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megalony · 5 months ago

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Exploding Emotions

As promised, this is the new Evan Buckley imagine I have been working on, I am very happy with this one and I hope you will all like it.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: While out on a call, an accident gives (Y/n) flashbacks to the night her husband got trapped beneath the fire truck and what happened to her while he was stuck.

Enjoy.

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

"Okay, what have we got?"

The team clambered out the truck one by one, each sorting their gloves and reaching for their helmets while they followed after Bobby. The Captain led them away from the truck and towards the scene they were here to assist.

(Y/n) could feel her legs starting to ache and she was beginning to lag behind. This was their fifth call and they weren't even halfway through their shift yet, and they had come here straight after their last call. They hadn't been back to the station for a drink or a snack or had a moment's peace.

Added to the fact that this was an evening shift, (Y/n) felt like dropping down here and now in the middle of the road.

She shrugged on her florescent jacket and stood near Ravi, looking out at the scene.

Each of them could feel their shoulders sagging and a grimace flooded their faces in turn when they looked around.

A lorry had crashed at an intersection. The large metal lorry was now on its side right in the centre, with a mangled up car resting in front of the bonnet. There were at least four other cars scattered around who had either crashed together, hit posts or swerved and burst a tyre trying to get out of the firing line.

"Hen, Chim, head for the lorry and the collision car in the centre, those drivers will be the worst off. Everyone else, fan out around. If anyone can walk, guide them to safety and get them off the scene."

Bobby's orders fell upon deaf ears when (Y/n) looked at the scene ahead of her.

The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle and stand on end as a cold shiver passed through her blood. She could feel her lungs tightening and closing up and her eyes zoned in on the lorry.

It was the same crimson shade as the fire truck. Those bright headlights were shining in her direction, they were calling out to her.

It looked just like the scene over a year ago that (Y/n) had to endure watching over the news.

The scene that tore out her heart and made her feel like she was witnessing the end of the world with no way of helping. Being a firefighter meant it was in (Y/n)'s nature to help people. She wasn't used to sitting back and watching from the sidelines, unable to do anything at all. And when it had involved the one person who meant the entire world to her, everything else had become insignificant.

Dread clawed at (Y/n)'s lungs as she felt herself beginning to shake. It felt like a decade had passed since that night, but standing here, staring ahead at that crumpled lorry in the middle of the road, in the dead of night, (Y/n) suddenly felt as if the last year had evaporated into dust.

She felt like she had been transported back one year with her wish of being able to be on scene and do something to help. To look after Evan and get him out.

Was he there? Was Evan laid out on the concrete with one leg practically split apart and a hundred tons of metal crushing down on him? Was he pinned to the floor, unable to move in any direction? Was he screaming until his lips were blue and his lungs were on the verge of giving out? Was Evan in mass agony, violently screaming for someone to do something to help him when no one stepped forward to save him?

"(Y/n)? Everything okay?"

A quiet round of "He's not here," murmured beneath her breath, so quiet that her dad didn't catch a word.

But he could see by the faint, distant look in her constricted eyes and the trembling that set in her body that she wasn't here. She wasn't on scene with them, not mentally. Her mind had gone somewhere else and although he didn't know where, he could see she needed a few moments to come back to the present.

His eyes widened when he watched her suddenly stumble before she crashed down to her knees. Her arms were pinned around her waist with her head lolled to one side, but Bobby could see her eyes were intently focused on the scene ahead of them.

They couldn't see any of the number plates from this far away and there weren't any casualties yet or anyone they knew here on scene. So (Y/n) couldn't be panicking about having family or friends meddled up in this collision.

He hurriedly crouched down in front of her, moving his hands to hold her arms while he leaned his head to try and get within her line of sight. But even when he was in her view, it was like she was looking through him rather than at him. She wasn't here, she was lost.

"Honey, talk to me. Are you okay?"

Relief overtook Bobby when (Y/n) managed to nod her head. She could hear him. She hadn't collapsed in pain or mass agony, she wasn't having some kind of stroke or seizure or some sort of episode. Something was clearly going on, but it didn't seem to be a dire emergency.

Bobby couldn't be doing with any more emergencies. Not after this last year with Evan and all his operations on his leg and him and (Y/n) struggling to cope with those and a newborn baby. (Y/n) had only just come back to work from maternity leave while Evan's return to work date was still to be determined.

His daughter and son-in-law had been through enough.

"I just… I need- need a minute." Her voice sounded distant even to herself and she kept leaning her head to the right until she could look around her dad and stare back at the lorry that was looking more and more like a fire truck to her hazy eyes.

"You sit this one out, get back in the truck. I'll be back in five minutes, if you need help, radio through."

Bobby looked like he was going to try and help her up into the truck behind her, but she shook her head. She wanted to stay where she was, knelt down on the floor. She was okay, but she didn't have the willpower or the energy to get up yet. She couldn't move. She had to stay here.

He seemed dubious about leaving her, but (Y/n) clearly didn't want help right now and they were two men down with Eddie being on holiday and Evan currently off work. And if (Y/n) was sitting this call out, Bobby needed to get back out there and control the situation and help so they could be back at the station as soon as possible.

(Y/n) barely heard her dad whisper that he would be back soon and she tried to lean closer when he kissed her temple. His touch lingered for a few moments, giving away how badly he wanted to stay with her and truly make sure she was alright. But the faint smile she tried to muster told him she might just be okay for a few minutes while he got this scene under control.

All she could do was lean her shoulders back against the truck and close her eyes, but the image was still there. Those beaming headlights were aimed at her. They were shining on her, blinking at her, flashing for her attention and the light shone through her closed eyes that were illuminated into bright red lines. With the image of Evan burned into her cornias until the day she died.

The image of Evan laid out on his stomach, gloved fingers desperately clawing at the floor. Nails splitting apart beneath the gloves, fingertips wearing down and the skin rubbing off as he tried to prize himself free.

His lips, sodden with sweat and dirt and the odd speckle of blood, screaming until he was froffing at the mouth and his throat felt drier than the desert.

His eyes, shedding so manny tears he could have had his own ocean named after him. Red circles beneath his eyes, veins prominent in the whites of his eyes, cheeks glistening with little white tracks where tears had wiped through the dirt covering his face.

(Y/n) could hear those screams. She could see the blood creating a puddle beneath him. She could see people moving to lift the truck and she could hear the agony in her husband's shrieks when their team finally dragged him from the wreckage and prized him free too late for (Y/n)'s liking.

Tears began to streak down her own face before she could stop them and she found her trembling hands rattling through her inside jacket pocket, searching for her phone.

She had to make sure he was okay.

She had to call Evan.

She had to know he wasn't in danger.

To stop herself from staring at the scene ahead that was only inflating her panic and agony, (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed. She closed them so tightly pins and needles flooded her face and had her squirming from the tight pain ebbing away at her eyes. It didn't stop the tears from falling, but they were only silent tears of fading panic and old anguish she was trying to push away.

The line didn't ring for long and (Y/n) was suddenly overwhelmed. Usually when it didn't ring for more than three beeps it meant Evan's phone was switched off or he rejected the call because he was busy on a call. And if the line had rung and rung with no answer, (Y/n) wasn't sure what her panicked brain would do in that scenario.

"Hey baby, everything okay?"

Evan's voice was the calm after the storm. (Y/n) could feel more silent tears beginning to stream down her face when she listened to his lulling voice with that slight rough edge that implied he may have taken a nap with Lilah at some point tonight.

He wasn't quite used to being at home while (Y/n) was at work. It had been the other way around when (Y/n) took early maternity leave and Evan had been the one to call her while he was at work. Just so he could hear her voice or listen to how her day had been to take his mind off a rough or an oddly quiet shift.

He didn't like being the one stuck at home, not able to do his job. But now he didn't have a pot running from his toes midway up his thigh, it was easier to be at home. No one had to be here helping him hobble about the house, he didn't need (Y/n) to help him wash or help him up out of bed and down the stairs.

He didn't need Maddie coming round to babysit him and now he could walk- although with a limp for now- he could properly care for Lilah.

It crushed Evan to not be able to carry his baby girl or bathe her or take her for a walk when he had been on crutches. Seeing (Y/n) or Maddie or even Bobby come round and help with Lilah had been killing him. But now, until he was signed off for work, Evan was spending as much time as he could with his baby girl.

"Babe, you there?" There was a slight chuckle at the end of his words as if he thought (Y/n) may have called him by accident or not realised she was now on the phone to him.

"Hm."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah… just- just wanted to hear your voice." Her voice sounded steadier than she had hoped and it made her relieved. She didn't want to worry Evan unnecessarily and make him panic or think something was wrong.

Because nothing was wrong, not really. A moment of panic had now been quenched by the sound of Evan's voice. (Y/n) could carry on, she could pick herself back up and get out there and try to actually do her job and hope none of the team had noticed her lapse in concentration.

"Why, what's going on?" There was a softness to his tone and (Y/n) could just imagine him sat there smiling.

She wasn't going to worry him. There was no point when telling Evan why she had worriedly called him would only serve to upset him. And there was no way to open up that conversation and tell him she had a brief panic at the thought of his accident.

"Nothing, just missed you."

"You're sweet." He tilted his head back, sliding further down the sofa he was reclined on with both legs hanging over the other side. And he shuffled Lilah who was laid on his chest with her head just beneath his collar bone. "Who's on the phone? Is it mummy?"

He got a little babbling response, a jumbled sound that was drowsy and showed that the toddler was about to fall asleep at any moment. But it was enough to have Evan smiling as he kissed her temple and ran his hand up and down her back, holding his phone closer to his ear with the other hand.

"So, you're missing me, huh?"

(Y/n) allowed a smile to pull at her lips. She felt better already.

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

(One year ago)

Lifting her head, (Y/n) looked up at Athena through blurry eyes when they both heard a knock at the door.

She reached her hand out to give her mum's hand a tight squeeze and the calming smile on Athena's face did wonders for (Y/n)'s raging nerves. They both had the same thought in mind. They both prayed it was Evan at the front door.

Athena leaned over to peck (Y/n)'s temple before she got up from the sofa and hurried out into the hall to open the door.

Just as Athena dipped out the room, (Y/n) leaned forward with one hand gripping the arm of the sofa and her other hand clutching at her stomach. she hunched over as much as she could until her stomach was pressing into her thighs and her head was tilted down.

God, these contractions were going to be the death of her.

A quiet groan burned at the back of her throat and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes but she willed them away. She couldn't be crying yet, not when she wasn't even fully dilated or at the point of pushing yet. But she couldn't help it.

She wanted Evan. She wanted him to come home.

She was two weeks away from her due date and had gone into labour right when Evan was in the middle of a night shift with the rest of the team. (Y/n) had been extremely lucky that when she rang her mum, Athena hadn't been on shift tonight. She had come straight over and when neither of them could get hold of Evan or Bobby, Athena called the next best person.

She rang Maddie who was on shift at dispatch and they kindly asked her to get the message across to the 118 that Evan would have to end his shift early. He needed to come home and be here when (Y/n) had their baby.

When the contraction subsided, (Y/n) let out a groan and started to rub circles along her stomach in the vain hope that it would take her mind off the budding pains. And the ache in her heart from not having Evan here. He promised to be here. He had been subtly whispering to her bump, telling the baby to make an appearance when Evan was home and that they had to wait patiently for him.

(Y/n) had playfully told Evan off two weeks ago when he had been talking to the baby and asked them to arrive promptly last week so Evan wouldn't have to go to dinner with his parents for his dad's birthday. It didn't happen. They all suffered through dinner together anyway. If (Y/n) went into labour then, at least Evan would have been by her side rather than on shift like he was now.

"Is- is that him?" (Y/n) tried to look over her shoulder but she couldn't see Athena in the hall from where she was sat in the living room.

But she couldn't hear voices either. Athena was speaking in hushed tones with whoever was at the door. That must mean it wasn't Evan, if it was he would have burst through the doors and found (Y/n) immediately.

With pursed lips set into a deep frown, (Y/n) reached across for the tv remote and promptly changed the channel. The stupid sitcom that had been on in the background was steadily getting on (Y/n)'s nerves. The gag lines were silly, the jokes weren't funny and the audience laughing was irritating her to no end.

She flicked through three channels, about to look through a few more until a headline on the late night news caught her attention.

LAFD Bombing.

Her head tilted to one side and her eyes narrowed as she watched the camera zoom in, clearly live recording from a helicopter hovering at the scene.

Someone had tried to blow up a fire truck. They were sectioning off the street while the fire brigade talked to the bomber who was actually on the scene. a few people had been hurt in the blast. Someone was trapped. One of the firemen was still stuck in the fire truck that had exploded on-route.

"We can't tell her-"

Maddie lost her train of thought and whatever she was about to say when a horrifying, gut-wrenching scream shook the walls of the house. She clutched the doorframe, her eyes locking with Athena as the pair of them bolted from the hall and into the living room.

It was too late.

More tears streamed down Maddie's face, despite the fact that she had been crying for over twenty minutes now since the news reel first started and showed her little brother in peril.

She had come straight over to help Athena take (Y/n) to hospital and be here with her while Evan couldn't. She had tried to explain what had happened, she didn't want (Y/n) to know. She didn't want her sister in law to panic or be in distress, not when she was already overwhelmed and in labour. But it seemed too late now.

Both of them scurried into the living room to find (Y/n) down on her knees in front of the coffee table. One hand gripping the table while the other clutched the tv remote close to her chest. She turned the volume up until all of them were wincing at the abrupt noises of the helicopter and the news reporters.

She had seen. (Y/n) had seen her husband, lying there on the floor with the entire fire truck crushing down on his leg.

No wonder he wasn't here already. He wasn't going to be here. Evan wasn't coming home, he was stuck. He was pinned down to the road like a fly trapped in a spider's web. Her husband was being crushed while she was splitting apart, about to have their first baby without him. There was no way Evan was going to be here to hold her hand or be by her side.

Did he even know she had gone into labour? Had he been told before this accident happened or was he still oblivious? What did it matter? Labour seemed insignificant compared to the horror Evan was going through.

Why were they broadcasting his anguish to the world?

"(Y/n)-"

"Oh honey."

A gurgling sob left (Y/n)'s lips as she pushed forward until her forehead was pressing down on the edge of the coffee table harsh enough that it was going to leave a mark soon.

When she felt Athena and Maddie reaching out for her, she roughly shook them off, but it wasn't like she could move very far. Not when her aching knees were now glued to the carpet and her stomach was tightening with every passing second.

"He- he's hurt!" The urgency in (Y/n)'s voice took Athena by surprise and only made fresh tears pour down Maddie's face.

This is what she had been afraid of. She had been worried about (Y/n) finding out and sending herself into a state of distress which wouldn't do her or the baby any good. She had hoped to keep (Y/n) ignorant and try to tell her that Evan had been caught up in a situation at work. Maybe tell her there was a bomber out there and the team were trying to diffuse the situation. She thought it would be easier to tell (Y/n) once she'd had the baby or once Evan was taken to hospital, whatever happened first.

"They're going to look after him, he'll be okay." Maddie looped her arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders and gently reeled her sister in law into her chest. She pecked the top of (Y/n)'s head and tried to rub her hand up and down her back, but she could see she wasn't helping very much.

Sobs continued to wrack (Y/n)'s body that was now trembling and when she reeled up, she looked back at the tv which was now zooming in on her husband's peril.

Showing Evan in all his anguish and agony, bright red in the face, spit dribbling down his chin as he screamed. Hands clawing at the road to try and drag himself free to no avail.

"Why isn't someone helping him?!" The words tore past (Y/n)'s lips with a violent scream before she launched the remote in her hand far across the room. Watching with anger and disgust as the remote hit the wall, rebounded into a picture frame and knocked it to the floor.

The shattering glass somehow made (Y/n) feel a little better. Something else other than her and Evan was shattering.

Why wasn't there someone knelt down beside her husband, telling him everything was going to be okay? Why wasn't someone holding his hand? Why was no one trying to move the truck and free her husband? How could they just stand back and leave him there like that, allowing the camera to get a closer view than the rest of them? That wasn't fair. They couldn't leave him in agony like that.

"We have t-to help him. I need to be there- be there with him." Each word came out with a hitched breath until (Y/n) was barely breathing and reduced to panting and gasping instead.

She moved her hands to the coffee table and tried her best to push up from where she was knelt on the floor. But both her legs were shaking and the moment she was on her feet, a cry errupted from her lips and her hands cupped her stomach that was twisting in agony.

She felt Athena rush to grab her arm and steady her and she allowed herself to lean into her mum's touch, letting Athena hold up some of her weight.

"Honey, we need to go to the hospital, these contractions are getting closer." Athena shakily brushed her free hand along (Y/n)'s cheek and leaned over to kiss her temple. (Y/n) was like another daughter to her. Since the moment she married Bobby, she had taken (Y/n) in as her own like Bobby had grown close to May and Harry.

She hated to see (Y/n) in distress like this much the same as she couldn't look at the tv and see Evan be trapped beneath that truck.

"No. No, I w-" She broke off with another cry as Maddie reached out for her waist to stop her from going back down on her knees. "Evan! He needs us."

Maddie couldn't stop her lower lip from wobbling and she sucked in a deep breath, doing her best to stop from bursting into another fit of tears. How could any of this be happening? How could her little brother be stuck in peril like that? How could (Y/n) be in labour at the exact same moment? How could they be separated in a moment where they should both be together? When they had both been planning to do this as one since the moment they found out about this baby.

"Buck has the team with him to look after him, and he wouldn't stand for you having his baby in the middle of the street, now would he?" The firm tone to Athena's voice made (Y/n) shiver and feel like she was a child being told the rules of the game.

Her head fell onto Athena's shoulder and a low whine passed her lips as she began to cry.

"Your dad is there with him, I'll call him when we're at the hospital to find out what's happening. And as soon as Buck is at the hospital with us, we can sort everything out. But we need to get you to the hospital to look after you and this baby."

"Buck will be taken to the hospital soon, better to be there waiting for him than stuck in traffic trying to reach him, hm?" Maddie's words made sense and seemed to calm down one of (Y/n)'s many erratic nerves.

The roads would be gridlocked. They had to get going now and it was lucky that Athena had sirens in her car so she could override the traffic that would undoubtedly be on the streets.

Rather than trying to get to Evan, by which time he could be transported to the hospital, they may as well get there first and wait for him. (Y/n) could be seen by the midwife, her and the baby would be safe and as soon as Evan was there, they would find out what was happening and get news of if he was alright or not.

They would wait for him at the hospital. And (Y/n) would try and hold on as long as she could. She didn't want this baby on her own, she wanted to know Evan was okay.

She wanted to see him before she gave birth.

***

"Why don't we sit down-"

"No."

Both (Y/n)'s hands planted down on the bed in front of her. Her lower back arched out and she leaned forward until her legs were ready to cave in beneath her and give way. Her knees were trembling. Her arms were rattling against the bedframe. She wanted to be sick.

She had shed so many tears she could have a river named after her. Both eyes were puffy and begging for rest, for a moment to sleep or fall closed and recover and to stop crying, but (Y/n) didn't know how. She didn't know how to stop crying when she could see her husband in dire distress, but she couldn't do anything to help him.

She didn't want to sit down, (Y/n) didn't want to be here in the first place. She changed her mind as soon as they arrived at the hospital. She wanted to turn round and go find Evan, she wanted to be there with him, to talk to him and tell him that she was here. She was nearby and she wanted him to know she wanted to help but she just didn't know how.

Another cry tumbled past her lips as her hands fisted in the bedsheets. She wasn't sure whether it was Maddie or Athena who was reaching out for her, but she didn't care. Their gentle touches and vain attempts to get her to move from her crouched position weren't working.

When the pain finally wore off, (Y/n) lifted her head and looked up at the tv in the corner of the room.

The news reel was playing. (Y/n) had been glued to watching any screen she could, looking at any monitor that was recording the live event and giving her a view of her husband in turmoil.

People had finally started to move to try and help him. Evan was no longer sprawled out on the floor on his own, in mass agony, with no way of getting himself free. The rest of the team had managed to pull themselves together and were trying to move the truck. As if any of them could lift that ten ton of steel and and equipment and oversized engine.

"How are we doing in here?" The same midwife who had showed them in peeked her head round the door. She had been doing regular checks and kept trying to insist (Y/n) try to sit and calm down because this was doing her blood pressure and the baby's heartbeat no favours. But (Y/n) wasn't in any fit state to listen.

(Y/n) didn't bother answering, she kept her gaze intently focused on the tv. She couldn't believe Evan hadn't passed out by now and she couldn't believe no one had gotten him free yet.

If they'd of gotten him out by now he could have been in the hospital. (Y/n) could have been with him, she could of held his hand and promised him everything was going to be okay.

She wished there was a way to pause her body and stop labour until Evan was in a fit state to be here, but that wasn't possible.

When another pain hit, (Y/n) couldn't stop her knees from giving out on her and she crumpled down into a squatting position. She thrust more weight onto her arms, quivering through the pain as Maddie tried to stop her from kneeling on the floor and Athena's hands held onto her waist to try and coil her up.

"If you're pushing, we really need to get you on the bed." There was a sense of urgency in the midwife's voice and she got as close as she could considering Maddie and Athena were crowding her like bodyguards.

(Y/n) didn't have the willpower to argue with them anymore.

Her hands clawed at the bed once the pain wore off and left her cramping and aching and splitting apart in dull infrequent waves. It didn't feel good to be sitting down like it did to be crouching or pacing around the room. Pacing kept her mind busy and gave her something to do.

And (Y/n) was fearful that as soon as she sat down, she would progress further and have the baby without Evan, although that seemed inevitable now.

"I think you're ready, let's get settled to push, shall we?" The sympathy in the midwife's voice did nothing to settle the anguish in (Y/n)'s heart.

Her head began to shake and her lower lip wobbled as a horrid sob wracked her chest. This wasn't how things were supposed to play out. She was supposed to be safe at home with Evan when she went into labour. He was supposed to time the contractions and take her to hospital and hold her hand and help her through this.

He was supposed to be here making jokes and kissing her hand and telling her all the random facts about labour and kids that he had learned to go along with all the pregnancy facts he had been telling her the last few months.

Evan wasn't supposed to be stuck with their entire damn fire truck crumpling down on his leg and people desperately trying to set him free.

"I c- I can't have this baby yet-" Her head began to shake and she tugged on Athena's hand as if her mum could somehow do something to rectify this situation.

"Honey, you don't have much of a choice."

Maddie sat down on the left side of the bed and let (Y/n) deadlock their hands together. She reached out with her free hand and gently ran her fingers through (Y/n)'s damp, matted hair, brushing the strands away from her face as she herself was in tears once again.

She hadn't expected to be here when (Y/n) gave birth, she had expected to have the most overjoyed, hyper phone call from her little brother telling her when (Y/n) went into labour. And then another call to ask her to come down to the hospital once her niece or nephew was born.

But when she came along to bring (Y/n) down here, (Y/n) hadn't let go of her hand and Maddie took that as a silent hint that (Y/n) didn't want her to go. And she didn't want to go either. Maddie didn't want to go home and wait anxiously in vain for news of both (Y/n) and Evan.

She had to be here, whether that was in the room right now giving (Y/n) support or just sitting in the hallway waiting for news on either her or Evan. Being in here made Maddie feel useful and it was a distraction.

"You can push on the next contraction."

(Y/n) didn't reply, but she did as she was told and started to push. Her knees coiled up, she pulled both Athena and Maddie's hands towards her chest and she leaned forward as much as she could to see if it would help.

But she stopped, every part of her body going rigid and becoming tense as her head snapped up to the tv.

A small 'oh' left her lips before a round of "Evan!" croaked into the air causing the other girls to look up at the tv.

Dozens upon dozens of passers by in the street were pushing the fire truck. Everyone was leaning against it, forcing all of their weight onto the structure to try and get Evan free.

(Y/n) ignored the next contraction, droning out the midwife's nervous instructions and she tried not to push as she put all of her focus on the tv. Silent sobs wracked her lips and had her trembling back and forth as she watched Hen and Eddie reach out for Evan to try and pull him free, while every other civilian there pushed on the truck.

What hurt (Y/n) the most was seeing Evan scrape his hand against the road. He was trying to help. He had hundreds of pounds of metal crushing down on his leg, pinning him to the road, he was in more agony than he ever had been in his life. And there he was, trying to help get himself free, trying to drag himself along the road to make it easier on everyone else.

The news reporter was close enough that Evan's horrid scream of terror managed to get broadcast on the tv and (Y/n)'s only response was to cry his name through wet lips as another contraction hit and she started to push.

"He- he's free."

"They've got him, they've got him honey."

"He'll be okay now." Maddie leaned forward when (Y/n) dropped her head onto her sister's shoulder and Maddie kissed the top of her head, weaving her other arm around (Y/n)'s waist.

(Y/n) coiled her legs up tighter until her knees were pressing into her stomach and she pushed. Unable to stop herself from muttering Evan's name on a loop as if it was the only thing she could understand. She was almost there, she was about to have her baby in her arms, and the one person she wanted here with her was nowhere to be seen.

The news reel changed to a wider angle of the whole scene and the reporter switched back to someone in the studio. Evan was free, they weren't going to record the team getting him into an ambulance and racing him away from the scene. But he was free. He was free from the constraints of the fire truck and now he would be here within ten minutes, all being well.

But he was still going to miss the birth.

***

"We're here! Buck, we're here." Reaching down, Bobby gripped Evan's arm and did his best to try and smile, but he couldn't manage it. Not when he could see the damage done to his son in law's leg.

