#miles: can u please call the police for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

8aji · 2 years ago

Text

too busy saving everybody else to save yourself. // s.s.

to think of a life without him filled you up with such sorrow you thought you'd let yourself drown just to be with him one last time. — or, an account of the events that transpired after the night of august 14, 2003.

pairing. shinichiro sano x baji!reader

wc. 18k

tags/cw. MDNI, angst with happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, baji!reader (reader is baji’s sibling), manga spoilers, shinichiro lives, anxiety/panic attacks, smoking, mentions of death, characters cry a lot, mentions of head trauma + hospitals + needles + blood, reader gets called 'nee-chan' a couple of times but other than that its pretty gn, very suggestive (one make/out sesh), takeomi is clowned a lot + please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n. its finally done sob i spent so much time polishing this as much as i could and what was supposed to be a 1k drabble mutated into this lmfao but all in all this fic is my baby, my child, and i love it so so much i just hope y'all will like it as much as i do !! a massive thanks to @tetsutits for betaing and to @mosviqu for letting me run the storyline through her !! hope all of u enjoy lots n lots !!

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

One step, one blink, one breath, one step, one blink, one breath; like on autopilot, the pattern repeated itself over and over again. You could feel it beating inside your skull; the pounding of your heart resonated throughout your body, acting as the fuel behind your every move.

Your blurry gaze amplified all of your other senses, sending your brain into a downward spiral of emotional overwhelm; the loud keyboard clicking, the obnoxious chatter, the drinking and munching of coffee and donuts, all of it made you want to tear your ears off. How could the world keep turning, people existing like normal, while you were being consumed by the tightness enveloping your lungs? The thought made you want to light up the whole building, watch it burn as the flames simmered the concrete to ashes to relieve the turmoil brewing inside your body.

“I'm coming for Baji Keisuke?” You asked, barely managing to string the words together in a coherent sentence, head going a thousand miles per hour. “He’s my brother.”

The officer behind the desk pulled down his magazine, looking you over and taking in your dishevelled state. “Ah,” he sighed as soon as your brother's profile appeared on his screen. “Baji Keisuke, the little rascal with the breaking and entering charges, huh?”

lips forming into a thin line, you nodded, biting your tongue so as to not insult the man in front of you who, for some reason, couldn't help but chuckle, as if a twelve year-old kid being detained was funny.

“Can I see him?”

He gave you one last obnoxious glance, before typing on his computer.

“He’s currently under police custody,” he explained condescendingly as if you didn’t know, pulling a manila folder and pressing the button on the printer, handing you a pen in the meantime. “He's only got a minor charge compared to the other brat he came in here with,” He let out a quiet cackle, not wanting to attract anyone else’s attention. To you, it was like he acted this nonchalant to rile you up, make your blood boil. And, in spite of your reluctance to admit to it, it was working. Being in his presence made you want to punch him. “We’re betting on whether the other kid’s gonna get charged with manslaughter or not.

“And just between us,” he made a come hither motion, but leaned forward on his chair at your lack of reaction. “I’m betting in favor of manslaughter, so I'm crossing my fingers for the guy to die soon, ‘ya know?”

Had you been wearing long sleeves, he would’ve been able to see you rolling them up, emotionally prepared to be charged with aggravated assault against a police officer

Fortunately, another officer called out your name, catching your attention before you could act on the violent scenarios coursing through your brain. You didn’t bother excusing yourself before leaving to find your brother.

He looked small, smaller than he actually was, as he sat on the floor with both his knees close to his chest. His eyes were puffy and red, it was obvious he had been crying; though by the looks of it, he had yet to stop.

The cell door sounded like nails against a chalkboard as it scraped against the floor. It made him flinch in surprise, snapping him out of the borderline-dissociating trance as he looked up at the intimidating officer, trying to gauge his intentions while gathering all the energy he had left in his body to fight off the man just in case he needed to. But as soon as he made eye contact with you he could feel himself lowering his guard.

He didn’t even hesitate, his body moved on his own, running past the officer and straight into your arms, letting the harsh sobs he had tried bottling up rack his body, along with muffled apologies and incoherent explanations.

“It's okay,” you mumbled against his hair, trying to calm down his heart wrenching cries. He nuzzled his face against your neck, trying to get impossibly closer to the sound of your voice. You waited for him to nod, still clutching at your clothes with all the remaining energy he had. “He's strong, he’ll be alright.”

Though at this point you were unsure whether your words held any weight against the grand scheme of things; hopefully all your promises won’t turn into bold-faced lies.

You made your way out of the cell together, holding his left hand as he used the other to rub at his eyes, itchy and dry from all the crying. The two of you walked past a couple of cells before he stopped for what seemed like a millisecond, mumbling something under his breath in weak anguish. Had you not been hyper aware of everything going on around you, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight tug at your hand.

Kazutora sat on the floor the same way Keisuke did, knees pulled up to his chest, biting his cuticles raw to stop his brain from looping the traumatic set of events like a broken film; still, it wasn't enough to stop his whole body from trembling in shock. The distress fresh in his eyes made you want to drop everything just to hold him close, comfort him like you did with Keisuke.

But you didn’t have much time, the officer behind you pressured the both of you to move, and considering Keisuke remained under police custody, you weren’t willing to risk him getting locked up again now that you had him by your side.

“Wait for me over there, okay?” You said, pointing at the waiting area. “I just have to fill out some paperwork and then we can go home.” He held your hand even tighter in his grasp in response, as if he was scared to let go. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Reluctantly, he dragged his feet as he walked, not wanting to stray far away from you. At least there was still some sort of stubbornness left in him. You’ve never seen him act like this, uncontrollably crying and apologising, devoid of the mischievous glint in his eyes. Knowing the Keisuke you knew was still there comforted you.

“How, uh, how much is bail gonna be?” You asked once he had made himself at home on the plastic chairs. Thankfully it was someone else behind the desk instead of the asshole you had the misery of interacting with.

You knew it wasn’t going to be cheap, already having a grasp of fines and bail costs thanks to your friends getting into trouble, but even with this knowledge, their response sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe you could use some of your own savings, or part of your college fund. Using your mom’s money was also an option, but you didn't want to put the burden on her. If you skipped a semester it could give you some time to earn the money back, but you were already behind in a few classes, and the minimum wage from part time jobs wouldn’t stack up too much, so was it truly feasible?

Fuck, you knew they were children but you couldn’t help but curse at their recklessness, their stupidity and naivety. Did they actually think stealing a bike would be that easy? And now you have to pay for the consequences, quite literally. Of course, you could always leave him here, let him face the consequences straight on. There was nothing forcing you to bail him out. But who were you kidding, you’d kill for him, of course you were going to pay.

Making sure he was still where you left him, you looked over your shoulder back at him. He was slumped over his knees, aimlessly playing with his fingers as his eyes fixated on the corridor leading to the cells, a solemn sadness washing over his features.

No.

You weren’t going to. You were going to pay for your brother’s sins, or whatever the cheesy line says, and leave to never look back. You didn’t owe this other kid anything, most certainly when you couldn't afford it. But, after knowing him for so long, the thought of him staying in the middle of four cold walls until further notice broke your heart.

“Actually,” you sighed. This was gonna cost two semesters instead of one. “Could I pay for someone else’s bail as well?”

At first, he refused to acknowledge your presence, biting harder into his fingers. He tried self-soothing through slow back and forth rocking motions and the unintelligible words that spilled from his mouth, hugging himself tighter the closer you got.

He didn’t move, frozen in place as if the lack of movement would make him invincible to the naked eye. He didn’t cave in no matter what you did, not when you kneeled in front of him nor when you whispered his name in hopes he would acknowledge your voice.

It only took a couple of seconds after that for him to shyly meet your gaze, warming up to you in an instant and clinging onto you just like Keisuke had done, though he did so with a lot more desperation, this sort of comfort foreign to Kazutora. He felt so small in your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder, the only thing he could do was claw at your body for reassurance. Other than that, he didn’t speak, didn’t cry, he almost didn’t move, to the point it had you questioning whether he was actually breathing.

Once you coaxed him out of the cell and got a hold of your brother, your sole focus was on guiding the boys beside you out of the precinct as fast as possible, one hand holding Keisuke’s while the other rested on the back of Kazutora’s head. They didn’t need to spend more time than necessary in this place, surrounded by grimy cell blocks and seemingly socially inept officers who couldn’t keep their rambunctious laughter down.

Wakasa was sitting on his bike outside the police station waiting for the three of you, and though initially it was supposed to be just the two of you riding along with him, he wasn’t surprised you paid for your brother’s friend’s bail. He kept a fairly laid-back exterior, lit cigarette hanging from his fingers replacing his preferred strawberry flavored lollipops, inhaling back the smoke that seeped from his parted lips and freaking out on the inside.

The two of you were hanging out when multiple calls blasted through your phone, prompting you to rush to where you were now. First it was one from the hospital, one of the bearers of bad news that didn’t let you dwell on the fact that Shinichiro had written you down as one of his emergency contacts. Then came the call from the police station, sinking your heart down to the bottomless pit in your stomach.

“Everything alright?” He asked, putting out his cigarette, smothering the stick with his boot along with the other three he had finished while you were inside.

You hummed in response, words dying in your throat. The silence around you itched and burned, made your skin prickle with discomfort, and even so, no one dared say anything besides the occasional noise of acknowledgement. They weren’t dumb. They were one-hundred percent aware of what they were doing, and this wasn’t something you could blame on their age either. Yes, they were kids, but a twelve year old should be able to discern right from wrong; aware that stealing is bad and that murdering people is wrong.

And deep down, you knew this was even more fucked up than it appeared to be. You knew Kazutora wouldn’t have cared for the victim had it not been Shinichiro. The only reason he was shaking like a leaf, flinching when Wakasa fastened the belt of his helmet against his head, was because he hurt Mikey’s brother. That’s not to say Keisuke was innocent, it was clear he wasn’t. Intentionally breaking into someone’s shop to steal a very valuable, very expensive, piece of equipment and potentially complicit in someone's murder.

You wanted to tear your eyes off at the thought. Did they really think they could get away with this? That it would be as easy as stealing some candy or gum from the corner store? You wanted to curse them out for being so stupid, so naive. But looking down at their sunken faces, eyes bloodshot and teary as they sweated fear from every pore on their fragile skin, it made you want to excuse all their horrid behaviour, ignore the fact they committed a crime and in the process they mortally wounded an innocent man.

You held down an involuntary gag at the violation of your principals, the memory of what had just gone down stirring unwanted bitterness inside your stomach. You were no one to criticise the two kids sitting between Wakasa and you. They could be stupid, but you were the weakest of them all.

“Let’s get going then.”

You could question your moral compass later, first you had to get them home.

The voices of the characters talking in the background faded into an uncomfortable white noise as your muscles dissolved along with your bones, breaking through your skin and seeping into the cushions of the couch. Each time you breathed in the more stressed you became at the uncertainty of your friend’s mortal status.

You hadn’t received any news from the hospital, and though you knew that if they hadn’t called by now, they probably wouldn’t at least until tomorrow morning, that didn’t stop you from imprisoning your phone close to your chest. Maybe if you channelled all your strength into your hold then you’d lose the urge to cry.

In spite of their initial resistance, it didn’t take long to put the kids to bed. The two of them drifted off to a bitter, yet hopefully replenishing, sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. It wasn’t surprising, the whole incident had drained the both of them to their core.

“‘Sure you’re okay?” Wakasa asked, and had it not been for his voice you're sure you would’ve dissociated the rest of the night. Maybe the kids would find you the next morning still sitting on the couch, frozen like a statue as you stared at the ceiling, and freak out because they’d think you had died along with ‘Shinichiro-nii’.

You hummed, it was the only response you could muster it seemed, with your eyes zeroing in on his shoulders, then his cheeks and then his earrings. Looking straight into his eyes would do you no good. It’d blow your cover in less than an instant, and though it’s fair to say it was a shit cover, amplifying your grief through your dejected silence instead of toning it down, it made you feel safer from the imminent doom. Still, shitty cover up or not, Wakasa knew you weren’t okay. You wouldn’t be able to fool him even if he was stupid, and at this point, he’s convinced you wouldn’t be able to fool anyone; a single glance your way was enough to tell you were silently crumbling.

He let his head fall backwards against the back of the sofa, sighing in acknowledgement. No matter how many times he asked, deep down he knew you would only cave in at your own account, But at least his question somehow managed to bring you back down from the maze your brain had started fabricating to earth. And maybe, just maybe, if he gave you enough space that’d prompt you to speak. He didn’t mind waiting. Not for a couple of seconds, or the couple of minutes those seconds turned into, or the couple of hours they mutated into next, and so on until days and weeks and years had passed, until the scarcity of time felt infinite.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” You broke the silence, biting the edges of your words as if you wanted to hide them back inside, voice shaky and heavy against your tongue.

He hesitated, sharing a seat next to you inside the same sinking uncertainty boat, “Shin-chan’s stronger than you think.” He tried reassuring you, or himself he wasn't sure, but at this point the more he tried to tell himself his friend was still breathing, the more it felt like a lie. Shin-chan was stronger than the two of you thought, but was he really? “He’d be heartbroken to know you had little faith in him.”

At least he got you to chuckle, “I’d be heartbroken to know that I was right.”

You fell into an uncomfortable silence not long after, the stakes of the conversation too high, and if you continued talking you’re sure you’d end up giving Shin up for dead. But like this, maybe you could finally force yourself to get some sleep. The weight of your eyelids had doubled, eyes growing heavier against your will, and though you didn’t want to, just in case something happened while you were unconscious, you knew you’d be of no use without at least a few hours of rest. Plus, you promised yourself you’d never lose any sleep over a guy, ever, and you weren’t about to make an exception for Shinichiro Sano.

Not even an hour in your slumber, you almost threw your phone to the other side of the room as its desperate cry pierced your ears. You’re sure Wakasa almost had a heart attack with how fast straightened up next to you, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it somehow managed to wake up both Kazutora and Keisuke, although your brother was more of a chronic heavy sleeper.

“What are you waiting for? Answer it!” Feelings heightened in his barely awake, panicked state, the desperation was palpable in his words. And though uncommon for him to act in such an erratic manner, he had bottled everything up the whole night, it was time for the stoic facade to break.

But, even so, in spite of your friend’s heartbreaking desperation you didn’t move. Not after the third ring or the fourth. You didn’t dare move, staying frozen on the couch, groggy from waking up yet hyper-aware of everything going on around you despite your mild dissociation. The sole thought of moving towards made your brain press against your skull, screaming at you to stop.

Not answering meant that Shinichiro could stay both simultaneously alive and dead, his fate linked to whether you picked up the call. If you didn’t, maybe he wouldn’t die after all, he’d stay stuck in the unknown limbo of immortality until you made a call.

But then again, this was your only chance to get an update on his status. And it wasn’t only you anxiously waiting on any sort of news. Wakasa was waiting; Keisuke and Kazutora, although asleep, were as well, and you could only fathom Benkei and Takeomi’s reaction. Mikey and Emma were probably up to date, the hospital must’ve called their grandfather before they reached out to you. And looking back at the people that depended on you, it really wasn't fair to put your own self-indulgent selfishness over the needs of others, was it?

It wasn't. Of course it wasn’t, but after putting everyone before you for as long as you’ve lived, didn’t you deserve to be selfish? At least once, when it pertainted the condition of the unrequited love of your life, didn’t you deserve at least that much?

“Hello?” Wakasa answered through furrowed brows and twitching lips. From the way he spoke, you could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek to release some tension, putting enough pressure to draw blood. “This is Wakasa Imaushi speaking,

“–can’t get to the phone right now, can’t you just talk to me?” Voice getting progressively louder, he challenged the person on the other side of the call. “He’s my best friend, don’t I deserve to know whether he’s alive or not?!”

Only when his voice broke at the weight of his own desperation did you manage to snap out of your trance, snatching the phone out of his grip, ignoring his glassy eyes as you spoke into the receiver, mumbling your name through a shakily put together voice.

You’re not sure whether you imagined it or not, almost choking on a withered sob, but you could feel the moment your teeth sunk into the skin of your hand, digging hard enough for blood to prickle to the surface, preventing any other noise from coming out.

With your vision blurry and a tightness in your chest you could not describe, your body had gone completely numb, and yet your nerve endings were scorching under any semblance of atmospheric pressure, forcing you to feel everything, everywhere, all at once.

Had Wakasa not been there to catch you, you’d have collapsed on the ground, a pitiful wailing mess. Tears soaked through the fabric of both your clothes as you held each other close. For what felt like hours, the two of you stayed like that. Face buried against his neck and his against the top of your head, he rocked you back and forth in his arms until your tears stopped mixing themselves with your spit, sharp inhales tuning down into soft sniffles. And though his eyes burned with unshed sorrow, he kept on humming at your unintelligible mumbling.

“See? I told you he was stronger than we thought.” He whispered, though it sounded closer to a whimper, and nuzzled his cheek further against your hair. As if trying to ground himself, he gave you a tight squeeze, still in doubt whether he was trying to convince you or himself.

Only after a while, once both of your breathing had evened out, did you raise your head up from its hideout, hesitant footsteps catching your attention.

“Nee-chan?” You heard a tiny voice coming from the hallway, a little insecure, as if he didn’t think he deserved a proper response.

“I’m sorry ‘Tora, did we wake you?” You peeled Wakasa’s arms from your body, rubbing the haziness of your eyes away. He shook his head in response, carefully moving away from the shadows after acknowledging your lack of anger.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

His puffy eyes shimmered red under the soft moonlight coming through the living room window. He took meticulous steps in your direction, side-eyeing Wakasa and still wary of you, not knowing how you would react after his intrusion. Each one was lighter than the other, the wooden floors refused to creek underneath his weight, almost as if he had trained himself to become weightlessly invisible.

Slowly as to not startle him, you stretched your arms in his direction, beckoning him towards you and silently encouraging him to trust you. Even after drying out his tears once you tucked him in bed, holding his hand a little longer while Keisuke slept next to him, you’re sure that wasn’t enough to reassure him you wouldn’t blow up on him. For Kazutora, interacting with most people felt like trying to navigate an active minefield.

Hugging him close to your body, you pulled him on your lap and softly rocked him back and forth; the same way Wakasa had done with you. He nuzzled closer to you, letting himself relax against your touch once he registered you weren't a threat, basking in your warmth.

The silence the three of you fell under was deafening, uncomfortable even, though you didn't intend for it to be. Kazutora had this question stuck in his throat, sitting heavy against his vocal cords while the bitter taste of bile stained his tongue.

“Is…” he trailed off, still doubting whether he deserved to be asking such a question. “Is Mikey’s brother going to be okay?”

He tensed up at the lack of immediate response. The lack of positive reassurance that he hadn’t completely messed up everyone's lives made the grip he had on your arm grow tighter in fear of you letting go.

You didn’t. You weren’t planning to do so. Even if nausea piled up at the end of your oesophagus as the conflicting set of emotions brewing at the pit of your stomach, you were sure he needed you as much as you needed him to keep yourself grounded

“He will.” You brushed your fingers through his hair, lips curled up into a smile once you felt him relax against you once again. “Right now he’s resting, we can visit him in a couple of days, if you’d like.”

The silence amongst you became heavy once again, but inside Kazutora’s head the cacophony of your words bounced against the thick layers of bone and skin like worthless cries of distress. What he did was inconceivable, and in spite of that you still cared.

“I didn’t mean to,” barely a whisper, the words died out before they could be properly enunciated. They prickled and ached and stung at the walls of his throat. Something he couldn’t name but feel deeply inside his bones stopped himself from vomiting it all out. But mess after mess, like building blocks stacking one on top of the other, they piled up and pulled him down like a ball and chain made out of his own flesh and when he tried to pull at it to set himself free he could feel everything spilling out in a tangled cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m sorry!” he cried, clutching onto your shirt and arms, anything he could get a hold of to ensure you wouldn’t leave him alone. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Holding him tightly and shushing his cries, you could do nothing more than let his tears wet at your shirt, mumble that it was okay even if it truly wasn’t; even if the two of you knew it was a lie. The weeping child in your arms did nothing but pull at your heartstring, conflicting feelings arising in your chest. In spite of the fondness you felt for the kid, the same fondness you felt for all of your little brother’s friends, you had unconsciously developed a grudge towards him, bitterness and resentment for hurting Shinichiro.

His lashes rested against his skin, casting thin shadows under the sunlight streaming through the window. He had always looked peaceful when he was sleeping, chest rising and falling as if following a metronome’s tempo. You can remember taking long summer naps next to him and the rest of your friends, you always being the first one to wake up. Every summer the three of them arrived late to at least five Black Dragon’s meetings because they had slept in. Shinichiro had developed this antsy habit of arriving weirdly on time yet slightly late ever since then, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of letting down whoever was waiting for him; you wonder how he’d react if he knew the shop wouldn’t open today.

So peaceful yet fragile., never in your life would’ve you remotely imagined you’d be sitting next to your best friend’s hospital bed, eyes puffy and droopy while his head laid covered in bandages. The beeping of the monitor filling up the unnecessary silence that wouldn’t have otherwise been there had he been awake.

Had he been awake, he would’ve talked to you non-stop, retelling everything that went down to the most insignificant detail, sprinkling hyperboles as much as he could just to appear a little cooler in front of you. But it's not like he had to try anyway, to appear cooler, that is, you already thought he was the coolest person in the whole wide world; though you’d go as far as saying he was the coolest person to ever exist. The sole idea made you smile, tears welling up in your eyes as you wondered if he’d blush once he found out how highly you thought of him.

And of course, had he been awake, he would’ve been worried about everyone but him. He would’ve asked about Mikey and Emma, if they had slept over at the hospital or at home with his grandfather, who he would’ve proceeded to ask about. He would’ve bitten his tongue to prevent himself from even mentioning the economic implications of his stay, but you would’ve been able to read right through him.

Then, had he been awake, he would’ve asked about Keisuke and Kazutora. He would’ve be worried about them, berated you with a flurry of questions, emotions switching from anger to guilt in less than a millisecond; angry at your deplorable encounter with the police, guilty because he was the one that called, and maybe if he hadn’t, then Mikey’s friends wouldn't have gotten in trouble.

He would’ve asked about the shop, if anyone was there watching over it while he was resting in the hospital, deflating a little after finding out it wouldn’t open for the day. He would’ve asked about Wakasa and Benkei and Takeomi, ask if they were aware of what happened, if they had already started making fun of him after finding out a twelve year-old sent him straight to the ER; he would’ve sighed at your response, shaking his head because instead of making fun of him his friends were worried.

Finally, he’d ask about you. And maybe you would’ve cried or laughed or screamed. Maybe tears would’ve pooled in your eyes, the fact your friend was breathing finally sinking in. Maybe you would’ve giggled at your past unjustified worries because he was here now and you never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second. Maybe you would’ve broken down, fatigue deep in your bones pulling you to the ground until you could do nothing but lay cold and empty and happy on the floor because you had not dared sleep but at least the existence of his consciousness remained.

But the only one speaking was the wind blowing through the curtains, kissing his forehead and messing up his hair just to give you the opportunity to put it back in place through the insecure brush of your fingers

Resting your forehead next to the palm of his hand, you sighed in defeat; maybe you should’ve let him rest alone. You had spent the whole morning next to him, ignoring any hunger cues alerting you it was time for breakfast or lunch or any sort of meal time that could fuel your body from complete exhaustion. Still, even if you wanted to fall asleep, it was like your subconscious wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes and felt yourself slip into a deep slumber, you were jolted awake to your own dismay.

Not being able to rest had started to eat away at your own sanity. Only eight hours had passed, but every second felt like a thousand and at this point, you had become a walking contradiction; hungry but unable to eat, tired yet unable to fall asleep. Your body was failing you, unable to react to any sort of external or internal stimuli, and you’re sure wouldn't be able to cry no matter how much you wanted to do so.

But even then, apparently you could still scream.

The weight of his hand on top of your head caught you off guard. It almost made you fall from the chair and smack your head against the bed’s metal skeleton. Maybe if you got a concussion and slipped into a weird pseudo-coma after a harrowing God-knows-how-many-hours-long surgery he’d feel guilty enough to make up for the tachycardia that had your heart beating where your brain should be.

“Hi.” He smiled, words a little slurred as the remaining anaesthesia wore off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, I see ‘you missed me alright.”

