fabric limply.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Thomas' voice raised a little, insistent he hadn't, and you fixed him with a questioning look. “I swear!”

You didn’t get a chance to question him, before a loud gasping was sounding in the van, followed by a groan that bounced from the metal walls of the van, and his eyes were snapping open. Everything was still for only a moment, and you tried to process your words, mind spinning and you didn't have a chance to think before he was sitting up roughly, the car rocking with his movements, and he let out another agonised noise at the motions.

“Sir, I need you to rel-”

“What happened?” His head whipped from side to side, face screwing up before he was wincing, and the blood that had dried on his skin from his nose was soon replaced by a fresh gush of red, dripping over his lower lip and along his chin as he panicked. Sitting up further, the car rocked, and his hands flew out, gripping onto the edge of the van for stability. “What the fuck happened?”

“(Y/N), put your ropes back on!”

Your head snapped up to Thomas, his eyes wide as he pointed to the rope you still had clipped to the opposite chair, and you nodded your head at the precarious rocking of the vehicle. A hand grabbed your wrist, jerking roughly in fear as your attention was brought back to the man, and there was another shout of your name from Thomas, falling on deaf ears as the pleas of your patient drowned him out;

“Are we over the river?”

“I need you to calm down for me, okay, can you do that?” You tried to place a hand on his shoulder, to stop the moving that he was doing, but the whole vehicle groaned under the pressure, the sound of snapping and crumbling concrete making itself known, and then came a tearing, a loud banging against the side of the van, and Thomas jumped a little as he backed out of the van to peer over the top.

“What was that?”

“(Y/N) put your damn rope back on, now!”

“What was that, Thomas?” Your voice raised, demanding again as the vehicle swayed and you struggled to remain upright, his jaw clenching and nostrils flaring. 

“One of the support wires snapped, the movement is too much, it can’t take the weight.”

“The supports are snapping?” The patient sounded more panicked than either of you, and the grip that had been almost bruising around your wrist was released, your hand snatched back to your chest as you gripped it supportively. That same large hand landed on your shoulder, a brief push as he struggled to his feet and pushed past you in a haze of blinding fear and adrenaline, the vehicle moving violently as he tried to clamber his way on shaky legs from the van. 

You fell, the pressure from his push making you stumbled and your legs caught on the edge of the passenger seat chair, your body falling backwards and head hitting against the dashboard, shoulder landing on the handbrake and a sharp shock of pain ran along your entire body at the feeling. The sounds of your team members shouting at you, at the patient, at anyone else all became muffled for a second as your ears rang at the collision, your eyes squeezed closed, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath in and out as you processed the pain and tried to suppress it to be dealt with later.

The car came to a steady rest, no longer moving so aggressively but simply swaying, and you tried to adjust yourself carefully to be able to sit up. Thomas and Chuck were watching, with no sight of the patient, and both of them relaxed a little as you came into view. 

“Is he alright?”

“Is he alright?” Thomas seethed, and you blinked a little to clear fuzzy vision as you focused on your surroundings. “That idiot almost just made this van tip. He ran off to find Newt, I assume. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just a little achy.” You muttered, the understatement seeming to make the throbbing in your shoulder seem worse. “It’s not his fault, he was in pain and confused, he wasn’t thinking clearly, it’s not his fault, Tommy.”

His anger didn’t seem to die down at all, but his resolve broke, and he choked back whatever he had to say, shaking his head. “Can you reach your rope? We need to get you out.”

You regretted using the passenger seat as your test for the lever one, because even at the most outstretched your arm could get, you still couldn't reach it from here without moving. Shifting up onto your knees, the van jerked again, tilting a little further as a sound of metal on stone so piercing it made your stomach churn and body shudder sounded out, another lurch forwards, another wire giving way, and you still couldn’t reach your rope.

“No! No, don’t move! There are two wires doing four wires’ job right now. Please, just stay still. Let me think of another way to get you out, just give me a minute, I can do this!”

Thomas’ voice was frantic, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as well as him, knowing that while he was all worked up, his mind wasn’t going to be clear at all. “You need to relax first, you’re going to work yourself into an anxiety attack.”

“Relax? You’re hanging over a river in an unstable van that could go at any moment! How could you possibly tell me to relax?”

“Thomas!” His head snapped up, eyes wide, his gaze steady as his eyes found yours, and you watched his shoulders loosen a little. “Please, just take a breath. I need you to not be Tommy right now. I need you to be my Lieutenant, okay?” He nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath despite how shaky the inhale was, and letting it go slowly. 

“Yeah. You’re right. Okay.” It was like watching him shift into a new person before your eyes, a single deep breath, before he was letting out a sigh, and he stood up from his hunched-over position to look around the area surrounding you both outside of the truck. He let out a ragged sigh, trying to steady his own nerves, and you were struggling to do the same, feeling you the rushing of blood inside of your ears was almost deafening as your heart pounded, palms growing sweaty. 

Distracting yourself, you peeled off the rubber gloves, fixing flexing when they were free of the latex, and you tried to control your jitters. The van was tipped at an uneven angle now, and as you leaned forward, it wasn’t much of a strain to catch sight of the raging river below. The river was raging, the normally calm and steadily flowing waters were trampling anything in their path; branches, twigs and debris jostled in the rolls of water as the storm floods were washing away all the broken branches and eroded concrete it had created, the barriers up the side almost flooding over as the heavy rainfall you’d had was drained away.

One thick blue rope was pulled to its maximum tightness around the front of the vehicle, caught against the car’s metal insignia across the front, and some of the strings were beginning to snap, one thread of cotton at a time coming loose. 

“Hey, Lieutenant?” He ducked back down, eyes wide as he stared at you, cocking a brow in silent questioning. “Not to rush you or anything, but that last rope is fraying, and I don’t think it’s going to-”

The van screeched against the concrete, dragging forwards a little more, and the sound of several voices suddenly shouting filled what had only a second ago been reasonably calm quiet. You couldn't pick out a single voice, it was a calamity of panicked yells and commanding orders, and Thomas had disappeared from the end of the van, leaving you entirely alone. 

It wasn’t a feeling you liked, sitting in a metal tin as it rocked unevenly, the sounds of the tearing rope becoming louder and more common, the more strain put on fewer threads was speeding up the rate at which the rope was giving way, and there was a burning in the back of your throat as tears threatened to burn. 

You sniffled, cursing yourself for being on the verge of tears when you had bigger priorities right now than crying, but you couldn't help it. You were terrified, you were facing a drop of twenty feet while trapped inside of a van, into water that would be well below zero in temperatures, travelling at speeds you’d never be able to kick your way to the surface within, and it was overwhelming. 

A gasping breath, and another one, before your eyelids were growing heavy and as you shut them, you felt tears begin to leak free. You were barely balanced in the passenger seat, your legs aching and muscles tensed as you tried to hold yourself steady at the uneven angle, and parts of your body were growing numb as the dull pain became overwhelming. 

“How ya’ doing in there, (Y/L/N)?”

You couldn't help the weak laugh that you let out, wiping at your cheeks and looking up to face Thomas, his eyes flickering over with concern, but he kept his emotions steady, handling this much better than you were; but then again he wasn’t the one hanging over the edge of a bridge. “You know, just hanging out.”

“Can’t be that bad if you can still make puns.”

“Oh, I’m loaded with them, ready to drop at any time.” You insisted, silently thanking him for the fact that he was overlooking the tears still running down your cheeks and the wobble of your lower lip, instead just offering you a chuckle at the ironic words you had spoken. “So, how’s that rescue plan coming along, or are you just planning to leave me in here? Just when I thought we were getting over our issues..”

“Well, this would be a pretty convenient way to solve all of that.” He grinned, and you wiped your cheeks clear, skin stinging from the hot salt. “We’re just going to get some new anchors into the floor. If we can get a stabilising rope around this van then we’ll send someone in to get you, okay? Just keep holding on for me, you’re doing great, an-”

You squeaked a little at the tremor that shook the vehicle, your eyes going wide and Thomas’ words dying in his throat. That preamble seemed to be the warning, because only a  second later, the van was jerking again, another foot or so over the bridge and the back wheels were almost over the edge now too. 

Your body fell forwards, side colliding with the edge of the dashboard, ribs flaring up with pain and your leg twisted a little as it was caught in the gap between the chair and the flooring. The van was almost perpendicular now, you were pressed to the glass, the board you’d intended to lift your patient out on had slammed into the glass and it as fracturing in one corner, and despite the fear you had expected to be racing through you at this point, you felt an unsettling wave of calm. 

The voices outside were louder, the two ends of frayed rope hanging by the passenger windows, destroyed and useless, and you swallowed thickly, pushing yourself up a little bit and trying to gain your bearings, a headache forming behind your eyes from the stress and the panic bubbling inside of you, but crying no longer felt appropriate. 

“Hey, Tommy, are you still there?”

“I thought you wanted Lieutenant?” He sounded about as stressed as you felt, and you could no longer see him, all of the weight being held on the rope that Brenda was supposed to be holding for you, and you had no doubt that she must be under immense pressure on the other end of the machinery to hold it steady, but the thinner ropes designed for you weren’t going to hold very long. 

“Yeah, but now I want Tommy.” You mumbled, knowing that he couldn't hear you, and you tried to sort through your thoughts. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But I have a plan, alright? You’re just not going to like it.”

“I can’t say I’ve been all that fond of any of your plans, if I’m honest.” He gasped, a false sound of offence echoing around the cabin, and the weight on your shoulders lifted a little. “You can’t be all that surprised. So far, you’ve had me crawling between buildings on ladders and abseiling into elevator shafts that were dropping. It would seem that me and these harnesses just have some bad luck.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d stayed on your rope both of those times, you’d have been just fine.” He teased, and you scoffed at his statement, knowing that there was an air of both truth and falseness about it. “I’m going to lower another rope down to you, and you need to clip it to your harness, alright?”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Yeah, but then comes the scary part.” He was trying to sound brave and you knew it was for your own benefit, but you were seeing right through him. “I need you to hold still and let the van drop away. We’re going to cut the rope, and the vehicle is going to drop out from under you. We can’t get any more anchors in the tarmac because of the cracks, so we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

There was a rope being lowered, and the glass underneath of you cracked a little bit more as you reached for it, fingers brushing against the metal of the carabiner, and you felt relief flood through you at simply having it in your hands. Your fingers worked over the catch quickly, unscrewing it to be able to hook it onto the front of your harness, and making sure that you did it up as tightly as you possibly could with the trembling you currently had. Tugging twice on the rope, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, we’re going to cut the final wire, and you need to slide between the front seats before we do. Don’t try to climb, you’ll unbalance the van and it could drag you over the edge with it.”

Your body tensed as you stayed still, daring to shift fractionally to press your feet to the cracking glass underneath you, and it splintered even more, chips beginning to fall away as it threatened to break entirely. “I’m ready.”

It was a lie, a blatant, stone-cold lie, and yet you knew it needed to be done. Only a second after you’d said it, the ground underneath your feet was falling away, the already unstable vehicle tumbled forward with a groan, and your eyes squeezed shut. The breeze it created as it passed you by, the spray of water that came up from the almost deafeningly loud crashing it made as it hit the surface of the icy waters, and ten you were swinging. 

Dangling precariously over the edge, the muffled shouts of everyone above seeming like white noise as you tried to focus on simply holding off the upcoming panic attack that was bubbling within you, the droplets of cold water on your cheeks a direct contrast to the tears that were leaking free. You felt nauseous, a hand coming down to cover your stomach as the other cupped over your mouth, a precaution as you felt your gut twist into knots at the way your centre of gravity was spinning. 

It was the same way that your stomach would flip on a rollercoaster as it shot down a steep cliff, but continuous and without the rush of thrill, each jerk in the rope as you were tugged a few inches back up towards the surface making more adrenaline surge through your body to drown out the screaming fear that was threatening to consume you.

You waited, simply trying to catch your breath, trying not to let the stress get to you any more than it already had, and as the edge of the crumbled and broken concrete came into sight. The tips of your fingers were stinging and sore as you scrabbled against the stonework of the road pulling yourself up until you were on your hand and knees, head hanging, and head pounding.

It was all too much, your body feeling weak and your mind buzzing as you thought over it all, and the flashing lights around you were almost blinding, but it reminded you of where you were. You reached out, a hand wrapping around your own as you were pulled to your feet, and the flushed face of the man who’d saved your life was standing before you. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You whispered, and he chuckled, using his teeth to pull off his glove and drop it to the ground, before a warm palm was closing over your cheek. The other soon followed, thumbs wiping away tears you had forgotten were even present, and you sank a little into his touch as he held onto you. “You have a job to do, Lieutenant.”

“I can spare a second to make sure you're okay.”

You nodded, sniffling a little, and shaking your head free of his grasp to wipe at your cheeks yourself. There was enough adrenaline racing through you right now to give you the power to fight a pissed off bull, your entire body jittering from head to toe, and you could barely think straight. “Really, Thomas, I’m fine.”

He stiffened slightly, and you knew you were shutting him out, but you couldn't help it, you’d been so scared in the moment, and yet, it hadn't been alone. You were scared because for the first time you could remember in your career, there were people who cared about you, and that had somehow made it all the more terrifying a prospect. You’d never had so much to lose before now.

“I should get back to work.”

The silence felt weighted as it hung between you, and your arms wrapped around your body at the chill of the winds that were sweeping over. You knew he hated the change of topic that you’d made, he was reaching out to you once again, and you were too afraid to return it. “I think Newt is just about done here, why don’t you head back to the ambo’ and get him to patch you up, instead.”

“Thomas..”

“I have a team to run.” His voice was firm again, and you felt locked out. You knew you’d messed up, you had done it to yourself, but you hated that he was disappointed in you. It was an unfortunate turn of events, something unexpected that made everything seem like a risk, and yet you weren’t used to having people who cared around you, to feeling like such a close-knit member of a team that it would affect them all so deeply.

He was walking away from you, a frown on his lips, and you wanted to reach out, but you didn’t know how to.

You turned away yourself, regretting the action as you did, and you wanted to glance back over your shoulder, but you knew he was angry. Still, it didn’t help the pain you felt, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, and every step you took away from him with bad blood still sitting heavy between you made you feel like you were wading through wet concrete. It was odd, how only a few months ago this kind of arguing had been the usual between you both, and yet now, it made you feel like you could barely breathe, a weight sitting on your chest. 

You couldn't take it. “Thomas!”

When you turned, he was glancing back over his shoulder, face sitting neutral and a single brow raised as he waited for you to keep speaking, but as you took further steps towards him, his face softened a little further. He turned to face you fully, eyes widening a little and his jaw dropped to ask you what was wrong, but he didn’t get a chance. A soft sound left him as your body collided with his, your face pressing into his chest as your arms circled his waist, and his breath was rushed from his lungs at the impact. 

You didn’t know what to say, and so you didn’t say anything, because, after a moment of shock, he seemed to silently get the message. His head boxed, his arms wrapping tightly back around you as he pulled you up to his height, his head bowing as he held you just as securely as you were holding him, and you let the tension in your body slip away for a second, to let him hold you up.

“We’re okay, I promise. As long as you’re okay.” You barely caught his words, mumbled into your hair, and it took you a second to process them but then you were nodding, and pulling yourself even closer to him in that moment. He was warm, and comforting, and now that you were actually holding him, everywhere he wasn’t touching felt cold.

His arms loosened around you, coldness sweeping in around your hands as he moved, and you stole a further second in the embrace, before his arms were falling away fully, and you were letting him go. His jacket was shucked down his arms, his eyes flickering over your face slowly before he was lifting the heavy jacket up and wrapping it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around you, the fabric already heavy with heat and comfort he’d created. 

He waited as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, a hand closing over your hand, thumb brushing over your palm as he held it up, your skin littered with grazes and raw flesh from the broken concrete you had climbed over. “Go and get cleaned up, alright?”

It felt easier to walk away now, his gaze hadn't been so harsh and his smile was burning into the back of your mind as he turned from you again, jogging over to join Minho and Fry as they were using the cutters to pry open the metal on the side of a car that had become quite contorted as it had roughly collided into another. Newt was already waiting for you, tinkering around the back of the ambulance as he waited, and when he turned to find you at the scuff of your shoes on the floor, the scowl on his face melted away, only to return a second later with much more power. 

“You took off your damn rope?”

“I couldn't reach the patient.” You whispered, a growl leaving his lips, and as he hopped down from the vehicle, wincing a little at the sudden pressure on his leg but ignoring it to walk over to you, your body tensed up. You were prepared to be yelled at again, to be chastised by your friend, and your walls were shooting back up in protection. 

“I was scared. Don’t fucking do that. That’s not what ‘bestest friends in the whole wide world’ are supposed to do, okay?”

You couldn't help the relieved laugh that bubbled from you, your head shaking a little as he stood before you. “Yeah, well, it’s not official until you get it stitched on a t-shirt for me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll get an extra-large one. You and Tommy can share it.” He was smirking now, tugging at the jacket you had wrapped around yourself, and you flushed with heat, but didn’t flinch. Instead, you wrapped it a little tighter around your body, like a piece of armour, and smirked back.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn't you?” He scoffed as you walked past him, hopping up into the ambulance to reach for the med bag of his that was sitting on the floor, and he took it from your grasp, a hand on your shoulder as he pushed you back to sit on the stretcher. 

It went quiet after that, as he held each of your hands up one at a time, mumbling apologies as he wiped disinfectant over each twisting fingertip, and cleaning the small cuts and scrapes across your palms. You had torn nails with dirt stuck underneath, and he took his time to file them down gently so as not to catch and tear any further, and you bit on your lower lip.

It was startling to be cared for so lovingly by another person. 

He took a clean wipe and cleared the dirt from your face, the aloe cooling against your skin as he said nothing about the tracks within the dirt you were sure existed, made by your tears, or the raw flesh of your lower lip from nervous biting. When it was all done, he brushed a delicate hand over your head, tucking your hair away behind your ears, and offering you a friendly and reassuring smile, before packing away his equipment. 

“You were right.”

“I usually am, love.” He grinned, closing up the backdoors of the ambulance and locking them tight, ready to make your journey back to the firehouse. Your legs swung under you as you watched him pack away, pouting a little bit as you realised that you’d lost your own medkit, your lucky charm that didn’t quite feel so lucky anymore, but it had at least found you House ‘21, and that's all that mattered now. 

“About a year. I know it hasn’t been a full year yet-”

“Almost has!” He chirped, and you followed him up to the front, taking a seat in the passenger seat and doing up your seatbelt securely.

“What I’m trying to say is.. thanks.” He started up the engine, backing out of the spot slowly as his job was all done, and you were well in need of getting back to the house. “Thank you for making me stick around, Newt.”

“Thanks for sticking around.” It was a simple reply, but you caught the meaning hidden underneath, and clearly, you weren’t the only one who struggled with really putting your thoughts and feelings into words. Newt was one of the best friends you had ever had, and for the first time, you were finding a home in a firehouse that you weren’t immediately looking to escape from, but saw a future within. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He shrugged, eyes fixed on the road, but flicking over to you occasionally. 

“You’re shaking a little.”

You glanced down, finding that you were, in fact, shaking slightly. Your hands balled up into fists, and you tucked them a little further within the sleeves of the coat that you were wearing. “It’s just an aftershock. The adrenaline wearing off.”

It wasn't exactly a lie, the adrenaline you’d been flooded with was beginning to slow down, to fade away, and you were left with slight trembles and some nausea that wouldn't go away for hours, but you could handle that. You’d had the same feelings after the elevator drop, and after going into any burning building for at least thirty minutes, it was always scary. 

You just didn’t want to look any deeper. 

He didn’t push further, but there was a frown on his lips, and despite watching out of the window at the scenery flashing by, you could feel his gaze sometimes move over you, studying you, but silence hung heavy. The car was pulled into the docking bay, and you were still trembling, your mind spinning with everything that you’d encountered, and you hated that it was taking so long for your mind to clear. 

Ever since you were little, all you’d ever wanted to do was help people, to save lives, but there were times when you put yourself at risk to do so. You couldn't help it, when you’d spent so long living alone, you forgot what it was like to have to take other people into consideration. You didn't have much of a family to rely on, but every passing day made the crew of Firehouse ‘21 more and more your family, the people who would be there with you for the rest of your life, and that same burning was coming rushing back to your throat, and the ache behind your eyes. 

The door on the other side of you slammed shut, Newt exiting the vehicle, and your bottom lip shook. Your chest felt tight, and you gripped at your chest underneath the material, a hand freeing from the sleeve to press over your chest, your heart beating erratically underneath. Tears pooled in your eyes, and you took a gasping breath, everything suddenly coming crashing over you, and you could barely suck breath into your lungs despite how much you were gasping and trying to. 