He could see the dramatic sight where skin and muscle had been split apart and the bone was visible. He could see breaks in the bone and splinters of bone pushing out at odd angles. He could see through the gauze that was moulding into Evan's wound from soaking up all the blood that the strap around his thigh couldn't cut off.

It didn't look good.

Both Eddie and Hen had been doing their best to make him comfortable on the ride down here, but it was hard. They couldn't give him any morphine, not when he was going to need X-rays and scans and an emergency operation. Morphine and anaesthetic didn't always mix well and Evan had a bad track history with medications causing severe reactions.

All they could give him was the gas and air tube to breathe through and although it had done nothing to take the edge off, Evan had been breathing it in since the moment they got him in the ambulance.

"Let's get you inside, you're gonna be just fine." Hen's voice was soothing, but Evan couldn't believe her words.

He didn't feel fine.

He didn't feel as if he was going to be fine or make a swift recovery from this.

He felt like he was going to be put under anaesthetic and wake up with one leg. He could feel each piece of tattered skin desperately trying to cling to his leg. He could feel his leg pulsing and aching from where the blood supply had been cut off mid-way down his thigh. Evan felt like his body was on fire, his leg was disconnected and each breath was becoming harder to take.

When Eddie reached across to try and take the gas and air tube from his grip, a deep growl emmited from Evan's lips and he clenched his hand tight around the tube.

He pulled the strange looking mask back to his lips and inhaled three fast, choked breaths. The tubes were always switched and cleaned out after every use, but Evan had a feeling they would have to bin this one. He had chomped down so hard on the tube that he had left puncture indents in the plastic.

"No! It f-fucking kills-"

"Buck, you can have more pain relief once you're inside, I swear. Mate please, please we have to move you now." Eddie felt horrible when he had to prize Evan's fingers from the gas and air and as soon as he let go, they clipped off the breaks and moved the stretcher.

Bobby leaned down and took Evan's hand once they all climbed down and Chimney rushed from the driver's seat. He held Evan's hand high to his chest as Evan started to thrash around on the gurney.

His chest stuttered up and down and repeatedly pushed back to the point the gurney was shaking and about to unlock and lower down. His free hand curled into a fist and slammed into the metal frame harsh enough to split some of the skin around his knuckles.

He was in agony. He needed it to stop.

"(Y/n). Have- have you- fuck. (Y/n)." Evan couldn't get his thoughts in order, the only thing in his head and the one word that could properly be muttered from his lips was his wife's name.

They had been on their way back to the station when the bomb hit. They had been going back specifically because Maddie came through the radio and said (Y/n) had gone into labour. That was the call Evan had been waiting for and dreading at the same time. He had been anxious about when (Y/n) would go into labour and if it would happen while he was at work.

He had been ecstatic. He had been bouncing in his seat, riding shotgun in the truck for the first time in ages and he and Bobby had been debating whether it would be a boy or a girl.

Now, Evan had no idea what was happening. He didn't know who was with (Y/n) or if she was alone right now. He didn't know if she was still home or if someone had taken her to the maternity ward. He didn't know if she was in agony, if anything had gone wrong, if she was having complications or sailing through labour without him.

Bobby tightened his hand around Evan's and leaned down so he could talk to him better because he knew Evan was now having a hard time concentrating and taking things in. Who wouldn't in his state?

"Athena and Maddie brought her to the hospital, once you're inside I'll go find them. She'll be okay."

While waiting for people to help get Evan free, Bobby had answered the third phone call from his wife. All he knew so far was they had brought (Y/n) in and labour was in full swing, they were just waiting for her to dilate. But his daughter was here and she was safe, that was all Bobby needed to know for now while he focused on looking after his son in law.

"I wa- I want-" Evan broke off into an animalistic howl when the gurney jolted over the threshold into the emergency room and the shock sent his leg jerking. Shockwaves rattled up and down his spine and both legs shook as if he had been electrocuted.

He lifted his head and shoulders, doing his best to sit up although he wasn't sure what he was doing, he just wanted to move.

He wanted the pain to stop.

Tears flushed down his face and a broken sob left his lips when he locked onto a familiar frame stood anxiously by the reception desk.

He could see his big sister stood with a bright red face, puffy eyes and tears streaked down her features. She had both hands interlocked in front of her in that panicked manner where she would scratch her nails along the back of her hands until they were rubbed raw. The moment she looked their way, it was as if a light had come and gone in her eyes all at once.

She ran across the floor and grabbed Evan's outstretched hand, pulling it up so she could kiss the back of his hand. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm and her lips wobbled, unable to hold back a sob when she looked at her baby brother who had been more of a son to her at times.

"Oh, oh Buck."

Evan let out another sob while the team paused the gurney in the hallway and Eddie moved to flag someone down. This was a dire emergency, they needed a doctor here now and they needed Evan taken to theatre before he lost his leg.

"W-where's (Y/n)?" Evan had spent the last few hours wondering what was happening with his wife, if she was okay, if he could be taken to her at some point.

He had tried arguing with Bobby on the journey down here, asking if he could see (Y/n) before he went for whatever surgery he was going to need. Of course Bobby said no, that wasn't going to be an option. Evan couldn't delay any form of treatment, not for a minute or an hour. He had to be taken straight to theatre.

"She's on the maternity ward."

"Is she-"

"She's fine… oh Buck, you've got a beautiful little girl." Maddie reached her hand out to brush her finger down his bloodied cheek as a broken smile formed on her lips.

But her smile faded into an open-mouthed, hollow frown when Evan's entire face fell. His jaw loosened and slacked like it had become disconnected, his eyes glossed over and his nose crinkled making him look like a snarling dog.

"I m- I missed it? I- oh God- Bobby-" The most horrid scream any of them ever heard erupted from Evan's lips and shook the walls.

He ripped his hand free from Maddie's hold, slammed his fist down into the frame of the gurney and writhed until he almost toppled off the gurney. He fought and thrashed against all the hands that pinned him down and ignored their panicked screams for a doctor.

He missed it.

He missed his daughter's birth. He hadn't been there. He promised (Y/n) he would be with her from the moment she went into labour to the moment their precious baby would be in their arms. He said he would do anything he could to be there and that he wouldn't let her down, and now, he had broken those promises.

He couldn't see (Y/n), he couldn't hold his daughter. He couldn't cut the cord or hold her for the first time the moment she was born. He wasn't going to see her on her birthday, if he was going for an operation he wouldn't be conscious or lucid enough to see her for another day, possibly two.

A chorus of exploding emotions erupted to life in his chest and wailed past his lips but it didn't feel like anyone was listening to him. And Evan was too far gone into his despair to hear anyone try to comfort him. He didn't want comfort. He wanted a time machine. Evan wanted the chance to go back and make sure this didn't happen.

He wanted to rewind time and sit in the back of the truck with the rest of the team so he could scramble out without being trapped. He wanted to get out of that truck unscathed and rush down to the hospital and hold his wife's hand as she gave birth to their daughter.

This wasn't fair.

Tortured screams left Evan's lips and (Y/n)'s name spat past his lips on repeat as the gurney began to move and hands continued to pin him down.

But the pain in his leg was nothing compared to the agony overwhelming his heart.

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #pregnant! reader #bobby nash #eddie diaz

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spirit-lanterns · 1 year ago

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FAST AND FURIOUS 2

synopsis: you catch the eye of the infamous street racer (part 1 here)

featuring: jingliu, yukong, tingyun, himeko, natasha

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: (street racer AU) sub! afab fem reader (jingliu, yukong, himeko, natasha), dom! afab fem reader (tingyun). strap ons, fing.ering, lap s.ex, s.ex while driving, cunnilingus, dirty talk, mentions of car crash and injury (natasha), blood (natasha), some established relationships, illegal street racing, may be ooc.

art credits: initial D

JINGLIU

Street Racer Jingliu! Who is an urban legend in the street racing community, notorious for not caring about the safety of others, and doing whatever it takes to cross that finish line. She had taken a hiatus from racing a couple years back, but now she was back and ready to instill fear in the new generation of racers…

Street Racer Jingliu! Who is intimidating when she pulls up to the starting line. Many of the racers gawking at her in shock, as the infamous legend herself gets out of the car to scan the crowd. When she spots you in the midst of the watchers, her lips curve to a smirk, and she walks over to you to tilt your chin up at her. “Looks like I came to race on a good day…” she whispers, voice husky from years of retirement. “I hope to see you at the finish line.”

Street Racer Jingliu! Who proves to be a brutal competitor in terms of actually racing, as she’s fast, agile, but worst of all, dangerous. She knew what she was doing, potentially risking her life and others on the road, but she didn’t care. Her eyes are a burning, crazy orange that leaves you thinking of her while you watch, and you can’t help but silently root for her as she narrowly evades tumbling off a bridge and soaring down into a ditch.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who gets called crazy, insane, and absolutely psychotic. But you can’t help but fall in love with that as she screeches past the flags and stops inches away from where you were standing. Any longer and she would’ve run you over, but she wouldn’t let that happen, after all, you were too pretty to be killed <;3

Street Racer Jingliu! Who walks up to you and slides her sunglasses off, staring at you with those beautiful, burning eyes of hers. “You’re the only one who seemed to be rooting for me,” she hums, gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine, “What a…surprisingly loyal fan you are.”

Street Racer Jingliu! Who couldn’t care less about the way the crowd boos at her for almost injuring the other racers. Her eyes are solely focused on you, as she wraps a gloved arm around your waist. “I think I’m ready for another round, care to race with me?” She asks with a grin, pulling you into her car and revving the engine up until it sounded like a roar.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who has you in her lap as she speeds through the highway with your pretty legs draping over hers. Thick, rimmed, strap on plunging into your walls, as she tries to give you the ride of your life (literally). All the while driving at dangerously high speeds.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who has your heart hammering and your adrenaline pumping, fucking you with her cock as she multitasks driving and pushing you towards an orgasm before she reaches the finish line. She’s racing two races at the moment, and she intends on winning them both, eager to claim her prize of a second victory, and your cum staining the leather of her pants.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who soars past the finish line just as you cream all over the strap, one hand gripping your ass before she murmurs “Looks like I won again” into your ear and delivers a tiny spank. She groans at the way you rest so perfectly in her lap, and she can’t wait to take you home with her for the rest of the evening.

YUKONG

Street Racer Yukong! Who is a retired street racer that is greatly admired within the community. She is pretty much everyone’s role model, so when she pulls up to the starting gate in that memorable, yet legendary vehicle, everyone goes apeshit. Completely in awe at the sight of the legend before them, as many start to grab snacks to watch the race of a lifetime…

Street Racer Yukong! Who is a little rusty when it comes to racing against youngsters, but once she gets back into the rhythm of it, it’s like second nature. She’s so unknowingly charismatic that all the fangirls in the crowd seem to love her, yet there’s only one she has her eyes on, and that’s you. The cutest, sweetest girl she’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, as you were the one she used to screw in the backseat of her car back when she was a rookie.

Street Racer Yukong! Who’s maturity while racing is a dreamboat for many of her fans. They all admire how calm and composed she could be, as she narrowly avoids a crash on one of the busiest highways. Everyone is anxious for the safety of their beloved Yukong, but you know better. Instead, trusting that she knows what she’s doing, as you’ve ridden with her (and on her) countless of times.

Street Racer Yukong! Who sees you cheering her on in the stands and smiles softly at the sight. No matter how old you both get, you will always be her number one fan. Evident with how you always wore her old racing jacket, as it was the one she gave to you after a rather passionate night spent in the backseat of her car. (It always smelled like her whenever you wore it, so you’ve always kept it on you whenever the time was appropriate)

Street Racer Yukong! Who decides to greet you at the stands for old times sake, pulling you in for a winning kiss, and nearly lifting you off the ground with how happy she was to see you. “I missed you…” she says in that gruff, husky, voice of hers. “I want to celebrate with you for just a little while longer…”

Street Racer Yukong! Who is impossible to say no to as she drives you down to the hotel she was staying at with eagerness to see you naked again. It’s been…so long since she’s seen you naked beneath her, and she hopes to see more of you after this exchange as she is now back into street racing.

Street Racer Yukong! Who has you bent over her hotel bed with a strap on pounding into your insides. Where she stashed it, you had no idea, but you found yourself moaning in ecstasy, as the familiar pace of Yukong’s hips slamming mercilessly had you all nostalgic. Tears building up in your eyes, as you missed the feeling of her cock ramming so deep in you…

Street Racer Yukong! Who grunts like an animal in heat before lifting your legs up off the bed and slamming back into you brutally. “Goodness…you feel amazing…” she groans, already missing the feeling of being by your side for all those years. “I can’t leave you alone again… you’re mine. Mine.”

Street Racer Yukong! Who doesn’t leave in the morning this time, and instead stays curled up by your side by the time you wake up. Gruff, messy, bed head tickling your neck from behind, as she whispers “Looks like I’m staying with you, dear,” into your ear before kissing it affectionately.

TINGYUN

Street Racer Tingyun! Who is a rookie in the street racing community that looks up to her idol: Yukong. She’s a little inexperienced, somewhat cocky, but that doesn’t stop her from winning a few races before going up to the big leagues. She looks very out of place when lined up besides the other famous racers, but you can’t help but notice her as she just looked so cute standing there! So innocent and so…unprepared.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who almost crashes several times when the race begins. It’s a miracle how she managed to not get into any accidents, as Tingyun was definitely not prepared to handle the brutality of the other racers. You felt bad when you saw the panicked look on her face, but her panic eventually paid off, as through some miracle, she won.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who is stunned silent when she’s the one who makes it across the finish line. Her eyes wide with shock as the crowd cheers for the rookie who managed to outspeed the pro racers. It takes her a moment to recollect herself, blinking in disbelief before Tingyun leaps into the air with excitement. “I did it! I actually won!” She exclaims, suddenly getting her cockiness back. “That’s a legendary race for sure!”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who’s ego gets stroked even more when you walk up behind her with a bouquet of flowers in your hand. She’s stunned speechless at the sight of a cute girl delivering her flowers, so she gets half the mind to flirt with you a little (even though you knew she was bluffing) “Oh? Are these for me?” She giggles smugly, taking the bouquet from you with gratitude. “So cute, say…how do you feel about you and I getting out of here, hmm? I’m sure I can show a pretty girl like you a good time.”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who doesn’t catch the way you roll your eyes at her request, as you did not like how smug she got after winning just one race in the big leagues. You figured you’d have to humble her one way or another, so you smirked and agreed to her proposal. “Great!” Tingyun grins, holding you by the waist and leading you back to her car. “I definitely know how to show a girl a good time…”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who did not expect to have her legs spread over your shoulders, tongue lapping vigorously against that drooling of cunt hers, while pressed against the hood of her car in a parking lot. She was expecting her to please you, not the other way around! Yet here she was, a moaning, crying, mess, trying to hold in her sobs as she gripped your hair with her fingers.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who is panting so heavily while her clit gets pushed against by your nose. Feather light kisses causing her to scream, before wrapping her legs even tighter around your face. “Oh…g-god…!” She whimpers and tries to keep herself calm but to no use. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who you can’t help but giggle at as you thrust your tongue into her walls to taste all that she could offer. She was so embarrassed at the way the tables turned, but you didn’t care, as you wanted more of her cum dripping down your chin and staining the leather of her pants.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who lets out a squeal as she squirts all over your face in ecstasy. She’s trembling and shivering from the way you blow on her clit, and pretty soon she’s begging for more. “Oh…please come home with me later. You’re really good at this…”

HIMEKO

Street Racer Himeko! Who is like a teacher to many of the younger street racers of this current generation. Known as one of the biggest rivals to Street Racer Kafka, Himeko is another legend amongst the community, due to her infamous races and ability to adapt to any situation quickly.

Street Racer Himeko! Who looks so effortlessly beautiful as she sits on the hood of her expensive, yet luxurious looking car. Everyone is taking photos and yelling for her attention, but she merely takes a sip of her coffee and ignores them while waiting for you. You’re the only girl in the world she would ever pay attention to, so you get treated like a VIP as you walk up beside her and join her by her car.

Street Racer Himeko! Who draped her large coat over your figure and opened the door for you like a gentlewoman. “Let’s go on a ride,” she says with a smile, treating the race like a leisurely drive as she was not at all nervous for the ride of a lifetime. “I promise to hold back a little for you, darling.”

Street Racer Himeko! Who keeps one hand protectively on your thigh while speeding at dangerous speeds down the road. She chuckles when you complain she’s going too fast, so she eases up on the speed now that she was so ahead. “Too fast for you, love?” She hums while squeezing your thigh. “I can always slow it down, we’re way ahead anyways.”

Street Racer Himeko! Who looks so ethereal as she rolls down the windows and lets the wind blow through her hair. She looked so…relaxed as she held you by her side, one hand on the wheel before completing the race on one smooth glide.

Street Racer Himeko! Who couldn’t care less about the praise she received from the crowd outside, as she only wanted to bring you home and claim her reward for winning yet another race. “Let’s go home, love. I’m exhausted and I want nothing more than to have you crying my name…” she whispers, pulling you away from the crowd and flash photography.

Street Racer Himeko! Who sees the needy look in your eyes and groans “fuck it” under her breath before pulling you back into her car to finger you. She uses her coat as a makeshift bed for you, and eagerly plunges her long, smooth fingers into your dripping cunt.

Street Racer Himeko! Who smothers your neck in kisses as the smell of new cars and perfume fills your nose with comfort. Himeko was always gentle and loving with you, despite doing something like illegal street racing on the side. She plants a crimson kiss on the side of your cheek, and thrusts two more her fingers into your walls. “It’s alright if you get my seats dirty,” she chuckles into your ear, “I wouldn’t mind any stains if it’s you.”

Street Racer Himeko! Who succeeds in her wants as she has your cum sliding down her arm and dripping all over her seats. She lets out a delighted hum and licks each digit clean, helping you slide up your panties. “Get your shorts back on, doll, I have reservations at a hotel across town. I’m not done with you just yet…”

NATASHA

Street Racer Natasha! Who is a retired street racer that now works as a medic for injuries, crashes, and anything dangerous that happens on the road. She used to be a racer that taught Seele how to race, but due to growing older and having other responsibilities to take, Natasha retired and led a life of healing and recovery.

Street Racer Natasha! Who may be old, but definitely still has some of that racer energy left inside her. She’s quick and efficient when dealing with injuries, and the first time you saw her, she was pulling you out of a crashed car and checking your face for any cuts. “Easy there, don’t worry…” she hums in a comforting tone, “You’re just a little shaken up, I’ve got you…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who suddenly hoists you up in her arms and carries you bridal style to her car to take you to the infirmary. You had no idea that the medic was so strong and jacked, but you figured she had to carry people out on a daily basis, so perhaps this was just another day for her.

Street Racer Natasha! Who speaks so gently and softly to you before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get that pretty face all patched up, hm?” She chuckles softly, placing you in the back of her car with ease. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor with quite the skilled fingers.” she says with a smile, completely unaware of the dirty implications she just implied…

Street Racer Natasha! Who’s fingers are so soft and tender as they rub some gauze against your forehead to clean the bloodied cuts. Her face is extra close to yours for maximum efficiency, yet you can’t help but think she’s staring at your lips despite cleaning the wound on your head. “Are you staring at my lips?” You ask in a hushed voice, Natasha casting you a smile before patting your head. “I am. They’re very beautiful.”

Street Racer Natasha! Who decided to screw it and place a tender kiss against your lips, caging you in on the patient’s bed. “My sweet patient deserves a reward for letting me bandage her so smoothly,” she hums, eyes growing dark with lust. “Let me spoil you, my dear…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who lets you cling onto her as she fingers your tight, needy hole with some lube. Her thumb presses your clit like a button, and you find yourself resting your head on her shoulder and whimpering against her neck. “Just like that…” she whispers, groaning a little when she feels you clench, “So tight…nngh…you like how I finger you, hmm? Naughty girl…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who slaps your clit with her palm and smirks at the way you suck her in the more she talks dirty. “Oh? It seems you get wetter the more I talk,” she chuckles, leaning in close to your ear. “What a good little racer you are…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who thinks your injuries are too serious to send you home just yet, even though they were just minor cuts and scrapes. She makes the decision to keep you resting in her infirmary for at least another night, resting in her bed while she stuffs her fingers up your cunt all night long. She has to make sure you’re well rested and healed for next week’s race after all...

#jingliu smut #jingliu x reader #yukong smut #yukong x reader #tingyun smut #tingyun x reader #himeko smut #himeko x reader #hsr natasha smut #hsr natasha x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader #star rail smut #star rail x reader #star rail women smut #star rail women x reader

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

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redamancy | steve harrington

Summary: redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings/tags: friends to lovers, 5+1 fic format, no use of y/n, FLUFF, PINING PINING, injured s4 steve, hospital setting, general vecna angst (eddie's alive bc i will never kill eddie in my fics), bed sharing, happy ending, and kissing. if that wasn't clear. :)

A/N: fun fact: this is the first time i've written a 5+1 fic! technically it's 4+1 but whatevs. if you enjoy this fic, please give it a reblog and support your local steve harrington tumblrina.

divider by firefly-graphics

i. the promise

"Would you ever get married?"

You open your eyes. The setting sun nearly blinds you through the windshield. Immediately, you stick out a hand to block it.

You're still reclined all the way back in the passenger seat, because Steve's fancy schmancy BMW can do that. He frequently lectures you about doing it while he's driving. Have I taught you nothing? Road safety!

"I mean, I guess so," you say. "If someone ever wants to put a ring on me."

You sit up and pull down the sun visor. Steve turns. His hair lightens in the summer, shades of reddish blond peeking through. He insists his hair has never been anything but brown, fiercely pledging his allegiance to brunettes. You coo at his highlights all the same.

"I want to," he says after a minute. "I wanna get married."

You're parked down the block from your house. You should've gotten out ten minutes ago, but there's never any rush when you're with Steve.

"The line to wed you will be out the door, champ," you say around a grin.

"Hm. I dunno." He stretches in his seat. "Maybe if I was the same guy I was a few years ago."

You wrinkle your nose. "I doubt that."

"But what can I really offer?" he continues. "I'm just some guy who can't get into college."

"That doesn't mean no one will marry you. Some people who go to college are dumber than dirt. They get married. College has nothing to do with it. You can go, if you really want to. One rejection doesn't say anything about you, Steve."

"I guess."

You pull the lever on the side. The seat shoots up with a brrrap! It clicks as you straighten.

"Where did all this come from, anyway?" you ask.

Steve shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiles. "I like to live on the edge."

"Contemplating marriage like the world's biggest sap. Definitely edgy."

Steve hums. His hands are in his lap. He picks at a cuticle, a habit he’s recently developed. You wonder why he’s so anxious.

"Two people from our graduating class got married last week."

Your eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Lisa Schell and Gary Brewer."

"Wait, didn't she cheat on him?"

"Yeah, but he slept with her sister, so I guess they called it even."

You shake your head. "That's insane. They're literally babies, Steve. That's like Dustin getting married."

Steve scowls. "He's not allowed to get married before me."

"Not even to his possibly fictional Suzie?"

"Not even to her."

You stare at the freckles on Steve's face and how his frizz kind of looks like a halo in the light. You imagine the feel of his hair in your hands, the warmth of his scalp.

"I'd marry you," you say.

Steve's eyebrows shoot up.

"What?"

"Like, if you were in a pinch."

He looks at you sideways. You flatten, then scrunch your hands over your knees. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth.

"I'm talking about spending the rest of my life with someone, you know. Not borrowing fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks is a lot of money for some of us, Harrington."

"That’s probably how much Lisa's wedding dress cost."

"I hope she kept the receipt."

Silence descends. A soft breeze blows through your cracked window. You want to search Steve's glove box for gum, but you've just told him you'd marry him, so you can't do anything except think about the fact that those words came out of your mouth.

"Are you…" Steve begins, then pauses. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you're worried, for some incomprehensible reason, that no one will marry you."

"I scoop ice cream for a living."

You level him with a look.

"Steve. We're kids. Cut yourself some slack."

His eyes turn hollow. They've been doing that lately. You wish you knew why.

"I don't really feel like a kid these days," he says.

Something about the way Steve sounds makes you want to climb over the console and curl into him, cradle his head to your neck. Which is crazy. You guys don't do that. Steve isn't yours to do that with.

"Let's make a pact," you say softly.

He meets your eye. "A pact?"

"Mmhm. Let's say if both of us aren't married by… thirty, then we'll get married."

"Well, I don't want a pity marriage."

You roll your eyes. "It's not a pity marriage, Steve."

"Thirty is so late! You really think I won't be married by then?" he asks.

"No, I don't think that. I already said folks will be lined up to marry you," you say.

"I can't wait till I'm thirty."

"Or you'll turn into an old maid?"

"Meh meh meh," he mocks without any heat.

You purse your lips so you don't smile. "Fine. We'll split the difference. Twenty-four?"

Steve considers that. Really considers it. It suddenly occurs to you what you're promising and who you're promising it to. You wonder if you'll both forget about it. Or brush it off. Oh, what did we know? We were kids!

Except Steve doesn't feel like a kid. And maybe you don't either, as much as you wish you do.

"Do you mean it?" he asks.

"Of course I do."

"No, seriously." He's serious. "I mean it, so if you don't…"

"Steve, I said I mean it. I do."

"You'll marry me?"

"I will."

"Swear on it."

You hold out your right pinkie out, waiting. Steve hooks his finger over yours. Impulsively, you kiss your linked pinkies. To show that you really, truly mean it.

You try to picture it. What walking down the aisle to meet Steve at the altar would feel like. You wonder if he'd keep his hair long, like it is now. You like it long. Would he keep it long for you?