And you did. Even though less than a day had passed since the accident, picturing a whole lifetime without him was enough to permanently alter your brain chemistry. But he was here now, he was back and he was safe and the toothy grin he sported reminded you of home.

“Don’t ‘cha know it’s rude to eat in front of someone who can only chew on ice chips?” He joked, flinching as the nurse adjusted his IV drip.

You were forced to leave the room after a flurry of hospital staff came running at your volatile reaction; Of course, you were quick to reassure that your friend had only woken up and that everything was fine, before leaving for the cafeteria; giving them some space to work on Shinichiro would be good. Plus, not that he was ‘okay’ and you weren’t worrying about his health every second of every minute of every hour, you could address the sudden pangs of hunger poking at your stomach.

“I’ll buy you dinner once you get out.” You smiled, scooping some of the jell-o into your mouth through your innocent smile. But, again to your dismay, the mischievous glint in your eyes ratted you out. Shinichiro knew that ‘dinner’ meant the cheapest ramen you could find, maybe add an egg to spice it up, and ice cream you’d eat directly from the tub; a long lived tradition between the two of you. “I’ll even add chives this time.”

“Gee thanks,” he mocked, as if he’d rather do anything else than eat stale ramen with you. As long as he got the chance, he’d do anything. He’d probably lick the floor for you—not that he’d ever let you know, but if you asked he would, no questions asked. That’s what happens when you love someone. You’d be willing to do anything and everything for them even if it's irrational. “Can I choose the ice cream flavour at least?”

You hummed, focusing on scraping the plastic spoon against the plastic container in your hands to avoid his gaze. “Only this time though, so don’t get used to it.”

“Everything’s looking good so far, we’ll do another check up in a couple of hours.”

Right, you were still in here. Talking like everything was seemingly normal made you forget that you were still in the hospital, watching over your post-op, bedridden friend.

“Lay with me?” he asked, not before the both of you thanked the nurse who excused himself after gathering the remaining equipment. “Please?”

You shouldn’t, something inside your head made sure to let you know even if the urge to hold him close was overpowering. He had just barely woken up after a long emergency surgery, and you taking up space would be of no help for him to get the rest he needed. But the silent plea in the puppy dog eyes you had trained yourself so hard to resist, the subtle pout and the cute dopey-ness that had yet to wear off were far too tempting to resist.

His little celebratory cheer made you inwardly squeal as you slowly moved to his side, watching him wince in pain while he slowly shuffled himself closer to the edge in a clumsy attempt to make some space for you.

The thumping of his heartbeat reverberated in his chest, the stress melting from out your bones. You couldn’t help but sigh in content once you laid your head on his chest. Now that you were wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt like you could finally rest.

“Tired?” He mumbled against your hair, breaking the silence that had settled in the room as you basked in each other’s presence. You hummed in response, nuzzling your cheek against his body and almost purring like a cat at his warmth. Letting your eyes close involuntarily, you couldn’t help but be lulled to a premature slumber. With how comfortable you looked, and because your obnoxious yawning was too contagious, he wanted to do nothing but follow in your footsteps.

Instead, his eyes stayed wide open and stuck to the ceiling as if the off off-white paint that covered the concrete was the key to shutting down his brain long enough for sleep to take over. It didn’t matter that his blood had been infused with what felt like at least twenty hundred thousand milligrams of various pain-deafening substances that were sure to knock him out in a matter of seconds, falling asleep seemed to be an unattainable goal.

Whatever they had injected into his body increased his senses’ sensitivity, multiplying it times a hundred instead of dulling them down to nothing. And it didn’t stop at the uncomfortable overtly bright fluorescent lights or the suddenly deafening sound of unoiled wheels from hospital carts being rolled around. It was the way he could feel you barely resting your weight against his body, as if scared the least amount of pressure would make his heart stop. The way he was met with your now dull eyes, almost bloodshot but not quite, sunken with a thick coat of desperation, or fear, or some sort of premature grief, as soon as he woke up. Or how, in spite of only being gone for less than a day, it seemed like you had spent a lifetime unable to exist alongside everything you held dear.

Hyper aware of all those little details and more, it hit him without warning, and suddenly, he could feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

It prickled uncomfortably at his eyes, the skin around his charcoal orbs itching like it was on fire. His mouth felt cottony, smothering his airways and cutting his airflow while his tongue rested uncharacteristically heavy in his mouth with the weight of unsaid words. It broke all his bones at once, leaving him numb on the ground, still like a corpse, and unable to suppress the dooming feeling of his own life spilling from his pores, mixing with his blood until the air around him turned thick and metallic.

In the blink of an eye he had been one step closer to the grave, barely hanging onto a thread of consciousness as the view of his shop turned blurrier and blurrier, and now he was breathing. His lungs had finally regained consciousness and he could feel everything around him overwhelmingly loud and clear and close and real.

Now awake, he could feel you laying on top of him, almost passed out due to the immeasurable amount of stress he had put you under. And maybe if it wasn’t for his reckless habit of parading around life with his guard lowered or for the lack of proper security measures at the shop—because who on earth would rob him? There’s no way he could be that unlucky. Impossible. Or maybe it was his inability to dodge, to hold his stance in a fight because even if he was strong, without proper technique he was rendered useless and, holy shit– he could’ve died.

He could’ve died and then Manjiro would’ve been forced to grow up way too soon because he would have to take care of Emma and grandpa—although knowing both his siblings, Emma was more likely to turn into the head of the house. And then his friends would’ve been left to grieve his death, make sad speeches about the best moments they had together and, fuck was Takeomi terrible at writing; his speech would just be a big mess of incoherent words stuck together. And what about the shop? Who was he leaving the shop to? And what about Inupi? Inupi was just a kid and he can’t just leave him all alone; he had promised to himself to take care of him the same way he took care of his siblings— fuck, Izana as well. Who was going to look after his brother? He was planning to introduce him to all of you guys soon. The two of you would’ve gotten along so well and,

And you.

What about you?

You looked beyond heartbroken. Words couldn't begin to describe exactly what somberness mulled deep within that brain of yours. If this is how you reacted to the possibility of him dying, then how would’ve you reacted to him actually doing so?

A choked sob rips through his lips, the sound painful as it breaches its forceful containment.

“Shin–”

“I’m sorry.”

“What…” you trailed off. The strained cry had erased any speck of slumber. For a second you thought you had dreamt it, that your brain had finally gone off the rails and you were hearing imaginary voices. That was until you looked up at him, eyes welling up with unshed tears, body stiff as if to prevent them from falling. “What’re you sorry for?”

“I just remembered the beach trip we were planning for Manjiro’s birthday,” he sniffled, “and I think we’re gonna have to cancel.”

“That’s okay, we can reschedule—”

“Yeah but I– I know he was really excited for it, all his friends were.”

“We’ll talk to them, make sure they understand—”

“And you were excited about it too,” avoiding your eyes even after you had tried to coax him into meeting yours. He felt so far away, almost unreachable despite laying right next to you. “And I know how much you love the beach and I really wanted to go with you even if we were gonna have to chaperone six hyperactive children,

“And, and I know the guys were gonna come with and we had it all perfectly planned out with this huge dorayaki cake thing and now we’re gonna have to cancel because of me—”

“Wait,” you shush him as gently as possible, sitting up and holding his hand tightly between yours. “What do you mean ‘because of me’?”

Almost as if he had never started, your question managed to shut down his rambling like forcefully closing a water faucet. He had this estranged, far-off look darkening his face, eyes glassy, almost as if he were dissociating. It made your stomach churn with anxiety. Never in your many, many, years of friendship had you seen him lose himself like this.

“Because,” he paused, trying to swallow down the knot grappling at his throat, fighting off the urge to tear it off with his bare hands. “Because it's my fault we’re cancelling.”

“I– What’re you talking about?”

He groaned in desperation. Why was this so hard to explain?

“I’m the one who’s bedridden.” Still dizzy after waking up and to the best of his ability, he tried sitting up, wincing in pain to then give up and lean into his forearms. “I’m the one with random needles poking through my skin, fresh off the ER because my skull was bashed into with one of my own tools and maybe, just maybe, if I had been more aware at the time, I could've avoided the hit.”

“Shin, this wasn’t your fault—”

“But it is! Can't you see?”

“Shin–”

“D’you know what I did when I heard someone break the glass?” He looked at you expectantly, voice raised in frustration. “After I called the cops; do you?” You shook your head in response, knowing that any attempt to help him calm down would be futile. “I grabbed a wrench.

“After the operator told me to hide and wait for help because I told them it sounded like more than one person was inside, I grabbed a stupid wrench and decided to face them,

“I decided to face them even if I'm well aware I wouldn’t be able to take two people at once.”

And though he seemed to be dead set on believing that somehow he managed to land himself in the hospital, you wouldn’t allow him to give himself up to the restless thoughts, no matter how badly he wanted to indulge the bitter part of his brain that had gotten used to putting himself down.

“Someone hit you from behind,” you tried, “you were ambushed, of course you wouldn't be able to take them on.”

His defeated sigh gave you some sort of uncomfortable comfort. Knowing it made you glad that he had finally given up was a conflicting feeling you wish to never re-examine or experience again.

You sat up, swallowing the foreign relief down, and scooted further up the bed’s backrest. Your elbow rested well above the pillow where he laid, and you couldn't help but use your leverage to gently brush your fingers through his hair, only relaxing once he visibly melted against your touch.

“You didn’t do this to yourself, this wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, fingertips soothing his worries as they ghosted the skin of his forehead. “You’re not responsible for every single thing that goes wrong, no matter how much you try to convince yourself you are.”

He can’t recall a single moment in his life in which he felt like he was relieved from his self-imposed duty—the duty of an older brother, primary caretaker, and practically a parent. Someone who must put everyone’s needs above his own well-being. He’s responsible for everything going on around him, the good, the bad, the neutral, the everything. It only made sense that the break in and the subsequent series of events were, in part, his responsibility.

And he knew it was irrational thinking because how on earth would he have known what was going to happen? But he couldn’t help it, not when all the consequences of his actions reflected on the bigger picture; everyone relies on Shinichiro Sano, and it was his duty to fulfil.

“And I promise you no one is disappointed in you. Not a single one of us.” You press your lips against the top of his head, smiling through your own teary eyes at the little hum he involuntarily let out. “We’re all so, so happy that you're awake and talking and I bet Manjiro would rather move his beach birthday party a hundred years from now than lose his brother six days before his birthday,

“The beach is not going anywhere, and neither are we, okay? We are not going anywhere.”

And you knew it wasn’t not enough. Your words weren’t enough to shut up the swirling negativity spiral in his brain. But at least it was enough to calm him down, enough for him to fall asleep in spite of the dampness kissing his skin; he might have successfully managed to suppress the heart wrenching sobs, but he was not strong enough to hold back the tears that cascaded down his cheeks.

You follow through not long after, head lolling to the side in an uncomfortable position that would for sure leave your neck aching for days. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no dreaming this time. No nightmares or worst case scenarios crafted deep within your subconscious. In spite of the gloomy circumstances, the two of you had fallen asleep. Finally, being in your arms was beyond comforting. Plus, indulging in the rest your body had craved for hours made it easier to regain consciousness once Manjiro decided to jump on the two of you in surprise, never minding the possibility of further injuring his brother by mistake.

Being on the receiving end of his lovable violence hurt more than you thought it would, one of his hands landing straight on your stomach and the other on Shinichiro’s chest, but you couldn’t blame the kid. Based on what Keisuke had confided in you last night, Manjiro had witnessed both his best friends’ arrest as well as his brother being pulled out unconscious on a stretcher out of the shop.

Beyond a muffled apology, he didn’t utter anything else, like his voice had given in. He clung onto Shinichiro’s body like his life depended on it.

A swift knock on the door caught your attention, though Manjiro didn't even bother looking up, face tucked against his brother’s body, letting himself relax as his brother’s fingers threaded through his blond locks.

Emma poked her head from behind the wall, hands holding onto the door frame for balance. From where you laid you could see how her eyes were almost as puffy as yours. They were rimmed with a bright red, the same shade that was splotched all over her cheeks and nose. Mansaku stood beside her, holding onto his hat.

You could physically feel the relief washing over Shinichiro the moment he saw his whole family entering the room. He laid lighter next to you, with a brighter smile decorating his lips. It was like his body had melted from hard concrete right into a puddle, your previous conversation seemingly forgotten as a twinkle of warmth returned to his pretty eyes.

Careful not to let Manjiro fall in the dent you were leaving as you stood up, you beckoned Emma over. She cuddled up to Shinichiro, clinging onto him while her soft sniffles filled the silent room, and you swore you had almost started tearing up again at the sight.

Mansaku placed a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise as he acknowledged your presence. Like a wordless thank you, he nodded at you before stepping closer towards the bed, letting his hand rest on Shinichiro’s, and gently squeezed as if making sure his grandson was truly there.

In no way shape or form was it the perfect family meetup—a perfect one wouldn’t entail the eldest-grandson-slash-parental-figure stuck in a hospital bed. But by the way they huddled together, Shinichiro pinching Manjiro’s cheeks, the latter not even fighting him off like he usually would, and patting Emma’s head in reassurance, with Mansaku displaying the ghost of a smile as he stood next to his grandchildren, the four of them gave off the feeling of everything being okay.

The familiar warmth between them left you to watch the scene like an outsider in a third-person point of view. It made you feel like you were intruding, messily glued to one of those fancy family portraits.

In spite of both your families spending the majority of their lives around one another, you weren’t a Sano. No matter how close Keisuke and Manjiro were, no matter how much Shinichiro and you acted like a married couple with at least five children, you were never going to be one. You knew this from the start, but even so, the knowledge didn’t stop the churning of a deeply seeded loneliness inside your stomach.

You didn’t bother with your goodbyes. Even if you had promised Shinichiro you’d spend the rest of the day together—pretending to be bothered and reluctant when you sealed it with a ‘pinky promise’ to hide the fact you’d willingly play nurse whenever he needed it—something from within told you it was your time to leave, you weren’t that important after all.

The question swirled inside your skull, bitter as it scratched your bones, as you leaned against the walls outside the hospital. At first, you intended to camp out in a waiting room, maybe join them after you had finally calmed down, but instead your legs had taken you right outside, landing you in a secluded area between the building and the many trees surrounding it so you could confidently retrieve the crushed package from your back pocket without disturbing anyone

Your thumb burned as you attempted to roll the sparkwheel of your zippo lighter, the metal forming uncomfortable crevices against your skin. You had to hold back the urge to bite down on the cigarette you had clumsily stuck between your teeth instead of your lips, frustration welling up and threatening to burst from the seams that clumsily held you together.

Waiting for the uncomfortable itch to burn at your throat, you traced the outline of the red koi fish at the corner of the lighter, eroded after thumbing at it like a nervous tick over the years. Every time you felt your eyes water you made sure to compulsively take another drag, as if the smoke could cloud your thoughts, mixing them up with the familiar nostalgia.

Anyone would think that after incinerating your taste buds with each stick you burn, you’d get used to the taste. Whoever said it gets easier the more you do it was a liar. They were as disgusting as ever, flavour the exact same as those you had tried when you were younger, fooling around with your friends. It first started when Shinichiro and Takeomi brought a couple of cigarettes they had stolen from his grandfather to one of your hang outs. It prompted the three of you to continuously choke and make fun of each other for doing so until there were only mustard coloured butts squished on the floor.

Neither Takeomi nor you had really enjoyed the experience, but for some reason, Shinichiro was quick to grow fond of the taste. He made sure to carry around a twelve-pack wherever he went, lighting up cigarette after cigarette in strategic places so the smell wouldn’t stick to his hair or clothes. Not soon after, the rather unhealthy habit had extended to the remaining two of you, who couldn’t help but carry your own packs to satisfy your newly birthed cravings.

Looking back, you’re sure younger-you did that to be a little more like Shinichiro, just like Takeomi, and for other even more childish reasons like appearing more mature and attractive in his eyes; you clearly remember him having a thing for older women for a while. Sure, the two of you were the same age but still, you felt like he didn’t see you like you wanted him to, and the only way for you to change that would be to gain some more common ground with him right?

So yeah, just like Takeomi, you wanted to be more like Shinchiro, but unlike Takeomi—as far as you know—you had started buying cigarette packets mainly to share back and forth with your best friend in, what you would call, a weak attempt at flirting.

At least the cringe memory managed to rip you out from the insecurity whirlpool you were being sucked into, making you groan while softly hitting your head against the concrete wall. Thank god Wakasa existed to berate you into stopping the unhealthily embarrassing habit. Back then you were just a kid, but were you being for real? Were you seriously intending to build your whole life around a man to the point you’d indulge in one of the most common and deadliest habits in the world for a slim chance at a high-school romance? Fuck, was younger-you so painfully stupid to even think–

“One of you is already in the hospital, we don't need you to auto-hospitalise.”

The old man’s voice made you jump, fumbling with the cigarette until it fell to the floor. You tried to hide the coughing fit to the best of your ability while frantically stomping on the lit stick laying on the ground. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were still terrified of getting caught smoking by the man.

“Would you mind sharing one with me?” He asked, ignoring the way your face morphed into a confused frown. With nimble fingers, you opened your cigarette pack once again, handing him your lighter when he was unable to fetch his from his pockets.

“You still smoke?” You questioned, adding a hasty ‘sir’ once you noticed how informal you had sounded.

He chuckled in response, taking another puff. “I only stopped doing it in front of the children.”

This time it was your turn to chuckle, playing with the gravel underneath your feet to avoid looking at the man at your slip-up. Still, even with your gaze fixated on the ground you could tell he was looking at you in curiosity.

“I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just,” clearing your throat, you stumbled with your words, debating in your head whether you should come up with one of your horrid cover ups or tell the truth. “You always smoked around us when we were little, like you didn’t care.”

You thought he would’ve left you alone after that, knowing you were purposely disrespectful towards him. It would’ve been better that way. Then you would’ve been left to wallow in your own self-pity in peace, with no one to stop you from finishing the seven remaining cigarettes. But he didn’t, taking you aback as he stayed rooted right by your side.

Had you been anyone else, he would’ve called them out. To cover up his own embarrassment or to make up for the disrespect? Not even he could be sure. But he had seen you grow up next to his own grandchildren, sharing your love and caring nature with them along with your mild irascibility and your talent for keeping Shinichiro on a tight leash. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, even if most of your one-on-one interactions had consisted of you running away from him before he managed to scold you.

He had only stopped smoking once Manjiro was born, self-awareness finally sinking into his thick skull as he watched his two grandsons play together. No one had questioned him back then, letting him sit on the couch undisturbed while he read the morning paper. It was only after Sakurako had passed away, that he had started to notice the many areas he was lacking, watching both Shinichiro and you fill the gaps in each other’s broken homes while he alienated himself from the responsibility of taking care of his family. The two of you worked so in sync, he would be of no help—or at least that was what he had told himself.

“I wasn’t the best grandfather.”

“You think?”

“I know.” He smiled at your attitude; snappy as always, the only difference was the way you now recoiled in embarrassment at your slip ups. Using his fingers to get rid of the ash, he tapped on the back of the cigarette before taking another drag. “Thank you for taking care of them when I couldn’t.”

Not even a noise of acknowledgement, your vocal chords had closed themselves shut at the man’s sudden mild vulnerability. Out of all the things you expected him to ever say to you, a ‘thank you’ was never on the list. He was always sporting his characteristic cartoonish frown, speaking to everyone in a clipped tone with pointed words.

“You’re more important to us than you think.” He stepped on the cigarette butt. “That is one of the reasons why I can’t let you believe what happened to my grandson was in any way your fault.”

“‘Sorry?” You mumbled in confusion, his words pulling yet another frown onto your face; did you miss any pivotal points in the conversation? How had the conversation switched from his apparent familial issues to you?

“I know you feel guilty for what happened, even if you weren’t involved.” He sighed, not bothering to look you in the eye before continuing his speech. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed in mild amusement, as if that wasn’t something you’ve been trying to tell yourself; all Bajis share their fuckups. But then again, of course he wouldn’t understand. “Easier said than done.”

This time you didn’t try to make up for the way had snapped at him. And bless the man for being able to read the room, because he didn’t push the conversation further. Deep down he knew you needed the outlet; you may have already cried, but all your anger was still pent up inside of you. And after everything you had done for him and his family, it was the least he could do for you.

“It doesn’t matter what we believe, we’re always responsible for everyone’s mess.” You scoff in dismay. “It’s like we were born for our families to have a provisional caretaker.

“So thank you for trying to tell me I didn’t break into Shinchiro’s shop, I know I didn’t, but it's still my mess to fix.” The aftertaste of the words laid heavy in your mouth, trickling down your throat like bitter bile tearing through the tissue. You didn’t like how they sounded; they were too impersonal, too selfish. You took a deep breath, holding yourself upright in spite of the pang in your chest. “Not that i wouldn’t have taken care of Shin if someone else had been responsible for what happened, I lo– I– I care too much about him to just leave him be but its just—”

You cleared your throat, “If I had made sure I knew where Keisuke was going or, or if I had actually tried to listen to him when he told me he didn’t know what to give Manjiro for his birthday then maybe– just…”

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence without breaking down the walls of the dam you thought you had finally managed to piece back together. You didn’t want the responsibility of rebuilding them back up, you don’t think you’d be able to do it as quickly as you’d want to. But you weren’t venting your sorrows to the wind. Mansaku Sano was still standing next to you, hands locked behind his back as he waited for you to continue, and though he was well aware of the times in which he had to remain quiet, he also knew when it was time to speak up.

“Then what?”

“Then,” you swallow, “then none of this would’ve happened, and he would’ve been okay.”

Your body itched for another cigarette, pawing at your skull for you to smother down the tears spouting from your eyes, even if the smoke would make your eyes teary once again. But with Mansaku Sano standing next to you, you didn’t dare touch a single one; it didn’t matter that you had just finished spilling your pent up emotions, you drew the line at smoking with Shinichiro’s grandfather. The thought sprouted a melancholic smile on your lips; Shinichiro would have a field day when he finds out what just went down.

The only thing left you had to ground yourself was the cold metal of your lighter, already starting to heat up at the warmth of your skin. You ran your thumb over it once again, the pattern already engraved in your mind. The habit had probably developed out of your need to be comforted by familiarity—of course the lighter was the right candidate, from its colour and texture, size and temperature, you had everything about it memorised like the back of your hand.

“It’s a really nice lighter.” You hadn't realised you were playing with it until he spoke up; twirling it between your fingers over and over again, flipping it open and close, lighting it up before shutting the lid and extinguishing the flame.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, and right after you finished speaking, your voice hoarse and tired, you regretted ever doing so. You felt like a child once again; like when your mom tried to comfort you after you had scraped your knee, or when a couple of older middle-schoolers had beaten your friends up. A child like when the day was finally over and you had to go back home from a play-date, or when your favourite toy had fallen inside the river while walking over a bridge. You regretted speaking the minute you had discovered your voice sounded as weak as you felt, and yet, at the mention of your beloved trinket, you felt the warm giddiness wash over your body forcing you to speak. And so, once again like a child, you did. “I got it at a summer festival, Shin got it for me.”

“I thought you said you wanted to come visit him.”

For a minute Keisuke didn’t speak. He looked straight at the ground, feet planted on the floors like roots had grown out of him as he held your hand.

Earlier this morning he had clung onto your waist while angry tears rolled down his cheeks. The moment he caught sight of you putting your shoes on the genkan he had broken into a run, letting his body smash against yours, and almost making you lose your balance. Both you and your mom had tried your hardest to calm him down for what felt like hours but to no avail. He persisted, begging for you to let him accompany you to the hospital.

Outside of Shinichiro’s room, it was a whole other story. All of a sudden he had decided he didn’t want to see him eye to eye. His reaction made you internally groan in frustration. Had you listened to your own gut feeling telling you Keisuke wasn’t ready to come with you, it would’ve saved him the stress of making a choice for himself. Instead, you were too weak to his puppy dog eyes and wobbly pleas, and now his eyes had started to water as he tried to hold back his own hiccups.

“I promise Shin-nii isn’t angry at you,” you cooed, kneeling down to the floor and looking up at him. When had he gotten this tall? When had he grown this much? Were your efforts enough to shape him into a decent person? “and if you truly don't feel comfortable we can go home, I promise I won’t get angry.”

He rubbed at his teary eyes with his free hand before nodding at you, trailing behind you as you stood up and knocked on the door.