The thoughts in your mind were spiralling so much that they seemed to go into overdrive, a  dizzying array of thoughts that made you feel like you were drowning. It was almost blinding, the flashes of thoughts from within your one head making you feel like you couldn't see, couldn't hear, everything was slipping away into background noise as the unsteady race of your heart, and the support of the door you were leaning on fell away. 

Two hands were holding onto you tightly, pulling you out of the vehicle and your legs gave way, a shock running up your body as your knees collided with the concrete flooring. It was a shock of cold, chilled metal and biting winds against ear stained cheeks, and your lungs were burning as you tried to breathe. 

A warm presence to your side, a hand wrapping over your own and undoing your fingers from the clutching that they held, your nails having dug painfully into damaged palms, and you clung to them instead. It was Newt, the shushing in your ear told you so, holding you tight and steady as you tried to focus, tried to clear your mind and sort through your thoughts, until there was nothing left but the sound of your own sobs echoing around the room. 

You were stronger now, and despite the crying that you couldn't seem to stop, you were able to be pulled to your feet, out of the cold and a wash of heat rolling over you as your feet followed the guidance Newt gave to you, the lights in the rec-room flicking on at his motion over the switch, the pair of your being the first of the team to re-enter upon coming back from a call. You settled down on the couch, curling into the cushions, and trying to get a grip on your raging emotions. 

“You wanna’ take this coat off now? Get comfy?”

They were the first of the words spoken to make any sense, to not be a garbled blur in your ears, and it was at least a good sign as you began to refocus. You nodded slowly, sitting forwards enough to peel the coat from your arms, and it was left sitting over the back of one of the armchairs.

He reached for the remote, the television flickered on in front of you, a movie you didn’t recognise playing on the screen but it gave you stimulation to focus on, your head pressing to the cushion as you sat steadily, shoes kicked off and legs pulled up tightly to your body. 

You didn’t understand much about what was happening on the screen, the characters flicking past and the conversation going over your head, but it was stable enough for you to use as an anchor. The doors opened and closed, you heard the firetrucks pull up, and they progressively trickled into the room. Newt was tinkering in the kitchen behind you, the hob flicking on and the sound of pots and pans clattering lowly, and the couch dipped a little beside you as Brenda sat down.

“Hey, how you doin’?”

Her shoulder bumped against yours, and you twisted your head to look at her, shrugging slightly and offering her the best smile you could. “Better now.”

She only nodded, glancing away over your shoulder, and you had no doubt that Newt was giving them a different story, but it was true. At this moment, you may be fragile, but you had a sneaking suspicion that the panic attack you had was unrelated to the accident at all. You were a paramedic, you worked with firefighter’s, risking your life on a day-to-day basis was just a part of the job description, but you’d made a crack in walls within yourself that you didn’t even realise you’d put up.

You had made breakthroughs in your own mind that you didn't realise needed to be made, and it had been so thoroughly overwhelming that you hadn't been able to handle the influx. Brenda moved, her own coat still sitting on her shoulders and she wandered away to get changed, taking Thomas’ coat with her, and she squeezed your shoulder as she passed you by. 

“Made you some tea.”

Chuck was next, a steaming mug held out in front of you, a mixture of herbal essences curling up into the air and you hummed happily at the smell, reaching out to cup the warm porcelain, your favourite mug holding the drink, and you smiled. “Thanks, Chuck.”

“It’s Gally’s. It had the word ‘relax’ printed in large letters across the front of the box, so I figured it might help.” You brought it closer, sniffling it lightly, and the smell of chamomile and vanilla flooded your senses, your mouth watering a little, desperate to taste, but you resisted. Instead, you blew cool air on it, your eyes flicking up over Chuck’s head as a shadow took over. The boy twisted to look too, his Lieutenant glancing down at him, and he took the hint, offering you a final smile, before he was moving away. 

Thomas took his place, and you sipped your drink as you watched him take a seat before you.

“I’m sorry for getting angry at you.”

“I was being reckless.” You conceded, and his head tipped to the side, his gaze fixed on his hands as he played with his fingers. 

“You were trying to save lives, you were doing your job, and I got protective. If it had been anyone else, I would have understood that. I shouldn’t have gotten mad, when I was supposed to be doing my job, being a Lieutenant, not something else.” He gave out a sigh, like he was chastising himself, and you didn’t want him to, even if he was right. 

“I’m not used to having people who care about me so much. I should have thought about that.” He dared to glance up, a nervous look in his eyes, and your voice remained low, a hushed whisper for a conversation only to be shared between the two of you. “I don’t mean to shut you out, Thomas. Especially not after the other day.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” You mumbled, a pink heat spreading across his cheeks. “It’s all just very new to me. I know you must feel like I’m playing hot and cold, and I’m really sorry about that, but I’m trying to work everything out. I’m trying to work out how I feel. I don’t know how to act around you, sometimes.”

A cheeky glance passed over his face with that, and you rolled your eyes at him, biting on the inside of your cheek to contain your smile as he grinned. “Oh, cut it out. I don’t mean you, I mean all of you. I’m not used to having a family, or such close friends. I’ve never belonged anywhere before.”

“You belong here, with us.” He was honest now, and a hand was pushing out across the cushions between you both, and offering, and you rested your hand over the top of his own. “So, not even a little bit of it was about me?”

“You’re insufferable.” He was beaming once again, clearly knowing just which buttons he was pushing, but his thumb lifted up, closing over your own. “Maybe it was a little bit about you. There’s something, I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there. It’s different.”

“It’s different for me too.” He mumbled, and his fingers parted, letting yours slip between his to weave together, and that cocky smirk became more of a bashful smile. At least you know that while he may make you flustered, you had the same effect on him. That smile was back, the one you rarely ever saw, cute and shy as he looked at you, and you felt warm under his gaze, but you were unable to look away.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your chest as you confessed it all, a rock you didn’t even know was there, like someone had been pushing down on your lungs and you were finally able to fight them off. His hand lifted, moving over the back of the couch, until his fingers were toying loosely with the ends of your hair, a tied back bunch that was falling loose from the stress of the day, and his fingers inched up towards the bobble. 

He waited, checking it was okay, before pulling it loose, fingers working through your hair as it was eased down and out of the pattern you’d put it in, to fall loose around your face. His fingers skated over your scalp, soothing the ache within, and you let your eyes fall closed as you sank into the touch he gave you. 

“That was your right of passage!” You bounced on the couch as Brenda fell into place beside you, unbalancing you a little, and her arms wrapped around you as she twisted you to face her a little bit more. Thomas’ hand fell away as he chuckled, and you didn’t even need to ask her what she meant, before she was barreling on; “You almost died-”

“Brenda!” You grinned at the loud shout Newt let out, and she shrugged. 

“What? She did! She knows she did, it ain’t a secret!” The blond huffed, and went back to his cooking, and you turned to face her again. “As I was saying, you almost died, and we rescued you. You really are a member of the team, now!”

“She already was, you moron!” 

“Newt! Shut your mouth!” She hissed, and he stuck his tongue out, and you felt the cushions shift again, lifting your mug to your mouth to hide your expression while waiting for the next voice to chime in. 

“It’s true, I wasn’t a part of the team until I almost fell into a mince grinder in a factory four years ago when the bridges gave it.”

“Oh, dude, c’mon. We’re cooking.” Fry huffed, and Minho shrugged. “Alright, well, mine wasn’t as exciting. Just a fire where the doorway collapsed, eight stories up. Brenda drove the truck around to the side and Gally smashed the window out, he made me jump out of it to reach the ladder.”

“I caught you, didn’t I?” Gally was stirring his own tea, before he came to sit in the armchair to the side of you all, and your attention turned to him, waiting for his story. “I got trapped in a crumbling building, debris fell on me. Thomas dug me out.”

You turned to face Thomas, his hand still sitting behind your head stretched out along the couch, tapping at the cushions, and he directed his gaze to you when he realised he had your attention. “What about you?”

“My story?” You nodded, and he swallowed thickly. Everyone else seemed just as caught in curiosity, as though they didn’t know the story, and he seemed lost in his thoughts. “Mine is a little different. It came before the firehouse. I was in a house fire when I was younger, my mom was pretty badly hurt, a lot of trauma, she never fully recovered. Newt lived across the road, we couldn't have been any more than six, but he came over the next day, and asked me if I needed a friend. I don’t think I’d be the same person I am if it wasn’t for him, he’s stuck by my side ever since. Does that count?”

Silence hung over you all, and you turned to face him a little more, his eyes locked on yours, despite everyone else in the room, and you nodded. “It counts.”

“So, you’re telling me that I need to almost die to be a part of this team?” Chuck sounded utterly appalled, and you couldn't hide your laughter, the sound mixed with everyone else's as it echoed around the room, harmonious mixing like wolves howling.

“Well, that and passing your exams, kiddo.” You bit your lip upon speaking the words, and the amusement in the room only continued, the hand from behind your body slipping down to rest over your shoulders, and you leaned into him once again. 

The stories continued being passed around, and there was an overwhelming sense of camaraderie as they all relived the moments that had bonded them so intensely. This was what made them a family, and what made them so important to one another. This was what you’d never had before, you’d never fit into a team like this. Every house was different; dynamics and friendships and interpersonal relationships, but you’d never found your fit before now. 

You wanted to fit in, you had wanted it for so long. Craved family and friends and to know that you had a place, and being here with them felt right, and yet it was like dread was hanging over you, sitting on the throne but having a sword on a fraying rope overhead. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong, to prove to you that you weren’t supposed to be here, that your life would be spent as a wanderer, and that this was as close as you would get.

“So, what movie are we watching? It doesn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s not an action movie, Minho. They’re all you watch.” Thomas sighed, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know, Newt chose it.”

“Uh, no, wait a damn minute, missy.” The voice was closer than you expected, and Newt came to round the couch, kicking a foot at Chuck and telling him to move up on the other couch, offering you a bowl of pasta by placing it down on the coffee table before you. The gesture went unspoken but not missed, still trying to help soothe you, as though he knew you even better than he knew himself. “I did not choose the movie, it was just what came on when the television turned on.”

“So I can pick something else?”

“No, Min, you have awful taste in movies.” Your partner scowled, snatching the controller from him, and the group began to bicker, discussing what movie you would all watch, as though you wouldn't likely be interrupted by another call, or the end of your shift. You could always hope to reach the end. 

Lips brushed over your ear, and you paused, breath held as you waited to see what Thomas had to say. “What are you thinking about?”

It was a loaded question, the real meaning hidden between the lines. He wanted to know if you were thinking about him, or more specifically, all of them. It all felt too good to be true, too tempting, like a siren song. 

And yet, as warm honey eyes stared at you expectantly, soft and patient, a plate with a freshly-made snack from someone who loved you sitting on the table and a hot drink that was cooling in your hands, you placed the mug down, knowing that right now, you were willing to take part in the illusion, to put all thoughts aside and just accept what you had right now.

“Nothing. I don’t want to think right now. I just want to be here with you all.” He nodded his head, and you leaned forward to put your drink down on the table with your meal. “With you.”

“Okay, angel.”

The pet name made your stomach do flips, his confirmation having a deeper meaning beyond simply acknowledging your statement. He was accepting your feelings, and accepting that you needed time, but that you were processing how you felt. He was just accepting you for your trying, and giving you the time you needed. He leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to your forehead that made something spark in your guts, an excited anxiety at the gesture. 

He backed away, giving you space, and yet you didn’t want it. Shuffling forwards a little more, his face little up in something indescribable as you rested against him, head settling on his shoulder and an arm wrapping around his waist, and barely a second passed before he was holding you back. You didn't want to talk about it, or put any kind of label on it like ‘cuddling’, which Newt would undoubtedly do the next time he got you alone, because you still didn't know what it meant. All you knew was that right now, you wanted it.

For the first time in what felt like decades, you allowed yourself to be truly vulnerable with the people around you.

[daikon-dishes]

When Spring Comes || Nanami K.

“Nanami,” He turns to her, hand twitching slightly with the need to hold her hand as she stared up the grey sky before shifting her smile to him. “When spring comes... let’s go on a date, kay?”  PLAYLIST:  いつも何度でも - DAZBEE Cover

————-　🇲‌🇦‌🇷‌🇨‌🇭‌　————- “Good morning.” It was spring when Nanami decided to move in the apartment complex in a quiet street where cherry blossoms were planted as a line between the road and children pass by the building every morning for school.  His gaze flickered from the newly opened box of books he’s never touched to the sound of the voice, giving a prompt nod in response to his neighbor’s greeting.  She smiled and looked away. He did too, going back inside with the boxes just as she slipped her heels on and locked her door to go to work.  It was the routine for awhile. Nanami going home in the morning after a late shift and catching the woman just leaving her apartment. Exchange greetings, a smile gracing her lips when he nods before she turns away first to continue ahead.  Nanami didn’t quite know her name but he did know her favorite tea— Jasmine tea that she liked to pair with tuna onigiri or something sweet but not too sweet. He often sees her drinking it while leaned over her balcony.  He only recently found out that she was a kindergarten teacher. It didn’t surprise him anymore when the children that passed by their building would stop and wave when she’s outside.  ————-　🇲‌🇦‌🇾‌　————- “Nanami Kento… That’s a nice name.” The compliment nearly made him flush but he held still, paying back a compliment without missing a beat. “Your name sounds nice too. It rolls off the tongue easy.”  It was a little embarrassing. Two months later was when he found out her name after being reminded that he doesn’t actually know when the cause of his headaches approached him and asked about her.  She chuckled, looking up to watch the pink blossoms gently rain from the tree that shielded them from the sun and closing her eyes for a moment to take in the spring breeze. Nanami took this moment to examine the woman more closely, finding it a surprise himself that she managed to convince him to have a picnic with her before spring ends for summer to have the spotlight.  “Does it taste good?”  “Do you doubt your cooking skills?” Nanami questioned, taking another futomaki in his mouth and thankful he wasn’t caught staring. Well — even if she did, he was thankful she didn’t say a word. The woman hummed, shaking her head and basking in the silence for a moment with the salaryman who’s just as pleased simply listening to the ducks and the whispers of the river.  ————-　 🇯‌🇺‌🇱‌🇾‌ 　————-  “Let’s go to the beach.” The salaryman pauses for a moment, glancing over to his neighbor then to the window covered in rain drops from the storm outside. He glances back down to the boiling pot. “It’s raining.” She laughs, the sound making corners of Nanami’s lips twitch up for a moment. He turns to her again, meeting her gaze when she turned her attention away from the storm with a smile on her face. “Not now, obviously. Next week sounds nice, doesn’t it?” “It does...” He returned to his cooking. The quiet enveloped the small apartment once again and for a moment, Nanami basked in the domestic-feel of it all — despite being unmarried and simply friends with his neighbor. The beach does sound nice... He could read a book or take photographs —  collect seashells and make them into necklaces. They could take a swim... Just the two- “Let’s bring Sato-san with us.”  “I don’t think he’ll be available.” She burst out laughing, finding it adorable how Nanami countered back without missing a beat and for the first time, Nanami chuckled himself.  ————-　 🇴‌🇨‌🇹‌🇴‌🇧‌🇪‌🇷‌ 　————- “Do you believe in reincarnation?”  The question made him sigh, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat and waiting for the vending machine to release their hot drinks. “What a straightforward question.”  She hummed, laughing at herself for a moment as she examined the orange leaf that she picked up from the ground. “It’s not bad to ask. What about miracles?”  Nanami thought for a moment, bending down once he heard the topple of cans and went to grab them. They warmed his hands immediately. “Would you think I’m a fool for saying ‘I do’?” He turned to her as she did too, tilting his head to the side at her smile.  “No, I was just curious.” The woman extended an open hand forward, Nanami passing her the hot can of coffee but her grip seemed to fail her as the can hit the ground with a clutter. “Ah-! Sorry, Nanami-”  “No need. It’s alright.” He bent over, focused on getting the drink so he didn’t quite notice her bending down as well until their foreheads lightly hit midway.  “Sorry.” It was his turn to apologize, standing back up as his neighbor picked up the drink with two hands this time.  “It’s alright.”  Nanami nodded and glanced away, walking a little ahead with the woman trailing behind him who walked slower this time.  ————-　 🇳‌🇴‌🇻‌🇪‌🇲‌🇧‌🇪‌🇷‌ 　————- “You didn’t tell me.”  “I didn’t want you to worry.”  He clenched his jaw, keeping his hands on his lap but they gripped his pants to stop himself from crying.  “Besides, you’d forget me anyway.”  He stared at the sick woman sitting up on the hospital bed, a smile still gracing her features despite the fact that her life was nearing its end.  Nanami scolded himself for not noticing sooner but even if he did notice, what can he do?  He only found out this morning when he came home from work, pausing for a moment when he saw her sitting in the hallway and staring down at her hand.  He called her name.  She looked up with blood dripping from her forehead and only uttering the words. “I can’t... feel my legs...”  The silence in the air was not as comfortable, both watching the leaves fall as winter approached like a speeding train.  Nanami wished her life won’t wither like the autumn leaves and yet like the seasons passing, he can’t stop it as much as he wished to. The world was cruel like that.  He sighed. “You’d come back to haunt me if I did...”  ————-　 🇯‌🇦‌🇳‌🇺‌🇦‌🇷‌🇾‌ 　————- The heavy and cold winter air filled his lungs as he took a deep breath, gently pushing the wheelchair through the park but stopped when she extended her hand to the side to touch the vending machine.  He looked down at her. She looked up at him, eyes twinkling with happiness as she wordlessly pleaded for a hot drink.  “Can’t you be a little happy, Nanami? The doctors said I can make it until next winter!” The woman chirped as he pushed in the proper currency in the coin slot and pressed that worn out button from the amount of times they’ve been here to get drinks and simply talk.  Days he will dearly miss. “I am happy for you but I also can’t deny the fact that-”  “Nanami,” He turns to her, hand twitching slightly with the need to hold her hand as she stared up the grey sky before shifting her smile to him. “When spring comes... let’s go on a date, kay?”  For a moment, he was quiet.  Never breaking eye contact with the woman who’s smile remained, he wondered if this was one of her pranks. He chose to believe it.  “Kento,” He spoke, watching her tilt her head to the side in slight confusion. “Call me Kento… And — I would love to.”  ————-　 🇲‌🇦‌🇷‌🇨‌🇭‌ 　————- “Good morning.”  Nanami greeted, sighing as he laid the clean striped blanket. He took his shoes off and neatly placed them on the side before he stepped in the space and placed the bento between him and his lover.  It was spring again.  The cherry blossoms bloomed beautifully and danced gracefully with the gentle breeze that swept through the air.  The man couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight, a pretty bouquet of cherry blossom branches tucked in his arms and kept together with a pink bow.  He cleared his throat, gesturing the pink haired child over who shyly but hurriedly kicked his tiger shoes off and sat on the blanket with the salaryman.  “Itadowi Yuji! Nice to meet you!” Itadori took a clumsy bow, sitting up after a moment to read the name carved into the pristine headstone.  “Nanamin-”  “Nanami.” He corrected, placing the bouquet by the grave that sat under a beautiful cherry blossom tree.  “-What was she like?”  It was quiet for a moment but a comfortable one, pulling the child over to sit on his lap after he reached over to grab an onigiri from the bento.  “She was... very nice, Yuji. I’ll show you her photos again next time.”  A spring without her has come and before, Nanami feared he would be alone again and back to the static world he lived in despite her reassurance that he would be fine without her but living through it now... It’s not as bad as he thought.

[inawickedlittletown]

Survivors - Buddie meta

Words: 3,112

I thought a lot about 4x14 since watching it on Monday and mostly buddie, and on my re-watch I had a lot of thoughts and since I can’t seem to help myself here we are again. And fair warning, this is very long. 

I think it’s fair to say that Buck is someone that cares a lot. I think it’s fair to say that his reaction to Eddie being shot would be the same if anyone else in the 118 was shot. That said, yes, the way that Buck freezes and the shock that sets in with him is jarring for a character that is always about the action and always about doing something. But then, he does finally get his bearings after being knocked down to safety and after holding eye contact with Eddie as Eddie is bleeding out on the ground, and Buck is the only one present on the scene to get to Eddie. Buck is the only one trying to get to the injured person despite the fact that there are plenty of other first responders around. 