"Will you buy me a ring?" you ask. "If we get married, I mean."

"Of course I'd buy you a ring," Steve says. "I'd get you anything you wanted."

"Okay." Your heart hammers in your chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Alright. Want me to pull up to the door?"

"No, it's fine. Walking is good for digestion. Those milkshakes were no joke."

Steve smiles. He has such a lovely smile. His Cupid's bow is shaped exactly like a heart.

"Same time tomorrow? It's movie night."

Right. Your movie night. A semi-regular occasion that includes you, Steve, Robin, and the kids, sometimes. You've watched at least a dozen movies this summer together. Only this time, you're watching a movie after promising to marry Steve.

"Sounds good," you say. "Will you pick me up?"

"Always."

Another promise. You hadn't realized how many Steve makes to you.

"'Kay. See you."

You get out. Steve waves as he pulls away from the curb.

Your ring finger feels bare. You rub it, hoping the feeling will go away.

ii. the wound

The plastic chair has turned your legs numb. Your butt is about to follow.

Can butts go numb? You're not sure. You'll find out soon, though.

You rub your eyes. God, you need sleep.

Across the room, you catch Joyce Byers' gaze. She smiles at you, though it's brittle. You try to smile back, feeling distinctly like you might break if you stretch your mouth too far.

She looks away, and your not-smile falls.

"They'll let us in soon," she says, like she knows. She does know. Better than you, certainly.

The hospital smells cold. It smells like a place people go to die.

Your heartbeat ratchets. You shouldn't think like that.

"You don't understand," comes Dustin's voice. He's at the receptionist's desk, flanked by Mike and Lucas. Dustin's face is red and blotchy, near tears.

"I need to see him. You won't let me see Eddie, so—"

The receptionist rears back, like she can't believe three children are daring to speak to her.

"Neither patient is cleared for visitors," she says icily. "Now, for the last time: have a seat."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joyce begin to stand, ready to herd the kids away. You beat her to it. Out of everyone in this room, you're probably the only person who has the strength to stand.

"Guys, c'mon. It won't be long."

They don't look at you. You don't take it personally. An hour earlier, you'd cornered Dustin and forced him to tell you what happened. What's been happening.

So he did. And now you're here.

You don't blame them for glaring at the prickly receptionist. But you know that won't do anything. It won't heal Steve quicker. And it won't make anybody feel better.

"Hey, Dustin." You lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you like you're not Steve. You wish it was you in surgery instead.

"Come sit," you say.

"I need to see him," he tells you.

"I know." Your throat tightens, threatening to trap your words altogether. You rush to get the rest out. "I do too. But this isn't going to make that happen faster. Come sit with me. Okay?"

"He'll be fine," Mike says quietly. "They don't wanna get sued by his asshole dad."

You nod, because yeah, good point. Quite possibly the first time Richard Harrington has brought anybody comfort. He's in Cancun, last you'd heard. You hope he chokes on a margarita.

Dustin follows you. Mike and Lucas sit next to Joyce. The five of you wait.

At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake up, it's to the contentious receptionist peering over you all.

"Mr. Harrington is awake," she says primly. "You may see him now, young man."

Dustin flies out of the chair, Lucas and Mike at his heels.

A part of you wants to go home, and you feel terrible for it. You feel terrible that Steve almost died, but you're the frightened one. You don't know if you can bear to see him tied to tubes and a heart monitor.

"Go on."

Joyce tracks you sleepily. Her hair is more knotted than before you fell asleep. She nods to the hallway.

"Go see him."

You can’t voice every thought, every fear. I don’t know if I can see him like this.

“It’s good he won’t wake up alone,” she says.

“He’s got a family.” You wave your hand weakly.

Joyce watches you for a moment. Then she gets up.

"Yes, he does."

She holds out her hand.

You don’t know Joyce Byers very well. This is probably the longest conversation you’ve had with her. You realize, then, that you're wrong—you’re not the one who’s strong enough to stand.

“Let’s go see him,” she says. "All of his loved ones should be there."

God, are you really that obvious?

You take her hand, and the two of you go down the hall.

Steve is nearly unrecognizable in the hospital bed. The kids are speaking to him, unusually quiet. They look up when you enter.

Steve’s eyes lock with yours.

“Hey,” is all you say.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough with disuse and getting choked by what Dustin had described as demon bats.

“Boys, come on,” Joyce calls. “Let’s make a cafeteria stop.”

You see Dustin about to protest, but Lucas tugs his arm like he knows, and goddamn, you really are that obvious, aren’t you?

You wait for the door to close behind you. Then you walk to Steve’s side.

The gnarled ring of flesh around his neck makes you queasy. The rest of him isn’t much better, red and purple smeared across any skin that’s not covered by the chalky hospital gown.

You sit in the chair. It’s the same plastic kind as the ones in the waiting room, but this one doesn’t feel so hard.

“Robin called me,” you say.

Steve closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Your voice cracks. “Can’t believe you went dimension-surfing without me.”

“You’re mad at me.”

Your breath is punched out of you.

“No,” you say softly. “My God, Steve. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand creeps to the edge of the bed. His fingers are scraped.

You take his hand and lace your fingers together. He slow-blinks. He’ll probably fall asleep in the next half hour.

“It’s okay if you are,” he whispers. “Mad, I mean. I’d be mad too.”

You know he wouldn’t be, though. You know Steve would forgive you in a heartbeat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, equally as quiet. “I just… I was scared."

He nods. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

You bow your head and close your eyes. When Robin had called, you'd run to the bathroom and coughed up stomach acid.

They say he’ll make it, she'd told you, and you'd realized with violent clarity that you love him.

But Steve doesn't need that right now. So you bury it.

You lean in and bring Steve's knuckles to your lips, taking care not to jostle him.

His eyes widen. Part of you hopes he won’t remember this conversation.

"Don't do that again," you say. “Not without me.”

"Okay,” he whispers. “I won't."

You wait until he falls asleep, hand in his.

iii. the brand

“There’s no way I’m getting in your death van, Munson!” Robin whines.

“Death van is an exaggeration, Buckley. If anything, it’s a life van. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Definitely not because of that heap of metal,” Steve murmurs to you. You snicker.

It’s nearly dark, but a summer dark, where it doesn’t actually turn to night until well after nine PM. The top two buttons of Steve’s dress shirt are undone, and you can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing, really. You’d nearly missed Eddie’s walk across the stage because of that damned triangle of tanned skin and dark chest hair.

“Why can’t we take the station wagon?” Robin asks.

“I think Nancy already left,” you say. “Sorry, Rob.”

“And I’ve put my car jacking days behind me,” Eddie announces, flinging his arms out. “So my van it shall be!”

Robin whips her head around to glare at Steve.

“This is your fault,” she accuses scathingly.

“Me?!”

“You just had to go and get a flat tire yesterday.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you add cheekily. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen the dreaded timeline where Eddie drives?”

“Et tu?” Eddie asks. “I’m hurt. I’m a great driver, y’know. Better than Steve, some have told me.”

“Dustin only told you that ‘cause you were high on morphine and about to burst into tears,” Robin says.

As they bicker, Steve draws closer, so your arms brush. You close the distance, crowding him.

“Y’okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you. He looks like he’s searching for something. You don’t know what.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a minute. “I am. Better than, actually.”

“‘Cause I’m here, right?” you ask with a gooey grin.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re here.”

He sounds honest, so you turn away, because you can’t handle that and his chest hair.

"I should get to choose where we go," Robin says as you arrive at Eddie's van. "Since it may be our last trip and all."

"Funny you were in Band and not president of the drama club, Buckley," Eddie says dryly.

"Pot, kettle."

"How 'bout Rita's?" you suggest. "Unlimited refills and no one will hassle Eddie."

"Aw, you care about little ol' me?" Eddie asks.

"If you get us there in one piece, yes."

Eddie huffs. "No wonder you and the Hair are like this." He crosses his fingers.

"Damn right," Steve says. "We even finish each other's—"

"Terribly cliche sayings!" you say.

Robin looks at you for a moment, unusually smirky. Then she looks at Steve.

"You match. Blue dress, blue tie."

"That's so if she gets lost, they know who to return her to," Steve says.

You scoff. "More like the other way around."

He pouts. "Hey."

"Hay is for horses," you sing, skipping ahead to Eddie's van.

"I'm sorry, are you excited to ride in the Hell Van?" Robin asks.

You shrug. "We could use some excitement around here, couldn't we?"

"No!" all three say.

"I've had enough excitement for ten lifetimes," Robin mutters.

Eddie pulls the door open. Your smile quickly drops.

"Uh, Eddie? Where the fuck are the seats?"

"Right, so, usually I only have Gareth and Jeff ride with me. Gareth always calls shotgun—"

"Shotgun!" Robin hollers, and races to the front seat.

You stare at the single backseat chair. There's no way it's big enough for you and Steve.

"Holy shit," Steve says, taking stock of the "backseat."

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah… listen, if I'd known we'd be taking her, I would've put the other seat in, swear! Usually we take it out for the equipment."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Lay down and pray? This is how people get head injuries, Eddie," you say, arms folded.

"Maybe we can call a cab," Steve suggests.

"At this hour?" You shake your head. "No way. This isn't Indianapolis."

"Oh my God." Robin groans. "The solution is so obvious. Sit on Steve's lap. Boom. Now come on, I'm starving."

You tense. Steve is tactile, sure, and you've become acclimated to that over the years.

But this? This is way, way beyond that.

"Uh…" Steve glances at you. "Do you… I mean, if you don't mind?"

You glance at Eddie, who's got the tiniest smirk. You glower and he clears his throat, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair.

"I don't mind," you say, more confident than you feel. "It's a short drive."

Eddie nods. "Definitely. I'll step on it."

"Please don't step on it," Robin calls. "We're already chancing fate by letting you drive in the first place."

Eddie huffs, walking to the driver's side. "Y'know, Buckley, you are just…"

You look at Steve. He smiles at you, sweet as always.

"This isn't gonna aggravate any injuries, right?" you ask. "Me… sitting on you?"

You wince at the wording.

"No, should be fine. My PT gave me the all clear a month ago."

You nod tightly. "Right. Okay. You go first."

Steve climbs in, planting his feet on the floor. You go next, stooping in front of him. You catch each other's gaze for a moment. Then you laugh, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Steve.

"Right, so I'll just…"

You slide onto Steve's lap, trying to hold some of your weight so you won't crush him. He splays an easy hand over your belly and leans over to pull the van door shut. Your heart thunders in your chest.

"You can sit back, y'know," he says, breath tickling your ear. "’M not made of glass."

"Didn't want your legs to go numb," you joke weakly.

Steve makes an unhappy noise and tugs you back so you're fully seated on him. You angle yourself so you can look at him. Steve looks up at you, lightly tracing a pattern on your hip. Like you do this all the time.

"Hi," you say, too jittery to crack another joke.

Steve smiles gently. "Hey."

His tone is fond. You feel sick.

"Everybody good?" Eddie asks.

He adjusts the rear view mirror and you watch his eyebrows shoot up in the reflection.

"You two look cozy."

"Shut the fuck up, Munson," you mumble. "Just drive, already."

Eddie giggles like a gremlin in reply and turns the ignition.

It’s not bad, at first. Eddie takes it easy driving through Hawkins. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to attract attention. The other part is that Hopper promised Eddie a night in jail if he caught him running the stop signs again.

You personally think it’s a bluff. Robin does not; she’s enthusiastically annoying about road safety, and points out every single sign and red light. This causes Eddie to start slamming the breaks in retaliation.

“Holy fuck!” you yelp when Eddie hits the breaks particularly hard. “Eddie!”

Steve is quick to tug you backwards, considering you’re not belted. You scramble to grab his shoulders and twist to look at him.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles, then leans away, glaring at the front.

“Really, Munson?”

“She started it!” Eddie insists. “Blame your BFF!”

“Can you drive like someone who doesn’t have a death wish?” Robin shoots back.

Steve’s hands are now on the small of your back and on your hip, respectively. Your legs hang over the side of the carseat, butt nestled quite firmly on his thighs.

God, you’re never living this down.

“Y’okay?”

Steve’s breath in your ear makes you squirm. You turn to look at him.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie breaks again, harder than before. You slip.

Steve reacts instantly, his hand grabbing the meat of your thigh. Your dress rides up, so it’s skin on skin.

The momentum is worse, however, because you jerk back. Right into Steve’s face.

Your nose mashes into his, which isn’t great. But then, your lips smush against his cheek. When you pull back, there’s a smeared lipstick print.

Maybe you’re the one with a death wish.

Robin is screeching incoherently but you can't focus on anything but the smudge of pink on Steve's cheek. Your chest feels tight.

He looks like he's yours.

"Yeah, we're fine, " Steve says, voice close enough to startle you back into the conversation.

He looks up at you. Your hand lands on the lipstick, like if you cover it, it'll go away. Steve tilts his head, mouth open in a question.

"Sorry," you rush out before he can speak. "I got some of my, uh, lipstick on you."

He relaxes.

"Oh. Thought I was bleeding or something," he says with a slight laugh. "'S okay, I can wipe it off when we get there."

"Uh-huh."

You drop your hand. You can't stop staring. Stop staring.

The print isn't exactly in the shape of your lips, but it's close. You can see the divots and where your lips parted. If someone were to see you two, they'd assume a lot of things you're not.

Steve's collar is wrinkled from the van ride from Hell. His neck is flushed. You wonder how your lipstick would look there.

Eddie presses the brake, softer this time. Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your thigh anyway. More marks.

"Alright, relax, gang," Eddie says. "We're almost there."

You touch Steve's cheek again and hope he'll forget to wash you off of his face.

iv. the secret

It's raining. You're in Steve's bed.

Thunder shakes the sky. You curl further into your—Steve’s—pillow. It smells like his soap and detergent.

You used to like the rain. Not so much these days. Rain makes you think of blood on asphalt and being alone at twenty-four. Rain silences you.

"Do you think he'll come back?"

You've never dared to ask anyone. Not even Joyce. She'd know. She wouldn't tell you the truth, though.

Nancy Wheeler probably could. She'd face you with that steel brow of hers and give it to you straight.

Yes. The monster's back. You're not getting married.

You slip your hand into Steve’s. He squeezes your fingers. Outside, the rain roars.

"I don't know," Steve says into the darkness.

You can't see him like this. It makes you mildly claustrophobic. Maybe you should turn on the hall light.

"Hopper said he was dead. So did that other guy—uh, Murray. And like, Eddie's okay. And Max. El would tell us if she sensed something. It's not like he could come back without making a sound. I mean, from what she told me, she basically, like, unraveled him from the inside out. Which is pretty gross, but also a good way to keep someone dead."

He's rambling. He's rambling to distract you.

God, what the fuck are you going to do when you're twenty-four and unmarried and Steve's forgotten all about you?

"I don't want anyone to die," you whisper.

Steve squeezes your hand harder.

"No one's gonna die."

You shift closer. You can barely make out Steve's silhouette. The ends of his hair tickle your knuckles.

"Hey," he says, and you try to find his eyes, but you can't. "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?"

"Yeah," you say, even though something did happen, something that almost took him away from you, and you don't know if you can handle that again.

"You can stay here as long as you want," he says.

"I can go back to my room."

Steve threads his fingers with yours. You can't see his eyes but it's okay.

"Don't," he says.

"Okay."

You scoot forward, closing another few inches between you two. Now, you feel Steve's breath on your face. He smells like minty toothpaste. He is alive.

The rain batters against the windows. You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now, and no one would know except for you and him.

His breath has begun to even out. You lean in blindly. Your lips land on his hair.

It's hardly a kiss. It’ll be your secret anyway.

+ and, finally, the first.

"Dustin wanted chocolate milk," you say, not looking up from the tub of yogurt you're searching the date for.

"Yeah," Steve says, parking the cart to the side. "Kid's addicted."

He opens the giant fridge door and a burst of cold air nips at your arm. You shy away.

"Six dollars? Jesus, does it come from gold cows?"

You snort, finally putting the yogurt in the cart. You stay at Steve’s house more often than not these days, so there’s no point in getting a separate cart.

"What?" Steve asks, looking at you.

"You're funny, that's what."

"I am?"

"You sound like somebody's grandpa."

"I do not!"

"Do too," you say sweetly.

"Do not."

"Do too infinity."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm a grandpa 'cause I don't wanna spend a leg and an arm on chocolate milk for the little shit? So be it."

"Steve," you begin, eyebrows drawing together. "It's his birthday. Have a heart, old man."

"Oh, good grief," he mumbles, but he takes the carton and puts it into the cart.

You smile. Steve shakes his head.

"This is why I don't go shopping with you. You're an enabler."

"I am," you say happily, walking alongside him as he pushes the cart.

"And you don't push the cart."

You tut. "Pretty girls don't push shopping carts, Steven."

"Oh, they just find some poor sap to push it for them, huh?"

"I'm so glad you're on board," you say, skipping ahead to the chip aisle.

You look through the shelves and land on two types of Doritos. Cool Ranch and Original. It’s a tough decision.

“Steve, what do you think?” You hold up the bags. “Which do they like better?”

“Ranch. According to Mike, liking the original flavors of snacks is lame.”

You snicker and take three bags of the Cool Ranch. Steve pushes the cart to you.

“I feel like we’re shopping for our kid,” you say. “We’re the awesome house everybody wants to visit because we have the best snacks and the biggest pool.”

You look up when Steve doesn’t reply. He stares at you, expression unreadable. Your smile dims.

“What?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“Steve, seriously. What is it?”

He shakes his head again.

“Nothing, really. Just zoned out for a second.”

He continues to push the cart down the aisle. You watch him for a moment, then follow. The two of you quickly check off the remaining items on Steve’s list (yes, his actual, physical grocery list), and then you check out.

The cashier smiles at you both in line. She’s an older woman, with the typical poofy blowout nearly every woman over fifty gets at Brenda’s Salon in downtown Hawkins. You busily put the items on the conveyor belt while Steve takes out his wallet and makes conversation with the cashier. It’s a good routine you two have established.

When the cashier’s done, you squeeze past the cart and grab half of the bags. Steve takes the receipt and the rest of the bags.

“You two are very sweet together,” the cashier says, her round cheeks blush-red like apples. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve replies, and heads to the exit.

You’re frozen for a moment, startled until Steve calls your name. You heft the bags in your arms and hurry after him.

Steve stops and takes two of your bags before crossing the parking lot.

“Steve,” you say, and huff. “I can carry them.”

“Pretty girls don’t push carts or carry bags. It’s the rule, remember?”

You watch, unimpressed, as Steve then proceeds to try and get his car keys with an armful of grocery bags. When he almost drops a bag for the third time, you sigh and take pity.

“Which pocket?” you ask, snaking your arm around.

“Back left,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, feeling disgustingly fond. You shove your hand down Steve’s back jean pocket. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Take me out to dinner at least,” he says.

“Pretty boys don’t get taken to dinner until the pretty girl has been asked out properly,” you shoot back.

Steve smiles, but the joke doesn’t land like it usually does. You step away as soon as you get the keys, clearing your throat.

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about carrying all the bags, Popeye.”

You open the trunk for him, then go to open the passenger side door.

“If I don’t carry all the bags, how else am I meant to show off to the ladies?”

You pull the handle on the driver’s side for Steve and he gets in, beaming cheekily at you.

“The only person who’s watching you make a fool of yourself is me, big guy,” you say. “So, mission failed.”

You open the glove compartment and start fishing through for gum. You find a Juicy Fruit packet but it’s empty.

“Damn, that’s what we forgot,” you say, defeatedly crumpling the cardboard. “Gum.”

You start to turn to Steve. “Do you think we—”

You’ve wondered, probably more than you should, about how Steve Harrington kisses.

Now you know: tenderly.

He cups both sides of your face, and you have to brace yourself on the center console for balance. Your other hand tangles in his hair. It’s as soft as you imagined, free of product, and you scrunch the baby hairs at the base of his scalp. Steve makes a quiet noise.

You kiss until you need air. Even then, Steve doesn’t let you go far. You part with only an inch or two between you.

“There’s gum in the middle compartment,” is the first thing he says.

“Huh?”

“In here.” He pats the compartment between the seats. “Hubba Bubba. I got it last week.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s face with both hands. His hands slip to your arms and he squeezes, smiling gently.

“What?” he asks.

“Fuck, I’m glad I know you,” you say.

Steve kisses you again. Two. Steve Harrington has officially kissed you two times.

You hope you’ll lose track at some point.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things x you

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stormz369 · 1 month ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 33

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: NSFW, MDNI, brief mention of trauma, public teasing, daddy kink, mommy kink, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, fingering, female orgasm, male orgasm, blindfolding, praise kink

wc: 3.55k

Chapter Selection

I decided to take Jason up on his offer to teach me to drive a motorcycle. He was simultaneously excited and anxious about it; he loved the idea of me on his bike, but he hated not being in control of the situation. We went over the parts of the bike, road safety, and the basics of how to start and stop the bike. He let me sit in the driver's seat for the first time in an empty parking lot, and when I grinned up at him I saw a brief flash of panic in his eyes.

“... Are you sure you're ok with this babe?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “You're going to do great, ma~”

I chuckled softly, kissing his cheek before putting my helmet on. He stood back, gesturing for me to start the bike. It roared to life under me, and my first practical lesson began.

We spent an hour going around the parking lot before he hopped on, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Alright, now you're gonna drive us home.”

“Really? … I don't even have my permit yet…”

“If we get pulled over, my name will fix any trouble faster than a permit would.”

I blinked a bit, leaning back against him. “... Is it bad that I kinda like the sound of that?”

He chuckled, stroking my hips. “Hm … maybe a little…” His voice purred through the headset in my helmet as one hand slid down to squeeze my inner thigh; “are you my bad girl?~”

I squeaked sharply, gloved hands forming fists on my knees. “J- JASON! You can't just say things like that to me! We are in public!”

He laughed softly, holding me close; “no one's around, baby girl~ I wouldn't do anything to embarrass you.”

I whined softly, blushing bright red. “... Y- you still can't do things like that … I won't be able to drive with that in my head!”

His hands slowly slid back to my waist. “Alright, I'm sorry princess~”

“No you're not…” I groaned softly, squirming a bit.

He chuckled; “... should I drive?”

“... Yes.”

He got off the bike so I could slide back to the backpack seat. When he got situated I smirked and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my breasts against his back. I purred softly; “You got me all hot and bothered … I hope you intend to do something about this, daddy?”

He jumped at that, sputtering as he spun around to stare at me; “wha- what … what?!?”

“See how cruel that is??”

He stared at me for a long minute. “... Doll?”

“Uh-huh?~” I giggled.

“... What did you just call me?”

“You heard me, daddy~” I purred, smirking. His hands trembled as he groaned softly, turning back around to drive. I wrapped my arms around his waist again as we flew out of the parking lot. “Woah! Jay??”

He grunted softly, driving faster than he usually did with me on the bike. “You are such a little tease. You do this to me on purpose, don't you? Getting me all worked up when I can't …” he growled softly, sending a flood of heat straight to my core; “… just hold onto me, baby girl~ daddy will take care'a you~”

I blushed bright red, giggling, and leaned against him. “Is that a promise, or a threat?~”

“Oh, I’m gonna take good care of my girl~”

I moaned softly, sliding a hand up his chest slowly. He growled, driving faster and faster. I clung to him as we spun around corners, and finally flew into the parking lot at home. I was thrown forward into him as he suddenly parked. In one fluid motion, Jason threw me over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding my knees against his chest so I couldn't kick. I blushed bright red, giggling like mad as he carried me up the stairs.

He spun around so I was facing the door; “unlock it.” I carefully pulled my keys out of my pocket, slowly finding the right one. “... Don't tease me, woman. Unlock the door, or I might just have to have you right here.~”

I blushed bright red, squeaking softly, and threw the door open. He stepped inside, locking it quickly, and carried me into the bedroom. I thought he was going to toss me on the bed, but instead he sat down, sliding me into his lap.

I dropped my keys, fumbling to remove my helmet. Jay tossed his own aside before squeezing my ass firmly with one hand; he used his teeth to remove the glove on his other hand, a cocky smirk on his face. Once his gloves were off he gently cupped my cheek. Mine came off as well and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he pulled me into a passionate kiss. He growled softly against my lips, drinking up my desperate whines. His hands slid across my ass before stroking down my thighs. “Want you~ want you so bad, baby girl~”

His lips began trailing down my throat, nibbling gently. I moaned sharply, pressing against him; “yesss~ want you too~ my Jay~”

He slid his hands up and under my shirt, fondling and gently squishing my sides. “God, you're so sexy~”

He pulled back a bit as he tugged my shirt and bra off. The second my breasts were exposed he buried his face between them, squeezing gently and rolling my nipples between his fingers. I whimpered softly, running my fingers through his hair as he kissed and licked. I pressed down a bit, delighting in the soft moan that bubbled past his lips.

His hips jutted up against mine, pressing his hard bulge against me. I groaned softly, rocking against him. “Ah~ Oh god, Jason~ is that for me?~”

He chuckled breathlessly. “All for you, baby girl~ gonna take such good care of my princess~”

He spun us around, laying me on the bed, and kissed down my chest. His hands slid down to the waistband of my pants, and he watched my face as he slowly undid them. I giggled softly, squirming out of my pants. His thumbs hooked under my panties to tug them down too.

“I love you~” he purred, almost reverently as he kissed my tummy.