“Hey!” you poked your head into the room with a smile, one that faltered as you tried to keep your mouth from falling open in awe once you noticed how the sunlight streaming from the window kissed every inch of Shinichiro’s skin as he quietly read the book you had given him as a joke. He looked up at you, pearly whites all up for display, and mumbled a soft mumbled a soft ‘hey’ right back at you; he looked so pretty he could be mistaken for an angel. “I brought Keisuke with me, ‘that okay?”

He hummed in response, marking the page he was reading before setting it aside. Even after the events that took place at the shop, you knew he wouldn’t mind your brother visiting—he had a soft spot for him after all. The verbal confirmation was more for Keisuke’s sake, who prompted by it, let go of your hand and walked into the room, a tinge of fear staining each step he took.

Shinichiro grinned, gently waving his way. And though the both of you had always found some sense of comfort in the warmth of his smile, it took less than a second for Keisuke to burst into tears. Sobs wracked his body as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, frantically drying out his cheeks with his forearms in vain. Tears kept pouring from his caramel eyes down to his cheeks until they stained his striped shirt.

At the sight of his distress, Shinichiro tried standing up as quickly as possible, almost ripping off his tangled IV. Thankfully, you managed to stop him before he could; the moment your brother had started crying you were already by his side wrapping your arms around his fragile figure.

Much like you had done the past few days, you combed his hair with your fingers while shushing his cries. It had become almost like a habit, Keisuke running to you in the middle of the day, hugging you close while you dried his tears for him. You’d think he’d ran out of tears by now, but something you didn’t take into account was how similar the two of you were, always feeling everything too much, all at once.

“You’re okay,” you whispered into his hair, “you’re okay, and Shin-nii’s okay, see?” you asked him, holding his tear streaked cheeks and motioning his face to meet your gaze, waiting for his breathing to even out before you coaxed him into looking at Shinichiro. “We’ve got you, the two of us, we've got you.”

He smiled at him once again, though you could see a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, as extended one of his hands for him to take. Warily, he warmed up to the invitation, wiping the remaining tears from his face before dragging his feet to the edge of the bed, asking if he could sit with him in a very un-Keisuke nature; it was unusual for him to ask before acting on his impulses.

Shinichiro softened once he felt Keisuke nuzzling his cheek against his chest. He ran his fingers through his dark locks, and as he did so you couldn’t help but think how his hair kept getting longer and longer with each day; hopefully no one from the school office would call you letting you know it was time to chop it off once classes were back in session.

In between hushed whispers, they talked amongst each other for a while. At first, Baji kept giving one word responses, still insecure in spite of your reassurance, but it wasn’t long before he started to loosen up, giggling between sniffles at Shinichiro’s questions and mocking his ‘honorary-brother’ back with teary jabs.

It was a solid dynamic they had been able to build after years of trust and consistent interaction; your two favourite boys extending their love to each other like they were flesh and blood. In that way, the two of them were similar, fiercely loyal and willing to give themselves up for those they loved. You were grateful that Shinichiro was there for Keisuke as he grew up, unknowingly making up for everything you lacked.

The mumble of your name caught your attention, popping your nostalgia blown bubble. Keisuke and Shinichiro alike were beckoning you over, the latter extending his arm as the two of them scooted over and patted the free space next to him.

He held your hand like you were a princess stepping onto a carriage, gingerly helping you keep your balance as you toed-off your shoes. You let out a sigh once you plopped yourself on the bed, letting his arm curl around your shoulders while he kept your hands interlocked, rubbing the skin with his thumb. In spite of the giddiness warming your stomach, you forced yourself to roll your eyes in response when he teasingly asked if you were comfortable, pretending to be bothered by his apparent clinginess

“‘Your sister made you try the jell-o cups already?” he asked Keisuke, the younger boy looking up at him through puffy eyes and wet lashes, and once he shook his head in response he whistled, turning towards you as if disappointed. “You haven’t made him try ‘em yet?”

“‘Came straight to see you.” You brushed off, pretending you didn’t feel his body tense beside you and smiling to yourself in subtle victory when he gulped.

“You should’ve gone to the cafeteria first.” He scolded jokingly, clicking his tongue as if that would help him hide his blushing cheeks that hurt from his own shy affection. Soon after, he switched his attention to your brother, ruffling his hair before speaking, “Remember those jell-o cups you used to share with Manjiro and Haruchiyo? The ones they sold at the konbini?”

“Yeah, but they don't have ‘em anymore,” Keisuke pouted, brows furrowed in thought. His sharp canines poked at his bottom lip, tilting his head up at Shinichiro and grinning. “Mikey almost fought the cashier guy when we found out they stopped selling them!”

“Yeah, I remembered that.” He chuckled, recalling the time he had heard the employee complain about Manjiro’s sudden aggression on one of his morning milk runs. “But guess what?” he sat on his forearms, dragging out the silence to build anticipation. He waited for the two of you to raise your heads from his chest, sharing an evident impatience as you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath before grinning once again. “They still sell ‘em over here.”

“No way! Really?!” The boy stood up in less than a second, forcing you to grab onto the neck of his t-shirt to prevent him from falling flat on his ass while he cried in glee, tears seemingly forgotten. Those jell-o cups in particular had been a staple of everyone’s childhood; you had been eating those snacks for years and years. You can clearly remember the clear disappointment in his face when he told you they had been discontinued, his somberness rubbing off on you.

“Yeah!” Shinichiro exclaimed back, scooting closer to your brother and placing one of his hands on the bed railing behind your brother, aiding you in your task of preventing Keisuke from falling to the ground. The memory had suddenly made its wake into his consciousness after mulling over ways to comfort your brother and coming up empty handed, until he had suddenly turned to his bedside table where an empty plastic cup sat with a flimsy disposable spoon. “Manjiro and Emma got a bunch from the cafeteria to take home, you could do the same.”

You were almost taken aback by the speed he used to turn his face towards you, surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash before he asked you with as much excitement he could muster, “Can we?! Please, please!?”

His pleading words made his bronze eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lights and though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. You smiled and nodded without a shadow of a doubt that you’d do anything in your power to keep the toothy grin you missed on his lips.

“Does that mean I can go get one now?” He pleaded, tilting his head and yet again putting on display the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please? I haven't had one in years, I wanna know if they’re the same as I remember.”

“Knock yourself out.” Shinichiro said before you could respond, ruffling Keisuke’s hair before the latter jumped down, ignoring the fact you didn’t give him a proper response before running off to the cafeteria.

You sighed unimpressed, turning towards the man beside you and letting yourself slump against his figure. His chuckle only made you roll your eyes.

“What? Were you planning to say no to him?”

He knew you too well for your own good.

“Shut up.” With a gentle push you force him back down on the bed, elbowing him lightly in the process and pressing your head back against his chest. You almost hum in satisfaction when he let himself fall back down without resistance, caving in under your touch. “I could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, right.” This time, he was the one rolling his eyes, mocking your mannerisms and chuckling when you smiled, hoping the apparent ‘nonchalance’ would mask his now increased heart rate, and the faster beating coming from the vital sign monitor.

“I could’ve!” You tried to sit up in retaliation, pretending to be annoyed, yet you didn’t resist when he pulled you back down. He held down his own giggling once he felt you cuddling up closer to his side, tracing random patterns on his dotted hospital gown and realising too late how close both your hands were. The proximity made you nervous; even if the two of you were practically laying one on top of the other, holding hands felt like a foreign act of intimacy.

Subtly enough, you tried reaching out for the tip of his fingers, moving what seemed like less than a millimetre per minute. Soon enough, he took notice of your plan; hesitantly, he moved his own towards you, letting your fingertips rest against each other for a couple of seconds, like he was asking for your permission, before interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You really can’t stay away from me, can you?” he teased, gaze focused on your entwined hands through his lashes as he felt too shy to look anywhere near your face. It seemed that hiding the pink-ish blush staining his cheek had become his number one priority; you were so close, so everywhere, he wouldn’t want it any other way, even if the closest he’d get to you would be through friendly teasing, bordering the line of ‘definitely, a 100% and unmistakably platonic’ flirting.

In your mind, you were desperately scavenging for any semblance of a comeback, preferably witty and with the same energy he was giving you.Instead, all you did was sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You blamed the gusty confession on a moment of weakness, likely born out of your depleting energy mixed with the way his hand fit against yours like two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. You weren’t sure why you had said what you did, the way you did; voice softening as the longing you had suppressed your whole life coated every syllable that rolled down your tongue.

He hummed in response, giddy and satisfied, before backtracking in confusion. The lack of sarcasm or annoyance lighthearted mockery caught the two of you off-guard, though it seemed to have a bigger impact on him as his body tensed up for a moment. If you were to look up at him, you’d probably see his head tilted to the side, with warm cheeks and the ghost of a frown clouding his features.

And that’s exactly why you don’t.

Not like this; you wouldn't allow yourself to do so, wouldn’t even dare. Not when the stakes were this high, multiple worst outcomes served on a silver platter for you to choose because once you look up at him he would notice the way you see him, like he hung up each individual constellation up in the sky on his own and then all of it would be over for you.

For the both of you.

“Do you, uh,” the slight shake in his voice made you gulp, like you had an inkling of a very possible question he could ask. Maybe this would finally be the end of your friendship which, to your own dismay, could be very easily broken by other things that weren’t death itself, “do you know if Keisuke has talked to Manjiro yet?”

You cleared your throat, holding back the sigh of relief, and shook your head. “I don’t think he knows how.”

“He’s scared?”

“I think so,” you pondered, “they’ve been friends since forever, I think he’s scared of losing…him.”

Knowing that both you and your brother’s situation overlapped in so many ways felt weird; both Baji siblings were scared to lose their respective Sano brothers. It sounded funny, almost cute, like both Bajis and Sanos were meant to stick together generation after generation. You would’ve giggled at the thought, explain the parallels between the two relationships to Shinichiro and laugh at the silliness of it, yet the fear that had taken possession of your body the last couple of days lingered at the thought.

Scared of losing him.

You almost choked on the words sitting heavy in your mouth, like you had confessed to a crime. Had you been alone, maybe they would’ve urged you to cry.

“Hey, ‘you okay?” You hadn’t realised that the worry had bled onto your face, dripping down your cheeks and coating your eyelashes with sorrow until he spoke up, tearing you away from your trance. But you couldn’t help it, the lingering torture you endured at the hands of your brain replaying past events, from the bailing your brother out of jail as he sobbed to having Wakasa answer the call for you, Kazutora crying in your arms and Shinichiro blaming himself for his own accident, the more you felt like losing yourself in his embrace, tightening your hold on his hand. “You left me there for a second I thought–”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m–” you stuttered, “I don’t think I’m okay, I–”

Rejection after rejection, you’ve seen what felt like an infinite amount of his confessions go sideways, and yet he handled each and every one of them with grace. You’d attribute his resilience to the amount of first hand experience he’s had with it, and though at first it had taken a big toll on him. By now, rejection was nothing to him. He could make a fool of himself in front of anyone and he really wouldn’t care; he has told you so himself.

But you were not Shinichiro, and you could never be him.

You were resentful and impulsive, oftentimes reacting way before you think. You were impatient and whiny, though you tried your best to suppress that particular trait to no avail. You were a selfish, self-destructive being that somehow managed to keep the insecure neediness brewing inside on the down low.

And you could go on. You could go on because you were stubborn, volatile, melodramatic and a part of your brain really does think you were just setting yourself up for failure listing every single negative character trait that comes to mind. But it didn’t matter because that just further proves you're not Shinichiro Sano, that you were never going to be Shinichiro Sano because you were weak.

Too weak to answer the call, too weak not to try and escape uncomfortable situations, too weak to hold back the urge for a smoke, too weak to forgive Kazutora, too weak to confess your feelings for your best friend even after bawling your eyes out at the thought of a life without him.

Too weak, too weak, too weak.

Being weak is all you’ve ever known.

The thoughts poured and they wouldn’t stop, crashing against each other like the same bumper carts you rode along with Shinichiro at the funfair with your siblings. Back then, you were all smiles and laughter, and right now you wondered if the two of you would’ve held hands if it wasn’t for Emma sitting in the middle of you both.

And he was so warm next to you, not pressuring you to clarify whatever word-vomit you just spewed instead of a proper comeback. So sweet as he squeezed your hand to let you know he was there to help in whichever way he could to lull your worries to sleep. So kind as he took care of you when you should be the one taking care of him. Always so him.

You had no right to be a coward, at least not in front of one of the strongest and bravest people you’ve ever met. It wasn’t fair. Listing your flaws from the top of your head would never justify your body preventing itself from spilling the truth just so you could try and grasp at the fragile strings of self-pity to sew yourself back together as unspoken words necrotize your tongue.

The same way you wouldn’t dare look at him, you wouldn’t dare stay away from him. It’d kill you just to try. So fuck every martyrish thought in your head, fuck the burned cigarette butts stained with indirect kisses, fuck the many nights the two of you spent stargazing in his garden, the infinite amount of chocolates you bought him for valentine’s day to make up for the emptiness of his locker; and the countless times he had dropped everything he was doing for the chance to spend just a couple of minutes with you. Fuck the worn out red koi fish engraved on your lighter and the possibility of breaking the promise you two made of never straying away from each other.

“I can’t stay away from you,” you took a deep breath, “I think I’d rather die than live a life without you,

“The sole idea of losing you almost sent me over the edge, and even after you were out of surgery I was a mess,” you stopped yourself again, giving yourself the chance to swallow down the knot in your throat; it didn’t work. “I was going insane without being able to talk your ear off because even when I talk about something you couldn’t give a shit about you still give a shit, you give so many shits when it comes to me, too many,

“You’re loyal and gentle and charming and you’re always smiling, and it's like, it's like you're absolutely everything good and even then you genuinely have no idea how wrapped around your finger I truly am,

“And I don't think I’ve ever properly thanked you for existing because I don't think I’d be the same person I am right now if it wasn't for you, and even if I'm not perfect, I- I wouldn't trade myself for a better version if that meant you wouldn’t be in my life.

“So, yeah, I guess you’re right, I don’t think I can,” you let your shoulders sag, like the confession finally burned years upon years of cover-ups and excuses and fake scenarios you had come up with before bed stored in the darkest depth of your brain. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stay away from you.”

Pensive, he melted further against the pillows, letting his muscles melt at the sound of his own sighing. Even if you weren’t directly looking at him, you hear his smile reverberating throughout his body, and the sole idea of him possibly reciprocating your feelings made you impossibly giddy; a little too giddy. It was easy, after all, to get your hopes up once you lose yourself in him, his warmth and comfort. And for less than a second, you can see your hypothetical future with him pass right in front of your eyes, forcing you to accept a premature victory. But as the silence between the two of you started to drag itself out, you couldn't help but reluctantly welcome the acrid heartbreak tearing through your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you tensed up, “I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it's–,” he blurted out tongue tied as if your words had snapped him out of a trance, mirroring the same giddiness you had displayed with the same hint of hesitancy, “no one has talked about me like that, I guess it just caught me off-guard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I don’t– don’t think I'd be able to stay away from you either– not that I want to, of course it's just– sorry give me a minute.” Looking off to the side, he tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and pinching his cheeks, the skin already stained with all sorts of shades of pink. For him, it was inevitable not to become all shy and flustered, the least he could do was bite his tongue so as not to break into a fit of giggles, prevent himself from swinging his legs and twirling his short strands of hair like a lovesick middle schooler. All because of you. “Just, um, just to be clear before I look like an absolute fool, not that I don't look like an absolute fool on a daily basis, but this is a confession, right?”

You raised your head up in confusion, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. Had you not been so baffled by his self-explanatory question you would’ve fawned over this version of him, giddy and soft and in love with you because just by looking at his eyes you could tell he was looking at you like you hung the moon up in the sky—it was easy to decipher; after staring at him the exact same way countless times, you were bound to familiarise yourself with such display of devotion. And had he not looked this adorable, you would’ve teased him for being so painfully and hopelessly dense, but you didn’t have it in you to do so, only managing to nod in response.

“So you like like me?” He continued, waiting for your reassurance, either a nod or a smile, or any signal that he was right. “So you are in love with me?”

“I mean, I wouldn't say I'm in love but if that's what makes you sleep at night.” The more you stared at his face, the dimples on his cheeks, the creasing of his eyes at your words and the giggle he couldn’t help but contain, the wider the smile creeping at his lips became.

“Will you say it then?” He prodded, moving closer to you, now unable to hide the twinge of pink that grew what seemed like a thousand shades per second.

“I don’t know,” your legs innocently dangled from the side of the bed, trying to win back control of the situation by cutting down on your proximity, and sitting up properly from your half-lying position, “will I?”

“Please?” he begged, cupping one of your cheeks with the palm of his hand and pulling you closer until you could feel each other's breaths. His skin was warm against yours, the roughness of his palm from working non-stop at the shop offset by the tenderness he carried around for you.

And though you wanted to drag this on, enjoying the back and forth, you were so whipped for this man that you couldn’t stop your nonchalant act from crumbling as soon as you heard him once again let out a shy giggle after he nudged your nose with his.

“I love you.”

Voice dreamy and saccharine sweet, like confessing to your lifelong desire, you whispered, and just before your lips touched, through lidded eyes and uneven breath he whispered back ‘and I love you’.

After his own confession, you were unable to pay attention to anything that wasn’t him. All your senses were muted as his soft lips gilded against yours. The taste of the honey chapstick you applied almost compulsively melted against his tongue, and he wondered if like him, you could still faintly taste the strawberry chapstick you had gifted him a while ago; the same one he hadn’t stopped using since, going as far as asking the hospital staff to retrieve it from the pockets of the jeans he was wearing the day of the accident for him.

He bit back a whimper when he felt you bite down gently on his bottom lip, unable to ignore the way you smirk against the kiss once your hand makes its way up to the side of his neck to rest on his pulse point, in the perfect position to feel his heart doing somersaults underneath your touch. It made him want to melt right against you; the more you wandered down his body, the bigger the urge to hold you grew.

His calloused yet delicate fingers traced your skin, running from the apples of your cheeks down to your chin, coaxing you to fully give into him as he traced the tip of his tongue against your lips. He could feel himself grow hard once you gave him permission to enter, basking on the hidden whine you let out at the feeling of the warm muscle enveloping your whole body, drool pooling at the corner of both your lips.

Away from your face, he trails his hands slowly down your torso confidently ghosting the skin before the facade is broken the moment he almost freezes up once he gets to your chest. The blush on his cheeks deepened as you took notice of his apparent nervousness, laughing it off before he continued his path down to your hips,

He was sure he was ready to die right here in your arms the moment you softly suck on his tongue, his eyes almost rolling towards the back of his skull as you hands grazed his clothed dick. The teasing touch made him groan, the vibrations against your lips feeding the urge to get closer to him. And almost like he had read your mind, you shivered at the tight grip of his hips guiding you over lap until you were resting flush against him.

“‘Want you so bad.” He panted in between giggles, nudging your noses together and pecking your lips over and over again. You barely managed to catch your breath between his kisses; when he leaned away you pulled him in, and when you did so he tried to follow the path of your lips until they were once again interlocked with his. The two of you ignored the satisfying burn of your lungs like the feeling of your bodies close against each other was good enough of a replacement for oxygen itself. “–Waited so long for this.”

He pulled you down a little harder against him, bucking his hips against your. Mewling into the kiss, you wrapped both your arms around his shoulders, perhaps taking too much enjoyment in the minimal friction against your core. The sensation of him rutting desperately against you forced you to meet his attempts for more with an equal amount of want.

“You feel so good.” you cooed, whimpering as he sucked at the skin behind your ear. “Shin, Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

Before he could stop himself, he was groaning at the praise, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck and refusing to come back up to meet your lips to hide the raging blush tinting his skin, spreading from his cheeks up to his ears.

“You like that? Like it when I say you're doing a good job?”

He hummed, though it sounded more like a whimper, and waited no time to pull your face back against his, connecting your lips again in a messy kiss, to, presumably, stop you from teasing him. He took the opportunity to indulge himself, once again tracing the outline of your lower lip with his tongue and nipping at the supple skin in retaliation.

In spite of your own reluctance, you broke the kiss first, finding the way he tried to chase your lips with his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, indescribably cute. You took a minute to fully take in this version of him, his breath uneven and with a thin sheen of sweat making some of his black locks stick to his forehead. His lips were puffy, glistening with saliva as they part involuntarily in an enrapturing appetite.

He looked so pretty like this, you didn’t think you’d have it in you to control yourself.

Once you had lowered the sheets covering his legs, one of your thumbs proceeded to draw circular patterns on his exposed thigh, chuckling at the way he flinched before relaxing against you. Gently ghosting your fingernails over his skin, you hiked up his hospital gown until you had full access to the band of his boxers, toying with the elastic but doing nothing aside from that.

“You want to do this here?” He pulled back, eyes wide and dazed with need yet frazzled at your sudden boldness, as if nearly dry humping in a hospital wasn’t bold enough. His hands played with the hem of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine every time his fingers grazed your skin. He looked like a deer caught in headlines, a way cuter version of Bambi, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose against his cheek before kissing him gently, once, twice, thrice.

“Only if you want to.”

“I do,” he swallowed, clearing his throat to keep himself lucid as he felt the tips of your fingers breaching the hem of his underwear, cold against the warmth of the covered skin. “Fuck, I really do, I need you s’bad I–”

“You fucking disgust me.”

Like a pair of surprised kittens, the sudden interruption had the two of you jumping away from each other, almost falling off the bed while desperately trying to pull the sheets back into place. In turn Shinichiro tried helping you regain your balance, grabbing your arm before you crashed against the floor, nearly pulling down one of the hospital monitors in the process.

“Don't you know how to knock?” You bit back, taking his comment more personally that you should’ve.

“Didn’t think it’d be necessary.” Wakasa crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting the lollipop in his mouth from one side of his cheek to the other. Standing beside, Benkei held a teddy bear and a lavender flower arrangement, mixed along with baby’s breaths and eucalyptus. If anyone had to guess, the bewildered expression he sported only meant he’d rather have his friend die than see whatever blasphemous activities you were performing. But then again, he probably expected to see his friend bedridden and weak instead of the free front row tickets to your ‘dry humping a post-concussed Shinichiro’ expectale. “‘Thought the worst thing we’d come across was him sleeping.”

“Why did you think coming across me sleeping d’be the worst case scenario!?” Shinichiro butted in lightheartedly, though you wouldn’t rule out the possibility of him actually being serious. “Are you saying I look ugly when I sleep?”

“No, you dumbass,” Wakasa deadpanned; even with his usual unbothered facade you could tell he was grateful for the ordinary banter, questioning his stupidity with a hidden smile. “How’re we gonna talk to you if you’re asleep.”

“Wait, what happened? I didn't see,” Takeomi joined in, panting as he held a couple of balloons that had ‘it's a boy!’ written all over them. “These two assholes left me while I was getting something to eat.”

The two of you groaned at the sound of his voice, pressing the heels of your hands against while Shinichiro hid his eyes behind his forearm. Even if you wanted to be lowkey about the whole situation, sweep it under the rug to avoid facing the embarrassment over again, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone, not even Takeomi, and he wasn’t the brightest.

Shinichiro’s hair was a tousled mess and his skin was dusted pink. Both of your lips were puffy, glistening under the fluorescent lights, and your breathing was uneven still. No matter how much the two of you tried to regulate it back to normal, it seemed to follow the rapid rhythm of each other’s heart beat.

“Nothing happened.” You grumbled, willing to attempt a lousy cover up in spite of your friend’s, including Shinichiro, giggling. Once he found out, it would be impossible for him to let it go. But even so, it took a lot of effort not to join in your friends’ laughter; it was funny to fuck with him—not literally—his puzzled frown as he borderline begged for someone to let him only feeding in your teasing. Still, once he found out. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah, talking about fuck–”

“Wakasa!” “Dude!”

The two of you exclaimed as the blond tilted his head to the side, making his earring jingle. A teasing smile stretched on his lips as the four of you waited for Takeomi to process what was just mentioned. Knowing the speed in which the neurons within his brain transported information, it’d take a little while.

To everyone’s surprise, it only took him a couple of seconds to do so. You could visibly see it in his expression, morphing into one of amazement the minute realisation hit him straight in the face

“Did’ya– No way, you finally fucked?” And though his lack of decorum made the two men beside him laugh louder and the two of you groan as if to muffle his voice, he paid your reaction no mind other than using it as an affirmative response to his question. “No way, congrats dude! Who would’ve thought you needed to almost die just to lose your virginity.”