This moment is a lot, and I think it does so much to reiterate and highlight the importance of Eddie in Buck’s life and the love that is felt between them. Up to this point, we cannot call that romantic love — or at least, acknowledged romantic love — but Buck does love Eddie. And vice versa. 

We see Eddie’s love shine through in the moments while they’re heading to the hospital and Eddie comes to and his concern isn’t for himself, but Buck. Eddie has been shot, and he’s well aware of that, and yet it is Buck who he worries about. He has to be sure that Buck is alright. And, well, Buck isn’t. He might be physically alright, but when he’s asked if he’s okay as Eddie is being taken into the hospital, he just says “no” and that is very clear to the audience in that moment and for the rest of the episode. 

The next time that we see Buck, he is still a mess and he’s stepping out of the hospital. He is literally shaking and he is so out of it and in a state of shock that he’s ignored phone calls not just from Taylor, but from Maddie, and likely anyone else that tried to contact him. I don’t want to spend too much time on Taylor here, but I do want to point out that Buck is at first suspicious of why she is present and barely acknowledges that she was worried about him and he also just doesn’t want to allow her to help him. 

Buck’s entire mind is on Eddie and on Chris and we’re aware from Chim’s call with Maddie that the rest of the team are at the hospital as well, and that enough time has passed that it’s likely Eddie’s grandmother and aunt would have heard about what happened, that Carla would have heard, and yet Buck feels like he’s the one of that needs to talk to Chris and no one refutes that. When Albert asks where Buck is later, Chim even says: “he’s got a harder job tonight” because they all know that it is absolutely Buck’s place to be the one to speak to Christopher.  

From the moment that Buck was aware of Christopher’s existence, he’s been involved. Christopher bonded Buck and Eddie in a way perhaps because of how much Buck loves kids, but certainly because Buck admired Eddie as a parent and Eddie’s devotion to being a dad. I think Buck similarly endeared himself to Eddie by making it possible for Eddie to get the help that he needed — namely Carla. But over the past few seasons we’ve seen the Buck and Chris relationship grow. Buck has been acting like another parent for a while and I think this season really took it over the top ever since Chris ran away from home and went straight to Buck. Making Buck his safe space over anyone else. 

Out of the entire episode, the hardest scene to watch for emotional reasons is Buck explaining to Chris that his father is hurt. Between the way that Chris asks questions to understand what happened, to the way that Buck just can’t keep it together. And then Bobby’s text comes in and Buck really cannot hold it in, to know that actually Eddie will be okay. The rollercoaster of emotions is so well acted, so well written, and there is no way to not feel that pain while watching it. 

This whole scene reads like a parent talking to their child about something difficult. It reads like a parent being aware of their own pain and still facing their kid because that’s important and necessary and as a parent it isn’t something that can be ignored. We can go further and parallel the scene to almost any important and emotional conversation between Eddie and Christopher, but especially what we got when Shannon died.It also frames Buck as family and as important in the lives of both Christopher and Eddie. It is difficult then to think about Buck’s place in all of this as only a best friend. As only a work partner. This is glaringly so when we think about Ana. (Also, we have to remember that Buck during all of this knows nothing about Eddie changing his will).

The episode makes it clear where Ana is this entire time because the few times we see her, she’s at the hospital with Eddie. As his girlfriend it makes sense for her to be there for him and yet that is all we are given when instead it would only make sense to use Eddie’s injury as a way to further and strengthen Ana and Eddie’s relationship. And from the last we saw of Ana, she clearly gets on with Christopher, enough that it would have made sense for Ana to step up and offer to care for Chris. It isn’t something that happens. But I think that their relationship would have shown as stronger and as more meaningful in the eyes of the viewer if we’d seen more of them together and certainly if we had seen Ana even just offer to look after Chris. 

Instead, it is Buck that sleeps on Eddie’s couch so he can be there for Christopher even though there are other options such as Carla. It is Buck that picks up the slack of looking after Christopher as worried as Buck is about Eddie and as worried as Buck is about everyone else in light of the firefighters being targets. The way that Buck puts Christopher first is so parental. It is something that Eddie has noticed long before this all the way back in S3 and clearly Buck doesn’t disappoint. And Buck doesn’t do it all alone, because obviously he has work and Carla is around, but he is going out of his way to be there for Christopher. 

The scenes are bittersweet in that there is a slight domestic/parental element to them, but then also the thrumming knowing that this is only happening because Eddie isn’t around. And yet Christopher is adaptable. It gets to the point where he is even joking around and teasing Buck in a very similar way that he does with Eddie. 

I find Buck’s journey through the episode interesting. One of the things about Buck is that he believes he is alone. He knows he has people, but he also realizes that he is alone, and that as much he means something to his team, to his sister, even to his parents, Buck also knows that everyone else has other people. During the sequence in which Bobby explains how things are going to change for them, we see flashes of scenes of the 118 getting ready to go into work with their new bulletproof vests and we see Hen with Karen, we see Chim with Maddie, and we see Bobby with Athena. Buck is on his own. 

Is it because Buck’s partner would naturally be Eddie? Or because Taylor and Buck just aren’t on that level (I mean at this point we’re pre-kiss). Either way, we get Buck on his own all while Bobby voice-overs how difficult this time will be on their family/loved ones who already see the job as risky and now it suddenly comes with possible sniper shots too. So is it a wonder that Buck, who already thinks much less of himself, would want to place more risk on himself than anyone else? Not to mention that there is definitely an element of survivor’s guilt at play. Buck was standing right there on that street with Eddie. Easily, it could have been him that was shot except that dressed as a civilian made him less of a target. 

Bobby tells him that he made himself a target deliberately and Buck has an answer. He can’t handle anyone else being hurt and that shows us the impact that Eddie being hurt has on Buck, the way that emotionally, Buck could not handle much more turmoil. 

About Eddie, Buck says, “I was just the guy standing there when it happened who couldn’t do anything to protect him.” And it is simply amazing how much that statement says about Buck’s state of mind. Add in Oliver Stark’s acting and we get to see so much of Buck’s love for the whole team, for Eddie. This moment comes after Buck’s scene with Carla presumably before he went to work, and in that scene Carla expresses her concern for Buck’s well being, but Buck brushes that off and I think it’s yet another example of Buck’s state of mind in that he doesn’t want to see himself as important, as necessary, as someone that would be missed if they were gone. 

We see Taylor again and I do want to say that I appreciate the role Taylor has played in this episode. Her first appearance has her worried about Buck and caring about that more than possibly getting a scoop for work — yet another instance of showing how much Taylor has changed from S2. Her worry then, and the way that she offers to help Buck continues to translate into her second scene in the episode where she’s also upset at Buck for the crane incident and the danger he placed himself in. I’ve loved the development of Buck and Taylor’s friendship as well as the many moments that we’ve gotten that show Taylor as a different person. The last few episodes have slowly hinted at them as a couple and I cannot be mad at how this was developed or how Taylor is very clearly unsure about how things might go. She is caught up in the moment and after she kisses him she even apologizes. 

Buck says they should talk about it, but Taylor decides to leave. Buck actually goes to say “wait” or to stop her and Taylor, as we learn later, expected or hoped for Buck to chase after her, but Eddie has excellent timing and has woken up. And Ana calls Buck at once. 

I’m curious about when Buck got Ana’s number and saved it on his phone. I’m curious about how Ana got Buck’s number. Before this, we haven’t seen them interact at all and unless Eddie being hurt was the first time they even met, who called Ana to tell her about Eddie? 

Either way, Ana calls him and Buck goes to Eddie. It’s a choice that Buck makes and I don’t think Buck even sees it as a choice. And from the way that Taylor mentions Buck not going after her, I just have to wonder about how Buck made it out of his apartment without running into Taylor on the way to his car to get to the hospital. From the way he was running, we know he didn’t wait to get over there. I also do have to wonder about Ana calling Buck and why she felt that he would need to be informed about Eddie being awake at once. Obviously there’s Christopher to consider, but Ana could have also called Carla. This feels like Ana knowing who she needed to defer to. 

Buck arrives and Ana is all smiles, but she steps aside so Buck and Eddie can see each other. (Me with my shipper goggles on: foreshadowing?) And then, the next thing we see if Eddie having a facetime with Christopher through Buck’s phone and Ana isn’t there? Did she step out to give them some time with the kid? Ana’s place in all of this just dwindles and dwindles and I’ll admit I never liked Ana...but that’s mostly because I was never given a reason to like her. Maybe I just feel ambivalent. 

Eddie asks Buck about how Chris is doing and Buck admits that actually between him and Christopher, it is Buck that is having a harder time. He admits that he lost it when he was telling Christopher and Buck is ashamed of it, of not being able to put away his emotions to focus on Chris. Eddie reassures him: “You were there for him when I couldn’t be. That’s what matters.”

Buck responds with: “Still, it might have been better for him if I was the one that got shot.” And that has been Buck’s state of mind this entire episode. That is what he’s been feeling. But no matter how many times Buck has been asked how he’s doing or been shown that others are worried about him, has he brought that up. It is only to Eddie that he can admit it.

The scene ends and Eddie is left thinking. He’s left considering what Buck’s said, but he’s also considering how he views Buck and how to best make Buck believe that actually he’s not expendable. Not to him or to Christopher or even to the rest of the 118. 

We get to the third Buck and Taylor scene and the first thing that is apparent is that Buck has not reached out to Taylor since the kiss. He hasn’t chased her. In fact, he didn’t expect to see her at his door. And it has been days since. This shows us that Buck while interested in Taylor, isn’t that invested. Taylor on the other hand is. Buck explains himself by saying that he’s done feeling like he isn’t enough and I like that self-confidence and the way that Buck makes it clear that he can’t be the one chasing anyone. 

To bring this back to Buddie, I do wonder if Buck saying this to Taylor isn’t also a statement about where Buck stands in general and how Buck is not going to be the one that pines or that waits for anyone. Not just Taylor, but Eddie. This could be subtle foreshadowing, aided of course by the next Buck and Eddie scene. 

Eddie isn’t someone that talks about how he feels. He isn’t someone that needs to express himself that way and we know this about him which makes this scene all the more poignant. And you can feel how Eddie isn’t too sure of himself when he asks Buck to talk. Not to mention that admitting to going through the trouble of changing his will so that Buck could be Chris’ guardian clearly isn’t something Eddie ever wanted to bring up or mention to Buck seeing as it’s been in his will for about a year. 

Eddie is just displaying such a level of awareness for his understanding of who would be best for Christopher, for the realization that no one else in his life cares for Christopher’s well being like Buck does. And they talk about Eddie’s other family and Eddie says my favorite line of the episode, “No one will ever fight for my son as hard as you. That is what I want for him.” Other than “You act like you’re expendable...but you’re wrong.” 

Eddie changed his will, not for Buck, but for Christopher. It is placing all his trust in Buck and making him in many ways the most important person in his life other than his son. But telling Buck is something that Eddie does for Buck. He does it so that Buck knows how highly Eddie views/values him and so that perhaps Buck begins to see himself that way too and so he can value his life if not for himself, but then also because it actually could affect Christopher and Eddie as well. It does make me wonder if during Eddie’s time at the hospital, he heard about Buck and the crane. 

There’s a welcome home party waiting for Eddie at home and Buck is the one to take him to it. The ending sequence is interesting in that everyone is split up by family. Unlike last season where we had everyone together at the end, this time everyone is with their family. In another moment that could have been used to cement Ana and Eddie, it is Buck that picks Eddie up from the hospital and Buck that takes him to the party. For some reason Taylor is there and I feel like that’s more about being able to put her somewhere, but we could have done without her. I wonder if Eddie already knows that Buck and Taylor are a thing by that point. And I wonder what Chris thinks of her. 

All in all, this was a fantastic episode. One of the best of the season and such a strong finale. And I don’t think it gives us any concrete information on if the show is going to actually do Buddie, but it leaves some sprinkling of things that make it a possibility. Most of that is to do with how little development we get out of Ana in any way or form as well as the display of importance that Eddie places on Buck as well as Buck’s emotions when it comes to Eddie being injured. I think we leave the episode on a high note and with a lot of hope that actually maybe something could happen. 

I don’t think I will ever be one of those people that are more than 50% sure it might happen, but this episode does make me question if that percentage shouldn’t be higher. It also cements my other thoughts on Buddie and I will reiterate it again because it’s so important, as it stands we are not in any place to call Buddie queerbaiting. We are, however, possibly in the midst of a slow burn. 

-

Tagging: @vivalabandoms @sevensoulmates @greenasher @whenyougoquiet-ihatemyself @seylaaurora @scifitheatre1995 @yramesoruniverse @laura2594-me @selfiethechaosfan @lilyemrys 

[kuroos-moon]

xvii. “Oikawa’s Worst Nightmare” • Two

Smau Masterlist

Written Part

Wc: 2.2 k words

7:43 PM 

“I am so sorry love, wake up for me, yeah?” He puts on a sad smile, he wanted to hold your hand but he felt too undeserving to do so. How could he hold you when he caused this? “I’ll be better next time, I’ll be my best, I’ll do anything for you,” he promises, his eyes holding so much pain as they looked at you, he just felt so responsible for what happened to you.

Oikawa sat on a not so comfortable chair beside your bed, scanning the bandage on your head, the light purple bruise on your right cheekbone and the slight scratches on your arms. He could never forgive himself, not that he wanted for that to happen to you, but he really could’ve tried harder or did something better in order to prevent this right? 

“Y/n,” he mutters under his breath, his voice hoarse from the crying after the match ended. The entire match, he held it in, he held it all in- the pain, his worry, the suffocating guilt, it all made his hands shake and his mind a mess, he knew he sucked so bad during the game. He didn’t care that he looked so pathetic, he didn’t care who had seen his tear stained eyes and heard his sobs- he just bolted, leaving his bag, because he just had to see you. 

He was about to caress your cheek, his fingertips almost touching your skin when he hears someone scoff behind him. Turning around, he sees Kageyama with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face as his eyes sharply glare at Oikawa. 

“I’ll take it from here,” he says, “go home or whatever,” he adds, his tone icy as he approaches Oikawa and stands beside him, waiting for him to get up from the chair. “I’m not going anywhere, Tobio-chan,” he responds without looking away from you, his voice devoid of its usual liveliness. 

“I’ll stay with her,” Oikawa says more firmly when Kageyamas huffs at him. “You have no right to!” He slightly races his voice and immediately winces as he receives a kick on the shin from Oikawa. “I understand the resentment but shut the fuck up Tobio-chan, she’s resting,” he says with a fake sweet smile as he looks up at him. 

“You don’t deserve to be by her side,” he scoffs and Oikawa stands up from his chair to be on eye-level with him. “It’s not like you do either,” Oikawa bites back, his childishness getting the best of him. “If you wanna say something then let’s take this outside, you’ve been enough of a pain for her already,” Kageyama sneers and when Oikawa chuckles at him, he felt like he could punch your boyfriend right there on the spot. 

“If you wanna go outside, do so on your own Tobio-chan, I’ll stay here with y/n,” he says with a sigh, remembering where he was- in your hospital room- he had to be at his best and most mature behavior. He was supposedly done with arguing with the fuming boy but he was caught in surprise when he was yanked by his collar. 

“Drop the act, let me see you crumble Oikawa-san,” he says and Oikawa knew exactly what he was talking about. Tobio saw right through his pretending, there was no way in hell he was okay enough to exchange some petty comebacks with his junior because at any moment he was gonna have a breakdown from all his emotions. “You know you’re not good enough for her, no matter how serious you are with her right now, no matter how much you care, you’ve been really shitty in the past right? You really didn’t approach her with good intentions at first, y/n knew that and accepted you but look at where that got her, Oikawa-san,” he spitefully says in a low voice, “all because of you.” 

Oikawas eyes were slightly wide, Tobio was right, spot-on correct. He was tongue-tied, he knew he couldn’t argue back at that at all. “If you care about her like you say you do, then leave her alone, break up with her or whatever,” but that just drove Oikawa over the edge. Yes he was still unworthy of you, but he knew how much you loved each other and leaving you was totally not the answer. 

“I’ll marry y/n Tobio-chan, I already bought a ring so shut up about it,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance, he understood why Kageyama was mad at him, he was thankful you had such a friend, but to tell him to break up with you? “Face it Tobio, you’re just pathetically using this as an excuse to a drive a wedge between us but that would only make my princess unhappy, I couldn’t possibly do that now can I?” He knew just what to say to piss off the boy.

Blinded by anger, he was about to throw a punch right across Oikawa’s jaw but a firm tug at the back of his collar pulls him away from Toru. “I will throw your asses right out that window,” Iwaizumi glares at the both of them. “If you wanna kill each other then do it outside, I’ll watch over y/n,” he says and the two setters just stand there in silence. “Oh, and Tobio, Hinata’s outside.” 

They both look at Iwaizumi as he approaches you, placing a gentle hand on the top of your head as he shows a soft smile. “I’m sorry you have to be with these idiots,” he mutters and Oikawa could be heard scoffing childishly at the background. They all still when you slowly squint your eyes a few times before they open. 

Oikawa just stares at you with wide eyes, feeling his chest lighten at the sight of you finally waking up. “Iwa,” you say with a smile and you may or may not have seen Iwaizumi’s eyes get glossy as he says, “y/n ever so dramatic, what took you so long to wake up.” And you just chuckle at him. 

You try to push yourself up and instantly grip your head as a short but painful throbbing appears at the area you fell on. Kageyama was quick to move to your side and Iwa respectfully gives space for your best friend. “Tobio!” You say with so much enthusiasm that he just felt so happy. 

“Y/n are you okay? Does it hurt? Should I-” but you cut him off as you wrap your arms around his neck, ignoring the pain at your sides. “Don’t get so worried now, bakaa!” You grin at him as you pull away. You cup his cheeks in your hands and scan his eyes, and as you do so, you feel how hot his skin was against yours. 

“Hey you’re burning up,” you scold as you put your hand on his forehead and he just pulls your hands away and holds them in his. “You feeling okay? Does it hurt anywhere?” He asks and you just shake your head and suddenly remember the events of a while ago- more importantly your beloved Toru’s match. 

“Tobio what time is it? Oh crap the match! Wait Iwa’s here! Where’s Toru?” You panic and immediately go quiet when your eyes land on him. He was standing a few feet behind Iwa, he didn’t know how to react. He may also have felt so small when he saw how happy you were to see Tobio, you both looked too close and familiar with each other that he actually wonders for a second how you managed to choose him. 

“Toru,” you pout as your bottom lip quivers and the three of them immediately panic as you were about to cry. Iwaizumi clears his throat before resting a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, lightly pushing him outside with him. He wanted to oppose but he’d rather not be here either because he didn’t want to see the both of you together anyway. 

So now you were both alone and he still does not take a step towards you, he didn’t understand himself either. Was it the guilt? Or was it the indescribable feeling he felt as he saw how at home you looked with Kageyama? All thoughts were diminished when he sees you bury you face in your hands.

“Y/n, baby, what’s wrong?” He asks as he swiftly makes it to your side, sitting beside you on the bed. His tenses when you hug his waist, burying your face against his chest; he was surprised, but he soon recovers and hugs you back carefully after that. You both held each other, and he patiently waited for you to finish crying as he strokes your hair. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your match,” you sniffle, pulling away from him and he was left speechless. You were crying about that?! “Y/n what- that’s okay, it doesn’t matter, I was so worried about you,” he tells you and you could hear the pain in his voice. Observing him closely, you notice his puffy eyes and you could tell he had been crying. 

“Y/n please forgive me for Jen, if I wasn’t- well if I hadn’t gotten into anything with her, or if I hadn’t been involved with you-” and you cut him off with a kiss. “If you hadn’t, then neither of us would be this happy,” you say in a stern voice. “Don’t you dare blame yourself Toru, you’ll only make me sad,” you tell him and he bites his tongue to keep himself from saying any more about how sorry he was. 

“Come here,” you sigh as you take in the sight of him, opening up your arms; he was clearly fatigued, and his puffy eyes made your heart ache. He doesn’t refuse your hug at all and practically throws himself at you, hiding his face at the crook of your neck as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, whispering a lot of apologies and promises on how he’d never allow anything to hurt you in any way ever again. 

You feel his shoulders lightly shake as he tried to silence his sobs, though you felt his tears anyway, “you’ve had a rough day,” you sigh as you rub his back soothingly, he had just told you about the match they lost too. He pulls away, a pout on his lips as he looks at your face. “Y/n, I love you, I love you so much, and you- you love me too much and I just wanna thank you, uhm, because you stayed and you make me wanna love everything about life,” he rambles on and you simply hug him again.