I could feel my cheeks getting hotter as he stared up at me, slowly kissing lower. “Ah~ I love you too, Jason~”

He grinned, wrapping my legs around his head as he kissed my folds. I sighed happily, relaxing against the bed as he began licking and sucking. When his tongue found my clit, I gasped sharply, whimpering. “Hhhnnn~ y- yes~ right there~”

“Already so wet for me~” His tongue pressed firmly against it and my hand flew into his hair of its own accord, pulling him in closer. He moaned softly, gripping my hips firmly as he pressed his tongue inside to explore. My breaths came in sharp pants, and I was soon clinging to the sheets, desperate for anything to keep me grounded. It briefly occurred to me that I didn't understand how he kept going; he just did not let up for an instant. But as quickly as the thought came, it was overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure. Jason seemed spurred on by every little noise I made, pressing in closer, licking and sucking more until I cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as I came.

I collapsed against the mattress as he pulled back, grinning. I blushed brightly as he licked his lips. “God, you taste amazing~”

“W- weirdo~” I giggled breathlessly as he stroked my thighs. “Mhh … come ’ere~”

I reached toward him, whining softly, and he crawled between my legs, letting me pull him into a deep kiss. I stroked down his side, moaning softly. “You're still dressed…”

He chuckled softly, pulling back to take his jacket and shirt off. “Is this better?~”

“Mh~ it's a start~” I grinned, sliding a hand over the swell of his bicep.

He kissed my neck, stroking my sides. “Mh~ just a start?”

“Well, this is the … third time you've done something like this for me, but I haven't done anything for you yet. Do you want me to…?”

He blushed brightly, nuzzling my neck. “You don't have to do that, baby girl~ just want you to enjoy yourself~”

“I wouldn't be offering if I wouldn't enjoy it, Jay~” I smiled softly, stroking his hair. “... It's ok if you're not ready, or if you don't want me to, but … do you not want me to?”

He held me close, stroking my side gently. “... I … I don't know … I didn't think that was the kind of thing women wanted to do?”

“... Do you enjoy going down on me?” He blushed brightly, nodding sheepishly. “So why would it be so impossible for me to enjoy doing that for you too?”

“... I … I dunno … everything I've ever seen or heard about it is so … aggressive.” he frowned, looking up at me; “I never want to make you do anything you don't wanna do, especially like this…”

I stroked his hair gently. “I know, baby~ you're so hyper aware of that kind of thing. But you are allowed to want things for yourself too. If I don't want to do them, I know you wouldn't force me.”

“... You really want to do these things too?”

I nodded, kissing him gently. “I wanna make you feel good~ if you'd like to experience that, I want to do it for you.”

He nodded slowly. “... I … I've never … oh god …” he frowned, sitting up. His eyes clenched shut and he took deep, careful breaths.

I sat up beside him, holding my hand on my knee for him to take if he wanted it. “I’ve got you, Jay. You're ok. We're just talking right now, we don't have to do anything.”

He gripped my hand, pulling it to his chest. He shakily kissed my knuckles, breathing deeply. “I … I know … I just … It’s like … there are three voices in my head, and they’re all screaming…”

I gently squeezed his hand. “Well … are any of them screaming that you don’t want to do this at all? Cause that is allowed - we don't have to have sex. I will still love you and want to be with you, even if sex is never going to be an option.”

“No! God no, just … Well, the loudest one is just screaming. Like … ‘wait, is this actually happening?’ kind of screams …” His ears were turning pink as he looked to the side. “I’ve never done anything like this … not with another person, so … it’s scary, but exciting?”

“Yeah, makes sense. What about the other two?”

“... The second voice is screaming that if we do this … I’ll just end up hurting you. … I still don’t always have control over my own strength, I … I would rather die again rather than hurt you … especially like that…” He whispered, clenching his jaw.

I gently squeezed his hand. “Ok, we can work around that. There are plenty of options-”

“I know. I … I thought about that. That voice started screaming one day, and I said to it ‘well, that’s what handcuffs are for! That’s supposed to be fun, right? That could be hot even’ but … then …” He shuddered, shaking his head rapidly.

“Ohhh no, you are not ready for that kind of thing.” I pulled his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “It’s ok, you don’t have to explain. … What’s the last voice screaming, baby?”

“... This … sex requires … vulnerability. … I can’t be vulnerable. … I- it’s dangerous, … I … I know, … logically I know that you’re not going to hurt me, I don’t think you would hurt me, so please … please don’t think that that’s what I’m saying, I just …”

“The idea of being so vulnerable sends you to a bad place.”

He nodded slowly, clenching his jaw. “... I want to do this, I just … I get so scared…” he whined softly.

“Is there anything you think would help?”

“... I … can I cuddle you and think about it?”

“Of course you can~” we laid back; Jason's arms wrapped around my waist, his head resting on my chest.

I wrapped my arm around him, lazily running my fingers through his hair. He sighed, kissing my cleavage, and cuddled against me; “... so much for ‘daddy’ being able to take care of you…”

“You are taking care of me, Jay. By making sure we proceed in a way that won’t send you back to a bad place, you are making sure we’ll both be able to enjoy this.” I kissed his forehead and he whined softly, snuggling against me more.

We laid there for a while, almost dozing, until he looked up at me; “... Ok, I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“... Lights off, and … maybe we could just sit for a bit? And then I'll take my clothes off? No touching, just …”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Get used to the idea?”

“Yeah. Is that ok?”

“That's absolutely ok. You wanna do that now, or do you want to do it another time?”

“... Wanna do it now.” He nodded.

“Ok.” I kissed him gently. “I'll get the lights. … I'm so proud of you~”

He kissed back, blushing brightly. “Proud?”

“Of course; I know these are hard steps for you to take, and you're finding ways that you feel safe to try anyway.”

“Oh…” he smiled shyly against my chest, nuzzling into me. “... Thanks.”

“You're welcome, baby~” I slowly disentangled myself from him, getting up to turn the lights off. I sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. “Ok, I'm facing the door. You do whatever you want, at whatever pace feels right to you. Ok?”

His hand found mine on the sheets, and I felt him sit behind me, back to back. He was so warm, and he made me feel so small. I sighed happily, gently squeezing his hand.

“... You're really proud of me?” He whispered.

“More proud than words can say. You are so kind, and gentle, and strong, and brave, and you make the hard things your bitch.” He giggled as I rambled, leaning back against me a bit.

“... thank you … I know it's taken a long time to get here, but … you make me feel so safe, and I … I see a light at the end of the tunnel. … I'm still worried I'll trip in the dark, but … I'm not lost anymore.”

I bit my lower lip, tearing up a bit. “... I love you, Jason. I'm so happy to get to be someone you feel safe with.”

He shifted, lifting my hand, and kissed my knuckles. A moment later he set my hand down and climbed off the other side of the bed. I heard his zipper, the fabric of his pants crumpling around his ankles, and felt the bed dip behind me as he sat down again. Slowly, his fingers found mine.

“... I wish I could see you.” He sighed. “... I think it would help.”

“... I've got a scarf in the top drawer of my dresser. I could be blindfolded.”

There was a long silence. “... That … could work. … You're really ok with it?”

“Sure. You want to grab it?”

“Yeah…” I felt him move off the bed, and closed my eyes. He eventually sat behind me, tying the scarf around my eyes. I adjusted it a bit while he got the lights, making sure it was tight enough to stay on.

“... Can you … open your legs a bit?”

“Yeah?” I shifted my feet, and Jason sat on the floor between my knees. He rested his head against me, kissing the soft skin of my inner thigh. After a moment, he took my hand and brought it to his hair. I ran my fingers across his scalp, smiling softly. He sighed happily, nuzzling my leg.

“... Mh~ you're so beautiful, ma~ so soft, and warm, and cuddly~”

I giggled softly, stroking his hair more. “You're the beautiful one here, pretty boy~”

He chuckled softly, stroking my thighs gently. “Mh … can … can I …”

“Anything you want, baby~”

He paused before slowly stroking up my thigh, sliding his fingers closer and closer to my core. I got the sense that he was watching me, probably waiting for me to say no. I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my cheeks as his fingertips caressed my folds.

“... L- lay back for me, doll?” He whispered huskily.

I slowly moved to lay back, spreading my legs further. He shifted between my knees, pulling my hips right up to the edge of the bed, and slowly stroked my slit. I could feel and hear his ragged breathing against my thigh as he spread my folds. Slowly, he pressed one thick finger into me. I groaned softly, biting my lower lip as he wriggled in, far deeper than my own fingers went. I whimpered softly at the slight stretch as he added a second finger, and he froze.

“... Is … is that a good noise or a bad noise?”

“Good noise~” I moaned softly.

“... You'll tell me if that changes?”

“Promise.”

He nuzzled my thigh more, pressing his fingers in slowly. I sighed happily, rocking my hips a bit to guide him where I wanted his fingers. “... T- talk to me, baby. I … I'm really not hurting you?”

“Not at all, Jay~ god, your fingers feel so good in me~ c- can you curl them just a bit?” He did and I whined sharply; “ohhh~ yeah, just like that!~”

He continued slowly pumping his fingers in and out. After a moment, he started making soft sounds, like he was having trouble catching his breath. I whined softly, mumbling praises as he thrust his fingers in more.

“O- oh god, baby doll~ … I … fuck, it feels so good…” he groaned, kissing my thigh. “... Tell … tell me I'm good? …”

I grinned; “yes, you're so good, baby~ my Jay, my good boy~ taking such good care of me~”

His soft whimpers filled the room, just covering the rhythmic sound of skin rubbing together. “Y- … yes … please …”

“My Jason~ are you making yourself feel good for me, sweet baby?~”

“Y- yeah, … i- is that ok?” he nearly whispered.

“Of course it is, my good boy~” I grinned, spreading my legs a bit more. “Fuck, yes~ wanna hear you feeling good~”

He whined softly, and the soft slapping sounds sped up. His fingers curled inside me as he leaned forward, licking and sucking my clit. I gasped softly, moaning loudly. My hand flew to his hair, tugging firmly, and he groaned against my folds.

“Yes~ please ma~ wanna make you cum~ pleeeease~” he muttered eagerly, voice muffled against my mound. His fingers curled and wiggled like he was trying to pull my orgasm out of me. “Please, baby~ wanna drink you up~ wanna taste it~”

I cried out, tugging more. “Yes~ yesss baby, take it~ take what you want~”

His fingers pumped in and out, and soon he slid a third in. The delicious stretch made tears spring to my eyes and I cried out louder. He shuddered, whimpering softly as he licked up my slick. The sounds of his hand on himself sped up, falling out of rhythm as he desperately sought more. He whined sharply, sucking on my clit.

“Ohhh fuck!~ Jaaaayyyy~” I cried out loudly, my entire body shaking. He choked on a groan as he eagerly lapped at my folds, taking away every drop of my orgasm. Slowly, he pulled back, panting hard.

“O- oh fuck~ ma, that … that was … oh my god~” he chuckled breathlessly, tilting his head to rest against my thigh.

I giggled, stroking his hair gently. “Yeah~ god, you're incredible~”

“Nah, you're the incredible one~” he kissed my soft inner thigh, sighing happily. “Mh~ you stay there, I'm gonna get us cleaned up, and then … maybe we could cuddle?”

I nodded, grinning. “Please~”

He stumbled toward the bathroom while I stretched a bit. After a minute, I heard him almost whisper from the doorway; “tell … tell me again? Please?”

I smiled softly; “you are so good, Jason~ you’re my good boy, you take such good care of me, and I love you~”

A soft shuddering exhale later he was at the foot of the bed, carefully running a damp, warm washcloth across my oversensitive folds. “I … I love you too. …”

I reached toward him and he took my hand, kissing my palm. “Can I take the blindfold off soon?”

“Oh, yeah! Let me just …” He moved away, and by the time he was sliding the blindfold off my face he had put on a pair of gray sweatpants.

“Mh~ There’s my pretty boy~” I grinned, pulling him down to cuddle me. “How do you feel?”

Jason’s cheeks turned bright pink as he held me close. “Mh … sleepy.”

I giggled softly, kissing his pec; “sleep then~”

Next -> Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11 @bunniboo0015 @bibibusinessman

#fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd #dc fanfic #jason todd x reader #dc #red hood x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #chubby reader #multichapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

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starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

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This is very inspired by @minnesota-fats post about Danny being Bruce Wayne's clone (which has been rotting in my brain for two days) but an au where danny isn't just Bruce Wayne's clone, but also not fully a ghost.

both ideas can be used separately honestly, the idea just came to me while thinking about the bruce wayne clone idea, and a lot of this idea is just "danny without his ghost powers. i might probably make a part two that delves into him being bruce wayne's clone.

Hear me out.

A Danny Fenton who has the ghost sense and the fangs and the pointed ears and the scary eyes and an increase ecto-essence, but does not have the ability to "go ghost". His accident occurred when he pressed the "on" button on the outside of the portal, and the button electrocuted him due to faulty wiring. He ends up miraculously surviving but not without some new additional abilities (and electricity-based trauma).

Since Danny no longer has a built-in alter ego with the invert wardrobe to match, he doesn't see the point to take ghosts back to the ghost zone. What the hell can he do anyways? All he has is a cosmetic add-in, a lower body-temperature with an impressive ability to hold his breath longer than a human realistically should, and a built-in ghost detector. Not very helpful if you ask him.

That is, up until he goes into the lab after his parents catch a relatively harmless ghost and sees them vivisecting it. He's horrified. He thought his parents were using hyperbole when he said they'd tear them apart molecule by molecule.

(Granted, he also believed that ghosts were unfeeling up until he saw this random ghost being absolutely terrified for its existence on the table.)

After an argument over his parents harming the ghost, Danny goes back up to his room and refuses to leave, not even for dinner. Later that night after his parents went to sleep, Danny steels his resolve and sneaks back down into the lab and releases the ghost back into the ghost zone.

This happens a handful of times, until, finally, frustrated, Danny tells the latest captured ghost to tell anyone inside that if they even think about coming through, he'll capture them and bring them back to the zone himself. It's for their own safety.

The ghost agrees, and goes back inside. Danny steals a "failed" thermos from his parents' stash of weapons. The next time that a ghost shows up, its the lunch lady from episode one. Danny manages to defeat her without being seen, but knows that if there's gonna be consistent daytime ghost attacks then he can't base his luck around fighting without witnesses.

So he fashions himself with a makeshift outfit. This really only consists of an old, nondescript hoodie and a plain black face mask. Its the best thing he can do at short notice, however. Later, for his nighttime ghost fighting, his outfit is only slightly better.

He considered using one of his parents' lab suits. But white sticks out at night and the material doesn't protect you from road burn. His outfit is pretty homemade, with knee and elbow pads under his clothes and multiple layers. A long sleeve shirt over a hoodie over a black denim vest he found on sale. He later on manages to make brass knuckles ghost-proof and manages to stitch them into his gloves. (he gets very good at sewing).

His favorite part of the entire outfit, is a Casey Jones-style full-face mask he found while thrifting. It allows him better breathability than the face mask he was using (calling Rule Of Cool law here), and he can use his scary eyes to make him look more intimidating. His gloves, his mask, and his thermos are the things he carries around with him constantly, and, later on, wears baggier clothing to hide the fact that he's wearing knee and elbow gear under his clothes.

Did I mention he has long hair? Danny has long hair (because GNC danny ftw, it goes past his shoulders) that he braids back. it's a bit sloppy but it keeps his hair out of his face well enough. He takes the fenton creep stick with him.

(He and Bruce have, ultimately, a more lean build than a bulky one. It helped Bruce with his Brucie Wayne persona big time when he had to look like a pretty skinny boy, he uses body language, optical illusion, and body armor to make himself look bulkier as batman)

He still goes by the name Phantom. He still has a bitter rivalry with his parents, who have no idea that its him. They think he's probably some other ghost with beef with the other ghosts (he still triggers their ghost sensors), and still want to capture him.

He doesn't talk around the living. He doesn't have any fancy voice changer and dropping his voice hurts and ultimately, he just uses ASL if he ever has to talk in front of people. The ghosts know his voice at night, but not during the day.

He hardly talks to the living. He avoids them like the plague actually. When he defeats a ghost and there's an audience, he barely sticks around to have a nice friendly chat. He tries to get away as soon as possible. He's paranoid over people finding out who he is. He doesn't have that ghost form to fall back on here.

Oh god this is getting so long, so i'll post another part soon.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dc x dp #dp crossover #danny fenton is a clone #dpxdc #his mask is casey jones inspired because i think its sick as fuck #it looks like a skull kinda and i think it plays into the whole 'ghost fighter' thing #his jacket has some kind of stitching on the back that's ghost like #he has a cartoon ghost stitched into his breast pocket

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thisapplepielife · 1 month ago

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Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Hell Has Officially Frozen Over

Prompt Day 9: Icy Roads | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Future Fic, Reconnecting in Your Hometown, Old Friends, Pre-Steddie

It's bad. It's really, really bad.

Eddie white-knuckles the steering wheel of his pickup truck wondering if he's ever gonna make it to Hawkins as he barely crawls along. Not only is it nearly impossible to see, but the roads are slicker than shit already. It's like this snuck up on them, and the state didn't even have time to salt the roads.

He should have left an hour earlier.

Hell, he should have left a day earlier.

It's heading towards being a whiteout. Which is pretty fucking gorgeous, honestly, but not when he's having to drive in these blizzard-like conditions.

Easing down the highway, not another car in sight, he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. A slight glow, off to the left.

As he approaches, he's pretty fucking certain that he's seeing the faint glimmer of taillights off in the ditch. A car probably missed that little curve, and slid off in the ditch.

Fuck.

He should stop. But he isn't exactly sure how or where he might be able to do that safely.

Fuck it.

He hasn't seen anyone else out in miles, so he stops in the middle of the two-lane highway. He'll check real quick, see if there actually is anything, or if it's just his eyes deceiving him after all this white.

He turns on his flashers, but he's not sure that'll help anyone see him in this near zero visibility.

Eddie pulls out his Maglite, and is thankful Wayne was always so adamant that he carried one.

He's pretty sure there is a car. Something covered in white, and lodged into the snowbank.

"Hey! Anybody in there!" Eddie hollers.

He stops to listen, and he doesn't hear anything — then. A dull pounding.

"Goddamnit," Eddie mutters, but slides down the ditch, and once he gets closer, he hears the pounding again. Hand against glass.

The passenger window is covered in snow, and Eddie starts brushing it away as fast as he can. It's fucking freezing, even through his gloves.

He gets the window cleared, and a face appears.

"Eddie?!"

It's Steve Harrington.

Shit.

Eddie leans down to get a closer look.

"You okay?" Eddie asks through the window and Steve nods.

"I'm stuck. I can't open either door, or the windows!"

"Want me to break in?" Eddie hollers, and Steve nods.

Eddie moves to the back window of the car, and yells back, "Cover your eyes!"

Steve leans forward, and Eddie bangs the butt of his metal flashlight against the window. It doesn't give. Fuck. Apparently it's gonna take more power than that.

He rears back and gives a really good whack this time, then another, harder, near the corner, shattering the glass into the car.

"Hey! Still okay?" Eddie asks, brushing glass from the window sill with his flashlight. It's safety glass, and not sharp, but he can't imagine crawling out over it would be a whole lot of fun, still.

The soft glow of the lights Eddie could see goes out, and then Steve's head pops back into view as he crawls over the console of the car, and into the backseat.

"I'm good, I think. Just thought I might freeze to death before I was able to get myself out."

Eddie holds out his hands, and offers Steve help as he tries to slide out of the now broken window. It's a tighter fit than seems comfortable with his heavy winter coat on, but together they pull him out.

"Sorry about the window."

"No, no. Thanks for stopping. I figured I was stuck until INDOT came out tomorrow."

They climb up the ditch and towards Eddie's pickup, to see if they can find something to at least cover the broken window.

After, Eddie can't get the traction to get going again. He looks around. He does have some gifts for Wayne, and unwraps one, dumping the contents in the seat, then with his pocket knife, cuts the box into four pieces, one for each tire.

It's enough. He's able to get them edging forward again.

Five miles to Hawkins.

But it seems like five-hundred at this rate.

"What were you doing out here?" Steve asks.

"I could ask you the same thing, Harrington?" Eddie banters back, and Steve laughs.

"Coming home from the airport-"

"That was a rental? Oh shit."

Steve laughs, but continues, "I promised I'd do Christmas at home this year," Steve admits.

"Oh, so this blizzard is your fault."

"Huh?" Steve questions, confused.

"Hell has officially frozen over," Eddie teases.

And Steve laughs. Eddie has missed him. It's been too long since any of them have gotten together. Once out of Hawkins, it's been really hard to return.

"Something like that," Steve says, but he's smiling at Eddie, "What brings you home?"

"Wayne," Eddie says. Wayne's the only reason he'll step foot into this town these days.

There are no other cars on the road. They're the only dummies out and about in this shitshow.

When they pull up in front of the Harrington house, Eddie turns to look at him.

"Thanks for rescuing me," Steve says, meeting his eyes in the dark.

"Hey, I definitely owed you one. You rescued me first."

Steve reaches over and squeezes Eddie's hand, "You didn't owe me anything. It's been good to see you, man. You look good."

Eddie flips his hand over so he can squeeze back, "If the parents get too stifling, come to Wayne's," Eddie offers.

"Expect me. How long you here?" Steve asks.

"A week, you?"

"Same."

"Let's definitely catch up," Eddie offers, and Steve's nodding, hard.

"Yeah, let's do that. You and me."

"The Hideout," Eddie laughs.

Steve grins, "All the shitty beer we can drink."

"Where's Buckley?" Eddie asks.

"She'll be here in two days, weather allowing."

"Let's gather up everyone who's home. Do something together again. We survived Hawkins once."

"Hell yes we did," Steve says, his blinding smile proof they can do it again.

This time, it's only Hawkins for Christmas.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #prompt: icy roads #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #christmas fic #steddie fan fic #steddie fic #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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leonw4nter · 15 days ago

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Warmth For The Winterfall

ID!Leon x GN!Reader ; roommates/house decorating || Leon Secret Santa || 🎁: @uhlillie 🎄: @leonsecretsanta <3

Leon's operations always proceed as follows: infiltrate, carry out, and slip out covertly. It's always that easy in principle, but in practice, things never turn out the way he had hoped. He's tired of it all; it's the holidays, goddamn it, but work won't let him take a break for even a moment. A gloved finger releases the safety catch as a far-off, rhythmic vibration brings him out of his reverie. He is driven insane by the absence of any other sensory cues than touch, sound, and sight, as well as the darkness trails behind him where his flashlight isn't focused. The experienced agent feels as though he is heading down a path with no assurance of return since the tunnel seems to go on forever in front of him.

“Hunnigan, are you sure this is the right one?” He asks into his comms, voice low. “I’ve been walking for 30 minutes but I did hear a noise earlier.”

He hears her type into a keyboard and click a mouse before she responds back to him. “Yes, I’m tracking you now and you’re exactly where you need to be. The tunnel is purposely long to throw any wanderers off; years ago, there were functioning gate systems for every kilometer walked but it appears that they’re not employed anymore and haven’t been for a few years now. Stay vigilant Condor One, I’m picking up a heat signature somewhere in the system. Stay safe.”

“Copy,” he responds before turning it back off to listen to his environment better. He sighs before he continues forward, unable to speed through things and wrap it up for the year– he can’t afford to do that.

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches a seemingly unassuming manhole in the ground and after receiving instructions from Hunnigan, he opens it with some effort and descends down the narrow opening. Before he can totally reach the ground, something grabs him by his ankle and yanks him down with enough force to smack him down; the impact forces air out of his lungs, stunning him for a moment as he tries to take in large amounts of air. He recovers quickly though, retrieving his loaded gun and aiming at his beastly assailant: an alligator as tall and long as a double-decker tour bus in the roads of LA, its scaly body covered in green grime and some sort of slime mold. The BOW lunges at him, its hideous maw wide open as it charges but Leon dodges the charge, aiming expertly at fatal points but his bullets do little damage to its thick hide; he realizes this, also recognizing that using a grenade in this space would kill him as well, opting to run to safety to avoid the gator as much as he can. Luck not being on the agent’s side, the alligator is a lot more intelligent than he thought it was, using its tail to slam Leon and send him flying into a wall, landing awkwardly into his forearm before a particularly nasty fall. Pain struck through him like a thunderclap, a resonant ache too powerful for Leon to ignore, amplifying the sickening awareness that something had been horribly misaligned. His consciousness was ebbing, bending to the will to cave into the fresh surge of torment, yet he managed to retrieve a grenade from his gear. With his good hand, he pulled the pin and sent it to the gator’s direction. Right before it explodes, he gathered whatever strength he had left to find the most secure spot around to duck in. A white-hot brilliance is followed by a roar that interrupts the air, from the grenade or the BOW Leon isn’t sure but he’s relieved that the damn beast is in chunks and bits now, turning on comms again to relay information back to HQ.

“Mission cleared,” he grunts. “Request back-up… broken arm…”

“Report your status agent,” Hunnigan asks to repeat.”

“Just said my arm’s broken,” Leon repeats with a slight edge of impatience. “Rat bastard flung me against the wall… goin’ to fucking pass out…”

“Copy,” she responds. “Hang in there Leon, I’ve dispatched a rescue team and they’ll be there in 20. Stay with me.”