“I hate you so much.” Shinichiro playfully complained, a stupid grin threatening to make its way onto his lips disproving his claim. Seeing his four best friends standing around him right after waking up from what could’ve been a tragic accident made him feel all sorts of things he found himself unable to explain. It almost made him want to cry once again—happy tears this time.

“Anyway, now that you’ve got someone to stay with,” you changed the topic, interrupting yourself to fix the stray hairs sitting on top of Shinichiro’s head before caressing his cheek with your thumb, “I’ll go check whatever Keisuke’s doing, I‘ll be back in a sec.”

“Wait no, don’t go…” You had to resist the urge to give him another quick peck at the way he dragged out the ‘go’, and instead, grabbed your phone from his bedside table to respond to the missed messages coming from your mom. “Don’t leave me with these people.”

“Very funny Shitty-chiro.” Takeomi fake laughed, letting himself fall on one of the chairs nearby, stretching his arms before fully slumping against the backrest and looking at you. “But’s fine, I left Haruchiyo in charge, Senju’s with them as well.”

“Well that doesn't make things any better, does it.” At your snapping voice, he raised his hands up in surrender, as if the idea of letting a 13 year-old in charge of two 12 year-olds didn't have multiple flaws. Doing a 180° turn, you turned towards Shinichiro, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Wait, before you go,” Wakasa interrupted, stopping you from slinging your bag over your shoulder. He took the bright red candy out of his mouth with a pop, using it as a little wand to emphasise his speech, before he continued. “Who confessed first?”

“Yeah!” Takeomi sat at the end of his seat, gaze switching from Shinichiro to you and vice versa. “How did Shinichiro confess to ya’?”

Again, faster than the usual processing speed of his cognitive skills, he managed to string the hints together, gasping at the silence that settled between the two of you as you tried to silently decide who should say what. Shinichiro opened his mouth like a fish, as if trying to come up with something to appease his friend’s reaction before giving up and averting his eyes, pointing at you with his thumb.

Wakasa’s smirk only grew the more Takeomi seemed to sink back into the chair in dejection. “‘gotta pay up Omi-omi.”

The ruffling of bills and the complaints birthed out of the apparent loser’s mouth distracted you momentarily. You were about to laugh at the scene in front of you, two of them waiting with their hands stretched out as Takeomi reluctantly placed the wrong amount in his palm, grunting when Wakasa noticed it wasn’t the amount they had agreed on, before it clicked in your head.

“Pay up,” you mumbled to yourself, “Pay up, pay up? Wait, did you three bet on us?”

“Kinda,” Benkei sent you a reassuring smile, counting the hundred yen bills that were handed to him once again; when it came to money matters, Takeomi wasn’t someone you could trust. “We bet on who’d confess first.”

“And you didn’t bet on me?!” Shinchiro exclaimed, a little louder than he intended.

“Sorry man, ‘didn't have faith in you,” Wakasa folded the five crinkled bills in half before stashing them in his back pocket. “After your failed attempt I kinda accepted you weren’t going to win, Benkei was always betting against you, though.”

“But ‘ya admit it!” Takeomi jumped from his seat, waving his now empty wallet in the air like he was fencing with the worn out leather rectangle. “He did confess first!”

“Hell no, it only counts if it was a successful confession.”

“So the bet wouldn’t count if one of them got rejected? What's the point then!”

Wakasa groaned, pressing his temples with his thumb and middle finger, “It only counts if the two of them understand whatever was done was a confession.”

“But the lighter was him confessing!”

“Takeomi, that was the vaguest confession to ever be seen by the entirety of mankind.”

“What confession are you talking about…?” You interrupted the animated discourse with a question. In spite of enjoying the banter between your friends, you remained in the dark. Shinichiro had never confessed to you, or even remotely tried to do so. You were a hundred percent certain, after all, had he done so you were sure you’d be dating by now.

“The lighter you always carry around,” Takeomi responded, “the fish one.”

Instinctively, you patted the pocket where your zippo lighter sat, carefully trailing your thumb lightly over the red imprints as you pulled it out. It looked almost exactly the same way as it did during the summer festival. The only difference, aside from the way the metal reflected the cold hospital lights instead of fireworks and paper lanterns, were the couple of dents on the metal and the previously well-defined engraving softening over the years.

“S‘not just a fish,” Shinichiro chuckled, letting himself fall back on the bed while hiding his flustered state behind a seemingly lame explanation. At this rate, he was sure his skin could be permanently stained a pinkish-red. “It's a red koi fish.”

“Wait,” you snapped your head from the lighter to him, letting your mouth fall open in surprise, “you, you meant that?”

“What do you…mean?” Shinichiro poked, voice twisting and forcing the ‘mean’ to come out strained. Watching your shoulders tense up and, somehow, simultaneously relaxed made him wary of the whole situation, like the universe itself was playing a prank on him. And though unlikely, he wasn't ruling out the possibility of random cameras popping up from behind the door or through the window or maybe from underneath his bed with a huge poster reading ‘you’ve been pranked!’.

He had given you that lighter seven years ago, the engravings were probably faded by now, there was no way…

“Red koi fish mean romantic love, don’t they?”

It took him a couple of seconds to properly run your words through his brain, before his eyes widened in amusement mixed with the mild disappointment his seventeen year-old-self had forced himself to ignore after his confession had gone wrong. “You knew!?”

“Uh…yeah? We learned that in literature class.” You shrugged with a sheepish smile in an attempt to tame down the laughter that had started bubbling in your throat at his mortified reaction. He groaned at your response, throwing one of his arms over his eyes, the sound mixing with a cry as the movement pulled on the IV digging into his arm.

He licked his lips a couple of times and rubbed the skin above the needle in an attempt to soothe the ache. Stalling, he was trying to buy time before he asked anything that could potentially hurt him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Aside from flustered and pouty, slightly amused at his own failed attempt, he appeared to be a little sullen, perhaps even sad. It was obvious to you, though you didn’t know why; maybe he was blaming himself for losing the opportunity to get in a relationship with you way earlier. Or, maybe he blamed himself for putting any sort of pressure on you; back then, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure how you felt about him, so maybe you had purposely ignored his advances because you didn't want him. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Less than a couple of minutes ago the two of you were confessing your love for each other, so if that were to be the case, when did your feelings for him start to change? “Did, uh, did you not like me back then?”

Looking at his hopeful yet gloomy expectant features, he appeared so small and vulnerable in front of you, you wanted to give him a hug. The question had visibly caught you off-guard, your brows furrowing as soon as he was done talking. Who would’ve thought that a seemingly innocuous event from your past would come back transformed into an apparent irrational insecurity. It prompted yet another silence upon the two of you. And though it felt eternal, it lasted only a couple of milliseconds, interrupted by both your annoyance and Takeomi munching on the chips he bought at an inflated price on one of the hospital’s vending machines.

“Do you mind?” You turned towards the obnoxious mistake you had chosen as a friend, snickering as he shrugged in questionable indifference, mumbling a muffled ‘go on’ before motioning you two to continue with a shake of his hand. But at the lack of positive feedback from anyone in the room he stopped himself to explain.

“What? It’s like watching a live romcom,” he shoved more chips into his mouth, “The ones we watch every friday, ‘ya know what I mean?”

“Okay,” Benkei clapped both his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention before he pulled Takeomi into a standing position and pushed both him and an amused Wakasa towards the door. “Seems like all of us are hungry, we’re heading to the cafeteria real quick, we’ll send Baji back up when we’re done, sounds good?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Benkei.” You smiled at him, watching the three of them leave and sighing in satisfaction when you saw the way the gentle-giant punched Takeomi’s arm once they were far enough for his complaints to appear silent. “But to answer your question,” you turned towards Shinichiro once again, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting your hand on top of his. You could see the way he visibly relaxed against your touch, the warmth of your skin coaxing his insecurities away little by little. “I did like you very much back then, too much for it to be considered healthy, I'm pretty sure…”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Well, I, you know,” you stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling the embarrassment for your younger self was all over you. Why didn’t you say anything? Well, in hindsight, you didn’t think Shinchiro had it in him to use a literary reference as a means of confession. Not because he was stupid, that was Takeomi's role, but because it was very un-Shinichiro. You had been witness to the countless failed confession attempts and nothing included anything as subtle and detailed as the lighter he had gifted you. Back then, he professed his brimming infatuation with an honest smile, the well-rehearsed question ‘would you go out with me?’ and absolutely nothing else. And though the ‘courting’ period included him acting all whipped and soft, he was usually very blunt when it came to asking people out, gentle but direct.

Although, thinking about it a little bit more in depth, he had always been very romantic, sometimes cringy with the shitty pick up lines, but during movie nights he had always chosen movies with clear romantic subplots, and you can recall that one romance poetry book he kept borrowing from the library, unable to finish it before returning it—at least that’s what you thought, by the amount of times he had taken it home.

When you were both in middle school and high school, he would watch couples holding hands with a gentle smile, sometimes going as far as spacing out and letting a dreamy sigh fall from his lips—he always brushed off the person asking the reason behind his sighing, but you were paying attention to him more often than not, so of course you knew—and of course, you couldn’t forget the many times he had shared hypothetical scenarios with the four of you, most of them consisting of him fantasising out loud the sort of dates he’d like to have with his hypothetical s/o or what he would do for them before being relentlessly teased by all of you.

So, in retrospect, him trying to confess through a pretty much evident symbol extracted from one of your favourite books was a very un-Shinichiro, Shinichiro thing to do, if that made any sense.

“I think…I might’ve gaslit myself into believing it was a coincidence, didn't wanna get my hopes up.”

“I thought, I– I thought it was pretty obvious that I liked you.” He chuckled, scooting to the side in order to make more space for you to lay, next to him, the same you had done most of the days you had spent here. “Everybody knew I did.”

“Wait, really? I thought you were being friendly!” You let out a laugh, watching him soften up even more at your obliviousness and simultaneously hold back laughter of his own. “Don’t laugh at me! You were flirtier with Wakasa than with me!”

“You can’t blame me!” He finally laughed along with you, interlocking your fingers together and pulling you close until you were squished next to him, and waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his spiel. “Waka’s my best friend, we’ve always been like that, and you know it.” He nuzzled his cheek against your head, muttering the words in the quietest way possible, like he didn’t want to be heard by anyone but you. “Plus I couldn't flirt with you, I'd blush and cry afterwards.”

“Yeah, I’d’ve cried if you flirted with me as well.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in a good way! Happy tears or whatever.” You sighed with a giddy grin, caressing his cheeks with the back of your hand before smushing them together, forcing a pout and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll forever be in love with you.”

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dancingazaleas · 4 years ago

Text

zeke yeager | my baby

this is bc of the new episode; i’ve known his backstory for a while but i didn’t come up with the idea until now LFMAOOAOA

anyways zeke supremacy

edit: this is so bad but enjoy LMFOAOAOA

warnings/notes: this is strictly platonic, takes place in canonverse during zeke’s childhood then to the beginning of season 4, cursing, mentions of mental abuse from family, murder, fem!reader(feel free to change if u want), yeah i’m unoriginal and the reader is the female titan before annie, angst,

when you first met zeke, zeke was extremely hesitant towards you.

grisha and dina had brought you into the house, a 17 year old girl who had soft and gentle eyes along with a nice smile. zeke had recognized you from the warrior program. you hadn’t inherited your titan just yet, you still had a few more years before they would allow it to be given to you. your predecessor gained the titan around your age, no one really knows why. zeke assumes that it must be a similar case with mr. ksaver and himself.

it shocked zeke in all honesty. they’re letting a warrior watch over him? one that isn’t in cahoots with his mother and father?

it wasn’t until grisha and dina pulled him into a different room and told him to get information on your views that he understood why. they wanted to use you, just like they wanted to use zeke. the worst of it all was that zeke knows you. he looks up to you, you graduated third out of all of your peers, you express love with the younger candidates such as zeke.

he felt like curling up in his bed and crying, he didn’t want you to babysit him just so his parents could use you.

but whenever the couple left, your arms encased him in warmth. you were hugging him tightly to you, fingernails surely digging into the fabric of his shirt. he felt his eyes widen whenever he felt a drop of a liquid on his shoulder. you were crying.

you pulled away and put a hand on his cheek, looking at him with endearment. zeke started crying at this, not once had dina touched him like this. not once had grisha looked at him like this.

“it’s okay, my boy,” you pull him close again, “i’m here.”

for the first time, zeke wasn’t cowering in a corner while he sobbed. he sobbed in the arms of a person, one that loved him dearly whether he knew it or not. you were even crying for him.

“my mother and father were apart of the same group,” you whispered as you stroked his hair, “they pushed me so far to my limits.”

“so, i did something i regret,” you sob, “something i hope you’re never forced to do.”

your whimper gave him chills, “i murdered my mother with a butcher knife and pinned the crime onto my father. all at the age of ten. to this day, i don’t know how i got away with it. maybe the police pitied me or found it excusable because of their affiliations with the group.”

“you hurt someone,” he sniffles, eyes widened in fear.

it gave you a frown, however you couldn’t blame him, “i did. it was mistake and i wish i had never done it. i just wished for my mother and father to love me, not to use me. after that, i found myself in the warrior program. maybe with this power, i could do some good. to show marley that us eldians are not devils.”

you rid him of his snot and tears with your shirt, “when i saw your father the time he came to observe you, i was immediately able to tell. your reaction had said it all. i can’t allow myself to witness you go through what i did without doing something. even if it’s small.”

he blinks at you after you softly kiss him on his forehead.

“now, is there anything you want to do?”

————

that afternoon, you played catch and volleyball with zeke. after that, you bought him whatever meal he wanted from the market and ate with him at the table. he told you about his stuffed monkey, who he named jerry, and his adventures.

he was sad when you had to leave, to which dina and grisha informed him you would come to their home sparingly. although he was delighted, he was also sad.

the next day, you doted on him during the short breaks between his training. patting his head, shaking him by his shoulders, and giving him a hug. when lunch came around, you pulled out a home cooked lunch for him as you sat on a bench. you would give him advice with training and his health while he ate.

he even shared some of his food with her.

after that was his time with ksaver. he didn’t see you during that time, obviously, but that didn’t mean you didn’t come during their conversations.

zeke was surprised to hear the praising from ksaver. ksaver said that you were a good figure for him and that you had a genuine heart. it made him feel at ease.

when the day was over, you walked zeke home and even ate dinner with him and his parents. it was a surprise that made you slightly bitter, but you accepted nonetheless.

they talked to you excitedly, asking about your duties as a warrior. you exceptionally avoided answering the questions, instead prodding at their own occupations and duties.

in the end, it felt like a game of tag. avoiding and then charging.

the night you were on your way to watch zeke, you felt your heart drop at the feral screeching of grisha and the reassurance of dina. you banged your fist against the door worriedly, sweat forming at your hairline.

the yelling stopped and you heard the patter of footsteps against the floor. dina looked flustered as she opened the door, face tear stained and eyebrows knitted up in concern.

“oh, (name), we don’t need you to watch over him anymore.”

“no, please, allow me,” you put on a fake smile that made her relax.

“you can take him out for a bit,” she, surprisingly, compromised and stepped aside to let you inside.

you bolted to zeke’s dark room. he was in a corner with his knees pushed against his chest and his hands covering his ears. his tears were making puddles on his knees as he stared blankly at the wall. you rush to him, pulling his head into your chest and picking him up.

“it’s alright,” you whispered, “you’ll be with me for a little bit.”

he didn’t respond but just wiped his eyes when he realized he would pass by his mom. you gave dina a brisk goodbye before leaving and taking him to a nearby park.

“it’s alright, my boy, it’s alright,” you coo and stroke his sweaty back.

for once, he felt okay.

————

the day zeke reported his parents, you held him in your arms. from then, he stayed with his grandparents and often found himself spending time with you after training when his schedule allowed it.

now, zeke is 16 and you’re 29. zeke was often seen with you or ksaver during his free time, now having the power of the best titan secured when ksaver’s term is up.

you mentor a girl named annie leonhardt, the next inheritor of the female titan. zeke occasionally sees you and annie catching some bugs in the grass during your mentoring. other days, you talk to her or just look at the sky. once at the beginning of the year, he once saw you take annie ice skating over a lake.

when he spends his time with you, you’re often doting on him and taking care of him. one time, you convinced the kids and some of the older soldiers to all play a game of baseball after your training was over.

you walked the extra mile for zeke no matter what. zeke was in trouble during a war and you swatted him into the trenches with your hand before attacking the enemy a year ago. whenever zeke would get hurt, you’d be his nurse.

if zeke’s being honest, you’re the maternal figure in his life. you act as if he’s your son, love him like he’s your son, and sometimes you even let it slip and call him that. sometimes zeke messes up and calls you mom.

in your eyes, he is your son.

in his eyes, you’re his mom.

but with being a parental figure came with fighting. it didn’t happen often, but whenever it did it was bad. zeke would become more irritable and angry while you would become reserved and melancholy.

when zeke was 14, you got into a fight so bad that it ended up getting you bedridden. you’d been sick from stress and it lasted for weeks until zeke swallowed his pride and apologized.

it almost made bertholdt, annie, reiner, porco, pieck, and marcel laugh at how domestic the two of you are when together. but as soon as you left zeke’s side, he would revert back to his quiet and receptive personality.

“zeke, my boy,” you call as you walk towards all the warrior candidates, “i’ve got your favorite.”

“thanks,” he hums when you stand beside him.

“i also brought some food for you all too. since we didn’t have training today, i thought you all could enjoy a nice break by having a picnic,” you clap your hands with a smile and they all feel like they’re seeing an angel.

they all agree and follow behind you when you start leading them towards a grassy field. you set the basket down and rummage through it, pulling out a nice thick blanket so the blades of the grass wouldn’t poke through.

“help me lay this out,” zeke sighs but obliges.

with zeke’s help, everyone is sitting on the blanket and eating and conversing. you listen quietly as you chew on the sandwich you made.

“miss (name),” pieck’s soft voice said beside you, “thank you for the picnic.”

you smile and shake your head, cheeks puffing out from the food that’s still in your mouth.

“can we do this again,” shyly asks reiner.

you gulp down your food and choke a bit, “y-yes! of course!”

you turn to zeke and speak quietly, “how was training yesterday?”

“it was fine. my calves are kind of sore though, it’s been a while since we did squats,” he shrugs and looks up, “ksaver let me pitch to him again.”

“i’m assuming it was at least enjoyable?”

“yeah...,” he trails off, “could you massage my calves for me in a little while?”

you pinch his cheek as you laugh, “of course! anything for you, my child.”

he chuckles while he swats at your hand, “quit that. it hurts.”

before you could pinch him even harder, porco’s loud voice interrupted.

“miss (name), are you zeke’s mom?”

his brother and annie hit him, scolding him in whispers.

“i-i’m so sorry miss (name)..! my brother means no harm,” marcel stutters nervously.

“it’s alright, i don’t mind,” zeke’s slightly flustered, “but no, i’m not zeke’s mother.”

“so why do you act so friendly?”

“i met zeke when i was 17 and he was just a little boy. i would watch him while his grandparents were away,” you lie like it’s nothing.

“i’ve always seen zeke as my little boy though even if i’m only 13 years older,” it has them all gaping and zeke staring at his food.

“why’d you become a warrior then,” reiner blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth in shame, “sorry... but with all due respect, you have a family you love and who love you... why would you let your life end so short?”

for just a second the smile on your face cracks into a frown as you feel your throat tighten up, “why are you asking such disrespectful questions? i understand you have no malicious intent, however it sounds as if you are seeing my decision as an ignorant one. are you calling me ignorant for becoming a warrior?”

zeke just looks away sadly. you never really had to put on this demanding ploy too much since no one dared to ask a question such as reiner did. not to mention that you had to in order to keep your position. reiner scrambles to pledge his loyalty to marley with your eyes burning holes into his head.

the others slightly cower in fear, they’d only ever heard that you could be like this from their mentors. but when they all looked in your, now, sad eyes, they relaxed.

“but, to answer your question,” you say reluctantly, “i was already selected to inherit the female titan.”

“now,” you cough and zeke knows it’s because you want to cry, “i need to go.”

they all help you get everything together, fidgeting anxious as they watch you walk back to the dorm. when you were far enough away, porco shouts at reiner for asking such questions and ruining the picnic. it ends up with annie joining in with the berating and marcel slapping porco upside the head.

zeke just leaves and follows you. he can’t be bothered to listen to them argue while you’re probably crying.

zeke knew it was about your 13 years coming to an end, meaning you wouldn’t be with him anymore. the first time he brought it up, you sobbed out apologies while holding his head to your chest. zeke knows not to bring it up again.

however, reiner didn’t. although he was slightly frustrated with reiner, he understood that he meant no harm to you. sometimes reiner just doesn’t think before he speaks.

zeke finds you with your head in your hands as you cry on your bed. the creaking of the door opening has you looking up and making eye contact and your eyes fill up with tears. zeke shut the door behind him and sat next to you after you pat the spot beside you.

zeke knows what’s going to happen, but allows it anyways because it puts you both at ease.

you cradle his head to your chest, stroking his hair with one hand and his back with another. zeke feels himself starting to cry when you cry out apologies and exclamations of love.

“zeke, my boy, i love you,” you whimper, “i’m so sorry i cannot be by your side until i grow old.”

zeke’s fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt and let’s out a broken sob.

“you’re the light of my life, zeke,” you whisper, “my beautiful boy, my beautiful baby.”

his shoulders shake and he wanted to tell you to stop and to pull away. but he won’t.

“you’re the son i never had, zeke, did you know that,” you sob and squeeze him tight.

it has him wailing and holding you tight. though zeke knew this, you never said it out loud.

“my baby, my baby,” you croak, “i love you so much, zeke.”

“love you too,” he chokes out, muffled by your shirt.

“zeke, my boy, my son, my zeke.”

“please don’t leave me,” it makes you sob even louder.

“i’m so sorry, zeke, i’m so sorry.”

————

zeke couldn’t look in annie’s direction after your term ended and her’s started. even at 29 years of age, he still curls up in a ball and cries himself to sleep. he carries a photograph of the two of you, he remembers taking the picture on your 26th birthday.

back on marley, whenever you were brought up in conversations, reiner, porco, and pieck stared at him with sympathy.

after zeke’s arms grow back on the blimp, he pulls out the folded photograph from his pocket. he stares at your beaming smile.

“who’s the girl,” eren asks, ignoring how yelena looks at him fiercely, “when’d you get a girlfriend?”

zeke shakes his head, “not a girlfriend.”

“who is she then,” eren gestures with his hand, the clinking of the metal chains echoing in the small room on the blimp.

“my mother,” he murmurs while he hands it to eren.

“dina doesn’t look like that.”

“eren, did you ever see a memory of a woman being introduced as a babysitter?”

“now that it’s being mentioned, yea.”

“that’s her,” the memory has him chuckling, “she treated me like her son before she died.”

eren transfers his gaze to yelena, a silent request for her to give more information.

“(name) (last name) was the inheritor of the female titan before annie leonhardt. she inherited the titan a few months after she turned 17, her predecessor, flora, was unexpectedly injured during war and was not able to regenerate. although disorganized and unexpected, (name) managed to eat flora. she died at the age of 30 when annie ate her as a pure titan,” yelena elaborates hesitantly as zeke’s small smile fades, “she was often recognized for her kind personality and optimistic attitude.”

“i see,” he said.

“were you her beautiful boy,” eren taunts.

“yes. i was.”

he sounds sad while he folds it back up and puts it in his pocket.

maybe he could be the same to eren.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #zeke yeager #zeke yeager x reader #snk zeke #zeke x reader #attack on titan zeke #zeke jaeger #shingeki no kyojin zeke #zeke x you #snk angst

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lou-struck · 3 years ago

Text

Timber times Two

Sawamura Daichi x reader

Day 5: Cutting the Tree

25 Days of Ficmas Masterlist

WC: 1,100+

Finding the perfect tree shouldn’t be so hard

With a deep breath, you step down from your step ladder to your beautifully decorated home just in time for Christmas. You and your boyfriend are hosting a Christmas party for all your friends and neighbors so the two of you are really going all out with the decor. Everything is holly and jolly except, for one thing, You haven't had the time to go out and find a Christmas tree.