“I love you so much, my precious Toru” you whisper the last part as you snuggle against him, oblivious to the fact that hearing you say that made his heart clench with so much love and adoration for you.  

A few minutes later, Iwaizumi and Kageyama head back inside and stop in their tracks the moment they see the both of you. He was still sitting beside you, you had your cheek against his chest, your arms around his waist, and he just held you securely so you wouldn’t fall. “Uh, she fell asleep,” he sheepishly says at the two who had just entered. 

Iwaizumi chuckles at the sight. “You’ll stay the night?” He asks his friend. “Of course, and the doctor told me she could be discharged by tomorrow evening if all goes well,” he smiles as he looks down at you, all cozied up in his arms. 

“Hey Iwa, could you maybe watch her for a bit? I’m starving,” he asks, and Iwa notices how Toru had now let go of whatever guilt and sadness he has been feeling a while ago. He was quite amazed actually, Oikawa had a thick skull, it was hard to pull him away from his thoughts, but with you he believes and does anything. 

“Sure,” Iwa replies and Oikawa carefully tries to tear you off him but you slightly whine, opening your drowsy eyes to look at him. “You’re leaving?” You ask and he chuckles at you. “Of course not princess, I’ll just-” 

“Okay so let’s sleep,” you grumble, tugging at his waist so that he lies down with you. He positions your head on top of his arm and felt so content when you wrap an arm around his torso with your face snuggled into him. “We’ll just eat breakfast together,” he tells Iwaizumi before turning his back so that he was now facing you. 

Without saying another word, Kageyama walks off, he didn’t know if it was even possible but the sight of the two of you that way actually made him feel even sicker. 

“Toru I’ll die if you leave me,” you whisper, barely awake and he just hums in response, trying his best not to fall asleep himself because he wanted to listen to whatever you’d be saying while you were asleep. 

“I’ll wear your jersey some other time.” He chuckles softly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He found it so adorable how you’ve been looking forward to wearing his jersey and cheering for him as much as he did. 

“Toru, don’t ever leave,” you say again and when he doesn’t answer, “you’ll never leave my side, right?” You ask and he pauses for a while. 

“I’ll be right by your side at all times y/n,” he assures, kissing your lips for a brief moment. “Now go to sleep and rest up, my love.” 

It had been quite a while since you’ve fallen deeply asleep and he just looks at you, caressing your cheeks lightly with his fingers. “I’ll stay, y/n,” he sighs. “I’ll let go of Brazil for you,” he mutters to himself as he looks away from you and up at the ceiling in thought. 

“Who am I kidding, I’d stay here even if you’d ask me to leave,” he chuckles at his silly self, so deeply in love. He was so sure of you that he had indeed already bought a ring.

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[theodora3022]

Too Trusting (Yandere Ciel Phantomhive X F!reader)

Summary: You picked up a half-dead young man from a dark alley, tended to his wounds  with your nurse skills. However, you did not expect his way of paying his debts.

Notes: So this is a Ciel counterpart of this by @animeyanderelover First time writing for Black butler so hopefully this do not turn out to be too OOC.

Ciel is aged up in this, so no pedophilia haha.

Word count:3.1k(I went overboard oops, a sequal is already taking space up in my mind but whatever), long read with caution

Trigger Warning(s): Gore, drugging, implied dub-con, stalking

Stars glistening behind thin clouds, while the silver moon watches over midnight London carefully. 

You yawn and stretch your stiff limbs as you walk out the hospital hall. It has been a long night, though not many patients, the slow hours from afternoon to midnight is nothing less then torture. 

You know what you were getting into when you took up studying nursing, but you still cannot chase away this sensation of annoyance. The walk back to your family’s manor is usually peaceful, as it is through a well-to-do neighbourhood of the city. But you still stay on your guard as you lower your hood cape and hurried along. Under ideal circumstances, you would have a carriage for commute, but your noble yet impoverished family could only live a modest life even though your father holds the title of Count. As a result you grown to be independent, cleaned your own room, dressed yourself,  enough to become a hard-working nurse instead of a proper noble maiden.

You were unsure of your eyes when you noticed a trail of blood prints leading towards a dark alleyway. Judging by the traces, it means the person, or the thing is still nearby as they are fresh. Should you follow this? What if it is a criminal? But your care for this person’s health got the best of you. With this amount of blood loss, the wounds can be fatal if not given proper medical care. Whoever they are, you cannot just walk away and forget all about them, as it is against your conscience.

A young man dressed in fine suits is not what you expected, although you imagined that suit would look better if not soaked crimson, it seems that he has been shot by guns, the bullet wholes are the proofs. This is no good, you thought as you observe the pool of blood forming underneath him. He needs treatment right away. Although the gunshots are not on his vital parts, such as heart or brain, the blood loss from arteries would drain his life quickly.

“Sir? Can you hear me?” Crouching down, you made a close-up examination of his condition. Unconscious and pale, it seems he had dragged his way into his dark back alley with all those bullet shots. Putting some simple bandages over his wounds, you scoop his slim form up and hurried out of that place.

It feels like a long, feverish dream for Ciel, being carried as he senses the bullets still present in his flesh.

He woke up staring towards your bedroom ceiling. It is morning already, where is Sebastian? Noticing the unfamiliar scenery, Ciel quickly reaches for his right eye, relieved to feel that his eyepatch is still intact.

With a crack of the door, you walked in with a teacup in hand. “I see that you’re awake, I was expecting you to be in coma a bit longer.” Although you are a bit offended by the young man’s cold and evaluating gaze, you still put the cup of warm water on the nightstand.

Instead of taking a sip at the liquid, he asked questions. So demanding, fitting for a young noble.

“Where am I?” “The (family name) manor, do not worry, my parents would not be home until later this week.” Brining a man home while your parents are away, how scandalous, yet you know the laundry maid and the cleaning maid knows to keep their mouths shut. “I advise you to not trying to move too intensively at present, your wounds are still healing.” Pouring yourself a cup, you took a seat on the long sofa next to him. That is where you doze off last night, where the wounded man took your bed. Today is supposed to be your day off, you planned to use it to catch up on sleep, but now it is all ruined thanks to mister mystery on your bed here.

The (family name) family? Ciel vaguely recalls reading about this name before. This house of Counts used to be quite influential in the days of the Queen’s grandfather, George III, and the regency era, but now they are nothing more then minor nobles. Still, he cannot fandom how a lady like you had saved him from that bloody mess. 

Looking down to his abdomen, Ciel can see he had received medical attention from you. Now that he has been saved from the reaper’s collection, Ciel knows the best thing to do is calling for his loyal butler. However, he must find a way to repay his debts you. You did save his life, after all.

“How long was I unconscious?” “Only for a couple of hours. May I have your name, Sir?”

He knew he should hide his identity, even from you. The less people knowing that the Queen’s guard dog was almost successfully assassinated last night, the better. But as if his lips have a mind of its own, Ciel let it slip out. “Ciel.” Good thing he managed to hold the word after.

Ciel, the French word for sky. Suitable for his eye color. “Well, pleasure to meet you Sir Ciel, I am (y/n). You might have guessed I am a noble but spare me the court protocols. Right now I am nothing but a humble nurse.” Now you have a chance to look at Ciel properly, he is actually quite handsome with those delicate features. Silky blue-black hair paired with peacock blue eyes, although one of them is covered by an eyepatch. You were tempted to pry when he was still out but choose not to as it could bring horrific consequences. Noblity can be so cruel, you do not want to get dragged into their mess further.

“I thank you, for coming to my aid.” Ciel lowering his upper body forward, attempt to bow as best as he could in his current state.

“It was nothing, really. Please be careful, Sir Ciel. Your wounds are sealed, but vigorous movement can still open them up.” Your knotted brow amuses him, how can you act so nonchalantly when receiving gratitude form Lord Phantomhive himself? You are a peculiar one indeed. Brining a stranger home and patching him up, while you know nothing of his identity or intentions. How very naïve of you. Guess there no harm in trusting you for a bit. If you want him dead you could have just left him in that damp alleyway.

Taking a sip of the teacup you prepared for him, the Earl frowned at the plain taste. But he drank all of it, nonetheless. Being subjected to tea for so long, he finds water dull and it leaves a foul taste in his mouth. It would have to suffice for now. “My butler would be here soon; would you mind opening the windows?”

Baffled by this odd request, you still drew away the curtains and let the morning sunshine in the room. Seeing you bathed in sunlight had made Ciel feel a certain something. He is startled by this strange sensation, how it made him blush and lose composure. The Earl had never been very sociable person since childhood, so the only female he frequently spend time with is his fiancée Elizabeth. One could say the fairer sex is foreign territory to this man. Ciel is used to being around Elizabeth, out of duty as she is his future bride. But he never felt this warm feeling when he is with her. You might not be a beauty by popular standards, but there is just something about you that made him want to... maybe it is your caring gaze, or your easygoing attitude, Ciel is not sure which one to pick.

“Excuse me, young lady, do you mind telling me how serious my lord’s injuries are?” You jumped back, frightened by the sudden appearance of the tall man on your window ledge. This is two stories high; how did he get up here? No wonder why Ciel wants you to open the windows.

“Sebastian, you frightened her.” The young man scolded the butler, who merely bowed and apologized for the intrusion. You begin describing his bullet wounds in great detail, even showing him the aftermaths: the bullets you took out before on a plate. But you soon found yourself staring up into the butler’s gorgeous eyes, and you started stuttering. Those eyes are like swirling tornadoes, drawing you close every minute. Although Sir Ciel is already an attractive lad, his butler seems to be on whole new level.

Usually when women were swooning over Sabastian, Ciel would find it irritating but simply ignore the interaction, as it could be used to their advantage. But seeing your starring eyes fixated on the tall man in black, a bunch of...jealousy hit in in the head. You saved him; he is supposed to be the one you are looking after! Why are you so focused on that demon? Taking notes of his young master’s angry signs: how Ciel bit his underlip, Sabastian knows he had gone too far with you.

“Sabastian, carry me back home, that is an order.” He spitted out the sentance rather harshly.

You snapped out of your funny state, approving his actions: “If you must move, it is the best if someone carry you. Sir Sabastian, do you need me to call you a carriage?”

“No need, Miss. My lord and I would be on our way now, thank you for your assistance.” Within two seconds, they both disappeared from the room, as if they were never there. You shook your head, cleaning up the teacup and the messy quilts, wondering how you are supposed to return that blood-stained suit jacket that still lies in the laundry bin downstairs.

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The Earl Phantomhive is now back to his study, reading a report about you.

“May I ask you why this young lady had peaked your interests?” That smirk on Sabastian’s lips successfully irritated Ciel’s short temper. Scowling at him, he tried to explain how he only wants to properly thank you on saving his life. “I never like owning debts, but I do repay them. What is that smirk for, Sabastian? Are you teasing me?”

“Why, how could I milord. I do not have the courage to mock my master.” After giving him a warning look, Ciel returns to his paperwork, setting your files aside. But unfortunately his mind starts to wonder.

 What would it be like, to have your hands messaging his shoulder when they are sore from work? Those hands that pulled him from death not so long ago. No, no. He has to stop. Ciel Phantomhive already has a fiancée, and even though he had no romantic feelings for Elizabeth, it is not proper to just daydream about another lady in such salacious manners.

Even so, Ciel needs to make you do not face any dreadful consequences because of him. Many people want him dead; he simply cannot allow you to be affected by his foolishness. A precious person like deserves to be protected and cherished. 

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Labelling your strange encounter with Sir Ciel as a notable but past event, you carried on your daily duties per usual. Your parents did not suspect a thing as you took care of all traces of Ciel, you still work those awful full night shifts. That suit jacket is cleansed, folded neatly in your bottom drawer, as a reminder of Ciel and his handsome butler is not a fever dream.

While browsing the London news during afternoon tea, you glance at the gossip column and find how Lord Phantomhive had broke off his engagement with little lady Midford. You pay it no particular mind, as you were barely involved in high society due to your family’s declining status. Gossips such as these does not bother you a bit. You placed the newspaper back to its proper shelve, finishing the biscuits as you thought about how you should get out of this state of unease.

Maybe you are just losing your sanity from night shifts, but ever since that day Ciel appear in your life, you have this constant feel of being watched everywhere. In your bedroom, in the hospital halls or in the streets, no matter where. No matter how hard you searched, there is nobody. Even though you sense no malicious intent, it still worries you and kept you up at nights. Your parents are worried about your ever-growing dark circles, but you just brush it off as side effects of your job.

“Really, dear, you shouldn’t overwork yourself.” The Countess, also your mother said at the dinner table one night. “The household can still run without your overtime pay; you know.”

You nod silently, pretending to be having trouble dissecting the salmon filet. Working is a way to help your parents pay for the ever-expensive bills of this manor, as well as your insurance of not being sold on the marriage market by your devious uncle, who brought suitors to every family party. How he said: “Your family might not be what it used to be, but a son of a wealthy merchant can change that!” disgusts you so. Those men disgust you also. All they want is that Count title, as you are the only child, your family title would go to you.      

“You got mail, milady.” Your washer maid presents the latest postage to you. Ah, is it the pay checks?

When you held the white envelope in your hands, you could not believe your eyes; The scarlet wax seal is engraved with the crest of a dog, representing the Phantomhive family. What could the Earl possibly want with you? Although you are a nobleman’s daughter, you never acted like one and you lived a middle-class life. The only distinction being the family tree and your blood. Knowing your worth, you did not assume naively how the earl must have want your hand in marriage, even if he recently broke off his engagement. Your status of a backwater noble is too insignificant for him to notice, so why did you receive this letter?

It indicates the Lord wants you to join him for dinner tomorrow night, which made your stomach churns. Your table manners are not the best, as your parents do not care for such things. Along with the letter there is a package containing a fine black dress, its velvet material surely feels expensive. What did you do to attract such attention from the Queen’s guard dog? You simply cannot fathom why, never at once Ciel came to your mind. You initially wanted to turn down the invitation, but your father said it would reflect poorly on the family. You accepted it, not wanting to put your parents in trouble. This must be a mistake, you thought. I am not qualified to be some lady, all I wanted is to help people in the infirmary.

The dress fits you perfectly, as if it is tailored by the finest in London. A shiver climbs down your spine as you thought about how he obtained your measurements. All you have to do is smile, eat whatever, and he will get bored of you in no time, right?

No.

When you were greeted by that devilishly handsome butler again, you were so relieved. This is just Ciel inviting you to dinner, to show his gratitude! There is nothing to be concerned about.

Ciel not like himself from few weeks ago at all. You can tell that he is trying whatever strategy to make you feel comfortable, even telling you to forget about stiffy table manners if you like. Hm, how unusual, as you heard before the Earl is found of strict etiquette and protocols. But having seen him in a fragile state before, you never once suspected his true intention.

Ciel is mad. Not at just anyone, but at his loyal servant, Sebastian.

How dare he drawn your attention away, how dare he makes you giggle like a fool, how dare he make you smile like that. Doesn’t the demon know you will soon belong to his master from all those investigations? It is bad behaviour for a servant.

“Were you listening, (y/n)?” Ciel suddenly stops in the middle of a description on his company’s latest candies.

“I-I’m sorry Lord Phantomhive, it is just...” You lower your head to apologize, but he seems less then pleased.

“Sabastian, leave the room now.” “As you wish, young master.”

 After the butler backout of the dining room, leaving the two of you alone, Ciel’s expression completely changed. But you are a bit preoccupied by your dizziness. Why did your head feel so heavy all of a sudden? Have you caught a chill? Standing up from the chair, you courtesies to your host: “Thank you, Lord Phantomhive for this delicious dinner. I am feeling rather unwell, so I am afraid I must take my leave.” You almost lost your balance because of your vertigo, only caught the chair for support at the last moment.

Thin, but strong long fingers grabbed your wrist, forcing you to sit down beside him. “Oh no, my dear. I think you are exactly where you need to be.”

His...dear? What can he possibly mean by that? There are certainly many other suitable noble ladies available to him, why?

However, your mind starting to become cloudy, as you can no longer form coherent thoughts. Seeing you in such hazy state, a sinister smile forms on his lips, as he pulls your body into his embrace, slowly stroking your hair as you black out. Feeling you had been forced into a dreamless sleep, Ciel knows he had succeeded, as always. To be honest with himself, Ciel did abuse your trust, by seasoning your steak a little differently, but it is your fault for being so trusting of someone you only met once. Ciel had won this game, now he would gladly take the prize to the new bedroom he so thoughtfully prepared for you. You are going to love it, including his series of plans. The title of Lady Phantomhive suits a sweet person like you impeccably.

He had thought about this long and hard, and he came to a conclusion of the best way to repay you is to offer you a position you cannot possibly refuse.  The position of Lady Phantomhive. He even upsetted Elizabeth for this! It should qualify as a decent compensation. Should you ever think it is not suitable, your parents would be a good place to start negotiating. You wouldn’t want anythnig happening to them, don’t you?

Now that Ciel understand how it is like to “love” someone romantically, he swears he is going to try his best to make you comfortable with him in this new home. Your presence would lighten the grim mood of this manor greatly. Easily swooping your unconscious body up bridal style, Ciel begin to walk up the grand staircase, towards the bedrooms. Maybe the manor could return to its former glory in the near future, with a happily married couple and their adorable little brats. He could have a family again! Doesn’t that sound just lovely?

[be11atrixthestrange]

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a very complicated coffee order. Prompt: Meet Cute

Top 4 in the 2021 Romione Ficlet Fest!

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Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

It's seven o'clock on a Monday, and the morning rush is in full swing at The Burrow. Forming a line out the door and around the block are dozens of important, yet fidgety business people with complicated coffee orders, and little patience.

Ron Weasley opens every morning, Monday through Friday, and he handles it well. Most customers are regulars, and he's already memorized their morning joe specifications.

The majority of the morning crowd has been forgiving of the occasional slip-up. Seven years of working the first shift at the family-owned coffee shop means a history of accidental extra-whipped cream, almond milk instead of soy, and finger-slips on the espresso machine, and the customers always return.

Maybe it's because they're too tired to notice their Americanos are actually Flat-Whites. Or maybe it's the hospitable vibe of The Burrow that makes complaining about bad latte art seem as petty as telling Grandma her muffins are dry.

Every now and then, there's a new customer, and Ron has to whip out his earnest, people-pleasing attitude to assure that the newbie sticks around. He'll do what it takes to turn them into a regular, and make them thankful that they chose the local joint over the cookie-cutter corporate shop across the street.

'Take an interest in their day!' his Mum would say. 'Validate their order! Then make sure to ask their name, and use it!'

Monday morning, at seven o'clock, is one of those times.

"Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato."

"Size?"

"Medium."

The customer is about Ron's age, and probably new in town. She doesn't yet know that at The Burrow, 'Double Macchiatos' are simply called 'Tall Macchiatos', and instead of 'small', 'medium', and 'large', The Burrow's sizes go by their family pets in order of mass: Pig, Errol, and Chudley.

"Great," he says, grinning, "coming right up."

"Make sure it's almond milk," she reminds him.

"Yup."

"And Hazelnut," she adds.

"Yup."

"Double-shot—"

"I heard you," says Ron impatiently. Have a little trust, lady.

"Okay, just making sure!"

"Can I get a name for the order?"

"Hermione."

Ron stares at the girl. Her brown eyes are round and drowsy, her hair is unkempt and wild, which contradicts the clean lines of the business suit she's wearing. She looks so normal. "Can you repeat that?"

"Hermione. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E."

He hadn't asked her to spell it, and the way she emphasizes each syllable reminds Ron of how adults would read to him when he was a kid. It's condescending.

"Coming right up, Hermione."

"Great."

Ron resists rolling his eyes. He can handle a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato, and if he screws it up, she probably wouldn't even know the difference. Most customers wouldn't.

As Hermione paces by the counter checking her watch, he whips up a medium, double, hazelnut, almond milk ...cappuccino. Just to test his theory, of course.

"Here you go!"

He hands the drink to Hermione and watches as she takes a sip. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, he's convinced she can tell…

Then her face melts back to a polite grin. "Thank you!"

Maybe she can't. Ron shakes his head as she turns and leaves, turning his attention to the next customer's order.

Hermione returns on Tuesday morning at 7 am sharp. Her hair is pulled back into a stiff, tight ponytail that just barely lassos her wild mane, and she probably checks her watch fifteen times while in line. Ron suppresses a scoff—she can just make coffee at home if she's in such a rush.

"Morning, Hermione!" he says with a forced smile. "Same as yesterday?"

She looks taken aback at first, clearly not expecting him to remember her name. "Um, yes, same as yesterday."