“I’ll… try…”

He groans a little more, trying to limit movement in his bad arm as he props himself up from his previous ball curl position. Such a simple injury shouldn’t render him this weak but that hit was just too strong for him to make it out unscathed, his consciousness beginning to give way to a creeping desire to fall asleep. The world began to darken around him, vision unfocusing but he kept his resolve steadfast: if he could make it through this one, he won’t let the holidays pass without him letting you know your laugh, your kindness, and your mere presence had kept him fighting. He’d trade his silence for vulnerability because if he could survive this madness, he’d be able to survive the terror of telling you that he’s loved you from the start. He admires your mind, how your thoughts could dance between profound and playful, how you could say something so wise and crack him up with a stupid joke at the same time; he adores the way you make him feel understood and be his truest self, and how enchanted he is with the way you can be fiercely independent and also nurturing– your existence is proof that the universe fought tooth and nail to bring such a blessing in his dark life.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The scent of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, and a soft pillow supporting his head greets Leon as he stirs awake from his unconscious state. The blinds are drawn around his bed and his bad arm is now in a black sling, taken care of by the doctors who tended to him. He quietly groans, running his hand through his face and feeling the prickly stubble that’s begun to grow on his cheeks and chin. Somewhere in the room, he hears Hunnigan’s faint voice conversing with someone and since it sounded like she’s the only speaker present, it must be over a call. He doesn’t have the energy to eavesdrop, preferring to close his eyes and fall back asleep for a little longer but his FOS agent interrupts his plans, pushing aside the curtains and greeting Leon.

“You’ve been out for nearly an entire day,” she points out. “How are you feeling?”

“Crusty.” He deadpans, earning a nod from her.

“Makes sense.”

Silence fills the room again before the FOS agent speaks up again. “Called HQ today and field for a 2-month rest and recuperation period for you. You deserve it after 7 years of non-stop work. They’ll still need a written report from you though but I told them to cut you some slack since your arm’s broken and the holidays are right around the corner.”

She purposely leaves out the part where she nearly instigated an argument because her and Leon’s higher-ups refused to let him off, standing her ground fiercely and convincing them to let the man off the hook otherwise she’ll personally email the President herself and send in documented reports of over fatigue, violation on ethics, and liability regarding an overworked employee being denied a recuperation period; Leon certainly wouldn't like hearing about her nearly getting nasty with his boss so she decided to keep this to herself.

“Thanks, Ingrid. I appreciate it,” he says with a closed lip smile. “So, uh… when do I get discharged? And the hospital bill?”

“You’ll be discharged in about… 4 hours and the agency’s got your bill covered, just focus on getting better soon. Anyway, how’re things between you and them?”

A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lip though briskly concealed carelessly with a clear of his throat that gave away the simmering nervous excitement beneath his nonchalant exterior.

“I’ll do something about it soon,” he carefully responds, it being his tender affections kept lock-and-key in his heart. He looks up at Hunnigan whose arms are crossed, looking down at him with a look that shows that she doesn’t quite believe that that is all he has to say.

“What?” Leon asks with a shrug. “You look like you want me to say more.”

“Because I know there’s more than just that,” she points out. Leon looks down and stays silent, remembering the promise he made to himself moments before he passed out. “Don’t act like you don’t spend your work break talking to me about them and texting me at ass-scratching hours of the night because Jill and the Redfields are sick of you not doing anything.”

“Guilty as charged,” he says with a half-smile. He took a moment to collect himself internally, to shift in his hospital bed that will display a convincing feigned indifference that will redirect attention away from the telltale crimson burning in his ears. “But I… I promised myself that I won’t let the holidays pass me by without letting them know that I’ve loved them for so long, so that's something, right?”

“Mhm.”

“They deserve to know how incredible and precious they are to me but there’s this voice that tells me they’re better off not knowing, and I hate how much I listen to it. It sounds selfish of me but I don’t want them to walk out of my life just because I couldn’t keep myself in check.”

“Why do you think that they’re better off not knowing? Sometimes we assume that silence is safer but it can create a distance when there doesn’t need to be any,” Hunnigan begins. “It’s okay to feel scared but don’t let it rob you and them of a chance to experience something genuine. Do you trust them to treat you well, Leon?”

“Yes–”

“Then trust that they’ll handle your feelings with care. Certainly you’ve got reasons on why you trust them and I’m sure that it’s because you’re treated kindly and valued so why not trust them with your feelings? With your heart?”

Chapped lips parted with the intent to say more words but instead, a soft sigh of resolution is released. Hunnigan gave him an encouraging pat to his shoulder before walking to the other side of the bed, letting the nurse who came to do their rounds in. “Good to see that you’re back with us, Mr. Kennedy. How are we feeling?”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

In the meantime, he will have to accept rides from friends or use public transit a bit more frequently; his beloved XDiavel will have to spend the next six months gathering dust in the basement parking of his apartment complex. It will take some time to get used to using his left arm, and asking for help from others will make it even more difficult. He is unsure of how he will handle this aspect of his life for the time being, but he is aware that he will need to practice putting on shirts with his less dominant hand, especially sweaters and button-ups now that the weather calls for layering clothes. He will definitely miss the thrill and breeze that riding his bike brings him, but it's a welcome change if it means allowing his arm to heal properly.

The car ride to Leon’s apartment is filled with comfortable silence, neither agent energized enough to start small talk, especially at 2:17 AM. As he looks out the car window, blue irises meeting the sight of ice white like the sclera of eyes, he internalizes the fact that he’s lucky to make it to the end of the year, still alive to see another Christmas; the year has been rough, like last year and the year before last year, but he’s amazed at how long he’s kept going despite it all. Instead of the weariness and stench of his line of work sticking to him, it’s the stingy scent of hospital disinfectant that clings to him like a distant memory. He leans his head against the window, the coolness of the external environment oddly grounding as he thinks of his dear roommate and a clandestine focal point of his most tooth-rotting indulgent domestic dreams– you, who unknowingly filled in the cold and empty spaces of his life. Even when he’s out in the field, hyperfocused on the mission objectives, his thoughts always find a way to circle back to you: he swore to protect you from the horrors he’s faced, even from afar, yet he’s too terrified to ask for more of you. For the longest time, as a man who is no longer a stranger to losing people he cares about the most, the idea of being your trusty roommate was enough for him.

“Catch some sleep, Leon.” He cranes his head to look at his coworker from the corner of his eye.

“We’re still a few minutes away. I’ll wake you up once we’re there.”

Leon mumbles a faint ‘thanks’ before settling cozily into his seat, succumbing to the bone-deep exhaustion and dozing off to a light slumber.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He tries to keep his footfalls as light and muted as possible, a conscious effort to make the pads of his heavy combat boots lighter. Now, he stands in front of the door; he’s sure that you're fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the world around you as you’re somewhere in dreamland. Carefully, he unlocks the door and steps inside a dark home before locking it once again behind him; everything is neat and in order, just like how he left it 3 months ago, though the couch definitely looks a lot cleaner, the throw pillows have cases he’s never seen before, and the air smells faintly of mistletoe room spray. He walks down the hall, careful to avoid bumping into anything, and turns the corner where the bedrooms would be– yours to the right and his to the left. He doesn’t mean to be creepy or unsettling but as he stands near your door, he listens closely for any noise and to his relief, he only hears soft snores which ever so slightly tilts the corners of his lips skyward. Once he realizes that he’s grinning fondly, he brings a hand to rub at his stubbled chin as he chastises himself for foolishly folding for something as simple as a soothing slumber of the one person who unknowingly occupies all 4 chambers of his heart.

“Mushy,” he inaudibly scolds himself while still sporting a stupidly-in-love grin.

Shaking his head to rid his mind of such soft thoughts, he decides to head into his room and have the first proper sleep he’s gotten in months. He forgoes a shower– too tired to have one, fuss around with his sling, and wait for the water to run warm. Grabbing a clean blanket from one of the cabinets inside his bedroom, he kicks off his boots then lays down on his bed and drapes it over himself, laying on his bare mattress in his Levi’s and the same black shirt, his leather jacket now on the ground somewhere near his boots.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Morning comes, prompting you to start your day a minute before your alarm disturbs the tranquility. After your morning rituals, you cook yourself a packed lunch to bring to work in order to save up for a gift for Leon– that is, if work won’t hog him until Christmas. You’re not even sure what he likes aside from sleek watches and neat jackets, something within the bounds of your salary. A shaving set? Premium leather cleaner? A gift card to a popular barbershop in town? Something for a grill? Does he even own a grill?

“I swear, Leon, you’re so going to get Vaseline lip balm from me because I don’t know what you want that I can afford,” you tell yourself as you flip the food over to thoroughly cook the other side. “What the hell do you even do for a living to earn 6 figures? How are you still living in an apartment and not in some mansion at a mountain overlooking an ocean, seriously. Might just be a man thing.”

“Not really a big fan of huge houses,” a raspy and baritone voice coming from behind you responds.

Your heart leaps and lodges into your throat, turning quickly as your breath hitches while you come face-to-face with the owner of that voice with your eyes wide. A soulful, honest-to-god scream coming from the depths of your chest crawls its way out of your chest and it’s now Leon’s turn to be wide-eyed and off-guard, his face nearly mirroring the same shock from your own face.

“Easy, it’s just me!” Leon explains, voice tinged with his own nerves– too much for just having woken up in the morning.

“You scared me! Why are you freaking out?!” You say with a flinch. “What the hell, Leon?!”

“Smelled something good cookin’ so I got up,” he begins to explain as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Missed your cooking.”

Unable to form coherent words with the overwhelming blend of emotions, you opt to go in for a hug. In your haste, you don’t notice the black sling that nearly blends in with his shirt. To your confusion, he steps away an inch and politely extends a hand to place some distance between you both.

“Arm,” he points to his injured left arm. “I just got it treated yesterday so uh… we’re gonna have to find an alternative to the usual hugging.”

With the dramatic overload of information dumped on you all at once in under a minute, you end up sobbing instead and you’re certain you don’t look a single bit attractive which definitely won’t work in your favor if you want to woo your roommate.

“Don’t scare me like that again!” You sniffle as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand. “And your arm too, that looks like it hurt like a bitch.”

He chuckles and steps closer to you, bringing you into a one-armed hug as you press your face to his chest and cry a little more at him being back home safely, at the injury he sustained, and at the unintentional scare he gave you.

“It’s so good to see you again, Leon. I was wondering if you’d even be back for the holidays,” you say as you begin to calm down.

“Yeah, me too. I’ve missed seeing you,” he regrets his words when he sees your eyes subtly widen at his phrasing. “And uh… I’ll be here until March so you can have me as long as you want. Feels good to not be bothered for a couple of months, y’know.”

“That sounds great. You’ll finally be able to watch the DVDs you have stacked,” you motion to the neatly kept stack on the center table beneath the wall-mounted TV.

“You can watch them with me if you want,” he instantly offers. You’re not sure if his cheeks have always had that subtle flush in them or if his pupils are normally large, but you agree to take his offer anyway.

You finish up cooking your miraculously unburnt lunch, packing it in tupperwares as Leon watches from the dining table while he nurses a mug of instant coffee; it’s a little sweeter and creamier than how he usually has his but he doesn’t mind, you cared enough about him to even share some of the sugary coffee you enjoy. You chatted about whatever happened in your life while he was gone– being a contender for a promotion, a plan on adopting a kitten around the new year, unproductive coworkers making workload heavier, and other random things that come to mind. Leon chuckles and offers his own commentary, missing your voice more than he previously thought; he notes how your hair is now a little longer, there’s slight bags under your eyes, and you’ve got a new bracelet; he wonders from who.

“Sorry but I’m going to cut my yapping short, I gotta clock in to work now.”

He nods, getting up to place his mug in the sink before walking you to the door.

“I’ll be here waiting, it’s not like I can go anywhere with this arm.”

You smile and give him a kind pat to his right shoulder. “Right. Welcome home, Leon. Feel free to grab some sweets by the way, they’re in the left cabinet.”

He nods and watches you leave, only shutting the door once you’re out of his sight. Looking down at himself, he decides to take a shower but first: he’ll have to figure out how to put on the waterproof cast by himself and thoroughly clean himself up.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

In the days leading up to Christmas, your routine merges with his in order to help him out; frequently seeing Leon shirtless becomes the norm along with helping him put on button-up shirts, slip his arms into cozy sweaters, changing his slings, and cooking meals for two… almost like how couples do. Despite how often you see his chiseled midriff, fingers cautiously ghosting over scar tissue and lean muscles, you always require a breather afterwards in order to rid your face of that telltale redness. Just hours ago, your cheek brushed against his and you swear you felt him rein in a sigh from escaping his lips; you wished that he was feeling just as clammy and nervous as you were, hearts synced in beats and powerful emotions. His eyes trailing your movements as you secure his sling doesn’t help your confusion too, causing you to frequent ‘signs that he is in love with you’ articles each night. On a more surely positive note, his fast food intake has been reduced and he’s been enjoying healthier meals that you cook: constantly giving you compliments and his detailed praises for each dish and technique. You cringe at yourself whenever your mind automatically drifts to your wild imaginations at being happily married to him.

Leon finds himself unable to fall asleep; he’s tried everything– white noise, a sleeping mask, and getting off of his phone but to no avail. Each time he sleeps a little deeper into his slumber, images of the grotesque and macabre dance through his mind and drive him mad. It’s not like he can even get into his usual sleeping position due to his arm, preventing him from fully getting comfortable, so he sits up with a groan before slipping out his room and into the living room; christmas decorations are half-up, some adorning the room in festive reds and greens but there are some that appear as if they were placed there without a care, a little more of the decorations still in boxes. You did note that you’ve been busy covering shifts and working overtime, leaving no time and energy to finish furnishing the house in time for Christmas. Struck by a brilliant idea, he takes the initiative to complete the rest of the decorations so you’d wake up to a Hallmark movie dreamscape in the morning… and it’ll all be thanks to him and you’d smile real wide and call him charming– he’s getting ahead of himself, a mindless smile once again gracing his features. He gets to work on what he can, finding little to no trouble on using one hand for this task.

He shocks himself with how good and fitting his pairings are: the decorations, tinsel, wreaths, and holiday charms complementing each other a lot better than he expected. Maybe he should come over to the Redfields and help them put up decorations, Chris could seriously use some lessons on coordinating and matching. One break per hour turns into two then three and eventually, he’s conked out on the couch with a box of christmas balls on his lap and tinsel on his free hand; his mouth his open, head thrown back and some brunette fringe curtaining an eye. You’d love to spend the entire day giggling and describing the state you found your endearing roommate, teasing him to no end– the poor man woke up confused, seeing the first rays of daylight filter in and hear your muted chuckles as you took pictures of him.

“Fell asleep decorating?” you ask, though it’s a little pointless to ask: you know the answer.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck before setting aside the box and standing. “I couldn’t sleep last night so I decided to get busy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I seriously don’t mind. I could use some help since I’ve been so busy and tired so you’re heaven-sent for putting some of it up, thank you again. You’ve done so much for me already–”

“No, you’ve done so much for me already. Don’t give me all the credit,” he says with a timid grin.

You walk around, stopping around the walls and tables and in front of the tree. “You’re really good at this! You even swapped out some of the things I already put up– no biggie though, it looks even better now. Who knew Leon Kennedy could make a–”

“Hallmark movie dreamscape?”

“Yeah!”

The entire thing isn’t particularly funny or the pinnacle of comedy but you both find yourself sharing a fond chuckle and you feel your hummingbird heart rattle against its bone-cage and Leon already knows he’ll be obsessing over this moment all day long.

“You’re great at this, Leon– genuinely. It’s so… pretty and magical and basically the stuff of dreams. I love the arrangements, I don’t know what’s better to keep staring at: you or this Christmas wonderland.”

He’s sure to yap Hunnigan’s poor ear off all afternoon while you’re out.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

From that day on, he spends most of his days (and sleepless nights) planning the perfect confession: writing it down on paper, pacing around the room acting it out, and mumbling the words he’ll use. He knows he’s acting and treating this like a silly teenage boy with an out-of-league crush and in a way, he thinks you are: you’re heaven-sent, God’s apology for all the evil and scum in this world. He giggles and chuckles at the prospect of confessing to you, getting all wiggly until an ache in his bad arm cuts it short and causes him to wince for a moment before getting back to where he left off. Claire calls him delusional, Leon thinks he’s being a romantic visionary.

The sight of Leon’s brightened, reinvigorated puppy eyes stuck with you until you reached your workplace; those bedazzled eyes, coupled with his perfect smile, is the kind of thing that belongs to someone who has it all: charm, looks, and confidence. If there were already others interested in him, surely you can’t compete: he deserves someone bolder and more upfront, not just someone fumbling with half-hearted attempts to be seen by their secret darling. Every attempt to flirt and hint at your affections seemed to go unnoticed, his responses always polite but never suggestive of anything more; maybe you weren’t clever enough to capture the attention of someone as effortlessly suave as Leon Kennedy

“It’s not his fault,” you bitterly thought to yourself as you bit on the edge of your pen. “I’m just not that outstanding for him to leave an impression…”

“Who’s fault?” your coworker asks, peeking over their cubicle.

“Nothing,” you quickly dismiss the slip-up. “Work must be getting to me, I’m talking to myself now, haha...”

There’s already an ‘incident’ wherein you took the time to shape the foam in Leon’s coffee into a heart. “Thought I’d sprinkle some love for your day.”

“Lattes aren’t really my preference but thank you,” he responded that one embarrassing morning. “Mm, this is really good.” Despite him enjoying the coffee enough to take it to work, it still left you red-faced and ashamed of yourself.

Unwilling to let other embarrassing memories like these get the best of you, you push those thoughts down before they have a chance to simmer up and bother you so you occupy yourself with work.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I can do it myself,” Leon mutters half-heartedly though his predicament betrayed his words: the remaining sleeve of his favorite sweater dangling around his neck like a sad scarf.

You ignored his stubbornness, hands gentle as you fumbled with his sweater as you fixed it up for him before slipping his bad arm inside with tender care.

When the sleeve finally aligned, it’s as if your heart overrode your ability to logically reason with yourself and so, you placed a hand on his stubbled cheek to steady him. The touch lingered for a little longer, the seconds stretching on a little longer. Leon’s breath camps out in his throat, too terrified to make a little move and shatter the magic. Unfortunately for him, you took your hand back as if his face was a cup of hot cocoa too hot to hold.

“Sorry,” you whisper before backing off, leaving an achy emptiness in the blue-eyed agent’s heart. “Is it all okay now?”

“Huh? Right– yes, it’s fine now. Thanks, by the way.”

You nod, excusing yourself from his presence to occupy yourself with something else, the awkward void palpable than ever though you both know that you felt a shared crackle of something precious.

The night is all so perfect and cozy– a delectable Christmas feast, soft Christmas sweaters, and a comforting atmosphere settling over your shared apartment with Leon. You don’t want this night to ever end, for this feeling to dissipate come morning time. It’s now or never, so you direct Leon to stand with you in the arch of the doorway. Taking a deep and steadying breath, you let your feelings be known before the fear can ruin everything again.

“I know you probably think that this is sudden,” you carefully begin. “But it’s not. It’s been simmering for a year and 3 months now– each time you come home from some work-related thing or when I make you smile or when I help you out with your sweaters and shirts, there’s this feeling that threatens to crumble me deliciously and it’s all because of you.”

Leon tilts his head, unconsciously mimicking a confused puppy. “What do you mean…?”

“Under this stupid mistletoe that I placed while you were taking the pies from the neighbor, I can’t let this moment pass without me being honest to you: you mean so much to me– so much that if I lost you, I’d go insane. I’m completely, overwhelmingly, and all-consumingly in love with you and honestly, it’s impossible not to.”

Your voice trembled and if even the slightest thing didn't go your way, you’re certain you’ll cry from the immense pressure on you. You laugh softly, trying to soothe yourself as a nervous warmth flows through you.

“You’re not the only one,” Leon speaks up, voice thick with emotion, “who’s been thinking about this moment.”

He steps closer, cautiously perching his right hand on your hip.

“I was going to say something first but you beat me to it first,” he adds while sporting a tantalizing smile. “I planned on telling you later tonight but guess I’ll have to let you win this time.”

Your eyes locked with his, the weight of formerly unspoken feelings suddenly lifting and giving way to something charged. Taking a tiny step closer, you cup his face in your hands again and you sigh at how perfect the fit is.

“So… what did we learn?” You jokingly ask.

“That we both suck at keeping secrets?” He jokes back.

A shared and equally shy giggle erupts between you two like you’re both teenagers new to the whole shtick of love.

“So… you do know what being under a mistletoe requires us to do right?” he softly asks.

Beneath the mistletoe, time seemed to stop and the seconds that flowed were tinged with genuine nervousness intensifying as your faces drew ever nearer.

“I love you,” Leon says before meeting your lips with his, gentle and feather-light with hints of hesitation. It was slow yet sweet, sweeter than all the combined holiday treats you both had. The shared warmth and affection blurred the rest of the world into insignificance; each brush of lips were delicate like falling snowflakes. As you both pull away to catch air, you rest your foreheads together and share a giggle in the tingly aftermath of your first kiss.

NOTE - Happy holidays everyone <3 I would like you to give yourself either a tight hug, a pat to the shoulder, or both for making it to the end of the year. The year certainly wasn't smooth or easy for some of us but I'm proud of you for ending the year with me and the rest of us who deeply care about you. I hope that every single one of you are warm and cozy in your homes, with stomachs happily full from a tasty dinner, and content with your lives right now. If you're currently going through something, please hold on and stay strong: things will all be okay in the end and if they aren't okay right now then it's not the end just yet-- rest and slow down if you must but never give up <33 You got this and I know you do because I believe in you, sending virtual hugs and kisses to every single person who sees this post on their dashboards *<]:D !! If you're seeing this, thank you for taking time to read and interact with this post :3 I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune (the moving red line divider), @bernardsbendystraws (the Christmas lights divider), and @wcnderlnds (the red and blue snowflakes) + the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy fluff #fluff #biohazard #leon kennedy infinite darkness #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil infinite darkness #leonsecretsanta2024 #leon scott kennedy fluff

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swordy-da-goat · 10 months ago

Note

(last ask for a while bc I feel like I'm nagging you sorryy)

I thought road wiz was like an scp, and now we have hazard monster.

Anyway I wonder how either of them would react to being treated like scps? Hazard would be a keter for sure.

Also if you made a road wiz plush I'd 100% buy it I love him sm

got carried away my bad

The Road Wiz

Item# : SCP-████

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Contained within a Standard Secure Humanoid Containment Cell in ██████, Sector-██ at Site-██. SCP-████ will often teleport out of their containment cell for an unprecedented amount of time before teleporting back. They are allowed to freely walk around the foundation as their skills and “magic” are very useful in securing anomalies, reducing injuries and casualties, and dealing with containment breaches.

Description: A humanoid entity (hard to distinguish if SCP-████ is a human or some other entity due to their hat and scarf obscuring facial view. Request to remove hat was met with opposition) wearing a hat resembling an orange traffic cone with one big and small white, reflective stripes, an orange safety vest with a long cloak attached from the backend, a yellow and black safety coverall, and long black leather and rubber gloves and boots.

SCP-████ is also in possession of a long black staff with a ring on the tip of unknown material. This staff is able to produced anomalous properties which can be better described as “magic.” Their “magic” seems to be a parody of signs, spells being correlated by the top of their staff in a hologram visual. One example being the staff projecting a deer sign when generating a glowing holographic version with mass of any of the Cervidae family.

Addendum 1: Discovery

SCP-████ was first captured near American state highway ██. The foundation was alerted when nearby police claimed that quote, “a portal just f█cking opened in the middle of the lobby where then a weirdly dressed guy wearing a cone on their head kicked a guy through saying to arrest him for drunk driving.” All personnel in the police station were given Class A amnestics. Foundation personnel were then deployed to the last place SCP-████ was spotted. Foundation were able to find SCP-████ feeding some stray dogs under American state highway ██. SCP-████ willingly agreed to come with the foundation for questioning.

Addendum 2: Interview

The following interview was conducted by Dr. Richards

Dr. Richards: Good afternoon SCP-████, I hope you’re feeling comfortable right now.

SCP-████: No, no, I’m fine thank you. Though I would prefer if you addressed me by “Road Wizard” or just “Wiz.” SCP-████ sounds a bit degrading.

Dr. Richards: …Noted. Anyways the foundation would like to ask you questions regarding your… job.

SCP-████: My job! Well you see Dr., as my name suggests, I am a wizard. My job is simply to keep everyone safe and responsible. The world is a very dangerous place, you SCP foundation folks would know that better than anyone about that fact!

Dr. Richards: You know of the SCP foundation?

SCP-████: Of course I do! Very big fan of your work! Trying to keep everyone safe from all these dangerous anomalies. Kudos to you guys, kudos!

Dr. Richards: Uh, thank you? Anyways, can you detail how you usually preform your job, or keep people “safe?”

SCP-████: Uh… I guess lecturing people on the rules and importance of road rules, filling up potholes, sticking reflective poles near edges, stuff like that. Pretty mundane huh?

Dr. Richards: What about your staff? What do you use that for?

SCP-████: Oh my staff! Well, I use it to channel my magic for the more dangerous part of my job. Magic can be real dandy in a rock slide.

Dr. Richards: I see.

Room is silent as Dr. Richard pauses to write notes.

Dr. Richards: *coughs* Um, SCP- sorry, Road Wizard. If you don’t mind me asking, I know you dub yourself as the “Road Wizard,” but is that the only safety concern you have? Or are there others like you that specialize in other hazards?

SCP-████: Funny you should ask that Dr., my real name’s actually the Safety Wizard. I just go with road because America has a crap ton of cars you know? And no, there's no one else like me so far that I know of.

Dr. Richards: So do you specialize in anything else then?

SCP-████: Sure I do! Let me just-

SCP-████ then manifests their staff from their hand which starts to emit a blue glow. A train sign then projects at the tip.

SCP-████’s outfit then suddenly shifts into a mock version of a steam engine engineer of their outfit, complete with a cap, denim overalls, vest-cloak and a yellow and black striped bandana.