Instead of a Christmas tree, there is an obviously large gap where one is supposed to be, as a younger officer, Sawamura has been getting stuck with the undesirable shifts left and right making it hard for the two of you to go and get one.

Off in the distance, you hear the familiar sound of Sawarmura’s car clicking shut with a honk. Excitedly you go to hide from his view so the first thing he sees is the work that you managed to do since getting home from work.

The front door swings open letting in the cold air as a very handsome police officer enters through the threshold of the home.

“Y/N?” he calls from the entrance, “sorry I'm late, there was an issue down at the station and I-i….” he cuts off looking at the decorations. “Where are you? This looks great,” he says as you pop out from your hiding spot.

“You think so?” you say giggling a little at the slight jump he makes. “All we need now is a tree,” you tell him as you go to give him a kiss.

“I have tomorrow off, do you think we could go out and try to find one?” he asks hopefully as he sways from the exhaustion of the day.

“Of course!” you say excitedly “but first let's get you comfortable before you collapse, I don't want to spend Christmas in the hospital with you after overworking yourself.”

He tries to laugh but it turns into a shaky yawn. “Yes please!” he says before heading over to the bedroom where you follow behind admiring the view.

The next day in the early afternoon, the two of you load up in his car bundled up in your grubbiest winter clothes to prepare for undoubtedly getting covered in mud and pine needles. Your car heads up towards the mountains where you can get the best tree you can from a U-Cut farm.

Daichi takes the wheel in one hand as he hums along to the holiday music on the radio, his other hand comes to rest on your knee as he gently squeezes it every once in a while to shoot you a happy smile causing you to almost drift off.

In a blink you arrive at the farm, snow covers the ground and the trees seem to go on for miles. Sawamura comes over to you and gingerly wipes the corner of your mouth with his gloved thumb. “You were drooling back there,” he whispers smugly as you jokingly bat it away.

“Shut up,” you say as you head into the trees trying to figure out which one will go home with you.

Finding the perfect tree is a lot harder than Hallmark makes it out to be. Every time you or your boyfriend find something that looks promising, it seems to have something wrong with it, whether it’ too tall, too short, too many needles, or too sparse.

Thankfully Sawamura is diligent in his inspections, if he wasn't you probably would've taken home a beautiful tree with a spider nest inside. Cringing at the thought of hundreds of tiny creatures in your living room you continue on feeling a bit discouraged especially with the sun beginning to go down.

Suddenly your boyfriend gives you a yell off in the distance. Following the sound you see it, the perfect tree standing full and proud. It’s a noble fir with strong needles and lots of branches for ornaments.

“Any nests in there,” you ask as Sawamura inspects it thoroughly.

“None!” he says happily as he lays out in the snow. “All I have to do is cut this down and we can go home to warm up.”

“Do you need any help?” you ask looking down at him with concern.

“Could you give me the handsaw?” he says holding a hand out. You grab the ancient-looking saw that one of the employees gave you earlier and gently give it to him.

He starts sawing like a madman, panicked you make sure to hold the tree steady so it doesn't fall on him. A minute and a half later the tree comes loose from its trunk, you maneuver it away from him as he catches his breath.

“Let’s get this thing and go,” he pants “It's cold out here he says standing up to grab the base of the tree while you take the top. You can't help but stifle a laugh when you see that his backside is covered in mud and needles from the trees.

After your trek through the trees, you make it back to the barn to return the saw and pay for the tree.

The man working tells you that while you pay he can have some of his guys tie the tree to your car while Sawamura happily accepts as he cautiously holds a cup of hot cider in his freezing hands. His gloves are Drenched and his fingers are prickled heavily with splinters from the trees. You gently kiss his knuckles as he looks at you completely smitten.

Before getting into the car you sneakily place a grubby blanket over the front seat so the mud doesn't completely ruin the upholstery as you start to drive off down the mountain. “We don't have to decorate this one tonight do we? Your boyfriend asks wearily, you shake your head no as he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly out of the corner of your eye a shadow whizzes by the window. COncered you turn your head to the lonely road behind you.

“Babe?” you ask “didn’t they say they were gonna tie the tree down while we paid for it?”

“Yeah they did, why?” he asks you with confusion on his face.

“It fell off the car!” you say panicked. Sawamura slams on the breaks to get out of the car.

“Oh my god!” he exclaims “We lost our tree.”

“No, we didn't it's right there you say stepping out of the car gesturing to the road behind you. He grumbles out something as you get back in the car to get your tree and tie it properly thankful that there is no traffic to back up.

“Next year” he sighs staring out at the road making sure to check for the tree branches poking out every once in a while “Next year, let's get a fake tree…” You gently rub his shoulder as he starts to destress in silent agreement.

#haikyuu!!#daichi sawamura #haikyu x reader #daichi x fem reader #daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #Daichi x reader #25 days of fic mas #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #haikyuu sawamura

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years ago

Text

Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer has made an enemy with an unsub. The team believes it’s over after they catch him, but they don’t realize one big detail; unsub isn’t working alone and that partner has gone after Spencer’s girl. Will Spencer make it in time to save her?

// Anon request: can u do one where reid saves the reader from getting kidnapped or shot pls🥺🥺 //

// Anon request: ok this might be confusing but can u do one where the team goes on a case, but like the unsub actually had a partner back at reid and the readers apartment and kidnaps her and he gets super like protective and cute and like awe reid is so baby🥺🥺 //

A/N: sucker for angst. So I combined these two requests because they’re so similar. I steered away from the request a little and may have gotten carried away while writing it, but I’m kind of proud of this one. Thank you both for your request! I hope you enjoy :) xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER

WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO LOOK THIS DAMN SEXY UGH

Finally, the BAU team tracked down the unsub. Currently he is in custody, chained to the interrogation desk. This was the man who’d taunted the BAU team for months. He’d sent them on numerous goose chases and they finally caught up to him when he made a mistake, which then led to his capture. This man got under Spencer’s skin the last time they faced him and since then Spencer did everything in his power to find him and take him down.

The first time they had caught up to the man at his home, they were all shocked to the core, Spencer specifically. Inside the home, the team found a room dedicated to photos of him and his wife, in their home, his wife at the grocery store, the two of them on dates. The man had been following them, taking photos of them, invading their privacy. Spencer was sick at the thought and since then, he couldn’t sleep until he knew his wife was safe. Until he knew the man was put behind bars.

The man had killed numerous women, up and down the coast. They caught up to him outside of Georgetown and when they arrived at his home, he’d already slipped away into the darkness. The man had laid low for a few weeks, then the murders began again, this time, the women favoring Spencer’s wife. Spencer and the team knew exactly who was behind these murders. He was back, this time in a small town on the coast of South Carolina. After the 3rd woman, the man made a mistake and slipped up, allowing the team to finally put an end to this.

However, the BAU team made a mistake, a very big one. They’d missed key information, that could potentially put the woman Spencer loved in danger.

Spencer stood across from the man that had tormented him and his wife for months, anger boiling inside him. It took everything he had not to reach across the table and strangle the man.

“This is the end for you. You’re facing charges for over 20 women up and down the east coast.” He slammed his hands against the metal table, “You’re facing the death penalty. You will get what you deserve!”

The unsub smirked, “Oh but Dr. Reid, this isn’t the end. You really didn’t think I would leave without making sure your suffering will continue?” He sits a little straighter in his seat, leaning forward, “Tell me Dr. Reid, have you spoke to your wife today? Told her you loved her?”

Spencer straightens, fear washing over him. He hadn’t spoke to you today. He was caught up in the case to bother to call you. The unsub began to laugh wickedly, seeing Spencer’s fear. Spencer then stormed out of the interrogation room, the rest of the team waiting by the door. Hotch already on the phone, “We need officer’s at (you and Spencer’s address) right now!”

The team was in South Carolina, you were back at your home in Quantico. He checked the time. It was Thursday, 5:43 pm. You would have been on your way home from work by now. You would have stopped by the grocery store on 4th to get groceries to cook dinner. Thursday’s were chicken night. He knew you probably would have splurged and bought a bottle of wine for yourself along with cookies. Cookies were your weakness.

Spencer’s hands began to shake, “How could we have missed this?” He roughly runs his hands through his hair. How could he have missed that this unsub had a partner? How could he be so stupid?

“Reid, calm down. Hotch has officer’s on their way to your home now.” Morgan tried to calm his friend, but all Spencer seen was red.

“I’m going to kill him.” He mumbles. Before anyone can act, Spencer has barged into the interrogation room and has thrown the unsub into the wall, his hands wrapped tightly around his throat.

“Reid! Stop!” Hotch and Morgan are grabbing at Spencer, trying to pull him off the man.

“You sick bastard!” Spencer’s hands tighten and he can feel the life draining from the unsub.

“Reid if you kill him, we have no way of finding her!” Hotch yells, ripping Spencer off the man. Morgan’s arms wrap around Spencer’s body, holding him back, “Kid, you got to calm down!”

“Get him out of here!” Hotch yells at Morgan, who begins dragging Spencer out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

“Morgan, he’s got her… he’s got y/n..” Spencer’s body goes limp in Morgan’s grip and begins wracking with sobs.

You push open the door with your foot, your hand full of groceries. You only needed a few things for dinner, but you hoped Spencer would be home this weekend so you two could spend the weekend at home, binge watching tv and eating your weight in junk food. You grunt, setting the grocery bags on the counter. Slipping your shoes off by your bedroom door, you enter the kitchen and begin putting away groceries, continuing to play your playlist you were jamming in the car to.

Your body tenses as you feel the cold barrel of a gun pressed against your back, “don’t move.”

Your breathing becomes rapid and you slowly raise your arms, “Please.. please don’t do this.” You whisper.

The man puts a cloth over your mouth and you thrash, trying to keep it away. “No!” You throw your head back into the man’s nose and groan. That hurt more than you thought it would. The man staggers back against the counter, holding his nose, “You bitch!”

Your head throbs and spins as you slip passed him and head for the door. Just as your hands grasp the door, the man grabs you, throwing you into the wall, the mirror falling to the floor and shattering. Your body falling into the broken glass.

You whimper as he grabs you by your hair, your hands going to his, “Let me go!” He drags you along the floor into the living room, tossing you into the coffee table. Pain shoots across your body, but you ignore it grabbing a vase from the side table, hitting him in the side of the face. He falls to the ground and you stagger to your feet heading for the door once more, but you never make it.

A gun shot rings through the home you and Spencer shared. The last thing you see is the smiling photo of you and Spencer on the wall. It was your wedding photo, taken moments after you two promised to love and protect each other.

Spencer and the team were on the jet within the hour, heading back to Quantico. Back to you. When the police arrived at you and his home, they found the door opened, broken glass and a trail of blood out the door, but you were no where in sight.

He stares aimlessly at the wall in front of him, the gears in his head running a mile a minute. He racked his brain wondering how it come to this. He had caught the unsub that had terrorized you two. He promised you after he was caught, this would all be over. You two could live normal lives. Now, the unsub was locked in cell somewhere, but you were gone, disappeared. The only thing left was a blood trail out the door.

“Kid.. we’re going to find her.” Morgan says quietly, his hand going to Spencer’s shoulder.

“We won’t stop until we do. She’s family, Reid.” Emily says, taking a seat next to him.

He figured he was in shock. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t function. When they arrived at your shared home, he could see you put up a fight. Those self defense classes must have helped. He glances at the kitchen counter, the groceries still there, untouched. Sure enough, there sat a bottle of wine and a box of cookies. He’s broken from his trance as Hotch’s cellphone rings.

He’s nodding, listening intently to what someone’s saying. He looks up at the team standing in the living room, “That was the sheriff from next town over. Said he just received a call about a woman stumbling up onto a porch, bloodied and beaten. Thinks it could be y/n.”

Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest as Morgan drove to the hospital. The sheriff informed Hotch, they took her to the hospital immediately. She suffered extensive injuries, but kept telling people she escaped, that a man had kidnapped her and kept muttering that she needed to speak with Spencer Reid.

He practically ran into the hospital to the room where the unknown woman was. His heart dropped when he entered. It wasn’t you laying on the bed. He slowly walked over to the bed, the woman’s head rolled over to face Spencer, wincing as she sat up a little.

“Are you Spencer Reid?” The woman asks. Spencer only nods in response.

“Your wife…” Her voice is hoarse, “She saved my life.”

“Y/n? How? What happened?”

“The man brought her in, there was blood everywhere. I thought she was dead. But he left her in the room with me. I rushed to her side and she had a pulse. He’d shot her in the side. The bullet grazed her. I patched her up with what I had. Which was only a few t shirts. She finally woke up later that night. She told me that she knew where we were, she’d woken up long enough during the ride. We were in the middle of the woods, not far from civilization. So, we thought of a plan. She knew she couldn’t run so she told me to run and get help. She would attack the man when he came in. She made me promise if I got out, to tell them I needed to talk to Spencer Reid. It was late that night, the man came into the room and she attacked him from behind. I was able to slip out the door and I ran to find help.”

Spencer was quick to get on the phone with Penelope with the information. She worked her magic and soon there was a location.

Swat and the BAU team had the small cabin surrounded. There was no way out of this for the guy. He knew that. When he entered into the room, he was panicked. You used that to your advantage and was able to fight the gun from him, getting a clear shot through his chest.

Spencer’s heart stopped as the gunshot was heard. “Move in!” Swat yelled and begin closing in on the home.

Morgan was the one who saw it first. The door began to open and a figure limped out of the door. “Hold your fire!”

It was you. You were safe. Before he knew it, he was running to you, his body colliding with yours.

“Spencer!” You cried. The collision sent pain through your body, but you ignored it. Spencer was here. You were in Spencer’s arms and that is all that mattered.

Spencer’s body wracked with sobs and he held you, “Oh god… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You shook your head, “I’m okay. I’m fine..” You pulled away to look at him. He looked rough. Bags under his eyes. His face was red and wet from crying. A tear slipped down your cheek and you wrapped your arms around him again.

“I love you so much… god I love you.” He says into your hair.

“I love you too…”

Spencer carried you to the ambulance and he never left your side, riding in the ambulance to the hospital. He never let go of your hand either, scared that he would lose you if he were to let go. He finally had to let you go as they took you into the hospital. He didn’t want to leave your side then, but your reassured him, you would be fine. You were safe and everything would be okay.

*******************************************************************************************

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader #x reader #Criminal Minds #CRIMINAL MINDS FANDOM #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #imagines #imagine

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prorevenge · 4 years ago

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Funeral Insurance Company gets a visit from a client

Hi all, I'm not sure if this belongs here but if it doesn't, please let me know.

Let me preface this story by saying that I saw post on here recently about a woman who got revenge on a bank by maxing out a credit card in her deceased husbands name and not paying for it.

This reminded me of an incident that occurred around this time last year that while not on the same monetary scale, delivered shock value far greater than money and became a nationwide story. All names have been changed.

So this takes place in South Africa and there is an Insurance and Investment company that we will call Green Grubber that is notorious for not paying out on funeral policies. One such victim, let's call her Precious, was being given the run around by Green Grubber.

Her uncle, Obed, had been badly beaten at a shebeen (illegal bar) and in his injured state, managed to walk to the police station to report the incident. At the police station, he had a seizure and they thought he was a mental patient and did nothing. Later on in the day, a farmer had pity on Obed and took him to the local government hospital.

Obed waited outside in the pouring rain as no one was available to attend to his wounds. Finally he was admitted into the casualty ward whereby he succumbed to his injuries.

Obed had a funeral policy with Green Grubber for R30000 ($1852.32) paid for by his niece, Precious who was unemployed and relied on government grants. The monthly premiums of R232 ($14.17) were up to date and had never been in arrears however when it came time for her to claim on the policy, she was given no end of uphill.

She had been to their offices numerous times only to be turned away with the excuse that "it was still under assessment" and living on a rural farmstead, it's neither cheap nor easy to to travel to the city (83km - 52 miles) having to take a minimum of 4 minibus taxi's for a round trip. In addition, the morgue where the body was being kept wanted the body removed quickly and were charging storage per day and these costs were adding up.

Being unable to afford a lawyer and not being savvy on how to navigate the legal system on her own, she took matters into her own hands and did something that has worked since time immemorial... public shaming.

Precious removed her uncles corpse from the morgue who released it, no questions asked, glad to finally be rid of the body. Precious then hired a vehicle and had the body transported to the Green Grubber offices, hauled the body out of the vehicle and left in the centre of the building for all to see. Precious then started talking loudly explaining her experience with Green Grubber to everyone within earshot.

The Green Grubber staff were naturally spooked and after 30 minutes the assessment that had been pending suddenly concluded and the claim was approved. Precious left the body at the Green Grubber offices and went to the bank to ensure the funds had been deposited before returning and collecting the body.

In addition, Green Grubber was made to pay for Zulu traditional rituals required to to remove the deceaseds spirit from the premises and apologise for its extreme treatment before being lad to rest. (Respect towards elders and ancestors are a cornerstone in Zulu culture and rituals usually require slaughter of cattle and other animals which can end up being very expensive)

Further reaction: https://gofile.io/d/RrAV7m

(source) story by (/u/PyroPaladin)

#prorevenge #by /u/PyroPaladin #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

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Everlark Fic Exchange: Masterlist

Springtime Edition (2020).

The King's Mistress by @eiramrelyat

Prompt 9: Katniss is a commoner and peeta is a cruel king. He wants katniss to be his mistress. How will they fall in love is up to you. [submitted by anonymous]

Stay with Me Just for Now by @booksrockmyface

Prompt 10: katniss and peeta are best friends who were in a friends w benefits arrangement in the past. now the hunger for each other is coming back. [submitted by anonymous]

A Quiet Announcement by @albinokittens300

Prompt 11: in panem au where everlark isn’t reaped and peeta knocks up katniss. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt #12: by @endlessnightlock

Prompt 12: katniss walks out of the fitting room wearing only a bikini to ask her friend if it suits her but it isnt her friend at the other side of the door but peeta. [submitted by anonymous]

When You Were Mine by @pitualba2015

Prompt 20: Peeta is the CEO and katniss is his secretary. They have an affair and katniss gets pregnant but when she tells peeta he doesn’t believe her and accuse her of trying to trap him. What will he do when he realize his mistake and how will he win katniss back. [submitted by anonymous]

Two Households by @everlarkandhistory

Prompt 22: Set in early 20th century. Katniss and Peeta are from two rival families who have been enemies since forever. They have a chance meeting which led to them falling in love. They are completely unaware of their identity. Will their love survive or will their relationship crumble. [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview]

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad) by @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his commonlaw wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeens daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

lying in the bed we made (if it wasn't us) by @archersandsunsets

Prompt 26: the night before the Quarter Quell, in the sleepless dark, Katniss and Peeta allow themselves to indulge in the bittersweet dream of a future they’ll never have together (“if it wasn’t us, what would you do?” “I’d want to marry you” “tell me”) [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

The Proper Response by @madetofly

Prompt 29: Post-MJ, Growing Together. Peeta is finally showing his affection and love for Katniss as they heal and reconnect. Katniss, being Katniss, seems to act like she doesn’t appreciate this, and is less than enthused. Peeta, taking this like an adult, stops showing her with the affection and tries to show her his love in other ways. Katniss, however, does not appreciate him stopping those things and set out to try and get him to continue it again because she misses it. [submitted by @albinokittens300]

All the World's a Stage by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Prompt 31: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you having sex.” Submitted by Buttercupbadass

Misconceptions by @awkwardeverlark

Prompt 35: No reaping AU. At 19, Katniss considers marrying Gale for practical reasons; the fact she just heard the baker’s son toasted and was assigned a house at the edge of town has nothing to do with it... maybe. What happens next? (was Peeta really married or was it his brother? Does she marry Gale? Does Everlark ever talk? Will Peeta cheat if he’s actually married? Can Katniss admit she loves the Boy with the Bread? Is this forbidden love?) is up to you. [submitted by anonymous]

No One's Gonna Need You More by @ambpersand

Prompt 36: Frustrated and stressed out Single dad!Peeta needs a fuck desperately. His best friend, Katniss, unwittingly offers to help him out. Things get murky with repressed feelings, but one thing’s certain, Peeta can’t keep his hands to himself anymore and Katniss is all too willing to oblige at the drop of a hat, regardless of place, time and her own emotions, as long as he keeps whispering all his sexy, filthy thoughts into her ear. [submitted by anonymous]

Vidua by @darkhorse-javert

Prompt 44: Believing that taking a new young bride every 5 years will keep him youthful, Snow arranges to marry wife #12 from D12. In the hours between the ceremony and the wedding night, he drops dead. 16-yr-old Katniss returns to 12 but now she’s “Widow Snow.” Can she ever be Katniss, district huntress again? With all that $, wedding gifts, etc that were sent on the train with her? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Fortune Favors the Brave by @ambpersand

Prompt 46: Pacific Rim inspired AU with drift compatible Everlark (or not if you’re inspired by angst). I really just want to see more of that aspect of Pacific Rim explored than what they did in the movie and what better way to do it than with Everlark! [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Fate Takes a Break by @ally147writes

Prompt 50: everlark discovering on their date that they've missed each other their whole lives (living in the same city, went to the same high school, going to the same halloween and nye parties, were set up before by different friends but stood each other up, shopping at the same store, etc.) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

I Choose You by @wendywobbles

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark. [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

The Change by @alliswell21

Prompt 59: Growing up Peeta started loving her. It was a gradual thing that happened throughout his childhood and into his teens. But something changes when he hits puberty. Her scent has heightened, he can spot her from miles away. He gets a bit possessive. But the biggest thing is when his body starts to heat up and even just the thought of you gets him hard for days. He finds out the family secret of his werewolf genes, something his parents thought passed him. How can he go by with his day and be with her without scaring her away by humping her because of his heat. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

By The Moonlight Side by @endlessnightlock

Chapter 2

Prompt 61: Peeta knew better, but he did stupid things when he got drunk. Now he’s caged at the animal shelter in his wolf form. And, omg, Katniss Everdeen let her little sister drag her in to see the dogs?! He knows he shouldn’t, but teen hormones. He just wants to lick her hand. Get a tummy rub. Hump her leg. Sleep on her bed. Omg, they take him home!!!! He needs to let his dad know where he is. Omg. He needs to figure out his bakery shift. “God, don’t let Katniss catch me licking my balls.” [submitted by @567inpanem]

Maybe Tomorrow by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Prompt 62: one night stand!everlark sleeping together the same night a terrible snowstorm hits the city and everything gets shut down with no way to get home. perhaps a two night stand? [submitted by anonymous]

Genesis by @rosegardeninwinter

Prompt 66: Everlark post apocalypse, katniss and peeta are neighbors and the only two that make it to katniss's father's bunker in time. Over the course of several years the two have grown quite close having no one else, but now provisions are running low. Do they face the unknown outside or stay put, knowing they only have food to last another week? [sent by anonymous]

Sunset on Grass by @alliswell21

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

A Taste of Rebellion by @acpoe82

Prompt 68: Dark Coffee Shop AU - Capitol Peeta runs a Coffee/Pastry shop in the poshest part of the Capitol. Near by President Snow’s Mansion. Capitol!Katniss is a frequent customer. Things in the Capitol begin to deteriorate as the rebellion drags on. Are they sympathetic to the rebel cause? [submitted by @oakfarmer12]

You're Not Alone by @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 70: Peeta picks up a hitchhiker in the mountains one night, only to find it's his childhood best friend and now escaped convict Katniss Everdeen. In a panic he calls police but after hearing her side of the story comes to believe she didn't actually murder anyone. Everlark on the run. [submitted by anonymous]

Forever and a day... by @thegirlfromoverthepond

Prompt 73: I am a simple woman: I just want Katniss Everdeen content and loved and washed in moonlight I don’t care how you do it. [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

The Most Unlikely Serendipity by @albinokittens300

PART 2, PART 3, PART 4

Prompt 75: An in-Panem arranged marriage a/u where Katniss is slightly older than Peeta. [submitted by @endlessnightlock]

Shots Make Me Sing by @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 81: Katniss finds her soulmate at her bachelorette party (aka Peeta)(Happy ending please) [submitted by anonymous]

when we’re underneath the lights my heart’s no longer broken by @omercilessmoon

Prompt 92: High school musical au: katniss and peeta as troy and Gabriella. [submitted by anonymous]

December nights in June by @viloula

Prompt 110: AU. Everlark live across from each other in fancy New York (or the like) penthouses. With all those large windows, they see each other daily and know the other's routine and all he/she does, but they've never met. A chance meeting occurs. What will happen? The circumstances of their living arrangements/any backstory and what happens between them is up to you. [submitted by @acpoe82]

High Heels at Midnight by @hutchhitched

Prompt 134: Visual Prompt. To see it go HERE [submitted by @javistg]

must work hard, tolerate cats by @mendontprotectyou

Prompt 140: In Panem AU where Peeta is a Mail Order Husband. As the youngest son of a merchant class Capitol family, he has accepted he will never inherit the family bakery. But when his family contract him to an arranged marriage to further the business he will never own, he escapes by signing up to a programme to relocate and marry a district woman. Why Katniss needs a husband, is up to the author. Everlark endgame :) [submitted by @louezem]

Notes:

Fics organized by prompt number.