"Coming right up."

"Medium, Double, Hazelnut—"

"Almond Milk Macchiato," he says. "I got it."

"Okay," shrugs Hermione, eyebrows raised. "Then do it."

What's her problem? "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she snaps. "I need coffee, not a counseling session."

Wow. He wants to retort back, but his mother's nagging voice in his head stops him. 'Always be extra-polite to grumpy customers; remember they haven't had their coffee fix yet.'

"Of course," Ron says through gritted teeth, in as polite a tone as he can manage. To satisfy his desire to argue, he whips her up a medium, double, hazelnut soy macchiato, only half-hoping she doesn't notice.

He doesn't get a chance to see if she does, because she's out the door before a single sip.

Her Wednesday return is accompanied by a looming dread in the pit of Ron's stomach. He hates rude people, especially at 7am. Ron spots her impatiently tapping her foot in line, as usual, and prepares himself for their interaction.

"Hello," he says politely, stopping himself before the natural 'how are you?' escapes his lips. "What can I get for you today?"

"Hi," she says with a sheepish smile. "The same as yesterday."

"Which is?"

"Erm," she stammers, her expression confused, "a medium—"

"I'm kidding," he laughs, "I know your order."

"Oh. Thank you."

She pays, and Ron fixes her a medium double caramel almond milk macchiato.

"Sorry about yesterday," she says when she picks up her drink. "You were just trying to be nice, and I was rude."

"Oh," starts Ron, who isn't expecting an apology. "That's okay. Happens a lot during the morning shift."

She smiles and nods before turning around to leave, taking a sip on her way out the door. Ron watches for her reaction, but doesn't catch it.

She seems to be in a better mood by Thursday.

"The usual," is all she says when she arrives at the counter, but this time she's smiling. She looks different when she smiles—pretty. Something else unidentifiable replaces the dread in his stomach. Ron wonders if it's the first time he's seen her smile or if it's just the first time he's noticed.

But based on the tired circles under her eyes, she's exhausted, so Ron prepares her a medium triple hazelnut almond milk macchiato. An extra shot of espresso never hurt anyone, and maybe it'll help her get through the day. Or maybe, she'll experience a coffee crash and have to return to The Burrow later.

Both good things.

"Just so you know," she says as Ron hands over her cup, "it's been a stressful week. I started a new job, and it's not going well."

"I'm—I'm sorry to hear that," says Ron. He looks into her eyes, and for a moment, they soften. There's more to her tough and professional exterior.

"These have made the week just a little better," she adds, holding up her macchiato, before smiling softly and turning to leave.

Of course, Hermione requests her usual on Friday, and Ron is quickly running out of ideas for ways to screw with her order.

In celebration of the weekend, he might be able to pass a large off as a special treat. Other than that, he has to stick to the request—a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato. The first of the week. Better not mess it up.

As soon as he pops the cap onto her cup, it looks empty. He reaches for his marker again and scribbles something else—his phone number.

He's not sure what compels him to do it. Maybe it's because the larger size leaves so much white space. It could be because the grumpy brunette has been occupying his thoughts all week — he's never purposely tried to fuck up someone's coffee five days in a row.

Or maybe, it's because when she walked in this morning, he smiled, and he just wants to learn more about the woman who thinks she knows what a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato tastes like.

She'll probably ignore it anyway.

But later that day, his phone buzzes on the counter, and he scrambles for it faster than he'd run away from a mob of spiders.

The text is from an unknown number, but there's no mystery. It only took five days, but you finally got my order correct!

Ron scowls at his phone. She knew? She was duping him?

Well, Hermione, why'd you keep coming back?

As soon as the message sends, he's impatient, tapping his foot, pacing, and jittery. Just like Hermione every morning.

His phone flashes and buzzes, and Ron almost drops it by checking too quickly.

It wasn't for the coffee…

[vibrant-leaf]

A Miraculous Second Chance

🧡 ~KiriBaku Drabble~ ❤️

Summary: An accident happens and Bakugou has a bad head injury that affects his relationship with Kirishima.

Warnings: cursing

So I realize that this drabble has a lot of holes and things wrong with it but I won’t ever actually write this because it’d be a lot to tackle, especially with basically rewriting Bakugou’s much needed character development buuuuut I thought of this and needed to share it. This was just a series of messages in a discord so, it’s choppy, there’s grammar mistakes, I go back and forth between Kiri and Kirishima, but I still love it. So I hope you enjoy it for the mess that it is 😊

Bakugou and Kirishima are dating, it’s their third year at AU, Bakugou is out on a work study mission, fighting villains ya know the norm, but something goes wrong and he hits his head somehow, gets knocked out, and has to go to the hospital. Once Kiri gets word that he’s hurt he rushes to the hospital and by the time he gets there Bakugou has only been awake for about 5-10 minutes and the doctor is talking to him and his parents are outside of his door. Kiri runs for his room and Mitsuki sees him and tries to speak to him, “wait Kirishima we need to talk to you real quick” but..

“I need to see him! Just let me him first please!”

Mitsuki tries to stop him but he barges through anyway.

“Katsuki!! Oh my god thank god you’re okay!” He walks over to Bakugou and hugs him but Bakugou is freaked out and pushes him off.

“Don’t fucking touch me who do you think you are?!”

Eijirou backs away from him to give him some space. “What- katsuki it’s okay it’s me, it’s Eijirou.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are- and stop using my given name!”

And Eijirou is just stunned. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, eye brows scrunched up.

Mitsuki speaks up again, “Kirishima, honey. A word?”

Bakugou is just glaring at him and he can’t take it so he walks out of the room and next to Bakugou’s mom.

Kirishima is gutted. Understandably. With Bakugou being Bakugou he’s not gonna continue a relationship with some random stranger. (I’ll be continuing with bulletpoints)

Last thing Bakugou remembers is him finding out he got accepted into UA

Kiri had to explain the situation to rest of the BakuSquad and they now understand that Bakugou will be okay he just needs some space from everyone so he doesn’t get overwhelmed so they can’t bombard him with their usual nonsense.

But then BakuSquad asks about their relationship and Kiri just shakes his head and says “but I don’t blame him” and he’s been trying to hold back his tears. Of course he cried the night he saw Bakugou in the hospital but since then he’s been trying to suck it up because itd be selfish of him to cry over their relationship when Bakugou is going through something worse, right? So he should just be thankful that he’s alive and okay. But the bottle that’s been filling up with his emotions for the past couple days inevitably explodes and he starts to sob in front of his friends.

Bakugou is back to keeping his distance from everybody.

At first he’s given a little time to adjust to his “new” life before he asks about everything that’s happened to him but he definitely wants to know everything.

Kiri is trying to be friendly towards him. says hi to him every morning, tries to ask him questions about what he last remembers.

He gets a stern answer, “that I got accepted into UA.”

He hates the answer because that means Bakugou knows literally nothing about Kirishima, and what him and his class went through, or things they’ve done together.

Kirishima is hurting but he thinks he’ll be okay because at least he still gets to see Bakugou everyday.

He once accidentally called him Katsuki and apologized profusely. But what Kiri doesn’t know (thanks to Bakugou’s glare) is that Bakugou maybe, sort of, kind of liked the way his name sounded coming from Kiri’s mouth JUST A LITTLE THOUGH OKAY?

They soon become sort of friends again and Kiri is ecstatic by the minuscule amount of progress.

There’s a test coming up and Kiri asks Bakugou if he can help him study.

“Why the fuck would I wanna do that, Shitty-hair?”

“oh.. right.. sorry. Um, I’ll just ask Yaoyorozu then.” Kiri at least tries to think about the silver lining that is Bakugou calling him “shitty-hair” for the first time since the incident, but he’s still sad.

The sad look on Kiri’s face is foreign and horrible and why the fuck can’t Bakugou stand to look at it?! “Shut up. If you need help you might as well get it from the best in the class. I’ll help you. But don’t even think about mentioning it to the others” - there that’s better. That bright smile is back on Kiri’s face. Bakugou has to bite his cheek to keep him from smiling even the slightest bit.

 CUE THE FIRST NIGHTMARE.

Bakugou is surrounded by people he’s never seen before, everything around him is just rubble, and these people are trying to capture him, but he’s dodging and fighting back.

He wakes up to loud knocking on his door and realizes he’s sweating and breathing super heavy.

He lets Kiri in his room.

Kiri is asking if he’s okay and if he had a nightmare.

Bakugou gives short and simple answers as he tried to calm his breathing down.

He’s finally calm and he tells him what his dream was about.

Kiri is shocked tries his best to calmly break it to Bakugou that that actually happened.

They decide to tell Aizawa and Recovery Girl tomorrow but for now Bakugou wants to try and go back to sleep.

Cut Kiri some slack here, he’s half awake and his brain is in Comfort-Bakugou Mode, so when he tries to slide under the covers of Bakugou’s bed he’s all the sudden getting yelled at.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shit shit! Shit! We would- or I would- um uh.. well we used to sleep together sometimes and especially if you had a nightmare.. but it’s okay I’ll just leave! Goodnight Ka- Bakugou!” And Kiri runs out of his room feeling absolutely mortified.

Bakugou is just sitting in his bed stunned. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was fucking KIDNAPPED once.. but he was also thinking about how that was the first time Kirishima said anything about when they were together. He tries not to think about what their relationship could’ve been like because it’s doing something weird to him like holy shit they slept in the same bed??? That guy?? With the stupid red hair?? Hair that honestly looked better down if Bakugou was concerned but he shouldn’t be, so he isn’t…

As Bakugou is falling asleep he thinks about how he finally wants to know about everything that happened to him in the last two and a half years.

So Bakugou talks to aizawa and recovery girl the next day and he gets a brain scan to see if maybe that one part of his brain that was damaged was healing at all.

The result: nothing much has changed with his brain.

He’s starting to get frustrated because he wants to remember but it looks like there was no hope of that happening anytime soon so he has to settle for stories from other people.

Sure he wants to know everything but good God a lot of shit has happened so he decides vague details for now are best.

Kiri just pretends that he didn’t try to sleep with Bakugou the night before and tries his best to act normal around him and it helps that Bakugou doesn’t bring it up.

Kiri really wants to tell him about their relationship though.. maybe one day. But as soon as he thought he was feeling better, he’s back to excusing himself from the lunch table because he can’t stop thinking about how much he loves Bakugou and wants him back and fuck he just really needs to have a cry right now. Luckily there isn’t anyone in the bathroom so he’s able to cry in peace.

Over the next week Bakugou has a couple more nightmares and Kirishima simply goes over to his room to check on him and it kills him that that’s all he can do for him now.

But on one night, it’s Bakugou’s turn to be pounding on Kirishima’s door.

Kiri quickly gets out of bed to open his door “Bakugou? You alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…”

“Tell you.. what?”

Bakugou just stares into his soul, takes him in, his pretty hair that barely reaches his shoulders, his eyes, the scar above his right eye, his whole face, his lips- okay that’s enough... 

“Bakugou, I’ll tell you anything you want-”

“Why didn’t you tell that you were the one who.. who was there.. who called out to me.. whose hand I grabbed to escape those villains..”

Kirishima just stands there dumbfounded and says nothing because he didn’t really have a good answer to his question. Why didn’t he tell him? Because it was too much about them? Yeah maybe but looking at Bakugou’s face right now makes him feel real stupid for telling him nothing about that.

“I.. I really don’t know.. I’m sorry Bakugou.”

“Do you not have feelings for me anymore?”

Kiri could fucking laugh right now because that was the furthest thing from the truth, but of course he refrains.

“No! That’s not it at all.. I mean.. sorry I just.. I didn’t think you would want to know about us? Our relationship? I don’t know.. I feel dumb now for not telling you that at least.”

Bakugou keeps staring at him and Kirishima has no clue what to say or do with himself right now.

But Bakugou is annoyed. Annoyed that Kirishima wouldn’t tell him about that. Annoyed at how he’s been feeling towards Kirishima recently. Annoyed at how he wants to know everything about them, their relationship, what they did together, what sleeping next to him was like. He’s annoyed and he’s gonna do something about it.

So Bakugou takes a giant leap of faith, grabs Kirishima’s shoulders, and crashes his lips onto his. He really hopes that they’ve kissed before, otherwise this would probably be pretty fucking weird to do.

Kiri doesn’t kiss back right away because his brain needs to process what the hell is actually happening right now. But once he realizes that he isn’t in fact dreaming he puts his hands on Bakugou’s face and kissed him back.

When they pull apart they’re both breathless and blushing.

Bakugou’s stomach is doing flips and Kirishima is putting on the biggest smile he’s ever seen on him. And he’s almost mad at himself for not being able to remember what Kirishima looks like after kissing him like that. But he burns it in his memory this time and he silently swears to himself and to Kirishima that he’ll never forget again.

“I want to know everything about us.”

Kirishima can’t help it... he starts crying. But he’s crying because he’s so fucking happy and relieved and oh my god Bakugou kissed him again. “Okay, yeah. I’ll tell you everything.”

Bakugou lets a small smile form on his face. “It’s Eijirou, right?”

Kirishima nods frantically and wraps his arms around Bakugou’s neck and continues let the tears of joy fall down his face.

~Fin.

[gamerwoo]

Wonwoo: Hearing Lips

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/warnings: non idol au, angst, a little fluff, a little crack, terminal illness/cancer, implied major character death. basically this starts out a lil happy but just gets worse and worse as it goes on

Word count: 3,053

Summary: Sometimes relationships get hard. Sometimes someone cheats. Sometimes someone doesn’t feel the same anymore. And sometimes, someone gets sick and things take a turn for the worst. But in the last instance, no matter how hard things get, you stick beside them until the end. Because you love them.

a/n: i wanna make a second part at some point bc i have an idea for it but i have a lot of shit to do so we’ll see

Wonwoo took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He looked down at the clippers that one of his friends, Minghao held in his hand.

“This sucks,” was what he decided to say.

You pursed your lips and nodded slowly. It was at that stage where your husband’s hair was starting to fall out, but he decided he didn’t want to go through all that. Wonwoo asked if you would care if he just shaved his head to avoid the hair loss. You asked him why you’d care.

“What if I’m ugly?” was his response, which made both of you chuckle.

“You’re always going to be the most handsome man on the planet to me,” you replied.

So he called on his friend, Minghao to do the cutting for him. A handful of his other friends showed up, promising to shave their own heads along with Wonwoo just so he wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Why can’t I do it?” Mingyu whined. “We’ve been friends longer!”

“Because you’d probably shave his ear off,” Joshua scoffed.

As the group began to tease Mingyu, Minnghao turned to you, offering the clippers to you, “Are you sure you don’t want to do it, _____?”

You looked down at the clippers, considering it. But ultimately, you shook your head, “What if I shave his ear off?”

“The only thing I want to lose today is my hair, thanks,” Wonwoo nodded.

“Alright,” Minghao turned the clippers on, but Wonwoo didn’t react to the noise. The sound of the clippers didn’t scare him like he thought they might. Just because he had to shave his head, that didn’t mean it was the end. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged before he sat in the chair placed in front of Minghao.

While Minghao shaved Wonwoo hair, the strands falling in clumps on the floor around him, the rest of you watched and told various stories of times you’d hung out together just to lighten the mood and make each other laugh. Like the time Soonyoung stuck bubblegum in Jeonghan’s hair to see if peanut butter would actually get it out. Or when they managed to convince Seokmin that girls don’t have to shave, their hair just falls off when it gets too long. 

The rest of the boys took turns sitting down in front of Minghao before Josh did the younger boy’s hair. 

Admittedly, Wonwoo pulled the bald look off.

Seungcheol absolutely did not.

-

“Where are you going?”

You had heard the bedroom door closed and turned your head away from the TV in time to see Wonwoo walk down the hall. You’d brought him home from his chemotherapy appointment and knew he was supposed to be resting afterwards, so you were concerned as to why he was going down the hall.

“Office,” he replied.

You got up from the couch and went to follow him, “Why?”

“Bills.”

Wonwoo was always a stickler for paying the bills on time, but you weren’t sure why he didn’t just let you do it or simply ask you to do it for him.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you told him.

“I’ll be sitting in a chair, it’s fine,” he said before entering the office and shutting the door behind him.

With a sigh, you retreated back to the living room, deciding to text one of your friends to see what to do. Wonwoo had been getting a bit touchy lately, and you didn’t want to tell him what to do and make him mad. So your best option was to get advice because you didn’t want Wonwoo to pass out in the office or something.

To Hansol: wonwoo wont lay down

From Hansol: ???? whats he doing?

To Hansol: paying the bills in the office

From Hansol: ah

From Hansol: maybe he wants to make himself useful??

To Hansol: wdym

From Hansol: all he’s supposed to be doing now is basically nothing

From Hansol: things arent looking good rn

From Hansol: he probably want to do things for you and himself while he still can

You stared at your phone, feeling a pang in your chest reading the texts. You let out a sigh and set your phone down, letting Wonwoo stay in the office to do the bills.

-

it was the first time all of the guys had come over since putting Wonwoo’s bed in the living room. It was the only place with enough space since it was a hospital bed, and Wonwoo would at least always have the TV since the only thing he could do at this point was lay in bed.

“Wish I could sleep in my living room,” Soonyoung said.

“Yeah, I bet your girlfriend wishes that, too,” Jeonghan nodded.

Once a month, they’d all have a game night where the thirteen of them would gather at someone’s house to play something, whether it be Uno, poker, Cards Against Humanity, or whatever else they could come up with for that many players. But until your husband got better, it would have to be at your house all the time.

You gave them their space despite insisting they could include you in the game. You decided to just go to the office and use Wonwoo’s PC to play some games and watch a little YouTube. 

In the living room, the boys were playing Uno together while talking and laughing together. A few of them were drinking beer as well, but most of them stuck to soft drinks instead.

“How’re you doing lately, Woo?” Jeonghan asked after taking a sip of his drink.

Wonwoo shrugged with a sigh, “Fine, I guess. I can only use this blanket because the others feel bad on my skin. I’m bored. I’ve watched like, every YouTube video ever at this point.”

“How do you feel, though?” Chan wondered.

“Tired.”

Junhui laid down a card before looking over at Wonwoo, “How’s _____ been?”

“She’s an absolute angel,” he chuckled. “She takes care of me and everything. She’s the strongest person I know.”

“If you ever need one of us to stay here for a couple days to help out, you know you can ask,” Jihoon stated with a handful of them nodding or giving various sounds of agreement.

“Neither of us wants to bother anyone.”

“It’s not a bother,” Seungcheol said, looking Wonwoo in the eyes. “Neither of you will ever be a bother.”

Jeonghan nodded, “We know things are going to get tough and we’re here for you guys. Just say the word.”

“Yeah...” Wonwoo shrugged with a deep sigh as he put down a card when it was his turn, “there are days worse than others. But lately, it’s been okay, I guess. At least, that’s what she leads me to believe.”

“Yeah, _____’s never been one to break down in front of people,” Seungkwan mumbled.

“I hope she’s doing okay, though,” Wonwoo frowned. “I feel so bad for her...”

You truly were the strongest person Wonwoo knew for doing just about everything for not only him, but for yourself and everything around the house. And you did it all without ever showing if you were feeling negatively -- at least, not around him. Wonwoo thought you were absolutely amazing, but inside, he felt guilty for doing this to you.

But like you’d never tell Wonwoo when you felt overwhelmed, he’d never tell you how he felt, either.

-

It was one of those days. One of those bad days. You felt like the world was crumbling right in front of you but there was nothing you could do about it. You were sad, scared, stressed out, and you didn’t know what to do next or who to go to. You always just kept things bottled inside even though your friends and family told you it was better to talk to people about things. But you didn’t want to seem like you were complaining about Wonwoo. It wasn’t your husband that was the problem, it was the situation.

You had taken Wonwoo’s empty dinner plate from the living room to the kitchen, setting it in the sink. You dropped your head, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you squeezed your eyes shut to keep the tears threatening to escape from spilling. 

Something one of the nurses had said to you during one of Wonwoo’s hospital visits was to be careful of what you say, even quietly, around him.

“People with cancer and the like tend to just hear really well,” she explained. “Especially when they can’t open their eyes anymore. Their hearing is scarily good. Don’t say anything bad around him because he will hear it.”

You learned to only let out your emotions when you were alone in your bedroom, but you couldn’t make it through the living room to get there. So you just stood in the kitchen, trying to compose yourself to go back out into the living room to sit with your husband.

“This is too hard,” you just barely whispered to yourself.

“I know,” you heard Wonwoo say softly from the living room, “I’m sorry, love.”