SCP-████: Trains! Guess you could say I’ve become the “Rail Wizard!”

Silence.

SCP-████: Haha, sorry. There are other specialities too, but it’d probably take a while to show you all of them.

Dr. Richards: So are you able to switch forms like that?

SCP-████: That’s right miss! It’s very important to be dressed proper for any job!

SCP-████’s staff projects a car sign and outfit returns to previous description.

SCP-████: So any other questions for me Dr.? I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to be going soon.

Dr. Richards: SCP- I mean Road Wizard, you are aware that we can’t just let you go out.

SCP-████: I understand your concerns Dr., seeing what kind of place you guys run. But believe me, I’m not a dangerous guy! And it’s not like you folks can keep me in here anyways.

Dr. Richards: What do you mean by that?

SCP-████: Oh nothing. Anyways, it was nice chatting with you Dr. Richards, but I really must be on my way. See you later!

Dr. Richards: Hey, wait!

*SCP-████’s staff projects a Two Way Traffic sign and a glowing, yellow portal appeared to the right of SCP-████. SCP-████ then enters through the portal which disappears.

[END LOG]

——————————————————————————————————

The Hazard Monster

Item# : SCP-█████

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-█████ should be contained within a 5 m x 5 m x 5 m chamber of reinforced concrete. Door and windows should be tightly sealed to prevent SCP-█████ from escaping through any cracks.

Description: SCP-█████ is an amorphous, black blob which can change its mass, texture, shape, and composition through anomalous means. SCP-█████’s face appears to be an NFPA 704 Diamond symbol. Each section of diamond can open up to reveal a set of teeth or eyes (amount varies). SCP-█████ normally uses its anomalous abilities to inflict injuries on people. The relationship between SCP-████, or as they dubbed themself, the Road Wizard, is very negative.

Addendum 1: Discovery

Foundation was first alerted of SCP-█████ when reports of multiple incidents were reported by the people in the town of █████████. Residents were reported being injured by a black shapeshifting blob. Foundation, with the help of the Road Wizard, were able to track down SCP-██████ and capture it. All town residents were given Class A amnestics.

#the road wiz #hazard monster #myart #sqwonks #this was fun to make #long post #the numbers are blocked out because they’re not official

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velvetdandeli0n · 20 days ago

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clementine!reader x canon!jj

warnings — insinuations of abuse, mentions of feeling neglected, shitty parents, mentions of a shotgun being held for intimidation

How They Met...

You had known JJ since you were both nearing eleven. Two kids desperate to escape Kildare, desperate to escape the misfortunes of family that life had placed you in; desperate to believe there was more for you in life than hurting. Finding each other had diminished the need for solitude. It had opened your little hearts to true safety, security, and friendship.

Your family owned two boats: a secondhand regal 33 (illegally purchased by your father) and a small splintered rowboat that you’d painted and named. When you’d first encountered it months before, it was an abandoned wreck, entangled in the branches by your uncle’s dock. Some teenagers had used it and then discarded it after they’d robbed him for his guns. The rowboat was technically yours—you’d found it, you’d fixed it up, and you’d looked after it—but nothing was ever really just yours in that family. Everything was on the table, and whatever your parents wanted, they’d claim ownership of through the “our roof, our rules”.

You weren’t an only child. Your older brother occasionally came back from long road-trips to check up on you, but there was only so much he could take being in that house. Once, when you were five, he’d tried to take you with him: packed up your essentials (your only priority being the chinchilla teddy he’d bought you from the zoo) in your little Spider-Man rucksack, wrapped you up in your sparkly winter gloves and thick coat, and made for his truck in the dead of night… he’d only driven as far as the end of the property, before a burly man emerged from the clearing with a shotgun pointed at the window. Your father, in his grubby wife-beater letting chest hair poke through, edged closer to the bonnet. “Turn back around or let her out, son.” Then there was a tapping on the passenger window: your mother. You were feet swinging and confused when your brother’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. You couldn’t understand why the ultimatum was paining him. Why, when he looked down at your little face, his bottom lip quivered. The cold had made your nose run, and he wiped the snot away with a sweater-pawed thumb. “I’ll stay,” you squeak out. He can’t look at you now, but when he turns he’s staring at the barrel of the gun through the window. Your father hasn’t budged. So your brother closes his eyes, pulls you in a tight hug and lets it linger before he unlocks the passenger door and lets your mother take you. His visits became sparing and lessened, until eventually they became fleetingly once or twice every few months and phone calls instead.

So taking that small rowboat out into the water from your dock was the temporary escape. A quiet, open space where you could finally take a deep breath and let your brain rest. It was three days towards your eleventh birthday, and your mother had just indirectly blamed you for the lack of money on the phone to one of her friends. She’d been invited to a brunch in figure-eight but had to turn it down. Whenever your parents spoke to each other or other people about you, in front of you, without even speaking to you… it was worse than them actually directing the digs at you. At least that way you wouldn’t question whether you even existed, if you were even visible to the eye.

Did anyone actually see you at all?

A loud squawk paired with a distant little boy shouting had not only knocked you out of your thoughts, but the squawking bird knocked you straight into the water. It was a hawk from the nearby nature reserve. Why it had targeted you, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you were grappling for your rocking boat but couldn’t get the grip.

“Here!” Another rowboat closed in, and a small hand reached for you. You let him help you hike up onto his boat. Once you’d settled on the wooden seat, your body wouldn’t quit shivering. “That thing sent you flying.” A boyish giggle left his belly.

“It’s not funny, I could’ve died!” You looked at him with an accentuated frown, scolding him. He flicked his near-white hair from his face. It was long and you wondered if he’d ever thought to tie it up. He looked about your age.

“Unless you were a fish or a mouse, it wouldn’t have hurt you that bad.”

“Are you an expert?”

“No, I’m JJ.”

His face is blank with sincerity, he isn’t trying to make a joke… he means it. He was reaching a mucky hand out for you to shake, and when you accepted it you found his palm was clammy. He pulled it away and wiped it down his cargo shorts.

“From the oars,” he clarified.

You just nod. “How often do you come out here? I haven’t seen you before.”

“I come out at night. That’s usually when my dad…” he trails off, looking at the house behind you. It’s the house opposite yours across the water. You couldn’t understand how you’d never met this other kid before. “I like the stars.”

“I’ve never thought to come out for the stars.”

“They’re very pretty,” he smiles warmly. “I think you’d like them.”

“I’m the opposite. I come out for the sun on the water and the fish, I like looking down and seeing them swim together… I used to like the wildlife too before it tried to kill me.”

You both laugh.

When your laughs die down, he asks with seriousness, “Do you come out to escape too?”

You nod. “I don’t like my side of the water. This is like safety being in the middle.”

“I don’t like my side either.”

“Then we can share the safety.”

He looks at you with curiosity, he’s never met anyone in his little, young life—even on the cut—with such a likeness to him.

“My mom always used to say sharing is caring.”

“Your mom was smart.”

“She was nice.”

The water hits your boat against his and you take that as a sign you should go. You hold the side of your boat and clamber over. The two of you share a gaze.

“Hopefully we’ll bump into each other here again,” you say. “Do you want to be friends?”

“Do you not have any?”

“I do!” You take a little offence. “I just thought we could be friends… obviously not, then!”

“No! No, I do want to. I just—I sometimes say things without thinking… my dad says it’s an ugly trait.”

“My mom says I cost her too much money…” A silence falls between you both. “It’s my birthday in three days, I’m having a birthday party, you can come if you want to.”

“That’s the same day as mine,” he beams. Then his smile falters. “My dad hasn’t planned anything… is it okay if I come? Your parents won’t be angry?”

“I want you there, I don’t care what they think.”

He nods vigorously. Life was so easy at eleven making friends and trusting wholeheartedly. Despite the cold in your own houses, you found warmth in each other. You look at the sun setting, “I should go home.”

“Same.” He looks back at his house in the distance. The car that wasn’t there earlier is now parked up outside. He sighs. He turns to you. “I’m glad we met. I like making new friends.”

MASTERLIST MOODBOARD

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x yn #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank au

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hoeneymilktea · 22 days ago

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deciphered ✧ tooru oikawa chapter 5 | rescuing sly fox

Your cousin, Hajime Iwaizumi—whom you haven't seen in a long time, invited you to support him at the largest street racing event in Tokyo. He told you he was a part of the Seijoh Brawlers, one of the notorious top five gangs affiliated with the underground street racing scene. Once he introduced you to his leader, Tooru Oikawa, a.k.a. Cypher—your interest piqued, curiously wanting to understand the true meaning behind his alleged nickname.

✧ pairing — tooru oikawa / afab reader ✧ genre — erotica/smut, action romance, crime romance, dark romance (absolutely no dv/sa), psychological thriller, crime/detective mystery ✧ rating — very explicit, 18+ mdni ✧ chapter word count — 7.9k ✧ content warnings — violence, street racing, references to drugs, explicit sexual content, heavy angst. see below break for chapter specific warnings ↴

author's note — This fanfic is inspired by the beautiful and amazing fanart of Street Racer AU Tooru Oikawa. Artist is @aikk00. disclaimer — I do not condone the romanticization of the yakuza or the reality of gang life as I intended not to portray that kind of interpretation, nor promote the activity of illegal street racing. Do not seek out these types of experiences as this work is just a piece of fiction. Please remember to read at your own risk.

renegade nights ⇠ rescuing sly fox ⇢ shower thoughts

✧ chapter specific content warnings: heavy violence, murder, blood, guns, minor character death(s), mentions of kidnapping and ransom

"I have to go right now, I have important business to do with DK."

"Now?" You panicked as he dropped the news on you so quickly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." He pitied, stroking the sides of your thighs with his thumb. "I'm having Leia take you back to my condo."

You watched both Kuroo and Oikawa roll out of the parking lot, the sound of their engines roaring through the street. Kuroo led in front while Oikawa followed closely behind, their red tail lights disappearing into a corner as they furthered their distance from Haiba Ramen.

Two Hours Prior — Cypher & DK

Oikawa grabbed the handheld radio transmitter from his glove compartment and flipped the switch on with his thumb. A static noise erupting from the device before it connected, granting him access to Kuroo's radio. "DK, you there?"

"Copy, Cypher." Kuroo's deep voice rattled through the small voice box.

"Follow you?" Oikawa asked as he pressed the small button on the side of the radio. He watched the bright red Nissan 350Z turn a sharp corner, entering into the Shuto Expressway.

"Roger." Kuroo's responded before he ended the line with a beep from the speaker. Oikawa saw him stick his right hand out of his window, two fingers motioning forward onto the road ahead.

While dropping his handheld radio transmitter on the passenger seat, Oikawa gripped the top of his steering wheel and curled his fingers around the edge of the leather. He glanced down at the middle console for a second, realizing you had left one of your personal belongings in his car. It was a small lip balm, securely tucked inside one of his cupholders.

His mind began to flood with the thought of you and your safety, wishing the double date between all four of you earlier should not have ended so abruptly, but unfortunately some situations took priority over others. To Oikawa, this was one of those situations.

When Kuroo called him over to talk back at Haiba Ramen, Oikawa thought it was going to be another fight on the streets as it was common between them both to settle disputes out. Though, once he saw the same despondent and worrisome look Kuroo rarely gave unless things were out of hand, he knew exactly what was to come.

Kuroo showed a picture of Shinsuke Kita—a.k.a. Sly Fox, tied up in a wooden chair that was rotten all over, handcuffed to the bars behind with his mouth gagged from a green bandana around his face. It was taken and sent by members of the Nohebi clan, a rival yakuza group to the Sakanosita clan that had a personal vendetta against Kuroo, Oikawa and Kita.

Underneath the picture was an accompanied text of Kita's address—the abandoned warehouse that previously belonged to the Sakanoshita family. It once housed all illegal trades and businesses, but now has been left abandoned after the head boss of the Sakanoshita clan passed away.

"Around the corner, in a few. Wait for my call." His handled radio beeped again with the sound of Kuroo's voice.

In the distance was the infamous Sakanoshita warehouse, situated on the brink of the Tokyo Freight Terminal, disguised as several shipping containers stacked together for privacy with a titanium roof. Unless you were working directly under the Sakanoshita clan, most employees in the pier never knew it was a hotspot destination for storing and transporting their contraband to different locations around Japan.

The Sakanoshita family had every political institution wrapped around their finger, and the Tokyo Police Department was no exception. Every illegal business and trade operated on the Tokyo Freight Terminal, as it was also the place Oikawa and Kuroo met for the first time while dealing.

Thinking back to that treacherous memory and his previous dangerously impulsive actions, Oikawa clenched his teeth and tried his best to bury it in the back of his mind. It was best that way, he assumed. He didn't want it to cloud his current judgement, but he found it difficult to withhold the trauma from resurfacing.

He watched Kuroo and his 350Z roll up on the outside of the warehouse and stop right in front of the entrance. The headlights of his car flashed directly on Kita's black Nissan Silvia parked on the side, his bumper scraped up and dented with a broken window on the passenger side door.

Oikawa grabbed the walkie talkie and pressed his thumb against the side button. "DK, slowly. Try your best to not make too much noise going in."

"Roger, Cypher."

Oikawa threw the small radio back onto the passenger seat again, hearing a beep as it plopped down. He placed his right hand on the top of the steering wheel and his left hand on the gear shift, switching it to first. He followed Kuroo as he parked right next to Kita's Silvia, making sure the low rumble of his car was the quietest he could possibly make it.

He watched Kuroo turn off the ignition and flicker his headlights shut. Oikawa did the same, clicking the keys backwards and completely turning off his engine. Once he dimmed his headlights, he turned to Kuroo on his right, waiting for a signal.

Oikawa didn't mind that Kuroo took the lead—he usually did when all three of them went on operations and discreet jobs for the Sakanoshita family. Even when Mr. Sakanoshita died, all three of them remained partners for all underground deals and businesses. Despite the street racing gang rivalry façade they put on with one another, nonetheless they knew when business meant business in all kinds of its forms and they all worked well with it.

Kuroo stepped out of his vehicle and closed his door quietly before Oikawa followed suit and placed his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. He leaned over and opened the glove compartment again and took out his gunmetal pistol, quickly loading the magazine with the accompanied bullets. He loaded each bullet individually with precision—his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows pinched as he focused carefully.

Once Oikawa pushed the magazine back into the pistol and cocked the slider, he looked to the left again—your little lip balm resting in the cupholder. Oikawa sighed and reached over to grab it before inspecting the tiny thing, including the labels and the flavor—basically anything he could read that could distract him just for a moment.

He uncapped it and brought it to his mouth with a smile, swiping it across his bottom lip. Oikawa knew that using your lip balm would have made you upset, but he wanted one last reminder of you that brought peace to his mind—knowing after this was all over he would be with you again, wrapped safely in his arms.

He quickly placed it in the back pocket of his jeans before grasping the door handle and swinging his car door open, stepping one foot at a time on the wet asphalt riddled with moss and ocean salt.

Oikawa flinched, knowing his expensive sneakers were to be defiled by the filth of the ocean scum and the oxidized copper embedded in the asphalt, including the scuffs and blood splattered on that he was expecting later as well.

He gently closed his car door and locked the RX-7, making sure only the locks clicked without the beep. Oikawa could feel the cool spring air breeze against his skin as he was left in his white t-shirt, remembering he let you keep his bomber jacket. He glanced over at Kuroo leaning on the edge of his car, hands placed in his red cargo pants while looking down at his shoes.

"What d'ya need that for?" Kuroo asked after he glanced up, his eyes pointing in the direction of Oikawa placing the pistol on his hip, straddled between his jeans and his white t-shirt.

"You never know." Oikawa replied in a monotonous voice, knowing that Kuroo knew exactly why he had the pistol beside him.

"Cypher, we're not trying to kill anyone here, we're only here to negotiate." Kuroo crossed his arms as he stared at Oikawa. "We could face serious consequences if this gets out of hand."

He didn't respond immediately as he walked past Kuroo, his eyes fixated on the entrance of the warehouse. Without turning his head back, Oikawa scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "You trust people too easily."

Kuroo followed closely behind with a switchblade in his hand, ready for anything. Oikawa questioned why he didn't keep a gun on him in case of emergencies as Kuroo knew better than to bring a knife to a gunfight. Nonetheless, he was right—if the situation becomes out of hand, consequences are to be faced in the future.

Once reaching the entrance of the warehouse, they pressed their backs up against the cold titanium exterior of the shipping containers, sneakily peeping their heads into the void of the room. Kuroo looked in first, placing a lone finger up to his lips as he commanded Oikawa to be quiet.

The atmosphere grew heavier as it became harder for them to breathe. Oikawa cocked the pistol, placing both of his hands on the handle, one finger resting on the right side of the trigger.

Kuroo had his switchblade ready before he walked in discreetly, Oikawa following closely behind. The first thing they noticed was the eminently dark interior of the warehouse with empty boxes, unused oil barrels and blood stained plastic tables pushed to the sides of the walls. Yet, what caught their attention was the single lightbulb slightly swinging above Kita's unconscious body tied to a rotten oakwood chair.

Kuroo instantaneously rushed to his side as Oikawa pointed his gun around the warehouse, one eye closed as he tried his hardest to look out for any of the Nohebi clan members hiding in the dark.

"Sly Fox," Kuroo whispered as he tapped on Kita's cheeks a few times to wake him up. "Sly, it's me, DK."

Kita's face was bruised and beaten—his lip split open and swollen to the touch while scratches and lacerations scattered his face. He was bleeding from his forehead as dried blood scattered his left eyelid, a black eye resting on his right. His hands were tied behind the rotten bars of the wooden oak chair, his fingers broken and bleeding as his frail wrists were slit with the rough rope tied around them.

Kuroo placed his hand on the back of Kita's damp hair, the ends of his locks dripping of sweat, blood and grime. His whole head flung back, his lips parted as Kuroo tried to wipe the fresh blood off his lips with his thumb.

Oikawa lowered his gun down to help Kita, holding him still as Kuroo pulled out his switchblade to untie his hands. He looked down at Kita again, his infamous Inarizaki Bois hoodie slashed open across his chest, exposing a large wound on his torso. His snake tattoo poked out from his chest, the eyes of the animal crossed out with two puncture wounds.

"Hold Sly Fox still while I untie his hands." Kuroo commanded before crouching behind the oakwood chair. Oikawa placed his hands behind Kita's head, holding him up.

"Sly, hang in there." He comforted, looking straight at Kita's desolate and pitiful expression as he laid unconscious. Kuroo flipped open the blade and quickly sawed the bondage around his wrists, cutting open the knot as the ends of the rope frayed.

Oikawa hovered his hand over Kita's mouth to make sure he was still breathing while Kuroo cut the last of the knots, freeing his wrists. They both flung Kita's arms up and around Kuroo's shoulders, positioning his body behind his back as he carried him off the chair.

Kita released a guttural sound in the back of his throat as his eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting out of unconsciousness. Oikawa patted his cheek several times, looking at his face resting behind Kuroo's shoulder.

"Sly, you okay?" Oikawa asked, peering down at Kita as he mumbled incoherently.

"Mmhmm... t-t-ta..." Kita mumbled as his mouth drooled on Kuroo's shoulder.

"Sly," Oikawa placed his left hand on his knee while he waved his right hand over Kita's eyes.

"Trap," he whispered, his eyes shot wide open as his expressionless face transformed into a panicked frown. Kita's hazel eyes shifted to the left as his breath hitched, his lips quivering against the cold air.

"It's a trap!"

"What is he talking—"

Boom.

Oikawa had been cut off by a loud gust of gunshots echoing throughout the air, shooting in all directions of the warehouse. Both Oikawa and Kuroo instantly dropped down to the floor, placing their hands over their heads to protect their ears.

Kuroo winced as Kita crushed over his figure, the weight of Kita's body pushing down onto his lungs. His cough was overshadowed by the rounds of gunfire shooting throughout the air. He glanced at Oikawa, begging for his help as Kita fell unconscious again.

Oikawa noticed Kita's gun holstered around his calf, sticking out from the bottom of his black jeans. He shuffled on the ground, pulling his body up by his forearms before he scrunched back the hem of his jeans on Kita's left leg. He reached his hand up and grabbed the gun from the strap, pulling out a clean and sleek all-black pistol.

Kita's gun was heavy and loaded with his moniker initials "S.F." engraved in the front. Oikawa pushed it across the floor with his leg and watched it spin on the concrete floor, letting Kuroo grab the handle as he quickly placed it in between his black tank top and red cargo pants.

"Give me your blade, now!" Oikawa loudly whispered, placing his hand out in front of Kuroo's face. He obliged and twirled the switchblade from his hand on the concrete towards Oikawa's direction. Before he grabbed the handle and locked the blade back, Oikawa shoved it into his back pocket and placed his hands back onto his head.

The gunshots stopped for a moment before Oikawa noticed seven men step out of the darkness behind a stack of shipment boxes in the corner of the warehouse. They all wore dark green suits and black shades—a wretched aura wafting from their crooked smirks.

The one in the middle stepped up forward and removed his black sunglasses, slicking back his dark hair to reveal his thin, snake-like eyes. Oikawa couldn't believe it, he was so sure he'd never see him again—

"Tooru Oikawa. Tetsurou Kuroo. You fuckers."

Oikawa furrowed his eyebrows as he looked up to see Suguru Daishou of the yakuza Nohebi clan—a.k.a. Fangs —hovering above him, hissing under his breath while placing his hands in his pockets. At the snap of his fingers, two of the men beside Daishou instantly rushed to Oikawa, Kuroo and Kita on the floor.

"Fangs, you son of a bitch—fuck!" Oikawa groaned as one of the men stomped directly on his back, digging the bottom of his heel against the crook of his lumbar, firmly placing all of his weight on Oikawa's body beneath him. He closed his eyes and winced when the man tied his hands together with rough-textured rope, deliberately scratching the fabric against his wrists.

He looked over at Kuroo, who was already restrained by one of the other men—his hands tied behind his back with the exact same rope. Kita laid unconscious on the floor beside him, his cheek pressed against the concrete with his limbs twisted in multiple directions.

"After all these years, I've finally caught you both." Daishou slowly made his way over to Oikawa struggling underneath the yakuza henchman's grip on his body. He looked down at Oikawa, giving an ominous smirk before kicking him straight in the face. "You thought you guys could get away with what you fucking did?"

The tip of Daishou's shoe slammed against the edge of Oikawa's jaw, dislodging a joint on the left side of his mandible. Oikawa closed his eyes and groaned, ejecting bloodied phlegm from his mouth.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself before coughing profusely, struggling underneath Daishou's grip before looking up at him grin from ear to ear.

"You both make me sick. After what you guys did to Mika, you both deserve more than death itself." Daishou kicked Oikawa in the jaw again, instantly satisfied by the wails of anguish underneath his foot.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Kuroo coughed as the yakuza henchman stepped further on his back, digging his heel deeper against his spine.

"My Mika, you fucking killed her."

"Sorry sweetheart, but I don't know who the fuck you're talking about." Kuroo sarcastically retorted before the yakuza henchman stomped his other foot on his head, smashing his cheek against the filthy concrete floor. Kuroo let out a disdained low grunt, instantly shutting his mouth closed.

"Maybe this will jog your memory, you piece of shit." Daishou pulled his own pistol out from his waist, aiming it towards Kuroo.

"Wait! Wait! Hold the fuck on! I legitimately don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Who the fuck is Mika?!" Kuroo squirmed underneath the yakuza henchman's grip, who had already drawn his own gun at Kuroo's head.

Oikawa gulped hard as his eyes widened, knowing who and what exactly happened to Daishou's beloved girlfriend, Mika Yamaka.

He could remember it like it just happened yesterday. Somehow, just like every other memory he tried to suppress, it became buried in the back of his mind until it was mentioned once again—only to infiltrate every crevice of his brain and trigger an intense traumatic reminder of who Oikawa was in his past.

Leia's father, Mr. Sakanoshita, secretly called Oikawa over for a meeting. He thought it was another transporting job as all of the work he had done under Mr. Sakanoshita were small side operations transporting the large shipments of whatever latest contraband he purchased and imported at that time. Yet, this particular job was very, very different from the usual.

Once Oikawa sat down, he realized he was the only one in the meeting beside Mr. Sakanoshita himself. Usually Kuroo, Kita and Leia sat in as well, as the four of them would go on transportation operations frequently together . Unfortunately for Oikawa, that meeting was not one of those jobs.

Regarding how much of a terrible man Mr. Sakanoshita was—he had the idea of ransoming his rival yakuza clan in Tokyo, the Nohebi, out of billions of yen. He asked Oikawa to kidnap Mika Yamaka, the girlfriend of the Nohebi clan's leader, Suguru Daishou.

Oikawa hesitated at first; he hadn't kidnapped someone before on his own, much less an innocent woman. Though, due to his previous affiliation with the yakuza in Osaka, Mr. Sakanoshita looked into Oikawa's time serving as the leader of his own section. He was involved in multiple heists, kidnappings and murders of several men held for ransom instructed by the boss of the Kitagawa Daiichi. This job wouldn't have been new for him, and Mr. Sakanoshita knew that.

He was about to decline his offer before Mr. Sakanoshita shined a bright one-hundred million yen in front of him—all paid and given before he even did the job itself. At the time, Oikawa relied only on his side deals, street racing bets and the Seijoh Brawlers' tune shop for cash, so this new influx of money really sealed the deal for him.