Masterlist compiled on May 11, 2020. Subject to change. New works will be added as they’re posted to the @everlarkficexchange.

Looking for updated versions of the multi-chapter fics? Try our AO3 Collection

#springtime edition 2020 #masterlist #our fics

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red-doll-face · 5 years ago

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keeper. [michael myers x gn reader]

Part 2 is finally here! A few people were asking if I would do a sequel and obviously the answer is yes, but this is the last part. I hope u enjoy reading it ! 😳💖

here is the link to the first part: locked in.

Summary: ‘Missing Persons Case? Infamous Murderer Prime Suspect.’ ‘On October 31st, at 12:02 a.m., a phone call was made to the Haddonfield police department. When reporting to the scene several officers and the deputy reported signs of a struggle. Stray pieces of glass and an open back door lead to a possible B&E as well as a suspected kidnapping. Though usually that would be an apt assumption, because of Michael Myers’ suspected involvement, some speculate it may not even be a missing persons case. According to the leading officer on the case, the case may be an outlier but “Myers is definitely a suspect. If not him, at least a copycat”. The search for the Haddonfield resident continues but the chances of this particular victim being found alive have never been so low.’

WC: 3,835

Warnings: kidnapping, nsfw content (smut scene) , implied minor character death (he tries some funny business so he deserved it). A spider, Stockholm syndrome, Michael being a bastard. I will say that the smut is somewhere between dub con and consensual. This is Mikey so be careful.

You don’t know how long you’ve been inside of this dark room. The smell of dust and mildew makes you not want to breathe but you’re used to not having choices anymore. Everything you’ve tried to get out always ends in failure or worse: Letting your kidnapper know that you tried to get out. He’s caught you in the act and ripped you away from the windows many times. Crying and wailing don’t seem to appeal to his conscience at all so you’ve stopped wasting the water. You sit in the room and can only be glad that he hasn’t restrained you or tried to tie you up. But you understand it’s because he knows that he can always stop you from leaving. Can always drag you back.

The door opens and you snap your head up to see your masked kidnapper enter the room you’re holed up in. He’s holding a bag of what you know is whatever he stole. The paper bag he carried was crisp and new but you could see just a faintest spray of blood. The assortment of common grocery items he placed at your feet painted a mental image of a suburban mom just coming home from the market. Stopped by some impossible force. Just to feed you. You wished you could spring forth tears but you had already shed so many. They’ve done nothing for you. You almost didn’t want to eat but you couldn’t deny the loaf of bread. Counting on his will to feed you was dangerous. If he lost track or forgot, you could potentially starve or die of dehydration. You took what you could where you could get it. Where he would let you.

He watched you, lingering in the dark corner. You thought that maybe he felt more comfortable there. You sat among a pile of various fabrics tossed upon a mattress. You hated to think that he prepared to take you away. But it was so hastily thrown together, it was obvious that while you were passed out, he had collected what he could. You doubted that he would have really cared about the ache in your sitting bones, but the fabrics underneath you were better than nothing. He could be crueler. Being grateful put a bad taste in your mouth but you sensed that he favored killing his victims rather than stashing them away. You listened for hours, quieting your breath when you were sure he was gone to see if you could hear anything else. There was no one else here.

Dirty fingers slipped along the plastic wrapped around the bread. You hadn’t been given a bath since you got here and you had been doing your best to keep track of the days since you arrived. 2 days passed from what you could tell, not accounting the amount of space that he took bringing you here. You couldn’t be sure what he planned for you or how long you would end up staying here but you tried to keep your mind sharp.

A bucket of cold water and a rag would have to do for bathing. It was better than nothing but again, being grateful to your kidnapper made you feel like you were betraying yourself. The rag swept across your skin and he had left the room to you, giving you privacy. At least you hoped that he wasn’t watching. He liked to watch. You had a feeling he had been watching you for hours before you had even taken notice that something was wrong. Acutely aware of your presence in the house.

You sighed and replaced your clothes, moving the tin bucket to the corner. You wondered what your parents thought. Now that you were missing, was anyone looking? Did people at school do a vigil for you? Did people put up posters? The thoughts made you uncomfortable but you couldn’t resist. The world moved on with or without you. You regretted not listening to your friends. They had warned you and you had dismissed it as some legend. He should have killed you. Your boredom and thoughts would probably end up killing you first. You noticed that the man in the mask stayed here more often. You thought it might have been to avoid the search parties. But you knew he wouldn’t let them close enough to find you.

He stared at you from his familiar dark corner. And you stared back at him. You tried to show as little fear as possible and in a way you weren’t afraid. He hadn’t done anything that the kidnappers did in the movies. Didn’t cut your finger off to send to your parents for a ransom, did not tie you up and starve you, hadn’t used you for baser desires. You couldn’t understand why he kept you. All of his victims in the past either died, or escaped and moved away. His footsteps, although near silent, tracked away and out the door, wedging the heavy wooden slab against the door frame.

A few weeks later, or as far as you could tell a few weeks later and you had tried just about everything. He had no veritable patterns, so you could never tell when exactly he would be back or not. The sun filtered through the window that was nailed shut and you had tried to throw things at it. It left hairline fractures in the glass instead of crashing through. The screen on the other side would probably keep you in anyway.

Recently, you tried to talk to him. It hasn’t worked. He wouldn’t or couldn’t talk which made you feel awkward but you weren’t able to stand the silence anymore. You had to hear something; even if it was yourself. You talked about your life, as boring as that seemed. You had realized that explaining it made it seem more boring than ever. In your mind, you joked that the future you worried so much about was out of the picture. A sick part of you was relieved that you didn’t have to think about that age old question. It brought a wry smile to your face as you brought your knees up to your chin and watched the moon float in the sky, as if tethered to the Earth by a string.

Michael had just learned your name. It rolled around in his head and if he wanted to say it he would, but he wouldn’t. He had kept you here in an abandoned house left to the elements. He observed you closely and picked up on your tells, the way you twitched and shivered in the cold, the blank expression on your face that was close to his own; he lacked the thoughts that flitted behind your eyes. He had caught you trying to leave but he took a rare joy in stopping you. Dragging you back into his hold, kicking and yelling obscenities. You started talking to him but he didn’t respond. He didn’t keep you here to talk.

Michael was more motivated by the thought of owning you. Of you belonging to him. You would see no one else, you would talk to no one else, you would receive food from no one else. You needed him. And he liked that he did not necessarily need you. Upon meeting you, something had drawn him to you. You were difficult to keep track of and you knew what tricks he would try to get you. He had watched you, heard you, touched you, smelled you, and even tasted you. The thought of you had imprinted on him. In a strange way, he hated that he was so taken with you. Perhaps he should have just killed you. You were of no use.

Then who would he toy with? Trap and torment without that much of a penalty? You were no fun if you were dead.

One night, the autumn cold and rain scented winds drove a stranger to your little hiding space. You were fast asleep but the creaks you had attuned yourself to listening out for sounded off. In fact, he seemed to be making more noise than usual. You thought that he might have been injured or something, loud footsteps echoing up the stairs. Only when you heard a voice did you suspect that it might not even be the man in the mask. The words were unintelligible but they made you shake all the same. Someone was here! Maybe they could help you out.

The wooden door swung open slowly and a bedraggled man stepped inside, not noticing you until you stood from your pile of musty fabrics. You presumed he was some sort of squatter, simply seeking respite from a harsh world.

“Hey, what are you playing at?! Who’s there?” He pointed a small switchblade in your direction and you raised your hands.

“Please! You have to help me! He’ll- He’ll be here any minute!” You scrambled away from the blade, your explanation dropping his guard.

“What the hell are you talking about? Who? Just what are you doing here anyway?” He dropped the pack he was wearing on his back to the floor and you gulped. “Are you some sort of runaway? Little moneybags left their family for a bad-boy-boyfriend? Think he’ll share with me? I’ve got some-”

“What? NO! I’ve been kidnapped by some murderer and-” The man chuckled and inhaled deeply.

“I can smell a lie a mile away, sweetheart.” He began closing in on you and you couldn’t believe your bad luck. In the darkness behind the man, the pale face came closer and closer and you tried to look away to hold his element of surprise. You had never been so glad to see that unfeeling mask in the doorway. The man startled at the hand pulling him back. His element of surprise worked as the man shouted and swiped at the man with his switchblade. Your keepers knife however was much larger. He slashed at the hand holding the little knife and he dropped it. He dragged the man out of your room, clawing at the walls.

“Get him off’a me! Tell him to sto-” As if you told your own kidnapper what he could and could not do. The man kicked the door closed, muffling the pleas. Your chest moved with your panting and you tried to calm your racing heart. Your fingers shook with the settling thought of how wrong that could have gone. It was as though the floor moved beneath you and you registered your body colliding with the for once comforting pile of cloth. The little knife caught the light from the window glinting at you temptingly. You didn’t dare touch it.

After that, you had approached the man with less fear in your heart; not that there was much to begin with. Yes, you were aware of what he did to people on his nights out. You supposed he stalked them a lot like he did you and eventually, when he tired of staying hidden in the shadows, he would wait for just the right moment to strike. Like he did with the squatter. You never did find out exactly what he had done to the man but when he returned he was covered in blood, wet and shining on his jumpsuit. You didn’t really care because he was gone and he had taken him away for you. He checked your body over your clothes for injuries, satisfied with verifying when he found none on your skin. You allowed him to turn your limbs this way and that, his hands big enough to cuff your wrist entirely and overlap.

“He didn’t touch me.” His breath was heavier sounding behind his mask, his head tipping up to acknowledge your comment but equally as unresponsive as usual. His hand swiped down and picked up the knife that the homeless man dropped on the floor, boots tracking over the blood he caused to spill. He left you to your devices after he took the switchblade away but something white fell on the floor, just before he closed the door behind him. It was a thin plastic strip and as you turned it over you could make out words. A hospital identification wristband. Strange marks tattered the material and you could imagine where he tried to tear the thing off with his teeth. On it was his name and birthday as well as some meaningless numbers and letters. The words ‘Smiths Grove Sanitorium’ were starting to wear off but you lamented all the same. Your friends were right. His name was Michael Audrey Myers. You smiled at the middle name. You’re sure if he caught you saying it he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. The thought made you laugh.

Michael let you wander the house now. From room to room you drifted and explored the dusty house, searching drawers for interesting objects and when you asked nicely he lowered the attic stairs and let you look through the boxes of books and baby toys, long forgotten by the previous owners. Opening the kitchen cabinet revealed a brown recluse crawling among the contents and you screamed, shutting the cabinet way more quickly than you had opened it. When you turned the imposing figure of your captor stood behind you. You pointed at the wooden door of the storage cabinet. He yanked it open, the spider going still again at the presence of another disruption.

“You know that those are poisonous, right?” He looked from you to the spider, unphased by the possibility of it killing him. He picked the arachnid up and your eyes widened at the action. He didn’t think this little brown insect stood a chance of killing him. In a moment, the spider was crushed in his bare hand, curled up and stiffening. Did he just… squish a brown recluse with his own hand? It was dead now, what did you have to worry about? You shrugged and went back to exploring, thanking him passively. You could sense he was still behind you, silent as always. You perused the random kitchen tools and items, rusting keys and finished rolls of tape in designated junk drawers, empty containers and bottles strewn about the counters. Broken light bulbs and useless wires. You grew tired and sat on the plastic covered furniture, your captor content on listening to you read aloud.

“Do you know how to read?” You asked and he looked at you but only tilted his head. You scooted closer to him with a book in your hand. “When I was a kid, they taught me to read. I think it’s fun if you pick what you want to read about.” You pointed at words and he regarded your finger gliding over the page, your enthusiasm lost on him but the smile he could see was more genuine than the others he had seen. “One day, I’ll help you write something.” He had no use for writing but he stayed quiet, granting you this moment of peace.

His hand weaved in your hair, feeling the softness. You had raided the cabinets and found some strange liquid to slather in your hair, untangling as best as you could with fingers. You leaned into the contact, realizing your mistake too late. You had indulged him and he wouldn’t let you go back. His hand followed you, pulling you back by the silky strands. A soft yelp left your lips but he didn’t mind it. You had not been touched in so long that it almost felt good to have his thick fingers running through your hair. Shivers racked your spine at the feeling of his fingers at your scalp. He pulled at your coverings, hands petting at your bare skin, entranced by the softness. At the blood rushing just under the surface. You thought about stopping him but you had seen what happens to people who cross him. Even by accident. He seemed fascinated by the texture of your skin, you hated to think of the grimy fingers on your face but your fleshy cheeks attracted his attention. He had less than stellar hygiene but they seemed cleaner this time, acquiescing to his hand on your chin. You looked up at the bleached mask; it was unfair that you didn’t get to see his face or his emotions.

He always seemed to have some sort of advantage. Some sort of upper hand. Taller. Stronger. Bigger than you.

Soon, he bored of the skin along your arms and petted at your torso, squeezing you when he suspected you to be squirming. You were just ticklish, not like he understood that. He groped and clutched at your flesh, getting used to the sensation. You noticed that although you expected his hands to be rough and calloused, they were actually soft and warm, sweeping over your sensitive underbelly. His long digits inched closer and closer to your groin and your nervousness won over the simple truth you knew. Stopping him was impossible but maybe he would take your discomfort into consideration. Michael, however, was a creature who thrived off of spite. If he was told not to do something, he would do it.

In punishment, your wrist was gripped in a vice-like hold, held away from his prying actions. Your arm went limp in his grasp, listening to the steady low breathes escaping the small orifices in his mask. Placed in his lap like a toy, he continued, ripping the button from your pants, tearing the zipper down. Michael tugged your pants down, eagerly inspecting your legs and thighs. A brief intake of your breath directed him to your inner thighs, staying as quiet as possible to keep him from suspecting anything else. Eliciting that response might have been his goal because as soon as he heard it, he tried to get you to make that noise.

Whimpering gasps left your lips, very aware of the bulge grinding underneath you. His bruising strength did not falter even when you tried to twist out of it. Slow movements ran over your crotch, you could only watch as Michael pushed your underwear out of the way. He was keenly attentive to every little noise slipping past your parted lips, repeating whatever made you make it. He let your hips buck against his leg, your despricity an amusing display. Your muscles are weak, your breath just as feeble. Your skin is warm and your heart beats fast in your ribcage, you can hear it in your ear. He pushed you forward enough for his hand to unzip his coveralls, the layer removed helps you feel the scorching heat of his body behind yours, unnaturally warm against your spine. Michaels hands loosened from around you long enough to pull himself free of the deep blue fabric of his coveralls. Something hot and damp nudged at your inner thigh and you pushed up and away from it.

“I- I’m not-” You choked out, as a last ditch effort to see if he would stop but he didn’t, spreading your legs and reveling in the whine you let out. You weren’t even sure if you wanted him to stop. You figured he would punish you for objecting as a strong palm found your throat, threatening to crush the delicate bones underneath. He shoved himself inside of you anyway, a groan of something between pleasure and pain caught in your mouth. Your head fell back onto his shoulder, listening to the tiny noises he made at the reprieve your body offered him. He had never spoken but the overwhelming sensation it seemed could force him to make a peep. They were not loud but the small grunts and slight moan made you tremble. If your head wasn’t resting on his shoulder, you doubt you would have heard them at all.

Thighs spread over his thighs, hands laid over his hands, gripping at your hips to help the slow motions of his own. Blood under his pale skin ran hot and you perceived that same heat all around you, his frame large enough to make you feel so small. Not just physically. The warm organ penetrating you was bigger than anything like it that you had seen before. Pressure welled up inside of you at the force he built up to take you so roughly. His pace changed just slightly and you lost connection to the outside world for a minute. The hold on your hips tightened, his concentration changed to the space between your legs, stimulating the sensitive skin. The smell of iron, latex, motor oil, and Michael enveloped you as you turned your head, nuzzling into the neck of his mask and the collar of his jumpsuit. The head of his cock nudged just the right spot inside of you and your mouth fell open in a loud moan. Around your head, a haze formed, the pleasure taking your ability to breathe. You craned your head back to see his eyes through his mask, electricity running through your limbs and into your core. The color of his iris wasn’t clear through the shadows of his mask but one was a milky white, blinking lethargically in tune with his other eye. Cold latex, the nose of his mask just touching your heated cheeks made you sigh, the pressure in your lower belly finally snapping like a twig underfoot. You went slack in his embrace, warmth settling deep inside of you. He wouldn’t let go of you.

‘Search for Haddonfield Resident Finally Called Off.’

This weekend, a press conference was held in front of the Haddonfield police station where Sheriff Brackett announced that search efforts for the missing person who disappeared from Garrison Ave. last Halloween would be revoked. After months of no clues or progress and no signs of them or their suspected kidnapper, search parties have stopped gathering to comb the woods and corn fields surrounding the town. The family of the missing person stated that they would not be ceasing the search. Their parents agreed that “the police have been helpful but they’ve given up.” Nonetheless, “[They]’ll never stop searching for [their] baby. Never”.

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #slashers #slasher x reader #dbd x reader #dbd the shape #dbd michael myers #dbd #red writes #✋😳#🤭

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ejzah · 4 years ago

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A/N: The next chapter of the Agent and the Lawyer. Loosely based off of Absolution. I’m trying something a little different with the structure and not following the episodes so closely.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 18

“We should run together every morning,” Deeks said as he and Kensi rounded a bend in his favorite beach side path. “There’s this great little convenience store where we can grab coffee and a mostly fresh donut. The coffee’s not great, but the owner is super nice.”

Beside him, Kensi was matching him stride for stride, her breath even despite the pace. She smiled at his description, shaking her head.

“It’s not a good idea to follow a particular routine. It’s too easy for your movements, habits, and location to be tracked,” she explained. He knew how important it was for the team to maintain relative anonymity, but sometimes he thought they all took it a little far.

“It’s just coffee Kens. I’m sure no one suspects me of being a big bad fed or cares where I go.”

“Don’t let Sam catch you saying that. He’ll rip you a new one.”

“So does that mean no coffee?” he asked. It was definitely a part of his routine and gave him the energy to run all the way back home. Kensi groaned and tossed her head back, but didn’t put up any further protest when he led them to Sandune Convenience store. “Hey Frank!” he greeted the owner, heading for the canisters of brewed coffee.

“Hi,” Kensi said, looking a little uncomfortable as she waited for Deeks to fill a paper cup for her. Frank shot them a curious look, but didn’t comment.

“I ran five miles today, Deeks told Frank. Kensi snorted at that and said,

“Uh, that’s a big fat lie, he ran three.”

“So rude,” he said, amused at how quickly Kensi had abandoned her reservations when given the chance to make fun of him.

“I thought you were buying me a donut,” she reminded him.

“Of course, my lady.” He grabbed two Boston Creams and an apple fritter because he knew from past experience that when Kensi finished hers, she’d likely try to steal part of his.

After chatting with Frank for a few more minutes-his oldest daughter would be graduating from high school soon-they headed back on to the path. Their pace was leisurely now as they munched on donuts and drank coffee. It was significantly more enjoyable with Kensi beside him.

“Hey Marty!” A woman called out as she ran by. Deeks waved back without thinking.

“You know, if I was the jealous type, I might be worried about all the women who know you, wherever you go,” she said, gesturing with her cup.

“What can I say, I’m a friendly guy,” he said with a shrug, grinning around the rim of his cup. It was adorable when she got jealous.

“Mm, be careful you don’t friendly yourself into singledom.” He rolled his eyes at her warning and nudged her with his shoulder.

“Oh, come on, Kensalina, you know I would never cheat on you.”

“I would hope not,” Kensi said, looking a little uncertain. “You would certainly regret it if you did.”

“I would never,” he repeated seriously. “You have my promise. I’m not that kind of guy.” He saw her cheeks flush a little and she glanced away as an awkward silence grew between them.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and Kensi reached for hers, seeming grateful for the distraction.

“Hey Eric,” she said. “Uh-huh. Ok, we’ll be there in a bit.” Deeks heard the faint sound of Eric’s voice raise in a question. “Oh, yeah, I promised Deeks I’d pick him up.” She forced a laugh and hung up quickly.

“Smooth,” Deeks teased.

“Shut up. Hetty wants us in OPS. Something to do with a dead antiques dealer.” She tossed her trash in a nearby can and then bent down to tighten a shoelace. As she stood back up, she turned to face Deeks, her expression playful. “I’ll race you back.”

Not waiting for him to respond, she took off at a sprint, her delighted chuckle floating behind her.

“Man, you are so whipped,” he said with a smile as he tossed his own cup and followed after.

***

“Where’s Deeks?” Callen asked when Kensi walks into OPS about an hour later. After they got back to his house, they’d made out in Deeks’ garden for several long minutes. Kensi had been highly tempted to call off work and finish what they’d started a couple weeks ago. Common sense had prevailed and she’d reluctantly left before she took Deeks up on his offer to join him in the shower.

She didn’t mention that to Callen though and shrugged.

“He got called into the office for a last minute legal emergency,” she explained.

“What exactly qualifies as a legal emergency?” Sam asked.

“He mentioned something about a CPS case that isn’t going well. He’ll come as soon as he can.”

She found herself turning to make comments to Deeks more than once while Eric, Hetty, and Nell explained who Sebastian Renner was. It felt weirder than she expected without Deeks by her side. She’d grown used to his comments and, often, inappropriate jokes, as well as his unique insight into cases.

***

Kensi smiled involuntarily when she walked back into the bull pen a couple hours later and saw Deeks sitting at his desk.

“So what’d I miss? he asked.

“Our victim, Sebastian Renner, was an arms dealer, a bunch of spies from other countries are now vying for his black book, and Hetty has an ex-German Police officer named Branston Cole, who might have pertinent information,” she summed up. Deeks looked a little stunned for a second and then nodded.

“Wow, this is the last time I take a morning off. You guys bring out the fun cases when I’m gone.”

“Well, now you get to join the fun too,” she said with a smile, grabbing her gun and slipping it into her waistband. Deeks hadn’t passed his firearms training yet, so he just watched. “Callen and Sam got chased out of Renner’s home by his dogs earlier. Now that they’re gone, Hetty wants us to see if we can find anything else.”

“So did you make it here on time this morning?” he asked, smirking at her. “You seemed a little disorganized and, uh, distracted when you left my place.” She smiled sweetly, pretending she wasn’t currently remembering the feel of his chest, damp with sweat, pressing into hers.

“I made it just fine,” she answered. “How was your shower?” Her voice was innocent, but she let her eyes drop a bit lower than was strictly polite.

“It was cold. Very cold.” Kensi snickered at that as they walked out.

***

“M-O-U-S-E?” Kensi said scathingly as she finished cuffing the two men she and Deeks had just fought. She rifled through one’s suit pocket and found a DGSE ID.

“What was I supposed to say?” he asked. “I’m not and Agent and I’m not LAPD. You guys were shouting out your little acronyms and I felt left out. Which, reminds me, why the hell did you kick an NSA Agent in the groin?”

Kensi let out an irritated sigh and showed him the ID.

“He’s French Intelligence, Deeks. He was lying.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known that though.”

“I had a hunch,” she said with a shrug. Deeks made an outraged sound.

“A hunch. You don’t kick a guy in the nuts over a hunch!” He felt a little nauseous at the thought and resisted the urge to cover his crotch.

“I recognized his accent. It’s not American.”

“He didn’t have an accent,” Deeks said, horrified for the agent who was slowly gaining consciousness.

“I’m trained in linguistics, Deeks. I know the difference between French and English speech patterns,” she insisted.

“You’re insane.”

“Deeks, you’re acting ridiculous.” He ignored her, shaking his head.