You lifted your head, your heart breaking hearing him apologize. You didn’t even think about how he heard you, rushing into the other room to promise that you weren’t talking about him. As you walked up to his bed, he looked up at you with a sad half-smile.

“I know I’m making things tough,” he continued quietly. “I’m really sorry you have to deal with it.”

“No, baby, no,” you quickly shushed him, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s not you, it’s the situation. You’re not difficult or making things difficult. None of this is your fault.”

Wonwoo didn’t really like things touching his skin because it had become so sensitive and felt weird when most things touched it, but he leaned into your touch and put his hands over yours. He noticed the tears welling up in your eyes and reached one hand up to brush his thumb under one of your eyes.

“It’s okay if you need to cry, you know,” he told you. “You keep everything to yourself and that’s not healthy.”

You shook your head, whispering so your voice wouldn’t break, “I have to be strong for you. I don’t want to cry and scare you that things are getting bad.”

He chuckled sadly, “_____, I know things are bad. You’re stressed. You can cry, it’s okay.”

Hearing him say that broke you for some reason. You collapsed in the chair you kept beside his bed and just cried while he held your hand. That was the first time you cried in front of Wonwoo in a long time.

While you cried, you heard him softly tell you, “You’re still the strongest person I know.”

-

Despite not wanting to go, Wonwoo had to be admitted to the hospital. You weren’t sure for how long, but he was complaining about feeling sick and neither of you were sure if it was cancer-related or not. But the doctors decided it was best to keep an eye on him for a couple days until he was feeling better.

Unfortunately, he was getting to a point where his eyes didn’t open as often. Even if he was awake, sometimes he just looked like he was sleeping. You were told that would happen eventually, and whenever Wonwoo looked at you, you looked back at him and tried to memorize the shade of brown as if it would be the last time you’d ever see his eyes.

Jeonghan came to visit you at the hospital after finding out you were there for an entire day without anybody besides Wonwoo. So he rushed there after work and sat with you in Wonwoo’s hospital room, both of you trying to keep your voices down since Wonwoo seemed to be sleeping. You knew if Wonwoo knew that one of his friends were there, he would’ve been talking to them.

Jeonghan reached out with his foot, nudging your shin with the tip of his sneaker to get your attention. You looked over at him. He mouthed something to you, but you weren’t sure what it was.

You cocked your head to one side, mouthing, “What?”

He leaned forward, so you did, too. He tried to whisper his question as quitely as he could, but you still heard absolutely nothing, and you were having trouble reading his lips.

“What?” you mouthed again.

“He asked if you paid the bills on time,” Wonwoo murmured, still looking like he was asleep, “but it’s okay if you didn’t.”

The only part of Wonwoo that moved was his mouth. Even once he was done talking, he looked like he had been sleeping the entire time. You wondered if you almost inaudible conversation was heard loud and clear to him.

“O-oh,” you said. “Um, my mom reminded me, yeah.”

“Did you...have enough?” Jeonghan wondered.

“Please don’t offer us money again,” you frowned.

“You know I have more than enough for myself. And you’re always staying home to take care of Wonwoo. I just want to make sure you’re both okay fanatically.”

It was true that Jeonghan made pretty good money. And considering his last relationship didn’t work out, he only had to support himself. For what he got paid, he definitely had some to spare. Still, neither you nor Wonwoo wanted to take ‘free money’ from your friends.

You opened your mouth to reply, but a nurse had walked in and asked to speak with you. You sent a playful glare toward Jeonghan before you got up and left the room.

Jeonghan was unaware that Wonwoo’s hearing had gotten so strong, and the fact he heard the question surprised him. So he wanted to test it to see how good it was, mouthing something else.

“No, Jeonghan, you can’t steal my wife,” Wonwoo sighed with the hints of a smirk on his face. “At least not until I’m dead.”

Jeonghan ignored the dark addon at the end, letting out a chuckle, “That’s kind of spooky, dude.”

“I hear everything now,” he said.

The older boy sat back in his seat, staring over at his friend who still had his eyes closed -- despite that, he still had his glasses on for whatever reason, “Have you actually...talked with _____ about that, though?”

“About you stealing her?”

“No. Have you told her if you’d want her to move on if you actually do...y’know?”

“Yeah. When I was first bedridden, I figured I should mention it. I told her to just find someone who makes her happy, even if it was one of you. I just said she can’t marry Soonyoung because he’s a fucking idiot.”

Jeonghan let out a laugh, leaning forward in his chair, “Yeah, I don’t think any of us would let that happen. Even Soonyoung knows he wouldn’t be good enough for her.”

“I’m glad she’ll at least have you guys if anything happens,” Wonwoo hummed. “You’ll watch out for her. You’ll make sure she doesn’t get into any shady relationships or do anything reckless.”

“Why do you always assume we need to be there?”

“Because I need to be prepared.”

Jeonghan sat back in his seat again, not knowing what to say. He just stared at his friend, hoping that he was preparing for nothing.

-

You had a bad feeling this was coming, but you were hoping it was just your anxiety telling you that. But when the doctor told you that you had to have the papers signed, you knew that there wasn’t any going back now.

Wonwoo was going to die.

Just in case, he had already gone to have the papers drawn up for if he’d want to be revived or not if anything should happen. But he had forgotten to get them from your attorney so they had to be retrieved and signed. But you were specifically told you couldn’t just instruct your husband to sign them. You had to sit there and explain what everything was, and then he could sign them. You just weren’t sure if you could do that.

Seungcheol was the one who went into Wonwoo’s hospital room with you with the papers. You sat down by Wonwoo’s bed while Seungcheol sat in a chair across the room and watched, just there for emotional support if you needed it.

“What’re those?” Wonwoo asked.

“I need to go over these with you,” you told him.

You sat by his bed with his table pulled out as you read the papers and explained what they meant. You already knew the decisions Wonwoo had made, but reading them and saying them out loud was hard, especially knowing that this was how things would end. He said he didn’t want to be revived because he knew how hard it would be on you. He wanted to make things quicker and easier.

“So if you’re to...start...going...you don’t want--”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you choked on your tears, coughing to clear your throat.

And that’s when Wonwoo knew. This was it.

“Why’re you crying?” he asked quietly. He knew this was coming. He knew you knew this was coming. But he knew you wanted to believe it wouldn’t. 

You sniffed while you tried to control your breathing so you wouldn’t break down sobbing. But it didn’t work, tears already falling down your cheeks as you whimpered, “I don’t want you to die.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Seungcheol got up and stood beside you, rubbing your back to comfort you despite tears of his own escaping from his eyes. He couldn’t even say anything to help you feel better because he knew nothing would work. So he helped you go over the papers with Wonwoo while all three of you tried to choke back tears.

-

It was getting close. You knew it was. You just had a feeling that stuck with you all day, so you never left Wonwoo’s side. You held his hand and sat beside him for hours, trying to keep your crying as silent as you could while you mouthed ‘I love you’ as many times as you could because you were too afraid of your voice breaking if you spoke.

But you knew Wonwoo heard every word.

[galaxiesandstarlightinherveins]

Something Good Can Work

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: Reader has a flare up and the Master is there to comfort you. Hurt/Comfort 

CW: Depression. Chronic Illness. 

A/N: I’ve never written Y/N before. Never been into it to be honest. But I’m obsessed with Dhawan!Master and I’ve been having a flare up so here we are. 

It was nine at night, a mindless television show filled the silence of your lonely apartment, and you were overwhelmed. It snuck up on you, a slow creeping suffocation that stole your breath and led your mind to dark places. The panic of it all made you restless. Your foot tapping out a familiar beat of four as you stared off into space. You couldn’t focus. There was a haze that overtook you and muddled your thoughts. It was a struggle to maintain any sense of coherence.  

The Master left you on Earth weeks ago saying that he couldn’t afford to waste time looking after his pet when he had a delicate scheme to execute. It wasn’t his leaving you that made you like this so much as it was the absence of the distraction he could provide. The mania, chaos, the do or die that so very often came with his travels, and the destruction he enjoyed bringing to the universe provided a constant distraction from the tangled mess in your head and the tremors in your body. 

Now that he was gone, it all came rushing back. You’ve always been isolated from the people around you. Your mental state and bad rough making it difficult for you to keep up with friendships. You have long since stopped talking to your family, no longer able to handle the toxicity that came with your mother. What little social skills you had were especially shot after traveling with the Master for so long. 

You were bored and lonely and in so much pain. The Master knew of your chronic illness but you rarely ever discussed it with him. You were constantly pushing yourself past your limits to keep up with him. After all, you didn’t want to give him any reason to leave you for good. So you pushed and you pushed. Fatigue left your body heavy with pain and still you pushed. You made sure that he would never know of just how much of a struggle it was for you to travel with him. It often led to flare ups like this when he leaves you and you can finally stop for a minute and let your body rest. 

“Shh…” You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the Master wiping away your tears. You didn’t even hear him arrive. You’ve never seen him so concerned before. He was on his knees before you, looking up at you with his sad puppy eyes. His eyes, usually so manic and angry, were soft at the sight of you. It was disconcerting to say the least. 

“Master?” Your voice was timid, scared of what he may say. You’ve spent so much time and effort avoiding having him see you in such a state. You didn't want him to know. He already thought you weak, there was no telling what he’d think of you now. 

“Y/N, what's wrong?” The Master held your face in between his palms. Those hands have destroyed planets, brought entire dynasties to their knees, seduced kings and queens, and now they’re comforting you. “Hey, I’m here now, love. What happened?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to talk. You simply didn’t have the focus or energy to. Instead, you felt yourself break even more as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sending the both of you tumbling to the ground. He held you as you sobbed and you couldn’t hold back your emotions any longer. 

“Oi, who do I have to kill?” He said softly in an attempt to make you smile. You knew it was only half jokingly as you were aware that he’d slaughter anyone who made you upset. He has actually. You briefly remembered a commander on some planet who had said some rather cruel insults concerning you and the ensuing takeover led by an irate Time Lord. 

“No one.” You muttered, thinking you only had yourself to blame for this situation. You and your stupid body. A part of you was just happy to have him like this. He was always so sharp and callous even in his treatment of you. Your mind screamed at you, telling you that this was only a dream and that he’d never actually be here comforting you. You heard him inhale sharply and gripped you tighter. The both of you were laid out on the flour with you on his chest and you couldn’t help but hold him tighter. There was no telling the next time you could touch him like this. 

“You’re projecting, dear.” He muttered quietly, causing you to freeze. This was it. He finally realized how much of a wreck you were and he was going to leave you. The Master rubbed your shoulders in an attempt to ground you. He started to sit up, bringing you with him. His back was now against the couch and he held you against his chest. His heartbeat calmed you as it gave you something other than sheer panic to focus on. “No, no no. I wouldn’t leave you, love.” 

“But you do, all the time. I never know if you’re going to come back for me.” You admitted softly. 

“I’ll always come back, pet.” He sighed. “This is how you recuperate, right? I know that you have problems with your health and I assumed you prefer being here to heal. Our travels aren't always the easiest on you.”

“You knew? About how I…?” You trailed off. 

“How you struggle? Yes, love. You’re not exactly good at hiding your thoughts.” 

“And you still came back? I thought you hated me like this.”

“What part of I’ll always come back don’t you get.” He was annoyed and suddenly you were scared again. He ran a callous hand through his hair. “Oi. Don’t be like that. You don’t have to be scared. Just talk to me.”

“Huh?” He wanted you to talk to him? You thought he hated it when you rambled. 

“Do you really think so little of me? I know I haven’t exactly been the kindest to you, but surely you aren’t that frightened of me?” 

You didn’t have anything to respond to that. He was often so volatile that you never knew what to say without risking him exploding. You tried to be patient, knowing that he often needed to vent and have someone to go off on. But it left you unsure where you stood with him. Were you companions, friends, partners or were you nothing more than a pet to him. 

“Fuck. You are, aren't you? Is this why you never talk to me?” 

“Not frightened, no. Just nervous.” You gathered up all your nerves, knowing you were going to need them to have this conversation. Neither of you were particularly good with emotions. “There are days that you seem happy to have me around and there are days which I can't seem to do anything right. You always yell, regardless.” 

“Y/N, I, fuck.” He sighed deeply. You’ve never seen him so hesitant before. “I’m sorry. You’re always so resilient to whatever gets thrown your way. I never gave any thought to my words.” 

You chuckled sadly. “I have to be most days. It's hard living like this, traveling with you. But I love it, especially on the good days. I could do without the constant pain and fatigue, though.” 

“About that;” The Master turned you around to where he was eye to eye with you. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad? Don’t try to lie, please, I can feel it radiating from you.”

“I didn’t want to be abandoned. But you knew that already.” You buried your face in his neck, unable to look him in the eye. 

“It can’t be just that, love.” It was nice having him run his fingers through your hair. You never realized how touch starved you were before this. “There’s more to it then that. You can tell me.”

“Hmm.” By the stars, it was so nice having him here like this. Never would you have imagined him holding you and comforting you. “I didn’t want you to think any less of me. I know you hate humans already.” I couldn’t bear you hating me, you thought knowing that he’ll hear you.

“I couldn’t possibly hate you, dear.” He knew what those pet names did to you. “What I hate is thinking of you suffering in silence; too scared to talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have been more aware of your needs.” 

You tensed at that. “I’m not a pet.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re still mine; however, and I need to start taking better care of you.” He grabbed your face again, caressing your jaw. “Which means, I need you to communicate with me. Stop trying to take on everything by yourself, especially me. You can tell me to shut up, you know.” 

You started to laugh. You couldn't imagine telling the Master of all people to shut up. That would be suicide for anyone else.  You poked him in the chest. “I actually like to hear you talk most of the time. Just don’t yell, ok?” 

“I can do that.” He grinned. You probably just gave him a huge ego boost which is the last thing he needed. “In return, I need you to be open with me about your health. Let me help you.”

You nodded and bit your lip. The next request you were going to make could change everything, if he’ll allow it. “Can I stay on the TARDIS, permanently? I don’t want to be on Earth any more. At least, not without you.”

“Of course you can, dear. In fact, I would be ecstatic to have you on board full-time.”

“Then why do you leave me here? I thought you didn’t want me in the way.” 

“I thought this was how you recuperated. Whenever I come back for you after a couple of weeks, you always seem renewed.” He was playing with your hair again. It was nice. 

“You’re not wrong, but not for the reasons you think. It catches up to me when I’m here. Everything stops and I crash. Then I sleep and rest as much as I can.” You wanted to cry again. The intimacy and honesty of the situation baffled you. You weren’t used to this. The Master was being soft to you, caring for you, and it was everything you ever wanted since you started traveling with him. “Sometimes I end up in the hospital.” 

He tensed at that. “You should have told me.” 

“Yea. I should have. I’m sorry.” 

“No apologizing. We’ve been over this.”

“I’m…” You felt a finger against your lips and the Master gave you a look. “Ok, no more apologizing.”

You felt a kiss on your forehead and you froze. This was getting to be too much. 

He chuckled at your blush. “Come on now, love. Let's get you officially moved in.” 

[demibats]

make a mess. [bucky barnes]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Run-through: The love and heartbreak of knowing the Winter Soldier

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: ANGST ANGST ANGST, smut

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, was the love of your life. Over the span of the three years you were together, you came to realize that. You would’ve killed or died for him and he would’ve done the same. The magnetic attraction was evident from the moment you met him. Those memories still were as clear as the day it happened. 

“This is James,” Steve had said, introducing you to the metal-armed man, “This is Y/N.” Your eyes met and it was like you saw the future you wanted with him so badly in that millisecond.

He playfully punched Steve’s arm with the metal fist before outstretching his flesh hand to shake yours. Once he had your hand in his, he surprised you by bringing your knuckles up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said to him, blushing like mad.

He looked up at you, “The pleasure is all mine.”

The pain was still there and all too real. The heavy rocks that existed in your chest never left and you knew they’d stay there. You put on a mask, of course, to hide your pain from the heroes around you. Almost all of them saw through it, but they wouldn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting you or making things more awkward than they already were.

You assisted the Avengers in a way that went overlooked to most. You were a behind-the-scenes agent, compiling data, updating mission reports and doing much research on enemy targets or missions. You worked closely with Maria Hill, but rarely fired your gun. It was necessary to carry it and know how to operate it, but you weren’t in the line of fire often. At least, not anymore.

You kept things business as usual until you were secluded to the confines of your room. You could finally take off the mask you’d forced yourself to always wear in public. It hurt seeing Bucky every single day, having to interact with him, having to act like nothing happened between the two of you. You thought that as the days went on, it would hurt less, but it only seemed to bring more pain into your life. 

“You have a lot of freckles on your back.” He mumbled into the back of your head, his metal arm cradling you protectively, his body pressed against yours.

You turned your head back slightly, trying to look at him with a sarcastic expression, “Well quit looking at them.” You snapped, your cheeks heating up as he pointed this out to you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how shy his observation made you, “No way, doll, I’m gonna count all of them.”

As he slinked down your back, counting the freckles, he placed gentle kisses on your skin. Eventually he was down between your legs, having given up on counting the freckles. Instead, he caressed your hips, face buried in between your thighs, flicking his tongue against your clit rapidly. You arched your back against his face, tugging on his mocha-colored locks, signaling to him that he was doing a good job, to say the least. 

The memories you had couldn’t just disappear. You thought about them daily, hourly. You wished you could have that back again, to have him back in your arms, back in your life in the way he was. It just wouldn’t happen and both of you knew it. You knew that no matter the years that you spent together, the connection you had, the memories that plagued both of your thoughts, that that life you had built no longer existed. It only existed in memories. 

You kept yourself busy almost every day, working when you were scheduled not to, working during your breaks. It kept your mind off of the inevitable thoughts that would come once you were alone. Some days you were angry for constantly throwing yourself a pity party, some you were numb to all feelings and some you were so hellbent on keeping yourself busy that you managed a subtle smile every once in a while. It hurt like a bitch thinking that Bucky was actually fine. That was another thought that kept you up at night. How he might be sleeping just fine while you toss and turn without the heavy dip in your beside you, created by his weight. 

“You act like I can’t take care of myself, James.” You rarely ever used his first name, but during arguments, it tended to pop up more often than not. 

Bucky stood a few feet away from you, trying to fit words together without letting his anger take over, “I have every goddamn right to worry. This is a field mission, Y/N. Of course it’s gonna make me feel uneasy.”

“I know what I’m doing! I compiled the report for this, I did the research. Quit treating me like a child.”

You couldn’t see past the worry as him almost parenting you on what you could and couldn’t do. You weren’t seeing the worried boyfriend, you were seeing a bossy, arrogant man that didn’t even exist. 

“Something could happen. Something could go wrong that none of us could expect, and you could be put at bigger risk than you already are.”

You scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean, James?”

You knew what it meant. It meant that because you weren’t genetically modified, that you weren’t some super soldier, or an enhanced individual, that you would only be a distraction to others around you.

He stuttered, trying to think o f the right words to use, but he couldn't. 

“Yeah, okay. Get the hell out of my room, James.”

No amount of self-care nights, favorite food binges or Netflix shows could fill the gaping hole in your chest. Heartbreak is no joke and you knew that. You had just never experienced it to this extent. You imagined that Bucky hadn’t either, considering his lengthy past. That thought was the only thing that kept you from sobbing into your pillow. That maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the heartbreak as well.

You thought about the reason why you and Bucky broke up often. Trying to figure out a way that maybe the two of you could still stay together. It seemed unlikely and Bucky was stubborn, he wouldn’t just give in… not even for you. You stayed up late into the night, thinking of him. How maybe some night he might sneak into your room and want you again. Some nights, you would get up and walk toward his room, but you never made it all the way there. It would be too embarrassing if he turned you away. 

“Buck, will you hand me that med-kit behind you?” Steve kept his voice calm, staring down at you as you faded in and out of consciousness. 

You tried to tell the team that you were fine, that it was just a scratch. It was actually a bullet wound that was bleeding steadily. Bucky didn’t listen to Steve, but instead continued to stare off into space, completely zoned out. Steve got up to retrieve the kit himself, purposefully nudging Bucky to try to get him to snap out of it. Steve patched you up as best as he could, then when he tried to tend to your other smaller wounds, you gestured him away. You closed your eyes, lip busted, broken cheek bone and the top to your uniform ripped away, a large bandage tightly tied around your hips to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound. 

Eventually, you passed out from blood loss and woke up in the Hospital Wing of the compound, wearing a sports bra and loose sweats. Your head ached but that was nothing compared to the feeling of guilt. Bucky knew this would happen and you fought him tooth and nail to be on that mission, to prove to him that you can handle yourself. You knew that you’d never hear the end of it.