Before accepting Mr. Sakanoshita's offer, Oikawa asked about why he hadn't proposed the job to Kuroo instead as he was loyal and much closer to the Sakanoshita family than he was. In fact, Kuroo was the one to give Oikawa the chance to work underneath the Sakanoshita Clan in the first place when he arrived in Tokyo.

Mr. Sakanoshita had a suspicion that Kuroo had been hiding things behind his back and compromising his loyalty to the clan. Although he knew Kuroo was with Leia, Mr. Sakanoshita believed he was growing "too soft" by dating his daughter. This didn't align well with the ransom, as Kuroo would have pitied Mika because of Leia and her similar position of vulnerability. He also suspected Kuroo had known more about his true intentions than he had hoped.

Mika attended the exact same university as you and Iwaizumi, the University of Tokyo. She was a full time student with easygoing nursing prerequisite classes and a rich yakuza boyfriend. Mika was carefree, reckless and vulnerable—which made her an easy target for ransom. Every weekday, she went to class in a luxurious white Lexus GS 350, a beautiful birthday present from her loving boyfriend, Suguru Daishou himself.

One night, Oikawa rolled up to the University of Tokyo in an old, beater-type 1996 dark green Honda Accord that Mr. Sakanoshita had lent him to use for the ransom. Mr. Sakanoshita provided her exact class schedule, knowing she had night classes specifically on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He scanned across the parking lot for Mika's Lexus GS 350, noticing an open parking spot beside her car.

He executed a plan that worked perfectly—after she finished her classes, he asked Mika to "help" him jump start his car. Oikawa had put on the perfect innocent and helpless act that any naïve girl would fall for. He wore fancy trousers and a button up shirt, slicked back his hair and covered his tattoos with makeup to fool Mika into believing he was a normal business major looking for a jumpstart on his old beater car.

The plan was foolproof—Mika instantly fell for his little act. The minute she arrived at her car and unlocked her door, Oikawa stepped out begging for her help with jumper cables ready in his hands. Much to her demise, she obliged and let Oikawa pop open the hood of her car, connecting the jumper cables to her battery.

Unfortunately for Mika, her lack of attention and car logistics failed to recognize Oikawa taking out her spark plug and pulling a few wires in the engine so her car wouldn't start properly. The minute he "fixed" his car, hers wouldn't work—causing Oikawa to coincidentally offer Mika a ride home. Alas, that would be the last of Mika's public appearances.

It wasn't hard for Oikawa to restrain her in the backseat either. He duct-taped her mouth shut and blindfolded her eyes while tying her entire body in rough-textured rope that grazed against her fragile skin whenever she resisted. Her irritating cries for help annoyed Oikawa to the point he had to pull over behind a remote gas station to keep her quiet.

Oikawa didn't mean to kill her as his intent was to put her to sleep. Yet, while she was in a tight headlock, Oikawa accidentally snapped her neck, severing her spinal cord. One hard twist to her throat and she was gone for good. Mika dropped onto the backseat of the Accord, her lips quivering as she struggled to breathe. Nonetheless, she died from asphyxiation and the fatal drop of her blood pressure.

Her lifeless body laid in the backseat of the shitty run-down Honda Accord as Oikawa looked down at his hands with a panicked and shocked expression; his eyes wide and his lips trembling. He had murdered plenty of men before, his kill count racking up into the double digits.

Yet, accidentally killing Mika was the one that broke him down to the core, as it reminded him exactly why he had left Osaka in the first place. It stayed in his consciousness for years after, suppressed away in the back of his mind.

He drove carefully in the night up the mountain to the Sakanoshita mansion with Mika's dead body resting in the backseat. Oikawa couldn't remember how the rest of the drive went before immediately rushing to Mr. Sakanoshita's office as his breathing hyperventilated, his eyes widening in fear and tears rushing down his cheeks.

Mr. Sakanoshita, being the shitty man he was, didn't mind Oikawa's convicted manslaughter. In actuality, he preferred if she was already dead anyways—it made the process a lot easier for him. He planned to not inform the Nohebi clan of her living status, letting them pay off the five billion yen before handing her body over.

Oikawa remembered Daishou's screams of anguish when one of the Sakanoshita henchmen opened the back door of the beater Honda Accord and kicked out Mika's lifeless body, stiff from the developing rigor mortis. Oikawa drove the car as fast as he could after he pushed her out, speeding away in the night as Daishou collapsed to his knees wailing over Mika in the rearview mirror.

Oikawa was instructed to dump the car in the landfill, dousing the Honda Accord with gasoline and setting the car aflame while getting rid of any evidence tracing back to him. He thought the deed was done and that he would never see Daishou or the Nohebi clan ever again after that. Years passed without anyone ever knowing Oikawa was involved with the death and ransom of Mika Yamaka—not even Kuroo himself.

Oikawa was certain that Daishou couldn't tell it was him in the drivers' seat of the getaway car as he wore a hat, sunglasses and everything he could to cover up his identity when they went to drop off Mika's body. Yet, Daishou still reduced it down to two men he knew worked under the Sakanoshita family: Cypher and DK.

Daishou knew it wasn't Sly Fox because of the way the driver of the car drifted the Honda Accord around a tight corner without fail. Only two men in the whole underground racing scene could drift so swiftly; Tooru Oikawa and Tetsurou Kuroo. That's how he lured them in anyways, targeting Sly Fox first to get to them. A firearms deal was the easiest to do—not every gang member bought drugs but every gang member needed a gun.

The Inarizaki Bois were the only "street-racing formed" gang involved with the trafficking of firearms, drugs and pirated goods—any type of contraband you could think of. The only thing they didn't dapple in was human trafficking, which was a whole other league to itself in Japan. Kita was the best at it, leading all of the members of the Inarizaki Bois to be dealers themselves rather than only him.

Unfortunately it left Kita to become too cocky with a lack of judgment on the kinds of customers that were buying his products. That's how the Nohebi clan captured Kita, luring him into the abandoned Sakanoshita warehouse and catching him off guard—mercilessly beating him while baiting Kuroo and Oikawa to his aid.

"Cypher! What the fuck is Fangs talking about?!" Kuroo screamed at the top of his lungs, his eyes filled with panic as Daishou and his henchmen aimed two pistols at his head.

Oikawa's stomach dropped, unable to speak as Kuroo's head was gunned down onto the filthy concrete. He never told Kuroo about the ransom, even long after the death of Mr. Sakanoshita. It was just one of the few things Oikawa kept from Kuroo and Leia, hoping they never had to find out about it.

"Admit you killed her, fucker." Daishou pulled back the slider and cocked his pistol. "Or perhaps I'll pay a visit to Miss Leia Sakanoshita herself."

"NO!" Kuroo screamed and whimpered against the henchman's grip, trying to pry open the rope around his wrists. "I seriously don't know what you're talking about! I didn't kill anyone!"

Oikawa couldn't let Kuroo take the blame for something he didn't do, much less a job he didn't even know about. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, feeling the blood rush to his head as the henchman's heels dug straight beneath his right shoulder blade.

"Stop," Oikawa choked, looking up at Daishou as he lowered his gun at Kuroo. "I killed her. I killed Mika. DK had nothing to do with it."

"You fucking bitch." Daishou swung his right leg violently, kicking Oikawa in the mouth again. He felt the pop of his jaw shift to the right, the pain rushing to the left side of his face. Oikawa let out an anguished wail of pain as he spat out blood onto the concrete floor.

He looked up at Kuroo, watching his face contort into an expression he'd never seen on him before. His eyes looked drained of life and shocked to the bone as his mouth hung open, absolutely speechless over Oikawa's confession. A single tear dropped from his left eye, rolling down his dirty cheek and onto the concrete.

"What...?" Kuroo mouthed before Daishou kicked Oikawa in the jaw again, knocking his head down onto the floor.

"You're fucking dead, Cypher." Daishou stomped on Oikawa's head, the tip of his black shoe repeatedly shoved into his bloody mouth over and over again. He coughed profusely, aimlessly trying to catch his breath. The Nohebi yakuza henchman took his foot off of Oikawa's back, relieving the heavy pressure on his spine.

Daishou crouched down to Oikawa's level, placing the barrel of his gun against his head. He rested his index finger on the trigger, cocking the slider before leaning in closer to his face.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" Kuroo screamed, squirming underneath the Nohebi henchman. His eyes widened to the point they would pop out of his skull, panic and shock overriding his entire body as he watched Daishou press the barrel of his gun further against Oikawa's forehead.

"Isn't it obvious already? Sakanoshita hired Cypher here to kidnap and kill my Mika while he dished me out of five billion yen for her dead body," Daishou choked while his eyes watered, removing the gun away from Oikawa's forehead before he turned to Kuroo with a single tear dropping from his cheek. "Mika is dead because of Sakanoshita."

"Then why are you going after us?! Sakanoshita was the one who planned the whole thing, wasn't it?! He's dead already, so why are you going after Cypher?! It's obvious he was a pawn in Sakanoshita's fucked up game!"

Kuroo screamed in pain, writhing his body back and forth on the concrete underneath the yakuza henchman's grip. Daishou turned around back to Oikawa, wiping away the single tear on his face with the sleeve of his blazer.

"It's not the same. For my own satisfaction, I want Cypher to suffer the same way I did."

Oikawa looked back up at Daishou's tall figure leaning over him. An ominous grin formed on his face again, curling the corners of his mouth as he kicked Oikawa in the jaw. While he coughed up another phlegm of blood onto the concrete, Daishou crouched down and grabbed his face—forcing Oikawa to look at him.

"I saw that you got yourself a girl, Cypher." Daishou maliciously smiled, narrowing his eyes as he chuckled lightly, mentioning your name nonchalantly with a bitter taste lingering on his tongue. "She's very beautiful, just like my Mika. We all saw her in the passenger seat of your car during the race in downtown Tokyo."

"Don't you fucking dare," Oikawa growled through his teeth as he pinched his eyebrows, glaring straight up at Daishou. "I'll fucking kill you."

"Oh? Kill me? I'd like to see you try." Daishou grabbed Oikawa's face again, pinching the bottom of his cheeks with his thumb and index finger. "Perhaps I'll kidnap and tie her up while I slowly drain the humanity out of her lifeless, pretty little body. I'll kill her like you did to my Mika, maybe then you'll know how I felt."

Oikawa gritted his teeth and reached his right hand down into his pocket, feeling the rough handle of Kuroo's switchblade before he clicked the release button open. Luckily for Oikawa, both Daishou and the Nohebi henchman didn't notice him cut through the rope around his wrists as he slipped his right hand out.

Daishou tilted Oikawa's chin up and stared at the blood dripping down from his busted lip with the scuffs of his shoe smothered on his jaw. Before he could say anything, Oikawa smirked at him while furrowing his eyebrows and puckering his lips before spitting blood and saliva straight into Daishou's eyes.

"Fuck!" He stumbled back, wiping the filth from his eyes before Oikawa stabbed his left thigh with Kuroo's switchblade. His scream echoed into the warehouse as the small knife sunk deeper into his skin, the blood profusely oozing out of the wound because Oikawa struck his femoral artery.

Daishou looked up at Oikawa as he towered above him, the murderous look in his eyes overshadowed his scathed and battered face. His pupils constricted while he muttered a distasteful threat, an intense expression growing on his face as his eyes widened with rage.

"If you ever so lay a finger on her, I'll take my sweet time killing you, much slower than I did with Mika."

He yanked the knife out of Daishou's thigh, his blood coated along the blade. In an instant, the Nohebi henchman grabbed Oikawa from the back, placing him into a choke hold. He flung his body backwards, stabbing the henchman in the neck with the same switchblade. That same henchman released Oikawa and clutched his throat before falling to the ground, bleeding out from his neck.

In the corner of his eye, the rest of the Nohebi henchman tackled him and grabbed each of Oikawa's arms, restraining his movements. The switchblade in his hands dropped to the floor, the clink of the stainless steel echoing on the concrete of the warehouse. The henchman with black hair kicked the switchblade in the opposite direction, furthering its distance from him. Unbeknownst, he kicked it straight to Kuroo's side, to which he rolled over and grabbed it with the tips of his fingers.

Just as much as Kuroo was skilled with drifting, he was even better at handling blades. In one swift motion, he cut the ropes restraining his arms. Once he was free, Kuroo rubbed his wrists together and placed his palms on the concrete, lifting himself up from the ground. The henchman that previously had him restrained instantly charged towards Kuroo, pulling out his gun in the process.

Kuroo quickly reacted and ducked, dodging the bullet aimed at his body while kicking the henchman off his feet with his left leg, knocking the man in the dark green suit straight into the ground. The henchman let out a grunt as his body hit the floor, Kuroo body-slamming on top of him afterwards.

He pressed the blade up to the henchman's neck, the sweat accumulating on his forehead as he looked down at the man with blonde hair. Kuroo looked into his pleading eyes, begging for him to spare his life.

"I apologize, but this is just mere self-defense. You charged at me first." He then sliced his neck, blood dripping from the fresh wound as the henchman's eyes rolled back into his skull.

On the other side of the warehouse, Oikawa elbowed the henchman in the chest to his right, punching him straight in the face as he stumbled back. He lunged straight at the other henchman, pulling out his gun from his waist and shooting him straight in the leg. The man wailed in his ear before Oikawa smashed the handle of his gun in the face of the henchman, knocking out a bloodied tooth or two.

Behind him, Oikawa heard a screech of war coming from the remaining Nohebi members. He turned around and instantly dodged their punches, instead grabbing their leg and pushing them on the ground, punching them in the face repeatedly until he couldn't recognize the man anymore.

Some blood scattered across Oikawa's face as his mouth frowned and his eyes filled with rage and fury. The man below him screamed, his cries overshadowed by the rounds of clips echoing from a few feet away.

Oikawa looked behind him to see Sly Fox's pistol secured tightly in Kuroo's grip as he pointed straight at the dying aforementioned henchman. In an instant, Kuroo shot him in the chest, his body instantly hitting the floor once the round went off.

"I thought you said we shouldn't kill anyone!" Oikawa screamed across the warehouse, extending his arms out in confusion.

"This is just self-defense!" Kuroo yelled back with some humor in his tone while Oikawa shrugged it off and focused his attention to the other henchman lunging at him.

The shouting and loud clip rounds shocked Kita awake, his eyes fluttering open as he scrambled on the floor. While his eyes shot wide open and his breathing became heavy, Kuroo grabbed Kita's torso under his arms and lifted him up off the concrete. Once he got him up off his feet, Kuroo winced and then looked at Oikawa, nodding his head.

With his teeth clenched, Kuroo gave the emergency signal they both agreed upon if the situation went south—their plan B of killing them all off. He carefully dragged Kita behind a tower of barrels, escaping the fight and nursing Kita back to consciousness.

He knew what Oikawa was capable of, and leaving him to fight the henchman all by himself wasn't cowardly—in fact, Kuroo left Oikawa in his element. In all his time knowing him, he had only seen Oikawa truly unhinged twice—when they first met, and then now, facing the yakuza Nohebi clan.

Two henchmen were already dead, the bald one Oikawa stabbed in the neck and the blonde one Kuroo had shot earlier. That meant five men were left—one lying unconscious on the ground, face beaten to a pulp and unable to move; the other three henchmen lunging towards him. That just left Daishou clutching his thigh, trying his hardest to put pressure on his shot wound.

Oikawa took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, regaining his momentum. His right hand held his gunmetal pistol, his pointer finger resting on the side of the trigger. The second he opened his eyes, he cocked the slider and pointed it directly at one of the three henchmen, shooting him straight in the chest. Once his body was close enough, Oikawa kicked him in the throat, his head twisting to the left as he collapsed onto the concrete.

Whipping around, Oikawa closed his left eye and aimed straight at the other henchman running towards him, aiming directly at his forehead as a bullet lodged straight through his skull. His pupils rolled back, the whites of his eyes completely covering the entirety of his orbital fissure. The henchman hit the floor, his neck snapping under his weight. Oikawa kicked his back, his body rolling over onto his death.

The third henchman stopped in his tracks, his hands up in the air begging for him to spare his life. Through his rage, Oikawa mercilessly shot him three times in the chest—the rounds of bullets echoing into the warehouse as the henchman's body dropped on top of the others.

Oikawa was on a rampage, killing three men instantaneously within a minute of each other. He breathed heavily and watched the smoke come out the top of his pistol, slowly rising up to the ceiling. He turned around, only to make eye contact with Suguru Daishou once again.

Oikawa didn't feel anything inside of him. He couldn't find his humanity, nor his sanity as every ounce of compassion or sympathy for the man pleading beneath him drained out of his body. He didn't see a man avenging the death of his girlfriend—he saw a cowardly, weak excuse of a human being on his knees, tears in his eyes, begging for his pathetic life to be spared.

"Please," Daishou choked, his lips quivering as he dragged his body against the concrete floor. "I'll do whatever you want, I'll give you all my money. Just please spare me."

"Money can't spare your life."

In that moment, Daishou knew those words would be the last he heard on his final moment on earth. Before his life flashed before his eyes, he looked up at Oikawa pointing the tip of his sleek gunmetal pistol straight at him as he stared into the dark, empty abyss of the barrel. The violent and murderous look in Oikawa's bloodshot eyes sent a cruel, despairing chill down Daishou's spine before his mind went blank, completely disconnecting his consciousness from his body.

Oikawa shot three rounds all within a millisecond of each other, three flashes of bangs lighting up into the warehouse. He watched Daishou's body smash onto the concrete, his lifeless vessel lying in a pool of his dark, viscous red blood. Oikawa looked down at the gunmetal pistol in his hand, his bruised fingers grasping the handle tightly while his knuckles were battered and bleeding.

The warehouse fell silent, only the sound of water dripping from rotten pipes echoed throughout the inside of the large shipment container. It was still dark all except for the single lightbulb swinging over the decaying wooden chair knocked over on the concrete.

The smoke from his gun barrel wisped up to the ceiling, the smell putrid of metal bullets infiltrating the surrounding air around Oikawa. Nothing ran through his mind as the echoes of his heavy breathing filled the sound in his ears.

Kuroo and Kita slowly walk out from behind the barrels, Kita's left arm around Kuroo's shoulder. Kita limped alongside him as he placed his hand on Kuroo's chest for support. They both looked up at Oikawa, his eyes still bloodshot as his chest rose up and down from his staggered deep breaths.

"You're fucking ruthless, Cypher." Kuroo looked up with a small smirk on his face. He let out a hesitated chuckle, not sure if it was an appropriate time to crack a joke.

Murdering was easy for Oikawa. To simply take someone's precious life away from them in a single second, he never even gave it another thought. Most of the time his adrenaline and aggression take over his mindset, causing every single emotion in his brain to shut down. To his defense, most of the people he had killed were criminals with no morality deserving to die, specifically other men.

Though when he killed Mika Yamaka, her death meant something else to him. She wasn't anything like the men he had killed before at all, the only crime she could have committed was just unfortunately being associated with a truly immoral man.

The entire time, through the eyes of a manipulator, he tried his best to portray a side of himself that wouldn't scare you away. He purposely withheld showing the true side to himself—the ruthless, murderous and violent convicted criminal that is Tooru Oikawa.

He admitted that he was a bad person. Back down in Osaka, he was known for being a silent killer as his own clan fiercely feared him and what he was capable of. His reputation got around quickly, spreading far and wide to other yakuza families, not to mess with the Kitagawa Daiichi. Though, sooner or later, that same reputation would be his demise.

He lost his cool, calm and collected demeanor very quickly whenever faced in a life-or-death situation, and only one other person besides the people he killed had ever seen that side to himself: Tetsurou Kuroo.

"You alright?"

Kuroo's question snapped Oikawa awake, his eyes blinking a few times before his vision focused back on Kita. "Yeah, I'm fine. How's Sly Fox?"

"Doing better," Kuroo grabbed Kita's arm and pulled him off his feet again as they both limped closer to Oikawa. Kuroo glanced over to Kita, his eyes still fluttering as he deeply inhaled.

"Pretty sure he was high off his mind before we got here. Smell his breath, dude. Strong ass ganja. I think he's weaning off of it, though."

"I'm fine," Kita whispered, his body slowly standing up on his own. He placed his right foot in front of the other, stabilizing himself to walk. "I can drive, you guys don't have to worry about me."

"You sure?" Oikawa cocked an eyebrow, peering down at Kita struggling to stand up.

"Yeah," Kita exhaled as he placed both of his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He stood up quickly and reached his right hand behind his back, grabbing his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. "When am I ever sober though?"

Kuroo and Oikawa looked at each other and shrugged as Kita stood up on his own. The large slash across his chest scabbed over with his black Inarizaki Bois hoodie defiled and stained with his blood. He sighed and looked up at Kuroo before glancing back to Oikawa.

"Thanks, guys." Through his black eye and the blood and dirt smeared on his face, Kita expressed a lighthearted smile as the left side of his mouth curled up into his cheek. "I probably would have ended up dead like these fuckers if you guys didn't show up."

All three of them looked back at the seven dead bodies of the Nohebi Clan scattered across the concrete of the warehouse, blood pooled and spilled all over the floor.

"We should probably clean this up." Kita suggested, walking towards Daishou as he crouched down and lifted up his lifeless arm, dropping it back down onto his mutilated face—extremely disfigured to the point that you couldn't tell it was Daishou anymore. "Leaving a bunch of dead snakes in a Sakanoshita warehouse is probably bad luck for us. The police are gonna be on our asses again."

In a quick amount of time, the three of them dragged out all of the dead bodies belonging to the members of the Nohebi Clan out onto the Tokyo Freight Terminal, close to the water. Fortunately for them, the tide was aggressive tonight—the Pacific Ocean waves crashing against the pier as each dead body dropped down into the deep, dark abyss of the sea.

Daishou was the last to be dropped in, as Oikawa hauled his surprisingly light body against the pier, his feet dragging along the concrete. Heavy rain began to drop from the sky with small pellets of water collecting on Oikawa's white t-shirt, feeling the cold breeze against his biceps.

He waited until the ocean tide pulled back, allowing a perfect opening for him to drop Daishou's body in the deepest part of the pier. Oikawa counted to three before he flung his body over the edge, watching him descend into the dark abyss of the sea.

"Fuck," Kuroo breathed out as he peered down at the dark blue ocean swallow up Daishou's body. He placed his hands on his hips, his tight fitting black tank top ripped and stained with blood. "I still can't stand the sight of dead bodies."

"You get used to it," Oikawa responded, placing his hands in his pockets as he looked down at the ocean crashing against the side of the tall pier. Part of his hair was drenched from the rain, his wet white t-shirt clinging to the top of his shoulders. "But it isn't something to be proud of."

Once all the bodies were dumped, all three of them left the Tokyo Freight Terminal in their cars, roaring their engines into the night—leaving the old Sakanoshita warehouse abandoned once again.

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#oikawa x reader #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu deciphered #deciphered oikawa #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #tooru oikawa

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entomolog-t · 1 year ago

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The cold weather has me absolutely FERAL for cold weather G/t meet cutes (and not so cutes).

Like, maybe a borrower is looking for a particular item their resident human keeps in their purse/backpack etc... and while routing through it, they happen to miss the sound of the human's alarm going off (much earlier than their normal routine). They don't, however, miss the sound of them barreling down the stairs. Before their mind can form any semblance of a coherent thought, they're sent sprawling back as their whole world seems to flip as the human haphazardly grabs the back and rushes out the door.

The car rumbles to a start- and they hear the muffled sound of the human swearing and the door opening and closing again. They risk a peak outside the bag and see the human preoccupied with scraping ice of the window.

In a snap decision, they clamber out of the bag, hiding themselves in whatever spot they can manage. This was fine. They'd have to figure a way back in the bag later, but the human never left the house for longer than a few hours at a time. They'd never actually been in a car before- and the air that was being blasted through it was warmer than expected. Perhaps they notice some travel snacks laying about.

This would be fine...

Right?

Hours later the borrower is deeply regretting their choice to abandon the bag, having learned that the car, unlike the house, does not stay warm while the human isn't inside. They can hear the wind howling outside.

In the beginning it was almost peaceful. Watching the snow fall from the safety of a still bearably warm vehicle, sheltered from the ruthless wind outside... but as the chill sets in, so too does the panic.

They try to take their mind off the cold, moving around, exploring the vehicle to stave off both the chill and boredom alike, though their curiosity is short-lived.

Hours pass, the winter sun too quickly setting in the horizon, and taking with it what little warmth it offered. If they're lucky, maybe there's a discarded glove or hat left laying about that they can take some degree of shelter in, though it offers little relief.

They don't remember falling asleep, but they do remember waking- their body racked with brutal shivers, teeth clacking together as they curln in on themselves. It's dark. Though in the pale light of the moon, they catch the soft puffs of their breath in the air.

The approach of footsteps is both terrifying and relieving simultaneously. The borrower scrambles out of sight and lets out a barely audible sigh of relief as the car rumbles to a start, slowly bringing warmth back into the vehicle.

Their relief, however, is short-lived. The human tosses their bag in the back with a huff- out of reach of the borrower. They panic the whole ride back, trying to come up with some semblance of a plan but- nothing.

The human drives, eyes barely managing to focus on the road. Exam season was painful. They'd spent the whole day on campus trying to cram a semesters worth of material into their brain. They hadn't meant to stay so late, but their practice exams had gone... not great.

As they pulled into their parking spot, they could practically hear their bed calling their name. Though, as they go to exit the car, they hear something else entirely.

"Wait!"

They swallow. A strange feeling of dread pricking at the back of their neck as they realize the voice had come from their own car. Frantically, their eyes scan the car, thankfully seeing no person hiding in the back.

Just as they're about to dismiss it as some sleep deprived strangeness, they see it. A small figure, standing frozen on their passenger seat. Even at their tiny size, they're visible shaking.