“Sometimes it’s like I don’t even know you.”

***

Kensi watched Deeks from a few feet away. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but his lips were split in a wide smile as he chatted with Sam and Callen several seats away.

They’d successfully apprehended a German spy named Matthias and the FBI and NSA were looking for the rest of the spies. They’d had to leave Deeks behind since he wasn’t authorized to carry a weapon.

Now they were at a nearby bar, per Deeks suggestions and on his dime. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. After a few drinks, Nell challenged Eric to a pool game and had even shed the little sweater she wore of her think strapped dress. There was definitely something going on there.

The combination of Deeks’ considerable charm, which he was working to it’s full limits, and large amounts of alcohol both had even Callen and Sam more at ease than she’d seen them in a while.

Deeks noticed her watching and headed her way. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Nicely done,” she complimented him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said innocently.

“You know that once they sober up, they’re still going to ride you.” He groaned, dragging out a stool to sit next to her.

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I can’t use the same methods I used with you,” he pointed out. Kensi rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you are way too full of yourself,” she said. He chuckled, resting his hand on the middle of her back. He probably did it without even thinking, but Kensi tensed immediately. She roughly pushed his hand away, glancing around to see if anyone had caught Deeks’ slip.

Fortunately they all were occupied and she let out a slow breath of relief. Beside her, Deeks had gone silent, making her belatedly regret her hasty actions.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. He scratched at jaw, not meeting her eyes, which always a bad sign. “I just didn’t-“

“No, it’s ok. I get it.”

“The team is here and we agreed not to...” she trailed off awkwardly as Deeks filled in.

“Yeah, no, we agreed to keep out relationship quiet. I just forget sometimes.” He sighed, the sound heavy. Kensi looked down for a second, pressing her lips together as she tried to think of some way to brighten the mood again.

“You want to come over tonight when we’re done here?” she asked as a form of peace offering. So far she hadn’t let him past her living room and that was only after she hastily straightened everything. Deeks allowed a tiny smile, clearly realizing her attempt to apologize without actually apologizing.

“I would, but I have to work on that pro bono case. It’s a mess,” he said. Kensi wasn’t sure if it was a convenient excuse, but she felt a small sinking in her stomach.

“Ok,” she said in a small voice.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sure.” She tried to tell herself she was overreacting, but couldn’t help notice the distance Deeks kept between them for the rest of the night.

***

A/N: Ooh, unexpected drama. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to have anything terrible happen.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #sam hanna #g Callen #au #the agent and the lawyer #part 18 #densi #absolution #ejzah fanfiction

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lisa-lostinlit · 4 years ago

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💬 What was your most recent #bookmail? . Thank you to @williammorrowbooks for gifting me this copy of HAIRPIN BRIDGE by @taylor.adams.author! How good does this sound!! . . . s u m m a r y ⇣ Three months ago, Lena Nguyen’s estranged twin sister, Cambry, drove to a remote bridge sixty miles outside of Missoula, Montana, and jumped two hundred feet to her death. At least, that is the official police version. But Lena isn’t buying it. Now she’s come to that very bridge, driving her dead twin’s car and armed with a cassette recorder, determined to find out what really happened by interviewing the highway patrolman who allegedly discovered her sister’s body. Corporal Raymond Raycevic has agreed to meet Lena at the scene. He is sympathetic, forthright, and professional. But his story doesn’t seem to add up. For one thing, he stopped Cambry for speeding a full hour before she supposedly leapt to her death. Then there are the sixteen attempted 911 calls from her cell phone, made in what was unfortunately a dead zone. But perhaps most troubling of all, the state trooper is referred to by name in Cambry’s final enigmatic text to her sister: Please Forgive Me. I couldn’t live with it. Hopefully you can, Officer Raycevic. Lena will do anything to uncover the truth. But as her twin’s final hours come into focus, Lena’s search turns into a harrowing, tooth-and-nail fight for her own survival—one that will test everything she thought she knew about her sister and herself... . . . h a s h t a g s ⇣ #hairpinbridge #tayloradams #mysterythriller #thrillerbooks #crimefiction #bookish #bookmailisthebestmail #bookishlove #bibliophile #readersofinstagram #readersgonnaread #girlsthatread #postitfortheaesthetic #bookdragon #passionforprettydecor #cosyaesthetic #rosestagram #everysquareastory #readingcommunity #reading #bibliophilelife #bookpage (at Connecticut) https://www.instagram.com/p/CORHoLsnV2H/?igshid=1g0237qw8n74z

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judylicious · 4 years ago

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“I’m glad we both have found back to you.”

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader (chapter two)

Word Count: 1.850

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies.

Warnings: mentions of violence, abuse, death, murder, angst, swearing, age gap, fluff and slight smut

Summary: You met a handsome musician and his band, including a surprise form your past.

chapter 1

chapter 3

chapter 4

A couple days later Alan was meeting Kelsey for lunch at a cozy bistro at Blue Island Avenue. “So you’re not gonna ask me?”, she remarked before taking a big sip of her coffee and gave him a curious look over the rim of her cup. “About what precisely?” “My parents.” “It seemed like I blindsided you with that question before, didn’t want to push you…” “Still just as taken back as before I see.” She took a deep breath.

“Mum’s dead, she passed away when I was 17, around Christmas.” “I’m… so sorry. What happened?”, he replied in a soft tone. “She fell down the stairs… You remember we had those big stairs made out of marble in the hall? Yep. She.. fell… according to the Police.” Alan raised an eyebrow. “Well, I saw my dad pushing her. Cops said he was trying to get a hold of her arm as she lost her balance but.. I saw it, you know? He often was violent with us, if he was home at all.” “I had no idea, I never noticed how troubled you were”, he admitted rather guilty. Without thinking he grabbed her hand that lied between her plate and the empty bread basket made from raffia, starting to softly caress the back of her hand with his thumb. “Oh it’s okay, really. You were hired for teaching me how play the horn, no more, no less.”, she gave him a reassuring smile. “C’mon don’t act like it was just that. We did get along pretty well. I remember one time you begged me for weeks to take you with me to that Miles Davis concert and although you had promised me to keep me awake during the ride back, as soon as your head hit the passengers seat you were knocked flat out.”, he shook his head but grinned widely. “I’m sorry but I had to prepare myself for sneaking back into the house at - what was it? 4am?” They both laughed and exchanged a look of familiarity. “Believe me, I fought desperately to stay awake. Kicked myself for missing out on a 3 hour ride alone with you in the car at night.” Kelsey suddenly blushed. “You didn't have the slightest idea how much I was into you, didn’t you?” Hold on what am I doing? Shut your big bazoo “Well…” Alan felt caught off guard and tried to ease the tension. “You were a teenager, don’t teenager have a crush on everything and everyone?” Kelsey put on a smile “Yeah, I guess so.” She took heart “But not me… I-“ “Can I get you anything else?” She was interrupted by the waitress. “Think we’re fine, thanks!”, the trumpet player gave her a nod. Kelsey checked her watch. “Damn, I’m late for the backshift, I’m so sorry Alan I totally lost track of time.” “No harm done, girl.”, he explained as he put some money on the table.” “Thanks for taking over the bill.” He smiled “Next time is on you then.”

When they stood outside the small bistro Kelsey couldn’t help herself but gave Alan a big tight hug. He seemed utterly surprised about this gesture but quickly put his arms around her. “Thanks.”, she murmured, squeezing her eyes. The slightly older man had his eyes closed as well, inhaling her scent, feeling more secure than he had in a long time. Starting to feel embarrassed she got off of him and looked around for the nearest bus station, realising the next bus was already in sight. “I gotta catch that one!” “Is practise still on for Thursday? Your place?”, he called after her. “Sure! 5pm, bring your horn.”, she waved at him and got onto the bus.

In preparation for Thursday Kelsey practised extra hard - on the other hand though she knew she shouldn’t take a heavy toll on her lip, that would only make things worse. I have to play decent tomorrow, at all costs. And even as her tones got real crappy, even more crappy than usual, she kept on playing, wanted to go over everything and every scale she had learned so far. However after 3 hours she was physically exhausted from trying to catch those high notes and her mouth piece left a dark, red circle around her lips.

And then finally - it was Thursday, just before 5pm. She checked herself in the mirror one last time before she changed her outfit for the 4th time that day. Perhaps I should go with the dress I wore first. But before she could get undressed another time there was a knock at the door. So she had no choice but to stay in her pleated skirt and red blouse. Alright, keep your head, relax, you got this. “Hi Alan, please come in.” The tensed girl was greeted by a big smile. “Nice to see ya.” The trumpet player stepped in and went into the living room, where everything was already set up. “How about we get right to it, hm?”

They both took a seat and she flipped one of the exercise books open. “So last I’ve practised these eighth notes in 3/4 - time.” “Did you warm up before?”, Alan tried to test her. “Yes I have.”, she responded quickly. “Good, then give it a try, I’m curious!” Oooh boy, here we go. Kelsey started to play the étude but already messed up the first few notes. Nervously she put her instrument down and glanced at Alan who wasn’t showing any reaction. And so she tried again. She played the whole piece but some of the notes didn’t come out at first try, so she messed up with the beat as well. When she had finished, she sighed in annoyance and didn’t even give Alan a glance. “Alright, how about you listen to what it’s supposed to sound like, to give you an idea.” And with that the grabbed his own horn, cleared his throat and played the little practise piece. Needless to say he did a perfect job on it. Kelsey couldn’t help herself but watch the man at her side while he was playing and it made her smile. He makes it look so easy. I mean it is, it’s freakin easy and I’m nothing but a failure. “Now it’s your turn again. Perhaps using the metronome will help you.” He grabbed the little gadget and set the right beat and speed. Listening to the soft “tick tick tick” sound Kelsey tried started from the beginning. Again a few notes simply didn’t come out at first try but just an airy sound, so halfway through she stopped. “No, no, come on keep going!”, the professional bolstered her. And so she did. “Heck! This is a waste of time, I’m sorry.”, the girl snapped and got up, taking a few steps away from her chair. “C’mon it is not. It will take some time, that’s all. I know you probably don’t wanna hear this but you haven’t played for over 5 years, meaning you HAVE to consider yourself as beginner and that’s okay.” Alan tried to calm her. “Look that’s not it. I suck, okay? I. SUCK. S-U-C-K!”. She was fuming. Putting extra emphasis on every letter as she spelled it out when tears began to run down her cheek. Alan jumped to his feet. “Hey, hey, don’t cry hun! I know it’s tough but you will get there. Believe me, I didn’t sound any better when I started.” “I’m so fucking dumb…” Kelsey murmured under her breath and turned away from the man who placed his hand on her shoulder. “Why are you saying this?” She turned around but didn’t look at him. “Dumb. I mean for walking away from it in the first place. I could be playing so well by now if I hadn’t quit.” The musician gave her a sympathetic look. “You had just started college. It’s okay to think about other things than playing the horn at that age.” “You didn’t.”, she countered and felt the need to look at him. Alan chuckled “Yeah but I attended Juilliard School of Music at the age of just 17 to become a professional. You chose a different path and you keep telling me how much you love your job.” Kelsey turn her head away from the man, who softly grabbed her chin and lifted her head up forcing her to look at him. He carefully wiped away one of her tears on her cheek. “Listen. The most important thing is that you have found your way back to it and the trumpet its way to you… To be honest I’m glad both of us have found back to you.” He cupped her face gently in his hands, staring into her green eyes. Her breath hitched as he leaned in to drop a soft kiss on her lips. As he slowly pulled away, she crushed her lips on his again. Eagerly and desiring for more, she forced him to stumble a few steps back until he hit the wall. The kiss deepened, his big hands wandered to the back of her thighs, exploring her skin while going all the way up to her ass. Realising she wore a thong he gave her bare butt cheeks a determinant squeeze. Thank God she skipped on her tights today. Uncontrolled she ran her hands through his dark, slightly wavy hair, which he thankfully hadn’t slicked back today, caressing the shorter hair at his neck with one hand. The kiss became sloppy when both started to explore the other one’s mouth with their tongue. He lifted her right leg, bringing her knee up to his hip, which allowed him to pull her in even closer. As she grabbed a big fistful of his gorgeous hair, a deep moan left his mouth which brought her back to reality, so all of the sudden she pulled away. “I’m - so sorry.”, she stammered, trying to catch her breath. Alan cleared his throat “No need to apologise.” He awkwardly looked around the room. And then there was this weird silence, neither of them knew what to say or do next, so they just stood there, avoiding the gaze of the other until Alan screw up his courage.” Soo.. tomorrow night we play at ‘The Hideout’. Perhaps you’d like to come by.” Tomorrow?! “Sounds good, I’ll try to make it.”, Kelsey smiled. “Nice” he said nervously while grabbing his jacket and horn. He looked at her once more, wondering if he should kiss her goodbye. He took half a step towards her but his alarm bells went off reminding him that the situation was already embarrassing enough. “Guess I’ll see you around then.” And with a few quick steps he reached the door of her flat and left, feeling like a fool. Not only like a fool but like a goofy teenager. Kelsey closed the door behind him. Tomorrow!? I agreed on meeting Elwood after the gig. We made plans to see the Sonny Boy Williamson act starting at midnight.

#blues brothers #blues brothers fandom #Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #Alan Rubin x Reader #blues brothers fanfiction #fan fiction #Mr. Fabulous #Elwood Blues

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goofmemes · 4 years ago

Text

NSP’s “The Prophecy” Sentence Starters

Warning, some mildly N/W/F/W

Intro (The)

“Well met, young adventurer!”

“That day has finally arrived.”

“Because that’s what’s been foreseen by... THE PROPHECY!”

The Mystic Crystal

“Now gods and men and all between shall blow my necromancing schween!”

“Alas! For he was strong as fuck.”

“Search the forests, search the seas, search time and all realities.”

“Yes, my king/queen, it shall be done.”

“And that’s where our story begins.”

“Hey, ___, is that a mystic space portal behind you?”

“You've sailed across the sky and stars. The gods have brought you here unharmed.”

“My arms are broken, and I don't know why my chest is smoking.”

“I’m sure we’ll look back on this and laugh!”

“Ah, ___, do you think you could please warn me before you're about to light our righteous way?”

“Alright fine! Whatever man!”

“Then they ran straight away for they gave not a shit.”

“___, your heart is kind.”

“Stand back, ____, I'm going to hug them!”

“I probably should have brought some weapons.”

“I should have been in more pain than could ever be spoken...”

“Look, ___, the portal back home is opening!”

“Now fare thee well. It seems that our journey is at an end.”

It’s Bedtime

“Little child, close your eyes.”

“You’re like an angel in the moonlight.”

“It’s bedtime! Fucking bedtime!”

“Let my army of demons rock you to sleep!”

“I see you’re still awake for some reason. ...Was it the demons?”

“There's a boatload of pirates and they're fighting police.”

“Do you ever think about how ghosts can't be stopped by anything?”

“Would you like to see a slideshow about where meat comes from?”

“Apparently lots of venomous snakes can open doors! Who knew?”

“Check out my airhorn!” *HOOOOONK!*

“Here's one last bloodcurdling scream!”

The Wishing Bear

“I’m gonna ask for world peace. There’s so much pain and suffering on this earth...”

“OH NO! AAHH!!!”

“IT’S NOT THE WISHING BEAR!!!”

“CALL THE POLICE!! THE POLICE!!”

“Oh, real fucking nice, dude...”

I Don’t Know What We’re Talking About (And I Haven’t for Awhile)

“My heart was racing, and now we’re on our first date.”

“Now it's 10 o'clock and the meal is done, but the conversation's just begun.”

“You're fascinating, I feel blessed.”

“I don’t know what we’re talking about. And I haven’t for awhile.”

“I've been daydreaming about a pterodactyl named Lamar."

“I’m not absorbing anything.”

“Smile and nod.”

“Is it my turn to talk?”

“You’re looking at me -- Oh, God!”

“Focus... Focus....!”

“How many Draculas are hiding in this room?”

“I’d make an awesome cop if I could stop committing crime.”

“Anyway, why don't you and I go back to my place and, oh, I see you left at some point...”

Welcome to My Parents’ House

“I know what's on your mind.”

“The look in your eyes says 'take me tonight.’”

“Well I’ve got just the place.”

“Welcome to my parents' house!”

“You seem like a keeper.”

“I got my very own room and tons of free food.”

“Can you believe this shit is free?”

“S-sorry, sorry, every-everything's fine!”

“You need to go to bed.”

“Let's use our inside voices.”

“Sometimes ___ just hangs around to make sure I make good choices.”

“Get out of here, I said I'm on a date!”

“You always do this when I have company over!”

Wondering Tonight

“Sometimes I think of you and I.”

“No time will heal a wounded heart.”

“When I look up at the stars I wonder where you are.”

“I wonder who you’re slamming hard tonight.”

“Who is looking deeply in your eyes?”

“I sit here underneath the moon, wondering how our cherished memories were gone so soon.”

“...You were all I'll ever know of grace.”

“I'm missing you like crazy tonight.”

“I'm sitting here just thinking about why I'm alone without you next to me tonight.”

Ninja Brian’s Kids’ Album

“I kinda feel like I owe them one.”

“Everybody dies alone!”

“You know what-- I’m not doing this.”

The Decision Part 2: Ten Years Later

“Well we're still freaking awesome and we're back at your house!”

“We're all grown up and ready for romance.”

“Now maybe we can help you out, ‘cause ___ and I are still single somehow.”

“Now we're so fucking mature!”

“But before we begin, let me tell you where we've been.”

“We've had so many adventures.”

“I’ve had almost-sex with like a hundred girls!”

“There were Unicorn Wizards and samurai.”

“Wow... since we last saw each other, we've grown so much. As people, as ___... and also as people.”

Do Math With U

“Hello, my love. I've been away so long.”

“Let me pour you some champagne.”

“I wanna do math with you.”

“And our division's been too long.”

“Finally we’re here alone.”

“If our love was two trains traveling opposite directions at thirty miles an hour, baby, we'd still feel the same.”

“I guess it must be fate.”

“Now give my sweet ellipse a kiss.”

“Between me and you, we've got nothin' to prove.”

“Your curvature turns me on.”

“Calcul-me and calcul-you, girl, that makes calcul-us.”

“You know, they said it would never work between us. We're from completely different worlds.”

“Also. You fuck good.”

“I’ll love you till the end of pi.”

Thunder & Lightning

“But when I woke the next morning, I witnessed something odd.”

“I now had a new calling: I was destined to fight crime!”

“So I bought them a little unitard and found them a tiny cape.”

“I ran to the the city's toughest gang and screamed 'There's no escape!’"

“First you hear that rumble baby and then you see the flash!”

“Turns out being struck by lighting doesn't give you any powers.”

“They caved my head in with a pipe and beat me for several hours.”

“I looked up to the blackened sky and said an ancient prayer.”

“Lord, if you're there... Please infuse my nuts with the power of a thousand suns.”

“Holy shit, you’re real!?”

Outro (Prophecy)

“Congratulations, traveler!”

“Induct them into the league of champions with one, final, triumphant chord.”

#RP memes #sentence starters

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thedistantdusk · 4 years ago

Note

I kno u posted that meme about how George Floyd would be alive if he was white but we don’t know that. Things arent that bad here stop making america seem so evil.

Normally I’d write a long, educational response, but my current circumstances are forcing me to be curt. So buckle up for some truth, Nonny, because I have no goddamn patience today.

I hate doing Tumblr stuff on my phone, but right now, I don’t have a choice. You know why? Because in my city (along with many American cities), the protests over police brutality have escalated to the point where I’m afraid for my child’s safety. Last night, cops used pepper spray and rubber bullets roughly 15 miles from my home. Tonight is gearing up to be even worse and even closer to us, so we made the call to spend a few days with family members in a rural countryside house. We no longer have the option to social distance.

And you know what?

This fear and turmoil in my heart isn’t a fucking fraction of what POC deal with every damn day. So yeah, you bet your ass that I can sit down, shut up, and let people express their rage over the systemic racism that is part of this country’s DNA.

It’s not lost on me that everything about this response screams of my privilege. I’m privileged to have a place to “bug out” and wait. I’m privileged to have a means to get there. I have a toddler, and I’m privileged that the apparent (white!) color of my skin means that my family isn’t forced to get involved.

But more than anything else, I’m privileged to not have to worry about a cop kneeling on my neck and murdering me in broad daylight. Or being killed because someone calls 911 on me. Or having to teach my child how to “behave” when he gets pulled over. Hell, I’m privileged I’m alive in the first place. Many, many people of color don’t have that opportunity.

So please, please don’t tell me things ArEnT tHaT bAd... because that shows your privilege more than anything else.

If you’re interested in helping, here are some resources to point you in the right direction. But if you don’t stand in solidarity with a man who was needlessly murdered, maybe it’s best to unfollow me anyway, Nonny. I have zero patience for willful ignorance.

#not fanfic related #black lives matter #white privilege

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cassnottiel · 4 years ago

Note

a s7 freddyxdeke au? but also totally ignore this if u dont feel for the ship lol. maybe something like deke and freddy highkey fall for eachother during the first trip, things still end up the same way they did but its a bit more tragic. then deke meets old freddy and he recognizes him asap this time. and he's such a shattered and different person deke's heart is highkey broken by who he's become. maybe some hurt/comf with the whole team of emm. or the team attempting with varying results lol

"Deke, how do you do this?" Daisy smiled at herself, clad in a green very nice dress.

"I've always had great style." He said indignantly. "I still have the leather jacket from the future."

Daisy nodded and fixed her neck line, before offering her arm. "Shall we?"

Deke and Daisy, arm in arm, walked through the party of politicians and jazz music, up to the bar Mack was standing behind.

"Two of your finest Zimas, please." Deke said in his own version of suave. He would have made another joke, but someone caught his eye.

A man his age, standing behind the bar with Mack and Coulson, stocking the liquor. His hair was slicked back, like Dekes, but he wasn't wearing a tuxedo, favoring a regular white shirt with brown suspenders and tie. Deke really wanted that Zima, his mouth had gone dry.

When Mack assigned their stations, Deke made up a reason to walk around the bar area, wanting to look for that man again.

He was back behind the bar when Deke got back, and Daisy and Coulson were gone. He took a seat at the bar.

"Zima doesn't exist." Mack told him, sliding over a glass of clear liquid.

"What's this?" Deke brought the beverage up to his nose and smelled it.

"Water." Mack answered. "Basically Zima."

Deke rolled his eyes and pushed the glass away. "I'll take a martini."

Mack gave a weird look. "You don't even like beer, how would you like vodka?"

"I told you," Deke shrugged, "boot juice."

It was Mack's turn to roll his eyes. "In the normal world, we call it moonshine."

Deke sighed dramatically and slumped against the bar. Mack wasn't going to make the drink.

A glass with a tall stem and an olive was slid across the bar. Deke looked up and met eyes with the other man behind the counter, who winked and smiled.

Deke switched seats so he was sitting in front of the other bartender. "Thank you, how much is this?" He reached into his pocket.

"On the house." The man shook his head. "Because your friends are working." He added as an afterthought.

"What's your name?" Deke asked, then took a drink of the martini.

"Freddy." The bartender answered. "You?"

"D-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Governor Franklin Roosevelt." The band stopped playing and the crowd applauded.

Deke turned and watched a man walk stiffly up to the microphone and started talking.

"He's really here." Mack was smiling slightly, watching the politician up on the stage.

"The governor?" Freddy started cleaning a glass. "What's the big deal?"

Mack kept talking, and Deke didn't listen until he heard the words "way ahead of his time." He whipped his head around and met Macks eyes.

"Or, will be, someday." Mack covered badly. Freddy gave him a weird look, before turning his attention back to Deke.

"So, Freddy, anyway," Deke changed the subject quickly, "how'd you fall into this shifty line of work?"

Freddy shrugged and leaned against the bar. "Well, after my dad kicked the bucket, I was hustling work in the streets. Mr. Koenig offered me some."

Deke nodded solemnly in understanding. "I lost my dad, too." Images of the Lighthouse in over one hundred years flashed through his mind, and he remembered some of the things he did to survive. "You do what you gotta do."

Freddy understood. Maybe not all of it, but he knew Deke and him were thinking along the same lines.

The party went on, FDR hadn't died yet, and conversation fizzled out. Deke drank the water when his martini was gone, stealing glances at Freddy every now and again.

"Deke." Mack nodded to the other side of the room, where Coulson and Daisy were moving. The two men at the bar left Freddy to follow.