And then you did. You heard the end of it two days later when he broke things off, explaining that you’d be safer. His voice was deadpan, avoiding eye contact the entire time. He offered no room for discussion, he only said that you’d be safer and he apologized for allowing your relationship to go on for so long that you got hurt. You were more than physically hurt after he broke up with you. You stood where he left you, angry, wanting to storm after him and yell and cry and work things out, but knew that that would get you nowhere. He made up his mind.

You’d always pictured how things could’ve worked out had you two still been together. You thought about all the dates you hadn’t gone on, about him proposing and having the perfect wedding. Maybe you’d even have kids, he’d talked about wanting a baby before briefly. You pictured them with his eyes, knowing they’d mean more than the world to both of you. These thoughts of yours weren’t helping. Sometimes they’d make you feel good for a moment, stuck in your head, daydreaming. Then you’d be snapped out of it and have to face the realization that that wasn’t in your cards anymore.

You were simply left to put yourself back together and you’d do exactly that. It’d hurt like hell at first but you WOULD be able to do it. He’d made the mess, but you’d make sure no one else would notice it.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 16 - Be Careful

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, can they bear the news?, 2.2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: cancer mention

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Julie sat beside Luke at the small table they had set up beside Rose’s bed. A stack of photos, glue sticks, stickers, scissors, and tons of colored paper covered the table, as well as another stack of photos sitting within Rose’s reach.

“Oh, look at this picture of Carlos,” Rose said in her raspy voice. She lifted one of him as a chubby two year old wearing a baseball cap that was too big, clapping his hands together.

“Aww,” Julie looked affectionately at the photo, tilting her head.

“He’s a cute kid, Mrs. Molina,” Luke said. He continued cutting music notes out of a sheet of purple paper.

“Thanks for visiting me today,” Rose said. “I heard you and the boys have been busy in the studio?”

Grinning like the goof he was, Luke nodded. Julie couldn’t help suppressing a giggle. Even though she knew he was tired from long hours and he only had a little time to get away, he’d still been all about coming with her to visit her mom this morning. She wasn’t sure he was that interested in scrapbooking, but it was sweet of him to come along.

“Yeah, it’s been so fun,” he was saying. “I don’t know how the guys in production make us sound so good. I mean, we already sound awesome, but they make it just perfect. I feel like I would go out and buy ten copies of the album when it gets out.”

Rose chuckled. “Really? That’s great to hear. I remember with the Petal Pushers, I could’ve spent hours in production, tweaking everything until it was just right. That’s why it almost took us two years to release our debut.”

“Two years?” Luke sat back, letting it sink in.

“I was a bit of a perfectionist; the rest of my band wasn’t so patient. I don’t mind though, I had other things to put my time into.” She gazed fondly at Julie, who looked back with a similar fondness, if not slightly clouded.

She wasn’t responding to treatment anymore. It had just become official last week and Julie wasn’t ready to break the news to Luke or anyone else. There wasn’t anything she could think of that would make it easier, no matter how much she knew she needed to let them know. It just seemed like everyone else was doing so well: the guys were finally moving on up, Flynn was coming out with her own music, and even she had barely finished a successful tour. But this was more than just a wrench in the gears.

In the middle of cutting out a heart, she was too lost in thought and snipped on the end of her thumb.

“Ow!” she cried, immediately sucking on it. “Do we have band aids in here?”

“Oh, sweetie,” her mom said fretfully. “I can’t remember where they are, but let me call the nurse.” She pressed a button on the remote beside her bed. Luke tried to get a look at the cut, but Julie insisted on sucking on it.

Moments later, the same woman Julie had seen before entered the room. Her hair was in a braid today, and Julie tried to smile at the sight while her thumb remained in her mouth.

“Hey, Rose, what’s up?” she asked, appearing surprised to have gotten a call.

“Sorry this isn’t a big emergency,” Rose apologized. “My daughter just cut her thumb and I can’t remember where you put the bandages.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” the nurse said, going to a cabinet and pulling out supplies to bandage Julie’s thumb. “Here, let me see it.”

Finally releasing it, Julie held her hand out and let the nurse sit down and get to work cleaning and wrapping it.

“What are we working on here?” the nurse wondered aloud, looking at the table of craft supplies.

“We’re putting together a scrapbook,” Julie told her, knowing she was using the conversation to distract her from the pain. “You know, so we don’t forget the good things.” She got a knowing look from the nurse. Her eyes were soft and full of understanding, and Julie offered her a little smile. “I know I’ve seen you before, but what was your name?”

“It’s Renee,” the nurse said. “I was just realizing that I never properly introduced myself, either.” Closing the band aid around Julie’s finger, she patted her hand and stood up.

“Well, it’s good to see you again. This is Luke, by the way.” Julie pointed toward where he was simply watching them, slightly spaced out. He blinked for a minute before smiling at Renee and nodding.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Renee smiled demurely. “Oh, well, I certainly aim for that at the end of the day.”

Luke could only respond with his dorky grin.

“Luke, here, is a musician like Julie,” Rose piped in.

“Is that right?” Renee replied, raising her eyebrows in interest. “Your family seems to attract the most talented company.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely talented,” Luke said. “But Julie’s the real wrecking ball. It doesn’t surprise me she got to touring before me and my band.”

She rolled her eyes, but Julie enjoyed the compliment. That was pretty modest for him when it came to music.

“Yes, I remember mentioning my niece is a big fan. I have to refrain from telling her you’re related to Rose, otherwise she would ask for a lot of favors.”

“Oh, how old is your niece?” Julie asked.

“She’s thirteen,” Renee said, leaning on her hand. “Just started middle school.”

“Oh, middle school is rough,” Luke murmured.

“She’s definitely having a rough time,” Renee said to all three of them. “But I think your music has made a difference. Her mom might buy her keyboard for Christmas.”

Julie looked back at Luke, who was already beaming at her, and knew what he would say. He didn’t have to, but she could hear his mantra about the importance of music echo in her brain: it’s about connecting with people, making a difference in their day. She turned back to Renee, whose pager was beeping and made her turn to leave.

“Thanks for the bandage, and of course being there for us,” she said.

“You’re welcome. Glad I could see you, too, Julie.”

“I’ll see you later, Renee,” Rose rasped as she disappeared.

“She seems pretty cool,” Luke said, picking up the music note he was still trying to cut out.

“Yeah, I like her,” Julie told him. “She gave me some good advice.”

“I know she kept talking about her niece, but I think you have another big fan,” Rose said.

“Maybe,” Julie shrugged, trying to focus again on the scrapbook.

As she and Luke left the hospital, Julie had to steal a long glance at her mom, now fast asleep. She had to remember the good things, but there were so many questions she felt like she had to answer. Now that she was off tour and back in school, it was only a matter of time before she had to return to the studio. Once that happened, visits like this would be nearly impossible. She felt a hand slip into hers and fingers interlocking, and she looked up at Luke gently nodding at her to move onward. His puppy-like eyes gave her enough courage to go.

“So how long do you have to be in the studio today?” she asked him, forcing her mind to switch gears.

“Uh...till about seven,” Luke said. “We’re mostly working on Lakeside Reflection today.”

“Aww, I love that one,” she melted into his side as they stepped into the elevator.

“I know you do,” he chuckled softly. She continued leaning on him, feeling his thumb rub over the top of her hand like a lullaby. They remained silent the rest of the way down, just enjoying each other’s company. Julie loved Luke’s calm, quiet moments where he didn’t need to use words. Like the way he used music to speak his mind, he could also communicate with the way he held her. He offered the best comfort. Stepping out of the elevator and to the front of the hospital, Julie saw Bobby’s van already waiting.

“Do you need a ride?” Luke asked.

She shook her head. “No, my tía is taking me and Carlos to see a movie. She’ll be here any minute.”

Forever a pleading look in his eyes when they said goodbye, she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him before he could suggest she change her plans. It happened so often now that she’d had to learn how to say no, no matter how hard it was sometimes.

“Okay, fine,” Luke said, the silent argument over. One hand grabbed onto her head as he planted a kiss on her forehead, letting the other slowly slip out of her fingers as he went to climb into the van. Julie waved at all the guys inside as Bobby took off before looking back down at her bandaged thumb. She still couldn’t tell them about her mom.

Tapping his fingers on the seat, Alex nervously fought to decide if he could break the news to Luke and Bobby. Reggie peeked back, giving him an uncertain glance. They hadn’t exactly discussed it or practiced what they’d say to them, but the clock was ticking. Luke and Bobby needed to know what Caleb was really like now. For some odd reason, Alex’s tongue remained on lock for the whole ride, and it seemed to plague Reggie, too. He felt his muscles twitch as they pulled into the parking lot at the studio. Listening to the squeak of Bobby’s brakes, inertia let them all lightly lurch forward before coming to a full stop.

“Guess who me and Reggie ran into last night?” Alex cried out, almost reflexively. All the guys turned back at him.

“Who?” Bobby prompted.

“Willie.”

The two of them stared at him, stunned, as Reggie took in a deep breath. It was hard to tell whether it was relief or something else.

“Reggie, is he okay?” Bobby asked him.

“Actually, yes he is,” Reggie stated solemnly. “I saw Willie too. He’s here in LA.”

Bobby looked at Luke.

“Caleb said he died. There’s no way he could be here.”

“Well, he is,” Alex said firmly. “Flynn can prove it too, we ran into her as well.”

“Alright, that’s good news, but why are you guys telling us now?” Luke queried.

“Because he knows things about Caleb,” Alex said. “Really bad things.”

Luke and Bobby both blinked and then looked at each other. Alex shot a glance over at the door to the studio. He was already afraid to enter. Caleb wasn’t always there, but he always arrived unpredictably.

“Like what things?” Luke asked.

Later that evening, all the guys sat in the garage where they usually practiced. Luke was lying on the couch, despondent as he gazed at the ceiling. Bobby was sprawled on the floor while Reggie had lain sideways across the armchair. Alex paced, occasionally running his hand through his hair.

“Anyone else never want to set foot inside that studio again?” Reggie offered cheerlessly.

“We can’t just quit making a record,” Luke contested.

“Maybe we wouldn’t feel like we want to if we hadn’t jumped the gun and just signed onto the first place that wanted us,” Bobby said. Luke sat up, clearly bothered by those words.

“Dude, what are you saying?”

“Caleb’s a creep,” Reggie supplied. “I don’t know what his game is, but if what Willie says is true, then working with him is a major no go.”

“If?” Alex retorted, stopping to target Reggie. “If we’re gonna trust anyone between the two of them, I would trust Willie. He’s not the one killing people for convenience.”

“Hey,” Bobby interrupted. “You can defend him all you want. We’re not saying we don’t trust him.”

Alex took back to pacing again. Sighing heavily, Luke sat upright on the couch.

“So what, do we just give up?” he demanded. “We didn’t work so hard to get this far just to drop our dream over one shady guy. I mean, what else could he possibly want with us?”

“Look, I don’t know,” Alex said. “But what if it’s not just about us. I mean, thanks to Caleb, Willie can barely remember who he is.” The guys fell silent and serious as that reality sank in. “I mean, he’s not the only one that Caleb has messed with for years, manipulating them into working under him and giving up almost all of their control. Maybe he doesn’t need to get foster kids for it anymore. What if we’re next?”

“So what should we do?” Bobby wondered. “Break the contract and risk losing the rights to all the work we’ve been doing?”

He had a point. Joining Luke on the couch, Alex rested his face in his hands, feeling the frustration seethe out of him.

“No, guys, we need to think about this,” Luke began saying. “I know this is messed up, but I also know that backing out isn’t the right answer. And I know I’m usually not the one to say this stuff but...we need to be careful.”

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

You’re Dead, Hargrove

on ao3 also 

Steve had cried when Billy had fallen. Had sobbed as he stood helplessly by Robin’s side while one minute Billy had been caressed by El’s hand and the next he was seemingly dead on the ground. Steve had collapsed to his knees and Robin had almost stumbled to join him. He’d gone back to his vacant home again eventually. He’d finally accepted it and he’d gotten a job. Tried to forget about everything for a while even if he knew he’d never forget it. The monsters, the screams, Billy’s lifeless crystal pools before Max herself closed her own brothers eyes. Then, a month later, he’d gotten a call with the yell of Max’s voice. 

“He’s alive!” she yelled into his ear. And then in a whisper with a rage he couldn’t quite describe, “He’s fucking alive!”

“Who?” Steve asked, only a little confused. He had a hunch. 

“Billy! He’s alive!” Steve froze up, shoulders locked and eyes unblinking. “He’s in the hospital. Has been. Apparently he was just transferred back. They called the house and asked for Neil but he wasn’t here. So they told me instead. I may have yelled at them a little. But he’s at the hospital and no one else would probably take me right now. So, can you come get me?”

Steve took a moment to catch up and Max seemingly allowed it, “I— yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a few,” he agreed. She thanked him and hung up her end of the line. 

He stood there clutching the plastic yellow kitchen telephone for a moment though. He’d hoped. He had laid awake for hours and hours with the dwindling hope that there was any chance. He knew Max had too, had called him a few nights when the house got too quiet. And the room across from hers held too many shadows. 

They’d never had a funeral. Neil Hargrove didn’t want to waste money on a casket. He’d taken that as a sign. Because funerals were a send away to the deceased right? Without one there was a bit of a halt in flow. Now, it was a lot of Neil Hargrove not wanting to waste money and the fact that the government supposedly didn’t want to give back the body. But still, Steve kept going with the coals of Billy’s survival. He was so relieved now that his limbs lost function with the way excitement rumbled in his bones. 

On his way to the Hargrove-Mayfield residence he thought to himself more. He knew that Billy would be different. After that? Steve wasn’t that naive to not think of these things. But he wanted to get along with Billy. He wasn’t going to miss this second chance. They’d both messed it up the last time. But maybe they’d be able to start something of a friendship. Call it a guess that Billy might not have many of those. 

Max brought a bright blue backpack with her when she tossed herself in the passenger seat, “Hey! So,” she buckled when he simply pointed at it over her shoulder and put the gear in reverse. “So,” she started again, “I kinda haven’t told anyone else. But I will once I see how he is,” she spoke unsurely of herself. He smiled kindly and she relaxed into the seat a little. 

“That’s a good idea, Mad Max,” he nodded as he tried to keep his jittery hands straight on the steering wheel. “We should make sure he’s better prepared for visitors. I think just us going in for now is fine. We shouldn’t bombard him.”

“Right,” she agreed, “That’s what I was thinking.” He glanced over and saw the biggest smile he thought he’d ever seen on her. He removed one shaky hand and put a fist out midair. She stared a moment and then pressed her own wobbling fist against his own. They shared a bubbly laugh while they could. 

...

Well, the room wasn’t warm. Neither was Billy by the looks of the goosebumps on his arms. But his face was pink and healthier than the last time they’d seen him. Max stood ahead of him in the doorway. All three of them had a sort of staring match. 

Until Steve spoke, that is, “Hey, Billy,” it came out as more of a whisper as he waved at the man choppily. But Billy looked at him tearily and smiled. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he looked back at his sister, “Maxine. It’s good to see ya.” His voice sounded dry and a little cracked in a few places. Like aged porcelain. He looked a bit like it too. He had thin scars that sprouted all over his skin. White and pink pale wisps that peaked out of the thin white T-shirt. There were black and blue threads that held some of the longer cuts. His hair was buzzed but it had grown to about an inch sized fuzz around his skull. 

Max rushed forward and halted right beside his bedside, “Can I hug you? Please?” her knees bent a little at the final request. Billy’s eyes were wide and reflective as he nodded. She threw her arms open but moved slowly. They clung to each other and ‘I’m sorry’s’ were tossed back and forth relentlessly. Repeated over and over again by both of them. They stayed huddled on the edge of the bed so Steve allowed himself in with silent steps. He hovered in the middle space of the doorway and the end of Billy’s hospital bed as he stared out the window respectively letting them have their reunion.

“So, Harrington,” he heard suddenly, “What’s been up since I left?” Steve looked at the two again. Max sat in the empty and partially dusty chair closest to Billy’s bedside. Her hair brightened in the sunlight that peaked through the mostly opened blinds. Billy had a pleased smile when Steve looked at him. And then he noticed the little dots contrasted against Billy’s paled skin. 

“I never realized you had freckles,” Steve answered instead. Then he jolted a little at the realization that he’d said it out loud. “I mean, cause, you know, they look...nice,” he stuttered. “They’re a good look.”

Billy smirked at his dumbfounded fumbling, “Thanks, Harrington.” His own pink ears didn’t go unnoticed. 

Steve sighed in relief silently and nodded, “Steve. You can call me Steve.”

Billy tilted his head much like an innocent bird, “Alright, Steve,” he said casually. “Missed you too,” he added after a blank moment. 

Steve eyebrows came together in his confusion, “Really?”

Billy grinned a little dopily, “Yeah.”

The room grew warmer. 

...

Steve hadn’t expected the drastic change. Sure, Billy still made his sarcastic comments and jokes. But, they were produced with a foreign sort of care. Steve found himself a little dumbfounded a couple times when Billy called him nicknames with no joking aim to his voice. 

“What’s this, Princess?” he asked when Steve handed over a folded brown paper bag. Something began to boil in Steve’s tummy and chest. 

“A puzzle,” he answered, “300 pieces,” he smiled widely. Billy raised one eyebrow and opened the bag noisily. He pulled out the box and admired the picture. It was something out of a calendar, the lineup of top model muscle cars. Silvers and golds and blues and reds and greens. “I just thought it looked cool,” Steve shrugged. He truly, definitely, absolutely hadn’t noticed the Camaro right dab in the middle. Nope. 

Billy chuckled and set it in his lap, “Well thanks,” he smiled toothily. “Welcome back, have a seat,” he gestured to the seat that Max had sat in the last time they had visited. 

Steve nodded and did as requested, “Max had homework to do so she told me to come visit alone. Hope that’s okay,” he gripped the arms of the chair and slid it so he could face Billy better. 

Something fell from Billy’s expression, eyes turned down in disappointment, “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to. I’d prefer you to actually want to be here instead, actually.” Blatant honesty was another thing Billy had taken up, or maybe he just enhanced it with all the help from the therapist that came in on Wednesday’s.  

Steve crossed his legs and kept his hands around the arm rests with furrowed brows, “What are you talking about? I was already coming, she just couldn’t make it this time around. I want to be here, Bill. Kinda want to retry the whole friend thing if you don’t mind actually,” he looked off to Billy’s shoulder. 

Billy looked surprised at that, “Wait,” he lifted his arms a little, “You want to be friends with me?” he asked. 

Steve looked back at him and smiled, “Well yeah,” he tuned, “I think we could both use a buddy.” He flapped his ebows out a little as if to nudge him goofily. 

Billy’s lips twisted, “I will not be referred to as a ‘buddy’ thank you very much,” he grumbled. 

Steve only laughed as he wrapped an arm wound himself comfortably and leaned back, “Yeah, yeah.” 

Billy opened his mouth and then closed it again before looking at Steve and opening it again, “I had my third session with Dr. Eros today.” The therapist. 

Steve looked on interestedly, “How’d it go?”

Billy relaxed more in himself, “we talked about you actually.”

Something fluttered in his abdomen nervously, “Me?”

Billy nodded, “He said,” Billy looked down and then back up again, “And I agreed, that I should apologize for how I treated you.” He seemed to be struggling for words so Steve silently let him find his footing. “You just wanted to finish high school and I just assumed you were a sucky person because of all the bullshit Tommy Hagan cranked out.”

“You know, I already forgive you,” Steve assured. Although, Billy didn’t look any bit assured at all.

“No, Steve,” he sat up and swiveled around to his feet dangled off and he could look directly at him, “You don’t need to say that. I was bad. I was,” he grew teary, “I pushed everyone good away. Anyone that was nice to me and that was horrible. So, for me, if you really do forgive me. Help remind me that I can’t push you away. You can’t forgive me that easily. That’s not how it works.”

“Seems to me that you’ve ingrained that into your own head just fine by now,” Steve smiled forlornly. 

Billy pressed his lips together, “Please, I need something earned.” Steve watched as Billy slowly got up to his feet and traveled over to the chair beside him.

“Alright, Bill, whatever you wish.”

Billy nodded determinedly, brows creased, “Thank you.” 

“Now let’s get to that puzzle,” he untangled himself and leaned forward. “I suck at them so hopefully you’ll be a bit better.” Billy snorted quietly and Steve found himself gazing and stupefied by the surprisingly adorable sound. Steve took the box to distract himself by opening it. 