"Please... I-" they seem at a loss for words. Maybe they don't know how to explain the situation, maybe they don't want to. The only thing they know for sure is they absolutely do not want to stay in the car another second.

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AHHH ! I love cold tiny meet cutes so much!! Especially when it differs a bit from the classic "tiny passed out in snow"

Anyways! Enjoy my current flavor of g/t brain rot😘

#DHDUSUS #its been a hot minute since i posted some brainrot #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t prompts #g/t fluff #g/t meetcute #g/t writing #size tumblr

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megalony · 10 months ago

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I'll Deal With Him

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by the lovely @klovesreading I hope this is what you were hoping for. Feedback is always appreciated, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: After (Y/n) saves a man from a car wreck, he starts to follow her a lot. And he isn't happy when he finds out she's married, either.

Enjoy.

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"What's your name?"

"Max."

"Okay Max, I'm (Y/n) and I'm gonna try and get you out of here." A calming smile flooded (Y/n)'s lips but she could feel her nerves starting to play up and ignite a spark deep in her stomach.

Her eyes cast around the upside down car before she took a deep breath and flopped down onto the concrete on her stomach. Her chest and legs pressed uncomfortably into the road and she shuffled and crawled along until she could whip her helmet off and wedge herself through the open door into the car.

Max was trapped. He was near the edge of the road, trapped inside an upside down car that was spewing smoke and partially crushed.

(Y/n) did her best to assess him, she could see his legs and feet wiggling around which suggested he had no paralysis or nerve damage. His hands were tapping anxiously on the steering wheel and he was rocking his head back and forth to try and keep himself calm.

She could see a worrying cut that was bleeding out on his left arm just below his shoulder but when she patted him down, she couldn't find any other substantial injuries. Apart from one or two broken ribs.

Lifting her head, (Y/n) looked around before she reached her hand out for the seat belt. "Hold still for me." She wrangled it free and unbuckled it, keeping her other hand on Max's neck to ease him down a little. She had to get him out soon, staying turned upside down like this wasn't doing him any good and she couldn't sort out his arm while he was trapped.

Wiggling back, she shuffled out and stayed laying beside the car so she could look around for her team.

"Guys, anyone free to assist? I have a driver stuck."

"Give me a minute." Eddie's huffed reply came through and (Y/n) started to nod to herself until she looked up.

"Now. I need you now, the car's leaking I have to get him out."

Petrol was pooling down the side of the car and onto the road. If that caught fire the car would go up in flames. (Y/n) couldn't wait around and she couldn't do anything to stop the leak. She needed to get Max out before the car set alight and he was burned inside.

When (Y/n) didn't receive a response, she did another sweep around the car but she could see it was going to spark up soon. Very soon.

A shiver crawled down her spine and her body shuddered when she realised there was a fire just to the side of the road, less than five feet away from the car. They were going to go up in flames. She had to move. She had to get Max out, backboard or assistance be damned. (Y/n) had to move quickly if she wanted to get them both to safety.

"Eddie? Eddie- fuck! We're getting out now Max, hold steady for me."

Crawling back through, (Y/n) ripped off her gloves and scrunched her fingers tightly underneath Max's arms. She took a deep breath and started to pull with as much effort as she could muster. Her stomach grated against the floor and her teeth clenched down as she tried to hurry but it was hard.

Pushing up onto her knees, she yanked on his arms and slumped his upper body through the open door, past the sheet of broken glass surrounding them on the floor.

"I- I- my leg!" Both Max's hands moved down to grab his left leg which wasn't moving the way he wanted it to. The top of the car was crumpled and his left leg was crushed between the metal. He couldn't try and scramble and help (Y/n) get him out without almost tearing his leg off in the process.

(Y/n) could feel her panic rising as the puddle of petrol started to grow into a turbulent fire that was trickling across towards the car.

She took a deep breath and let go of Max's arms so she could flop back down onto her stomach. She shimmied out of her florescent jacket and laid it over Max's head and chest to try and keep him more protected before she wedged her head and upper body into the cramped footwell.

There was no time for someone to find and bring her the jaws to cut the metal and cut his leg free from the car. If (Y/n) didn't do something now, they would both be fried.

Her hands curled around the back of Max's knee and she felt up and down his leg to try and assess him and make sure there were no injuries or burst blood vessels she had to be aware of. (Y/n) then stuck her hand between his leg against the metal and tried to pull. She used all her effort to wiggle his ankle from side to side and do the same to his knee to get him out.

A scream burned past her lips and she jolted to the left, smacking her head into the car frame when she realised the other side of the car was starting to catch fire.

Her movements became violent and frantic as she wrenched, tugged and jostled Max's leg until finally, just as another part of the car started to ignite, his leg came free. (Y/n) felt dizzy when she shuffled back and moved to grab Max by the arms again. She could feel her legs giving way as she yanked and started to drag him again.

"Come on." (Y/n) seethed through gritted teeth but her eyes slammed closed and she yanked harder when she saw the car lighting up with flames burning even higher. The fire was starting to burn inside the car and get dangerously close to the petrol tank. Her boots scraped against the floor and her back and shoulders ached and screamed as she shuffled as fast as she could.

Her body shuddered and hit the floor when the car ignited and a billowing sheet of flames lapped across every square inch of the car. Her left shoulder slammed into the floor and she could feel Max slumped next to her legs, but they were out. They weren't stuck in the car. He was out and he was safe; (Y/n) didn't let him burn.

"You saved me."

Her eyes tried to come back into focus and she looked down at Max when he patted her leg and tried to smile up at her. But all (Y/n) could see was a blob of black and florescent yellow aiming her way as her name tore from her husband's lips.

She let her eyes fall closed to stop herself from crying when Eddie's hands slid under her arms and he carefully but quickly lifted her up from the floor so she was sitting up. She went loose and floppy, letting Eddie take her weight and easily pull her further away from the scene while Hen and Evan started to move Max in the same direction.

(Y/n) flopped her head back onto Eddie's shoulder when he finally stopped and went down on his knees behind her. His arms looped around her waist and he lifted her right hand to see where she had been hurt when he noticed the blood pooling down between her fingers.

"Talk to me. Are you good?" His hand smoothed up and down her front and he breathed in relief when (Y/n) tried to smile and nod. She must have cut her hand when she was trying to free Max's leg, but other than that and the shock and adrenaline, she was fine.

She opened her eyes again when she felt an unfamiliar hand on her ankle and realised it was Max. He reached out for her just before Evan and Hen tried to get him on a backboard to try and move him.

His lips curved into a tender smile and he gave her ankle a squeeze. "Thank you."

That was a close call.

***

(Y/n) turned away from the ambulance she was re-stocking when a hand gently squeezed her shoulder. She turned and looked across to the left, smiling when she realised it was Hen coming up behind her.

"You've got a visitor."

Her eyes narrowed quizically and she grinned until she looked behind Hen to see who she was referring to. (Y/n) wasn't sure why, but her first instinct was thinking of the kids, even though Chris would still be at school right now and Tate was at daycare. Neither of her kids would be here to visit her and Eddie at this time unless there had been some kind of problem or emergency. And since both her husband and brother were on shift with her, it couldn't have been them.

It was Max. The sight of him stood near the front of the fire engine made (Y/n)'s stomach bubble up with anxiety and she could feel her mood deflating.

She nodded and tried to smile at Hen who took the clipboard from her to take over re-stocking the ambulance so (Y/n) could go and see her 'visitor'.

Her hands slid into her back pockets and she tilted her head down as she headed over to approach Max. He was stood with a beaming smile on his face that looked like a somewhat cocky grin and it made (Y/n) shudder.

This was the third time he had stopped by the station to see her. At first, it had been sweet. He came by and hugged her and thanked her for saving him last month. (Y/n) had been overcome with relief and happiness that he was okay and she had done something good and helped someone. It was always endearing to see some of the people they helped come back and see them and to know how they were doing.

The second time, (Y/n) had been a little uneasy about it. He had no reason to come back and see her, but he came by the station again. He asked how she was and did some small-talk and even tried to take (Y/n)'s hand. She had been relieved when the bell sounded and she had to say a quick goodbye and head out to a call.

Now he was back again and (Y/n) dreaded to think why.

"Hi (Y/n)."

"Hi Max, how are you? Hen said you're here to see me?" (Y/n) plastered a fake smile on her face and tried to stay casual and look relaxed. Her hands stayed in her back pockets and she leaned her head to the side, but her anxiety spiked when he took three steps closer.

She had deliberately stood with an air of space between them for safety and respect, but Max had closed that distance completely. He stood so close his shoes bumped against her boots and she could almost feel each breath he took.

"I'm great, thanks to you. The woman who saved me. I thought I'd stop by and see how you are, and thank you."

"Oh, you know, that's really not necessary… this is my job, I was there to help. You don't have to keep thanking me."

If every person they helped kept coming back to thank them again and again like this, none of them would ever leave the station, they would be that swamped. Max didn't have to thank (Y/n) anymore and he didn't have to keep stopping by. He was the one who had been hurt and in danger, not (Y/n). He had no reason to come by and check in on her as if she had been hurt by saving him.

"Then let me take you out."

Panic bubbled away in (Y/n)'s chest. She watched his lips curve into a cheesy smile and he looked her up and down before he leaned his head closer, waiting impatiently for a response.

He wanted to take her out. Hadn't he noticed she was wearing a wedding ring? Didn't he realise it was rather strange to keep coming by the station to check in with her and thank her so many times like this?

"Max… I'm flattered, truly. But I'm married." Sliding her hands out of her pockets, (Y/n) gingerly flashed her left hand for him to see her engagement and wedding ring. She didn't want him to think she was lying to him to try and put him off. She really was married and she was happier than she'd ever been now she was with Eddie.

"You're married?" His tone dampened immediately and the hurt was evident on his face.

It almost made (Y/n) feel bad, as if she had been leading him on and now had to let him down.

"Hm, my husband works here too. I don't think he'd be too impressed if I went out with you." She tried to make a light joke to see if it would lessen the tension but it didn't work.

Max took a daring step closer to her until their chests were pressed together and (Y/n) had to take three steps back to keep some space between them. Her hands moved to hold out in front of her when Max tried to walk up to her again. Being close to him wasn't going to change her mind.

(Y/n) didn't want to go out with him. She was married to Eddie and he was very protective. He wouldn't take too kindly to someone asking her out and then not taking no for an answer.

"I'll deal with him, come on let me take-"

"Max, no. You're sweet, but I love my husband and my kids, I can't go out with you."

(Y/n) flinched and pulled her wrist away sharply when Max reached out to try and grab her. She wasn't sure what he thought he could do, pull her close and tell her he wouldn't take no for an answer. Or maybe he thought being close and trying to kiss her would get her to change her mind.

She was married. She had Eddie and two kids and her life was perfect the way it was. (Y/n) wasn't going to leave her family, leave Eddie, because someone like Max thought her doing her job meant they were supposed to be together.

Turning her head to the right, (Y/n) locked eyes with Evan and she bit her lip, moving her hand to scratch the back of her neck. An anxious habit that she knew Evan would recognise.

They had a system. Evan had codewords for when he wanted (Y/n) to step into a situation or take him away, especially involving their parents. And (Y/n) would scratch her neck and stare down her big brother until he came to help. Throughout their childhood they had used little looks and code signs to help each other out and right now, (Y/n) needed some help.

She watched Evan put his mug of coffee down and jog towards her, trying not to make it too obvious that he was now worried and confused.

"I think you should go now, Max." (Y/n) bound her arms around her chest but she stumbled back when Max clenched his hand around her arm.

She could feel her lungs deflating and her throat closed up when he stepped closer just as Evan reached them. Evan grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand off (Y/n)'s arm in one swift motion.

"Is there a problem here?" He felt (Y/n) move to stand behind him and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stick up and a shiver rolled down his spine. What was going on here to get his sister so worried? Evan recognised this man. He was on their call out, the man (Y/n) dragged out of his car. What was he doing here at the station and why was he harrassing Evan's sister?

"Nothing that concerns you, pal. Back off."

"(Y/n), you okay?" He looked over his shoulder and managed to relax a little when (Y/n) nodded but her arms stayed bound around her chest out of nervous habit.

"Oh, I get it. You're the husband, right?" Max squared his shoulders and planted his hands on his hips, but the panic was clear in his eyes when Evan turned sharply to look at him.

Evan's eyes dragged up and down Max's frame, taking him in and assessing how best to deal with him. He didn't look like much competition and if he continued, Evan would gladly throw him out of the station. He needed a valid reason to be here and harrassing one of their team members was not a good enough reason to stay.

"No, pal. I'm the brother, so why don't you step away from my sister before I have to restrain you. It's time for you to leave."

When Evan shoved his hand into Max's chest and gave him a forceful push backwards, (Y/n) backed up. She turned and hurried past the truck and over towards the stairs. She wasn't hanging around to cause a scene, the longer she stayed the more irritated Max was going to get so she needed to excuse herself from the situation.

And she wanted Eddie. This was the third time Max had turned up to the station and she didn't like it. She needed to tell Eddie and make him aware just in case Max tried his luck coming by the station again.

Eddie wouldn't let him hang around. If he clocked Max from now on, he wouldn't hold back like Evan was trying to do right now. If someone tried upsetting his wife, they would get Eddie's wrath.

(Y/n) was so consumed looking over her shoulder at Evan that she didn't realise she had reached the top of the stairs, or that Eddie was right in front of her. She barrelled into his chest and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself while Eddie's hands fell to her hips and he kept her tucked into his chest. His lips curved into a smile as he pecked her temple.

"You okay babe?" Eddie watched (Y/n)'s panicked eyes bolt up to him before she looked back over her shoulder. And he followed her gaze to where Evan was clearly arguing with someone and pushing them towards the exit. "Who's he talking to?"

He glided his hands up and down (Y/n)'s arms until her hands moved to grip his shoulders and she dug her nails into his biceps, making him worried.

"Max, the guy from that car wreck last month… he keeps calling by the station."

Leaning forward, (Y/n) tucked her face into Eddie's chest and glided her hands down his arms until she could wrap them around his chest instead. Her hands splayed out on his back and she dragged her fingertips up and down his back, drawing aimless patterns to give herself something to focus on. She felt the way Eddie tensed and stiffened in front of her and she didn't need to look up to know his jaw was locked tight.

"He's coming by to see you, specifically?"

"He asked me out, he wasn't very happy when he found out I'm married." (Y/n) tilted her head back so her chin was pressed into Eddie's chest, allowing her to look up at him.

She felt the way his fingers dug into her hips before he weaved his hands around and wormed them beneath the waistband of her trousers. He kept her chest meshed tightly into his own and his head tilted down to kiss her temple, but he looked fuming.

"If he comes near you again, I'll deal with him." If Max came by the station any more to try and see or talk to (Y/n), he would be dealing with Eddie. (Y/n) had said no. She said she was married and turned him down. He couldn't just ignore her and pretend that it didn't matter and keep trying his luck with her.

(Y/n) had Eddie and she didn't want anyone else. Max was going to realise that sooner or later.

***

"I'll see you later baby." (Y/n) pressed a kiss on Tate's cheek and gave her a tight squeeze before she let go. She watched the two-year-old wander into the house and nodded at the daycare assistant, whispering a quiet "Thank you," before she turned round.

Chris was at school, Tate was now safely at daycare for the afternoon. (Y/n) could head off to work and see Eddie for a few hours before his shift ended and he came to pick up the kids.

(Y/n) made her way back to the car and climbed in, turning the radio up as she pulled away and began to drive. She was doing an afternoon shift into the evening and would finish around eleven o'clock tonight. (Y/n) didn't like working into the evening like this. She didn't do many night shifts anymore, they didn't work well with her body clock anymore and someone had to be home with the kids during the night.

Her fingers began tapping on the steering wheel and her head nodded as she hummed along to the radio and tried to concentrate.

She could feel her mind beginning to wander and she smiled when she thought about being able to see Eddie. She wouldn't have Tate fighting her for Eddie's attention or Chris wanting to join in on their hugs. (Y/n) could just have her husband to herself for a few hours.

Someone was flashing her.

Panic dwelled deep in (Y/n)'s chest and she tried to get a good look in her rear-view mirror but she didn't recognise the car behind her. It couldn't have been anyone she knew, any friend or someone from the station trying to get her attention.

Her eyes diverted down to look at her dashboard to see if she had any warning lights on. Maybe she had a break light out and the person behind was trying to tell her. Maybe one of her tyres was starting to get a slow puncture and the person behind was trying to tell her to pull over before it got worse.

(Y/n) began slowing down and flicked her indicator on to pull over but she stopped herself when she looked back in the mirror.

Slowing down allowed (Y/n) to look in her mirror and see who was driving behind her as the car behind slowed down too.

Max.

He was driving right behind her and his indicator was flashing too. He wanted her to pull over.

Suddenly, (Y/n) didn't believe she was getting a puncture or any lights were out on her car. She had a horrible, dreaded feeling that if she pulled over, Max would try something. He would try asking her out or try and make her get out of the car. She didn't know what he would try and do, but (Y/n) didn't want to wait around to find out.

She turned her indicator off and increased her speed back to the limit. She was only five minutes away from the station. She needed to get to work and see if Max tried to follow her there. If he did, (Y/n) could get Eddie or Evan to go and have a word with him because he couldn't keep doing this.

She moved over into the outside lane and sped up, overtaking two cars to try and keep some distance between herself and Max before she turned off onto a side road. Only a few more turns and she would be at the station.

Max was behind her again.

Adrenaline fuelled (Y/n)'s stomach when she noticed he was flashing his lights at her again. When she looked in the mirror, she could see him sticking his hand out his window to flag her down but she couldn't make out what he was trying to say or indicate. Clearly he wanted her to stop, that much was obvious. But (Y/n) wasn't pulling over. She wasn't about to get herself into a tricky situation.

He drove so close (Y/n) couldn't see his number plate in her mirror anymore and she couldn't risk speeding and get a ticket.

"Oh God, Eddie you'd better not be out on a call," She muttered quietly to herself as she sat forward in her seat and clung tighter to the steering wheel.

A scream burst past (Y/n)'s lips and her chest crashed into the wheel when Max rammed his bonnet into the back of her car.

He'd hit her. He'd actually gotten close enough to force her car forward and most likely dint her boot. What the Hell did he think he was doing? She didn't want to stop for him, couldn't he see that?

He couldn't just go around ramming into her, there were other cars on the road. The person behind him pressed their horn loud enough for (Y/n) to hear and cringe. She kept her foot on the gas until she reached the next turning.

Her body began to shake and her eyes began to water when Max rammed into her car again on the corner. She jostled to the right and hit the curb, barely managing to keep the car on the road when he did it a third time and caused the car to begin juttering down the street.

She wasn't going to make it into the car park round the back.

When Max pulled out beside her and tried to overtake and presumably cut her off, (Y/n) slammed her foot on the brake. She stopped so harshly her chest bashed into the wheel and her neck twinged when her head snapped forward.

(Y/n) was close enough to the station. She was two feet away from the doors, parked hazardly just before the station door so she wasn't blocking the entrance for the trucks, but she was close. She couldn't keep going and get into the car park. Max was going to cut her off. She had to stop now and get out before he drove her off the road and caused a crash.

Tears streaked down (Y/n)'s face when she stumbled out the car at the same time she saw Max hurrying to get out of his own car that was parked five feet ahead of hers.

"(Y/n)! Wait- where do you think you're going?"

Her feet scuffed against the pavement and her breaths got stuck in her throat as her lungs began to heave and burn. She could feel them shrivelling up in her chest and her throat ached when she tried to breathe but all she could do was gasp.

She swung herself around the corner of the door and stumbled into the station before she tripped.

Her hands scraped against the polished floor and something mixed between a gasp and a cry croaked past her lips when she went down on her knees.

(Y/n) scuffed her feet on the floor and bent her wrist at an odd angle to push herself back up and try to run. She had to keep moving. She had to move until she was at the very back of the station or up stairs, surrounded by her team so she would be safe. If she stayed near the door Max would grab her. She just knew he would.

"Babe- wow, wow what's wrong? (Y/n) stop!" Eddie hopped down from the ladder on the back of the truck he was cleaning when his eyes locked on his wife.

He tossed the cleaning rag down into the soap bucket and reached his left arm out, securing it around (Y/n)'s waist when she tried to rush past him. His hand clamped down on her hip and his other hand held the back of her neck and reeled her into his chest.

She ran at such a speed that when Eddie stopped her, the momentum she had crashed his back into the side of the truck and her weight fell on his chest with a thud. He groaned but kept his arms tight around her, taking a second to clear his vision and look down at her.

"Baby what's happened? Talk to me?"

Eddie tilted his head down and moved his hand from the back of (Y/n)'s neck to cup the side of her face. He brushed his thumb across her chin and up her jaw while he felt her fingers scrunch up in his shirt so tightly she almost burst through the material.

"Baby-"

"Max!" (Y/n) spluttered the name before she tried to tuck her face into Eddie's neck, but he wouldn't let her. He leaned back into the truck and tilted her head back so he could look down at her. His thumb pulled at her lower lip and he frowned when he realised how badly she was gasping.

She was going into a panic attack.

"The guy from before? Baby what's he done, did he hurt you?" Both Eddie's hands moved to cup (Y/n)'s neck and he looked her up and down to see if he could find any injuries he needed to worry about. But he felt (Y/n) shake her head in his grip.

Her hands moved to cup his wrists and she tilted her head forward, gasping for air as her body started to shake. She could feel her knees about ready to give way beneath her and her stomach hurt from how deeply it was pulling in, trying to prompt her to take a proper breath.

"H- rammed t-the car… t-tried to crash me."

"He tried to run you off the road?!" Eddie reached up and swiped his thumbs beneath her eyes to wipe away the tears that continued to fall. He could feel the anger fizzling in his veins when (Y/n) nodded.

Someone had tried to cause his wife to have a crash. The same someone that had been hanging around the station to talk to her and try to ask her out. He had tried to hurt her and clearly he had managed to spook her.

"Where's Tate? Is she at daycare?" Eddie looked around as if he was half expecting their toddler to be running around looking for help. But when (Y/n) nodded, Eddie sighed. That was one less thing to worry about. At least (Y/n) didn't have the kids in the car with her when Max did this. That would have been a whole lot worse with Tate frightened and potentially hurt in the back.

A pitiful cry left (Y/n)'s lips when she glanced her head to the left and realised Max was stood in the doorway to the station.

He had followed her. He had tried to come in after her to find her.

Her nails scratched into Eddie's wrists and she wrangled out of his arms to move behind him. (Y/n) bound her arms around Eddie's waist and hid behind him, praying Max wouldn't see her and that Eddie wouldn't leave her to go and cause a fight. Her fingers scrunched up into Eddie's shirt across his chest and her face pressed tightly into his back between his shoulder blades while her chest merged into his back like she was trying to glue them together into one person.

"Buck!" Eddie looked up towards the stairs when he saw his brother-in-law beginning to walk down. "He's back! He's tried to run (Y/n) off the road. Don't let him leave."

Evan paused, coffee cup halfway towards his lips before he realised his little sister was shaking, hiding herself behind Eddie like a frightened child needing protection. He looked around the station to where Eddie was pointing and the moment he locked his gaze on Max, he dropped his cup and bolted into a run.

Eddie tried to move but he couldn't go anywhere when his wife was attached to his back and he could feel her barely breathing into his shirt.

He reached a hand behind him to hold (Y/n)'s hip and he slowly turned around in her arms. He cupped the back of her head and leaned his forehead down against hers with their noses touching and his other arm tight around her waist to keep her pinned into his chest.

"Baby… baby you need to breathe with me, okay? Come on, deep breaths…"

When (Y/n) kept gasping and taking shallow breaths, Eddie shook his head before he swooped in and kissed her. He pulled her lower lip between his and pinned her chest into his own, feeling her holding her breath rather than trying to take fifty tiny breaths all at once.

He nudged his nose into hers and pulled his lips back just enough for (Y/n) to take a deep breath, then he connected their lips again. Not giving her the chance to start hyperventilating. He didn't want her passing out, he wanted her to hold her breath and try to copy his breathing so she could calm down.

"That's it, good girl." He murmured softly into her lips which he swiped his tongue across when he felt (Y/n)'s hands grip his shoulders tightly. "Are you alright, are you hurt?"

(Y/n) shook her head and leaned forward to bury her face in Eddie's neck. She had been shaken up but she didn't get hurt when Max crashed into her. She had been lucky he didn't manage to grab her when she got out the car either, (Y/n) had had a lucky escape.

"Good… can you go tell Bobby to call Athena?" Eddie trailed his hands down to (Y/n)'s hips and started walking her backwards until she was near the stairs. They needed to get Athena down here to make a report and arrest Max. No one was going to let him get away with this.

(Y/n) tightened her hands on Eddie's shoulders and tried to pull him back into her as a frown formed on her face. She didn't know what he was doing when he let go of her hips and gently uncurled her hands from him.

"W-where are you going?"

"I told you if he comes near you, he'll be dealing with me." As much as Eddie wanted to stay with (Y/n), he knew the rest of the team could stay with her and wait with her for the police to come down here.

Eddie wasn't letting this go. Max had started stalking his wife and frightening her and Evan had already told him to stay away and not to dare come back and he wasn't listening. He could of caused (Y/n) to crash. If Tate was in the car that would have been both Eddie's girls in danger. He wasn't letting Evan have all the fun of restraining Max and making sure he didn't get away.

"Baby no-"

"He's gonna need an ambulance when I'm finished with him."

#eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #imagine #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #evan buckley #bobby nash #eddie diaz

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