The service hallway was empty, except for the four S.H.E.I.L.D agents. FDR wasn't the target.

"The Chronicoms are after someone else, named Freddy." Jemmas voice crackled over the radio

"Freddy?" Dark hair and sharp features flashed to the front of Dekes mind.

The four took off running down the hallways, then they heard a suppressed gunshot. Daisy quaked the robots away and went to finish them off. They rounded the corner and saw a woman bleeding on the ground and Freddy sitting against the wall.

"What is all this?" Freddy asked breathlessly, staring at the three men.

"We're saving your life." Deke answered and held his hand out. "Let's go."

Freddy looked at him for a second, then took his hand and stood up. Deke might have held on for a second longer than needed, but nobody noticed.

"We'll keep him safe. Meet back at Koenigs." Mack said, then followed Deke and Freddy down the hallway to the back exit. Their stolen truck was back there. Mack got in the drivers seat, Deke in the passengers, and Freddy in the back.

"The cops will be on us any minute," Deke turned in his seat to look out the back window.

"Any idea why they're after you, kid?" Mack glanced in the rear view mirror as he drove.

"No, none." Freddy leaned forward. "I-I'm just supposed to make a delivery tonight."

"Well, if they wanted to stop him, we better make sure they don't." Deke looked to Mack.

"Tell us where you need to go." Mack said to Freddy.

A siren flared to life behind them, the cops were chasing them.

"Faster!" Freddy yelled, looking out the back window. "They're gaining on us!"

"This boat won't go any faster!" Mack yelled back.

"We gotta give 'em the slip." Freddy told the other two.

"Yeah, and we gotta lose them, too." Deke suggested. He felt Freddys eyes on him, and the look on his face told him they had said virtually the same thing.

Mack turned off the engine and drifted into an abandoned alley. the three ducked down under the line of sight from the windows. The police car sped off down the street, and the three men sat up in their seats.

Freddy laughed. "So long, Coppers."

"Where do we go now?" Mack asked.

Freddy smiled and clapped them both on the shoulder. "Gotta deliver the goods." Then he opened the door and jumped out of the car.

Mack and Deke made eye contact, then followed. Freddy opened the bed of the truck, revealing their other clothes. "Might wanna get out of those fancy duds, you kinda stick out."

As Mack grabbed his other shirt and jacket, Deke snatched up the radio. "This is Deke." He said into it. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Nobody answered.

"What's that?" Freddy nodded to the device Deke was holding.

"It's like a, uh, telephone." Mack tried to explain. "Deke's an inventor."

"Hello? Is anyone out there? Daisy?" Deke wasn't paying attention to the others. "Jemma? Coulson?" A beat, and still no answer. "These things suck." Deke tossed the walkie down into the truck. "They have, like, zero range."

"It's gotta be plugged into something." Freddy said, like it was the most obvious thing.

"No, I know how they're supposed to work" Deke picked up his clothes. "I can fix it."

"This is the delivery?" Mack picked up a bottle. "More booze? They'd kill you over this?"

"This is the highest grade giggle juice ever made." Freddy took the bottle. "A lot of people would kill to get their paws on the formula."

Mack sighed. "If we're going to protect you, you need to be honest with us."

Then Freddy said something Deke couldn't understand even if he tried, and then they started driving again, to a train yard.

They carried the four cases of alcohol out of the car and set them on the ground.

"Who's the buyer for all this?" Mack asked as Deke looked up at the night sky and fixed his tie.

"Some guy, I dunno." Freddy shrugged.

"What's he look like?" Mack tried.

"No idea." Freddy slipped his hands into his pockets.

"When does he get here?" Deke asked.

Freddy smiled, like he just said something funny. "He doesn't. The meet-up is 500 miles away."

Deke and Mack shared a look. "That's a lot of miles, we don't have time for that."

"Why'd you have us unload this, then?" Mack sounded close to angry.

"So you can take the car and go." Freddy told them. "This is where we go our separate ways, fellas." A train whistle blew in the distance, getting closer. "That's my ride. I appreciate you saving my life," he looked right at Deke as he said that, "I owe you one."

"We're not leaving you." Deke said before he knew what he was doing. Luckily, Mack nodded.

"I don't need no body guard." Freddy shook his head, the train rumbling closer.

"The cops that are after you, they're not the type to give up." Deke said seriously. "They're gonna keep coming until they finish you off."

Freddy stared into Dekes eyes for a long, silent moment. Then he nodded wordlessly, and the three men got on the train.

Freddy was fiddling with the small radio, Mack was sitting on the floor of the box car, and Deke was looking out at the passing scenery.

"You really invented these?" Freddy asked. Deke looked back, met Macks eyes, who nodded, then back to Freddy.

"Yeah, I did." Deke took off his hat and sat next to Freddy. "It's just a prototype."

"And you can talk to someone on it?" Freddy was smiling in disbelief. "It doesn't have to be plugged in?" He met Dekes eyes. "You must be real smart."

Mack sighed, got up, and walked to the other side of the car. "I'm going to get some rest." The look he gave Deke conveyed: don't do anything stupid.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Freddy spoke.

"Deke." He said the name like it was a foreign word. "That's a funny name. Where're you from?"

"Upstate," Deke said, the answer he gave anyone who asked that same question, "near lake Ontario."

Freddy smiled. "Is that why you don't understand any slang from the city? You've never been?"

"I think the slang is horrible and I'm not even going to try to understand, but I like the accent." Deke laughed.

Freddy nodded. There was another stretch of awkward silence.

"So, uh," Freddy scratched his head, "at the party, you walked in with a real pretty lady."

Deke furrowed his brow in confusion, then realized who he was talking about. "Oh, that's just Daisy. She's a friend."

Freddy laughed quietly. "Just a friend? You mean she's not your girl?"

Deke shook his head with a smile. "No, Daisy isn't anyones girl."

"That's too bad," Freddys smile sent something through Deke, "I would've thought a handsome guy like you would have girls lined up."

Deke flushed and looked away. "You're really smooth, you know that?"

"I should hope so." Freddy leaned forward and offered the Walkie-Talkie. When Deke took it, their hands brushed. Freddy leaned farther forward and placed his hand on Dekes arm.

The next thing Deke knew, a pair of lips were on his. Something that surprised him very much. The kiss short, but it was hot.

Seconds after it started, it stopped. Freddy pulled back, looking slightly sheepish, leaving Deke red and breathless. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

Deke grabbed Freddy by his tie and pulled him in again, capturing his lips in his own. They almost fell back, but Freddy braced his hand on the wall of the car, bringing his other hand up to Dekes hair, still stiff from the gel. Deke hummed and opened his mouth into the kiss, screwing his eyes shut.

Freddy got off his chair and climbed into Dekes lap, straddling his hips, never breaking the kiss in the process. He leaned a little too far forward, and Dekes chain fell back. The two fell to the floor in a crash, and they laughed breathlessly as they lay on the uncomfortable wood. Deke was about to lean up for another kiss, when--

"Hey, are you--?" Mack stood up in a hurry, and stopped dead when he saw the two men on the floor. "Deke!" Freddy pushed himself up and away from Deke.

"Whaaaat?" Deke dragged out the word with a sigh and let his head fall to the floor.

"Hey, if you got a problem with--" Freddy stood up and tried to look threatening, but Mack waved him off.

"I don't care, just don't do that while I'm in the room!" Mack ran a hand down his face.

"Do you want us to jump cars?" Deke sat up shook his head, showing off his messily ruffled hair.

Mack looked away from the two. "Either that or stop."

"It's a box car, there aren't doors on the end you can just jump between." Freddy piped up, fixing his tie.

Mack shook his head and gestured vaguely to the opposite end of the car, walking back to where he dropped his coat and hat.

Deke pushed himself off the floor and offered his hand to Freddy, pulling him behind a stack of boxes that were there before they got on. They both sat on the floor, Freddy with his back to the boxes and Mack, and Deke against the wall.

"So," Freddy started awkwardly, "your friend doesn't mind all . . ." he gestured between the two.

Deke shook his head nonchalantly. "No, he's fine." He smiled jokingly. "He just thinks I'm annoying." The rumble of the train and the slight shaking of the cargo drowned out whatever noise Mack was making, so their hushed voices wouldn't reach him. At Freddys unconvinced expression, Deke gave a more serious answer. "Where we grew up, it was different. It was like a different time," he smiled softly at his own joke, "it wasn't exactly New York City."

"Greatest city in the world." Freddy smiled sadly. "My old man took a walk off a tall building after the market crashed. I'm kinda glad he never found out about this."

"I'm sorry." Deke reached out and placed his hand on Freddys knee, trying to be comforting. "My dad, he . . . he left when I was twelve. Died a few years ago."

Freddy placed his hand on top of Dekes and smiled sadly. Something crossed his face, and he shifted himself forward. "When I make this delivery, come with me."

Deke tilted his head slightly. "What?"

"It's not just whiskey." Freddy whispered excitedly. "There's something else, and when I give it to the buyer, I'm going to get back everything my family lost and more. Come with." He kissed Deke quickly. "We can--"

"Mackenzie . . ." The radio crackled to life. ". . . can you . . . information . . ."

Deke and Freddy quickly stood up and ran around the pile of boxes. Freddy stopped short, staring at his open crates of liquor.

". . . Wilfred . . ." Enochs voice fizzled out as Mack picked up the walkie.

"Enoch, I copy, do you hear me?" Mack waited for a response, but none came. Freddy slowly stepped around Deke and toward his shipment. "Enoch, do you copy? Over."

"What the hell was he doing?" Freddy pointed to the alcohol crates and spoke to Deke. He started rifling through them, making sure everything was there while Mack spoke into the radio. "Wanna tell me why you're snooping through my goods?"

Mack lowered the radio with a sigh, stepping closer to Freddy. "I need to know who and what we're dealing with. You may not think there's more to this, but I do."

Freddy turned back to Deke. "So, was that just to distract me?" His face went from suspicious to angry. "Keep me busy while your friend looks through my cargo?" The last few words grew to a yell and Deke shook his head.

"Just let me inspect the bottles." Mack said calmly.

"And get me killed?" Freddy whipped back around. "I deliver open bottles. What's that say about me? That I'm a snoop?"

"You're not curious?" Mack asked.

"Curious'll get you kill faster than trust." Freddy looked back at Deke as he said that.

"Let's just get him there and be done with it." Deke said to Mack. "It's ripples, not waves, right?"

Mack ignored Deke, instead stepping closer to Freddy. "Step aside."

The two stood in a silent challenge for a moment, then Freddy stepped aside.

"Deke, give me a hand." Mack said and picked up a bottle. Deke hesitated, looking back at Freddy, before slowly following the order.

A gun clicked. "Like I said," Freddys voice was quiet, "I can't let you do that."

"Put the gun down." Mack said evenly.

"You need to listen to Deke, here." Freddy gestured to the man in question with the gun. "Just let me do my job, and we can all go home."

There was a long, excruciating moment of silence. Finally, Freddy stepped back and pointed to two boxes. "Both of you, sit down." His voice was shaking, barely noticeable, but it was there.

Slowly, the three men all sat down. Freddy refused to look at Deke. They sat. Time passes. The sun rose over the horizon. All in silence. All with Freddy pointing that gun.

"Why don't you come clean." Freddy said suddenly, the train still rumbling along the tracks. "You ain't bootleggers, and you definitely ain't from around here."

"Okay, you're right." Deke sat up straighter. "We were sent a very, very, very long way to make sure that you don't die."

"Why?" Freddy asked, leaning forward slightly. "'Cause I'm this 'thread'? What does that even mean?"

"It's complicated," Mack looked up from his hands, "but Deke's right. Our job is to protect you. How do you know your buyer?"

"I know her, the lady who sent me to do this." Freddy gripped the revolver tighter. "She knew my father. And she's giving me a chance to be something he never could." He looked at Deke, then, a question in his eyes. A question of, would you still go with me?

Before Deke could do anything to answer, the whistle ripped through the air and the train car shook. Mack leapt forward, tackling Freddy. The gun fell from his hand, and Deke picked it up.

They brought the crates of alcohol out to the pier. As Mack started looking for whatever was hidden inside, someone spoke from the other end of the radio.

"Mack? Deke?" It was Daisy. "Are you there?"

"Hey, it's Deke." He picked it up and answered.

"Finally. We're on our way to you. You guys have to be ready to leave as soon as we arrive. We have no time. Where's Mack?"

"He's with Freddy." Deke walked a little farther away from the pair, but kept his eyes on them. Freddy spared a glance every now and then.

"Freddy is not what he seems. He is very dangerous."

"Freddy?" Deke turned around and watched the water, squinting against the sun. "Nah, he's alright. He's just in a tight spot. We kind of have a lot in common, actually." Thoughts of the previous night made themselves known in his head.

"No, you don't. Trust me." Daisy cut him off quickly. "Do not let him out of your sight."

"Okay, don't worry." Deke said nervously, looking back at the man in question, who was staring back at him. "I-I got him in my sight and my finger on the trigger."

A beat of silence. "You have a gun?"

"Yeah, it's Freddys."

Another beat. "Take the shot."

Dekes eyes widened and he stared down at the radio. "Pardon?"

"That's Wilfred Malick, future head of Hydra." Daisy said. "If you kill him now, you'll save thousands of lives in the future."

Dekes stomach dropped. He stared down at the gun, not listening to Daisy anymore. He set the radio down and approached the others.

"Mack." Deke said seriously. "They're on their way, and we have to leave as soon as possible."

Mack nodded and popped the cork of one of the bottles, and started pouring. "We'll be ready."

"One more thing." Deke looked at Freddy, then back at Mack. "Daisy says this is Wilfred Malick."

Freddy looked between them. Dekes hesitation and Macks shock. "My name, so what?"

"She told me to kill him." Deke couldn't look at Freddy, not even when he heard the sputtering questions.

Mack thought for multiple seconds, paying no mind to the vial of green liquid that falls out of the bottle in his hand. "She did?"

Deke nodded, glancing at Freddy. He was staring in horror back.

"Watch him." Mack said and walked over to where the radio was set down.

Mack started talking into the radio, and Freddy started talking to Deke.

"My guy's here in a few minutes," Freddy sounded desperate, "we can still go, get everything we want in life."

"Freddy," Deke closed his eyes, "I can't leave my team."

"They want to kill me." Freddy stepped forward and gripped the other man's arm.

"They're my family." Deke hissed. "Would you leave your family on a whim?"

Freddy gripped Dekes hand tightly. "Please, Deke."

He sighed. Then his head jerked up when he heard something. A car. A car with multiple police officers in it.

"Get down!" Deke yelled and fired Freddys gun at the Chronicoms before ducking behind the wooden boxes.

By the end of the fight, Freddy was on his way to creating Hydra, Enoch was gone, and the rest of the team was in 1955.

- - -

"Deke, I gave you an order." Daisy said over without looking up from the file she was reading. "Why didn't you follow it?"

"It was murder." He responded plainly, tossing aside his own file and picking a new one up. "You ordered me to murder a guy who hadn't done anything wrong yet."

"It was a tough call, but--"

"I couldn't do it." Deke cut her off. His cheeks seemed to go slightly pink.

Daisy scoffed. "Why not? You never used to shy away from this kind of stuff."

"Daisy, he kissed me." Deke looked at her and tossed the file down. She froze and looked up. He was definitely flustered, and he looked away as soon as she met his eyes.

"You're serious?" Daisy lowered her voice to a whisper. When his face just got more red, she laughed in disbelief. "Oh, God, you're serious. You made out with the father of the guy who sent your grandparents to a different planet."

"Don't mock me, I'm having a personal crisis!" Deke hissed and glanced at the door to the lab.

"Does Mack know?" Daisy leaned forward. If possible, his face got even more flushed. "I'm so sorry." They went back to reading the files in silence. Suddenly, Daisy spoke again; "So . . . if it was still 2019 and you met Freddy Malick, would you go out with him?"

"Daisy!" Deke pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?" She glanced up from her file. He was glaring at her. "That's not a no."

Deke groaned and tossed his file aside. "This crisis kind of ongoing, so id you can stop making fun of me--"

"Wait, shut up." Daisy picked up his discarded file and stared at the name. "We can talk more about this later."

"What is it?" Deke leaned over to see what he missed.

"Daniel Sousa."

This man turned out to be important, and they needed to help him. So, Yo-Yo and Deke went out to retrieve a device for Coulson and Sousa.

After the only words exchanged through the otherwise silent car ride were the directions read from a map, Yo-Yo tried to start a conversation. "You're quiet." She pointed out.

Deke tried to play it off as not being an experienced driver, but she could tell he was lying.

"In the 30s, you drove fine." She leveled him with a look. "Is it what Daisy asked you to do?"

Deke sighed an closed his eyes for a second. "A little."

Elena waited. And waited. "And?"

"Promise not to laugh." Deke glanced out the window at the houses. "Daisy laughed and now I just feel worse."

"I promise." Elena glanced at the street map again.

Deke blew a long sigh out of his mouth. "In the 30s, Freddy Malick kissed me." He was met with stunned silence.

"Is that why you didn't shoot him?" Elena asked after a minute. Deke shook his head.

"Not the whole reason." He glanced out the windows again. "He was scared, asked me to go with him to start Hydra. I couldn't shoot him."

Elena sighed and studied the map again. "Is that why Mack is acting weird around you? He caught you two?" Deke nodded wordlessly. "Wow. If you need to . . . talk about it, or something, you can talk to me."

"Thanks." Deke smiled slightly. "How close are we?"

"We . . ." she dragged the word out. "We just passed it."

They split up as soon as they entered the house, searching for whatever briefcase they were supposed to get. Elena drew her gun and walked up the staircase, while Deke explored the ground level.

Deke was walking through one of the bathrooms when he heard a floorboard creak on the other side of the wall. A man stepped into view, and Deke started backing away, searching his pockets for a weapon that wasn't there without taking his eyes off the person in front of him. He should have been more worried about the man behind him.

There was a sharp pain on the back of his head, and Dekes world went sideways and dark.

He woke up to someone slapping him, and he gasped and sat up. He had been lying across the back seat of a car.

"Rise and shine, big brain." One of his assailants said. Deke was seeing starts, and not just because it was night.

He was dragged out of the car and into a large house, to a fancy looking study with a man sitting behind a desk. As soon as the door closed, Deke jerked his arm out of the grip of the men who kidnapped him.

"Here's your scientist, boss." One of them said. The man behind the desk was shrouded in darkness, so Deke couldn't make out his face.

He stood up and slowly made his way around the desk. He stared at Deke for several seconds. "Leave us," he said to the two men behind the guest, "I want to speak to him alone."

This man knew who Deke was, but Deke did not know him. The two men left the room, and now Deke was alone with this stranger.

The man reached out his hand to touch Dekes face. Deke took a step back. He wouldn't flinch, no matter how creepy this got. The man seemed slightly hurt.

"Deke." He knew his name. How did this man know his name? "Take a seat."

"I'll stand, if that's alright with you." Deke tried to sound confident, smoothing out his jacket.

"You look exactly the same." The man chuckled. When Deke didn't laugh along, he frowned. "Do you remember me?"

"Can't say I do, no." But Deke was getting a feeling in his gut that he knew the man in front of him.

"That's fine, it's been a long time." The man unbuttoned his blazer. "The name is Wilfred."

"Freddy . . ." It clicked immediately. This was Hydra.

Freddy smiled. He reached out, grabbed Dekes tie, and pulled him in. Deke did not expect to meet Malick again, and he certainly didn't expect resuming whatever they started in that train car.

The kiss was just as it had been twenty years ago (two days for Deke), hot and short. Deke had no idea what to do. He had to get back to the Zypher, back to the team. But Freddy had him by the back of his neck and was biting his bottom lip.

Freddy moved his hand up until his fingers were tangled in Dekes hair and worked to loosen his tie with the other hand. Malick had a beard now, and way more confidence. Deke tried to pull away, but Freddy just gripped his hair tighter and kissed harder.

Deke gasped from the pain on his scalp, and Freddy took that as an invitation to use tongue.

Dekes tie had been fully undone and tossed aside, and the top buttons on his shirt were next. The encounter had become sufficiently uncomfortable, seeing as he was now more than twenty years younger than the other man. Deke needed to get out before this went any further.

Deke brought his hands up to Malicks chest and pushed. "Freddy," he tried to say, "Freddy, stop." Freddy did not stop, but he slowed down. Deke could finally pull his head fully away. "I can't be here."

Malick sighed and bowed his head, catching both Dekes wrists when he tried to pull his hand away. If he felt Deke flinch, he didn't care, because he didn't let go. "So, you're a S.H.I.E.L.D scientist now?"

"Something like that." Deke said stiffly, trying to free his right hand.

"I'm guessing Agent Sousa told you about his suspicions?" Malick squeezed the other mans wrists tighter.

Deke had never met Daniel Sousa, but he had to play along to get out of this alive. "I guess this is it." He blinked and looked around the room. "Hydra?"

Malick hummed and brought Dekes right hand up to his mouth, kissing it softly. "I can make a spot for you. It's not to late." When he got no answer, he continued. "You saved my life twenty-four years ago. I want to repay you."

"Not like this, Freddy." Deke whispered. "How did your life get here?"

Malick finally let of him. "You do what you gotta do."

Deke remembered those words vividly, it felt like he said those words years ago, and not just days. "I can't be a part of this." He said. "My team--"

Malick scoffed and started rummaging around his desk. "The same team that ordered you to kill me?"

"That was just one persons order." Deke knew what he was about to say was completely stupid, but he said it anyway. "Maybe . . . maybe she knew what you would go on to do."

A gun clicked. The revolver looked so much like the one Malick pointed at Mack and Deke on that train. Deke threw his hands out in front of him, he didn't know what for, though. The gesture was useless.

"You're a smart guy. Start making smart decisions." Malicks voice didn't shake, and neither did his hand, not anymore. "I offered you multiple chances to join me. And you turned down every single one."

"Freddy, please," Deke kept his voice as steady as possible, "put that down." Malick pulled back the hammer. "What happened to wanting to repay me?"

Malick thought on that. Slowly, he lowered the gun. "Fine. Get out." Deke let a relieved smile cross his face, before turning to the door to the study and fumbling with the handle. "One thing before you go." Deke froze. "If I ever see you again, I won't be so generous."

Deke nodded slowly and opened the door.

- - -

Back on the Zypher, Deke was sitting in the lab by himself, rubbing his head where he had been hit. He groaned softly when he touched the wrong spot and his head throbbed with pain again.

Soft footsteps made their way into the dimmed lab. "Do you think you have a concussion?"

Deke squinted up at Yo-Yo and shrugged. "Maybe. He hit me pretty hard."

Elena walked over so she was sitting next to him. She placed a hat on his knee. "You left this behind."

Deke smiled slightly and picked it up. "Thanks."

They sat in silence for a minute, then, "You okay?"

Deke nodded and winced again. "Yeah, I think so."

"So, Malick again?" Elena crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"Yeah." Deke sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Your tie is crooked and your hair is messy." She pointed out. "What happened in there?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Deke tried to smooth out his hair but flinched. From the pain of the wound or the memory of Malick, he didn't know.

"Deke, did you and him--?"

"I didn't want to!" Deke said suddenly, refusing to look at her. "But he . . . he wouldn't stop."

Elena stared in shock. "He forced himself on you?"

It took a moment, but Deke nodded. "It didn't go that far, but," he sighed, "it was really uncomfortable."

Elena hesitantly brought her hand up and placed it on his. "I'm sorry." She said quietly. "That's messed up."

"At least he let me go." Deke rubbed his eyes. "He said he wouldn't be so generous next time he sees me."

"That's still not okay." Elena frowned. "You're lucky he didn't kill you."

Deke held his right wrist in his left hand, as if protecting himself. "It felt so . . . wrong." He whispered. "He wouldn't let go of me, and he grabbed right where my metric was."

Elena looked down at where hers would have been, but there was no scar. Those arms were long gone. Instead, she wrapped her new arms around Deke, her friend. They hadn't been close before, but she was willing to change that.

"You'll be okay." She told him. "What's that thing Jemma always says?"

Deke huffed out a laugh and returned the hug the best he could in their awkward position. "The steps you take don't have to be big, they just have to take you in the right direction."

#high class writing #deke shaw #elena rodriguez #daisy johnson #alphonso mack mackenzie #freke #agents of shield #asks

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