“My reflexes and muscle endurance is still shit,” Billy watched Steve’s hands. “But I’ll try, Pretty Boy.” He called Steve that the most. 

They worked on the puzzle for three hours. They got distracted multiple times and had to stop when a nurse wandered in occasionally to check vitals and blood pressure or give Billy his food. They had finished and cheered half heartedly to celebrate when Billy laid back in his mattress with a long sigh. A content one. 

“Man, you know what I could really use?” he asked with his eyes closed and his long eyelashes shadowing his cheeks. 

“What’s that?” Steve stretched his back and shoulders. 

Billy stayed still, “A smoothie.”

Steve lowered his arms and stared at Billy’s, for once, peaceful face, “Really?”

Billy nodded, “Hell yeah. I love them, I do miss the Orange Julius’ they had in Cali.”

Steve shook his head, “There’s one in just the next county over,” he disagreed, “Oh, and there’s a smoothie bar that just opened actually,” he added offhandedly. He didn’t mention the one in the mall. 

Billy chuckled in a sarcastic manner, “Some people don’t like it when you’re trying to be happy, Steve.”

Steve leaned forward again to focus, “What do you mean by that?”

Billy simply opened one eye and said, “You gonna go get me a smoothie or what? Maybe it’ll be easier to down than the flavorless burgers they have here.” 

Steve shook his head, “I doubt that.” But he gave Billy a considerate hug goodbye anyway. 

...

Steve had only been gone forty minutes. But apparently that was enough time for Neil Hargrove to finally hear about his son’s arrangement in the hospital. Why Max had insisted that he didn’t know was beyond Steve’s knowledge. But he also knew that Max was smart and most likely had her good reasons. So when he heard from the nurse that he had arrived and was in the room with Billy, he ran. Ignoring her requests to slow down and not bringing the smoothies into the room. The door hit the wall when it opened and he had to act fast to keep the smoothies from tipping over and onto the floor. 

He hadn’t even had time to look up when he heard, “Oh!” and a harsh laugh. “That's why you kept looking at the door instead of at me? Thought someone was coming to save you from this?” The man sounded dangerous but Steve almost laughed when he looked up. The handlebar mustache and rectangular face. He wasn’t surprised. The man looked like the type and Steve had his own expertise when it came to reading people. Billy’s glassy and unemotional eyes were what really made the difference though. Billy had started to portray his emotions, now they were all blocked off. It was scary.

“Shut up and get away from him.” Steve hadn’t even realized he said it. But he did feel the adrenaline rush that came with the disastrous rage that surfaced. Neil’s face morphed from cruel amusement to fury in just one second. Billy’s transformed to horror. Steve felt his stomach twist but he gathered enough of a hold to offer a shaky smile to the familiar blue eyes. 

“Steve—“

“You have some nerve to speak to me that way,” Neil spoke quietly. Steve wavered for only a moment. He had faced worse monsters than the senior Hargrove. Hell, he’d faced one Hargrove already. Of course, he still wished he had his bat or Max in this round too. 

“I have more reason than nerve,” Steve spouted back and relaxed his shoulders forcefully. 

Neil looked out the door and when Steve blinked he was faced with a smiling man, “Why don’t we speak outside, boy?”

“No— Da— Sir,” Billy shifted in his spot but Steve had already turned on his heel after setting the drink tray down on an empty seat. Neil Hargrove’s footsteps followed him all the way outside and even to his car. When he heard the tempo of them speed up he ran again. Opened his trunk and took out the bat. 

“What the fuck is that?” the man roared. Steve disregarded him and gripped the hilt just like he did when he was preparing himself for a demodog. The parking lot wasn’t very empty but there was space and no one out to witness firsthand what was about to happen. 

Steve taunted the bat and held it low, “You come near me?” He nodded to the blood rusted nailed bat, “You get hit.” Neil looked frightened before he shifted to unbothered. There was a glint in his eyes. Something broken between scared and doubtful. 

“You don’t have the guts, kid,” he spoke. Steve already assumed that Neil wouldn’t be one to back down from a fight; too egotistical. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve waved the bat back and forth like a golfer before taking a swing. He made easy eye contact with the tense man, “Try me.” Neil took a step back and straightened his posture. Steve was still taller. 

“What do you want?” he asked. “Want me to stop bullying my pathetic son, eh?” he perceived unconcern. 

“Almost spot on,” Steve smiled wickedly and tightened his hold as his anger and annoyance grew uncontainable, “I want you to fuck off.” He stepped closer when Neil opened his mouth, “I have connections in this town. And I have ways to take you out in just a measly hour at any given notice. So, you leave him alone or you leave this town. Because if I see a hair out of place on him by your hand?” They were nose to nose and the tip of the closest nails were poking Neil’s chest stingingly. “You’re dead, Hargrove.” He pushed the man back with a force that made him hiss in pain when the nails dug in. Steve smiled unkindly and backed away slowly until Neil took the hint. 

Max arrived with Susan not too long after Steve had returned to Billy. He’d calmed Billy down as much as possible and then shoved a lukewarm blueberry and vanilla smoothie into his palm to cease the questions. 

Steve stayed silent through any inquisitives for most of his visit. 

...

“Max said Neil left town,” Billy opened with when Steve walked through the doorway. 

“Ran off where?” Steve asked without looking. He removed his backpack and sat in the accustomed chair as he unzipped it. 

Billy sounded on edge and relieved all at once, “No one knows, but he left two hundred in cash and his car is gone along with a forth of the house.”

Steve snorted, “Figures.” Billy grunted in what Steve supposed was agreement. 

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Billy went on as he took the paper diner cup filled with milkshake. 

“Yeah, I sneak your weekly smoothies and milkshakes in all by myself. You’re welcome,” Steve deflected. 

“Steve.” He sighed and looked at Billy. Billy looked determined and unbridled and Steve was done with side stepping. 

“I threatened him with my bat,” he said and fiddled with the straw in his own treat. 

“Why?” Billy asked curiously, not exactly what Steve had expected as the response. Maybe more of a, ‘why the hell are you interfering, Harrington?’ sort of thing.  

“Uh,” he squinted as he pondered how to answer. “Well, he’s an asshole, he hurt you, and I hate him. So I think that’s enough of a reason,” he nodded to himself and took a sip of vanilla ice cream. Billy hesitated and then did the same but didn’t take his eyes away from Steve’s. 

“Are you two having, like, a full conversation like this?” Max barged in unapologetically. “‘Cause you’re not saying anything and it’s creepy

Billy spoke before Steve could, “I got him to answer.”

Max sat by his feet on the end of the bed and swung her legs, “Care to restate?”

Billy rolled his eyes fondly as Steve watched them with his jaw lowered, “It was the bat.”

Max smirked, “I knew it. What did you say to him to shake him up so bad?” Steve settled himself with the knowledge that he'd managed to remove another monster from Hawkins as he formed an appropriate response. That he technically did the right thing, and he didn’t actually end up hurting anyone. 

“That’s just for him and I to know I think,” he deflected quietly. “And he’s gone now, so all that matters is getting Billy back on his feet.”

Billy’s eyes grew dewy but he smiled freely, “Okay,” his voice cracked with emotion. Max scowled but didn’t push it. Instead, she took off her bag and picked out a comic that Steve didn’t recognize. 

“Here,” she shoved it into Billy’s hand, “It’s a new one Dustin gave me.” When a tear fell and Billy brushed it away, no one mentioned it. At least not right away. When Max went to get a drink downstairs Steve scooted closer. 

“You know you’re not alone, right?” he looked down and grasped Billy's hand with both of his own. “You have me and Max. We’ll be here every day, Bill,” Steve swore. “No, need to waste your tears over that asshole.”

“I just never thought it would happen,” his cheeks were wet. “I mean, I don’t have either of my parents left.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched, “And you don’t need them.”

“But I do, Steve!” Billy’s hand shook even between Steve’s own. “What am I supposed to do? My mother’s somewhere off in Washington state and my father is a piece of shit that won’t even try to change.”

Steve leaned in and spoke quietly, “Both of them don’t deserve you. You’re so strong, Billy. You went up against an interdimensional monster and won. You’ve grown and you’re working on yourself, allowing yourself into therapy and getting actual help.” Billy’s lips quivered and more tears fell. “You’re so much better than them, Bill, better than them put together. So much better.” Billy pawed away the wires and Steve was halfway on the bed as he held him. 

His shoulder was drenched by the time Max returned. But Billy had a new light to his demeanor. And that was way more important. 

...

Max stopped Steve before they exited the doors to the parking lot, “We should tell the others.”

Steve stared at her, a little boggled, “Uh, okay. We can do that, yeah,” he nodded. 

“Tonight,” she looked up at him stonily. She acted like her brother more than most would think since they weren’t biologically related. Unbudging. 

“Max,” he looked at his watch, “It’s six, they’ll all be having dinner with their families.”

She laughed a little, not in an amused way either, “At least they get that luxury even if we don’t.”

“Max—“ he began warningly. 

“You don’t have to hide it, Steve,” she put her hands on her hips, “We know that your parents are practically nonexistent. They’re never around in the first place and Joyce had to drive you home from the hospital after Starcourt. And you were here for most of the week.” He sighed tiredly. He couldn’t disagree with her, no one ever disagreed with Max and won easily. 

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Mad Max,” he patted her shoulder fraternally. She looked unimpressed in return. “How about we get some KFC and you, me, and your mom can have our own little dinner.”

She smiled and he felt something release itself from the back of his mind, “Let’s go then!”

…

He may have gone a little overboard, there was lots of fried chicken and lots of mashed potatoes in his and Max’s possession as they walked into the house. Susan was reading on the small sofa as muted baseball illuminated the television box. 

“Steve bought dinner, Mama!” Max greeted loudly as she kicked off her shoes and joined her mother.

Steve laughed to himself, “Hope you don’t mind, Ma’am,” he set a bag of food beside Max’s on the table. Susan had gotten a lot more independent in just a few days. Had gone out for dinner with Claudia Henderson, made very good friends with her. Had a job in a boutique in town and everything. Max started spending more time with her now too.

“Oh, it’s just fine,” she waved his nerves off and opened a bag, “Thank you, and take a seat, Hun.” He did just that and Max went to get plates and silverware from the kitchen. Susan looked at him as she opened the containers, “How is he?” she asked earnestly. 

“He’s doing even better since you last visited,” he responded as he eyed the condensation bubbles on a lid move, “Much better actually. His motor skills are improving and he’s laughing more. We went outside the other day and watched the birds. The fresh air improved his mood a ton,” Steve smiled at the memory.

“That’s wonderful,” Susan smiled as she listened to him. “I’m glad he’s got a friend like you.”

Steve’s cheeks darkened a little, “He’s a nice friend to have.”

Susan nodded a bit distractedly and then she sat up straighter, “Oh! I’ve started re-doing his bedroom. I patched up the walls,” they both winced at that, “Repainted. All the works,” her smile was hesitant. Like she had a podium to prove too. 

“Can I see it?” Steve pointed to the hallway without looking away from her. 

She stood up, delighted, “Yes, yes,” she led him down and to a partially chipped door. She opened it and let the door swing by itself with a push. The walls were a pale blue and Billy’s bed stood lowly against the wall with white blankets and pillows. There weren’t any posters or personal belongings. Susan seemed to notice his own observations. “I only kept Neil,” she spoke his name with disgust, “From turning it into his own at home office by suggesting a guest room. I used this to cope guess,” she admitted shamefully. 

Steve shrugged and looked at the bed again, sunken lower in the middle edge, “Better than I did. I didn’t leave my bed for weeks,” he looked back at her. 

She smiled sadly and patted his shoulder, “Let’s get back. Max has most likely stopped waiting for us by now. I have a hunch it took so long just so I could finally speak to you about him. She’s not very good with words,” she whispered to him with a small smile.” They stopped at the end of the hallway to see Max scooping potato into her mouth unmannerly. “Billy never was either,” she finished.  

...

Billy was staring at his lap the next time Steve entered. His eyes were wide and moist, there wasn’t anything surprised in them though. The man looked like his worst fear had just come true. 

Steve set down his bag and shuffled close, “What’s wrong?” Billy held up a postcard displaying ‘Hawkins’ in green, cursive writing. 

“It’s from my father, he’s back,” Billy didn’t even look up as he held the card to Steve’s chest. He took it from Billy’s trembling hand and read the back. Billy recited for him though, “‘Your boyfriend can’t keep me away.’” Steve stared at Billy and dropped his hand with the card clenched in his fist. “Charming right?” Billy’s eyes were hollow, somehow more broken looking than any of the times they’d talked. And they had exchanged many stories, Steve had lost count of the amount of times Billy had cried. This was something old. 

“I’ll find him again,” Steve promised, “This time I won’t let him off so easy.” He kept the hostility he felt away from Billy’s eyes. Didn’t want Billy to have to worry so much about it. 

“There’s only one place you can find these types of postcards, Hawkins is usually printed in red. Must be symbolic.” Steve stood up, ready to head out the door as he developed a plan. But he stopped. Billy was looking at him, eyes wide and moist again. The sunlight shun and Billy looked like that of an angel. Steve leaned down and wrapped him up in his arms. “I’ll get him out of here, Bill. I promise this time.” It was the first time Billy pulled him in back. So Steve stayed a moment, not rushing anything even though his mind was half with Billy and half running downstairs to the pay phone. 

When Billy was the one to let go, Steve stepped back. “Good luck,” he heard just as he reached the doorway. 

He turned around and smiled, preserving, “Thanks!” Like he wasn’t going to go and quite possibly kill Billy’s father. Maybe just severely maim. But Billy’s lips lifted at the corners and his eyes looked more structured, so Steve left with a prominent smile. 

He went downstairs to the pay phone and took it off the hook to place in the crook of his neck as he pulled quarters out of his pockets. He dialed. It rang and rang and then there was a connection. 

“Hello?” he heard. 

Steve took a breath and then dived, “It’s Steve. And I need you to listen to what I have to say. Clear your schedule for the day.”

He sighed, “What is it now?”

“I’m hunting down Hargrove and I need your assistance.”

“Steve, you know he’s in the hosp—“

“Not that one.”

It was quiet for a long time, “You at the hospital?”

“Yep.”

“Have any clue where the bastard is?”

“Yep.” He looked down at the postcard still in his hand, “Meet me at the Roadwood in Marion.”

“I’ll be there, kid,” Hopper cut the line. And Steve went to the car. 

...

The desk lady looked very uninterested in Steve as he walked up to the counter, “I’m here to see Neil Hargrove,” he smiled casually and leaned a little against the counter. “Is he here?”

The lady’s gum popped and she leaned forward, searching out a paper with her pencil, “Room 5,” she stated and leaned back again. 

Steve’s smile tightened, “Thanks,” he nodded and left back out the door. Stopped by his car to get the weapon. And when he got to the door he knocked and then stood out of the way of the little peephole. The door opened a moment later revealing Hargrove’s pinched and confused, ugly, face. “I thought I told you to leave.”

Neil looked over a bit bewildered and then he scowled, “And then I realized that it’d be idiotic to listen to some teenager.”

Steve continued to look unimpressed, “I’m twenty.”

“Same thing.”

 Steve took his bat out from behind his back, “I suggest you get in the room and wait for my friend to get here. Then we’ll deal with you.” 

Neil hesitated and Steve rose the bat up threateningly before the man bolted into the room. Forgetting to shut the door. Steve followed him in after spotting Hopper’s truck and waving a signal to him. Inside, Neil had gathered the bedsheets like he was going to capture some sort of animal. 

“Now,” Steve began like the good conversationalist he was, “Either you leave today or I deal with you personally.”

Hopper appeared behind him in the doorway, “The walls are soundproof,” he closed the door. “Too many noise complaints, brought business down,” he was beside Steve with a roll of duct tape around his wrist and a crowbar in his hand, “Installed much better stuff.” 

Neil backed up to the opposite wall, “This is illegal.”

“And you abuse your son,” Hopper snapped, “So make your decision because our job is to protect this town. And you’re one of the things we get rid of. And that’s either the county border or the ground. Figure that shit out on your own. I don’t play nice with people like you.”

Steve smirked humorlessly, “I warned you,” he mused. 

Neil glanced at his suitcase and held his hands up, eyes shifty, “I’ll leave, I’ll leave!” Steve looked at Hopper and was met with the same expression, doubt. And it was further rooted when they both spotted the small pistol badly hidden under a wrinkled shirt. 

Steve leveled his bat out and stepped forward, “No you’re not.” He rushed Neil, whacked his leg and got the bat stuck before it ripped out due to the bulky man falling to the ground. He gave a yelp of agony and blood dripped into the carpet slowly. He started crawling to his suitcase but Steve brought the bat down on his back. Neil kept going between the moments Steve checked on Hopper who was standing and watching, crowbar at the ready if needed. When Steve looked back at Neil again he was reaching for the gun. Neil had just gotten it in his grasp when he rose the bat in the air and slammed it down on his head. 

Steve stepped back again and sighed, “Now you’re really dead, Hargrove.” 

Hopper took him. Backed the truck up and covered him with a tarp. Steve didn’t ask where. Didn’t need to know. 

But, just so you know, they never did see Neil Hargrove again. 

...

Billy didn’t ask either, not exactly. Steve just walked back in, hair wet from a shower and completely different clothes. He watched him sit down, eyes wide and Steve nodded while he scratched under his jaw through a yawn. But that was it, no great breakout. No yelling, no thanking, nothing about it. 

“So,” Steve propped his elbow on top of the arm of the chair and then his chin in his hand, “Any plans for when you get out?”

Billy shrugged and his face was less solemn, “I’m not sure, I’ll probably move out of town. Everyone here thinks I’m dead anyway.”

Steve’s eyes widened, “Uh—“ he grasped the arm and leaned forward, “Max wanted to tell the Party. Did she tell you that? I barely stopped her last night.”

Billy didn’t show anything towards recognition, “She what?”  

Steve sat back in the chair again, shoulders sagged tiredly, “We were thinking of letting the others know you’re alive.”

Billy brought a hand up slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Steve.”

“I know,” he put his hands up and bit his tongue as tears surfaced. He was really going to miss Billy Hargrove, wasn’t he? “You’ll probably want to go all the way to,” Steve waved a hand around thoughtfully, “Like, France or something. At least there are no monsters there.”

Billy’s eyes were a little lost and far away, “I can’t speak french.”

Steve looked up quick and then laughed, running a hand through his hair, “New York?”

Billy shrugged, “Probably not...” Billy hiccuped through a shaky breath, “How about you?”

“I’m not smart enough to do any of that,” Steve picked at a loose thread. “I was considering Colorado. Maybe get a degree in teaching art? My aunt always said I had a bit of a talent when it came to a canvas.” He shrugged to himself and looked up to Billy. Fond, glittery eyed Hargrove. 

“That’s great,” he whispered and pulled the thin hospital blanket up to his chest. “I’m tired, do you mind shutting the blinds?”

Steve got up and traveled around the room blocking off all the light, “I’ll stay a little longer, ‘kay?” 

Billy stared at him for a very long moment, half laying down with his blanket clutched. Steve stayed still with his hands around the stick to close the blinds and looked right back. And then Billy cried. 

Steve rushed forward, “Hey, hey, hey,” he sat on the side of the bed and eased Billy against him. “It’s okay,” he rubbed Billy’s back as he sobbed. Each raspy intake of breath like a nail in Steve’s chest. “It’s alright, Billy. You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Steve pressed his head against Billy’s, “Susan will take you in. She’s been working on your old bedroom.” He didn’t mention how it was originally Susan’s grief distraction project for a guest room. 

“Really?” Billy said through harsh breaths. Steve nodded against his shoulder. “Sorry,” Billy mumbled into his shoulder, “Guess I just,” he paused and went a little limper, “I guess I just didn’t like hearing that you would be so far away in the,” he put his hands up in some mock, grand gesture, “Foreseeable future we’ve thought up.”

Steve sat back a little so he could see some of Billy and take hold of his hand, “I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone, didn’t I?”

“Huh?” Billy’s arms tightened around him and little and Steve melted like chocolate left in the sun.

“We could leave town together,” Steve offered instead, “We could get an apartment or something in some other small town or a city somewhere.” Billy’s breathing slowly eased back to soft hiccups of intakes as Steve rocked them side to side. Billy let him, let him help in the ways he knew how. 

Steve felt a kiss to his cheek, “Colorado sounds nice.” And even if it seemed far away and near inconsiderable, they allowed themselves to hope. To dream something up. Together.