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roosterforme · 15 days

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In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears.

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly.

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you.

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind.

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

-------------------------

The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other.

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer.

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face.

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots.

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies.

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

-------------------------

I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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literaila · 2 months

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cuddle time

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru's mood is disrupted by some quality family time

a/n: a little fluff for you all because i've been trolling too much

last part | next part

year four.

you're working on a report from a mission last week when the two of them appear, simply out of thin air.

it's early sunday morning, light shining through the windows, the world beckoning you outside--even though you know you need to be in here, working. honestly, you shouldn't have put it off for this long.

but it's so easy in this house. with satoru lounging around, and both of the children to entertain you all of the time. honestly, if you never checked your phone again, you might forget that the rest of your world existed completely.

it's nice. easy.

but not this morning. this morning, just walking into the office felt like surging through a tub full of mud, disgusting and slow.

and you feel that way now when the kids show up.

they both peek their heads into the office, the door slightly cracked, and you don't dare look at the two of them--knowing that they'll distract you (and that you would very much like to be distracted, at the moment).

tsumiki creeps into the room, and you can feel her smile at you from ten feet away. her general aura of benevolence and good. she radiates happiness, your secret drug. megumi follows, not as bright but still pleasant enough, accidentally bumping into the desk, but you still don't look at either of them.

you can see them in your peripheral, though. you can't imagine what they need at the moment.

but neither of them says a thing, they simply stare at you, standing on opposite sides of the desk, their eyes darting from the computer screen to you with an obvious frequency.

you don't know what they want, but you've known the two of them long enough to know that it's something.

you still don't look at them, but you can't help the smile on your face.

“yes, children?" you ask, teasing, after a minute of this has ensued. when you just can't hold it in anymore. "am i bothering you?”

tsumiki leans her head on your shoulder, her face amazingly warm, frowning. “gojo won’t get out of bed.”

megumi is just standing there, still staring at you, with his arms crossed. clearly, this is a dire statement, and they all need your immediate attention. clearly, your presence is impertinent.

you check the clock. it’s only ten in the morning, and god knows with the children, that is not late. they both wake up with the sun, ready to start the day before you get the chance to blink.

you were up two hours ago, helping megumi get breakfast together, making sure that they both slept well and that no one broke into the house in the middle of the night and stole them. breakfast was a bleary-eyed, silent sort of thing. the three of you basking in each other's company, and not attention.

but you don't really mind waking up that early. because, unlike satoru, your fragile mind doesn't pause for a good night's rest. these days, you'll get a few hours at a time, at the best. a couple of minutes to yourself, at the worst.

caffeine is a wonderful thing.

so you don't blame the man for hiding in his room all morning. besides, he is the worst when he misses out on his precious beauty sleep.

“we all agreed,” you say, knowingly, resuming your typing. “satoru can sleep in as long as he’d like on sundays.”

“he’s not sleeping.”

megumi nods. “yeah, he’s just moaning in bed.”

you quirk a brow. “is he sick?”

“no, just a baby,” megumi answers. he says this with such an obvious attitude that you almost snort. where he got the sass, you're not sure.

(you're sure. it's your fault.)

knowing he has no good information for you, you turn around to tsumiki. “what’d he say?”

“that he wasn’t getting out of bed. ever.”

you roll your eyes, familiar with this act. “just give him a couple of hours. he’s probably pms-ing.”

they both give you confused looks. you make a mental note to pick up parenting books at the library.

“he’s fine, guys," you say, instead of explaining. "just dramatic.”

tsumiki shakes her head. “something’s wrong with him.”

“could’ve told you that,” megumi mutters, under his breath, and you attempt not to laugh. and fail.

you grin at him, nudging tsumiki's cheek, a bit fond of her concern. her sincerity. “just let him sleep.”

tsumiki leans on your arm, still pouting—you should’ve kicked satoru out three years ago. he’s rubbing off on her. “but he's sad."

"sad?"

"i think he's crying."

megumi snorts.

you blink at her. "are you serious?"

she nods, sullenly.

you sigh, looking back to the computer--where work and every terrible thing in the world (besides satoru) awaits you. you could sit here for the next four hours, doing stuff you should've done weeks ago, or you could deal with an emotional toddler.

there's really no winning here.

you sigh again and look back to tsumiki. her face is enough to break your composure completely. "fine," you say, "let's go see what's wrong with him."

tsumiki smiles at you, grateful, and megumi rolls his eyes but begins to trail out of the office. you shut your laptop, knowing that you won't be back for a while.

(or the rest of the day, if you have it your way).

the two of them follow you to satoru's room, where you don't knock--because the door is already partially open, and because you don't care.

the blinds are still shut, the entire room a stomping ground for candy wrappers and files that satoru definitely shouldn't leave lying around.

but this is nothing new, so you ignore it.

"hey, kid," you say, stepping over to the bed, leaning down to look at him.

or, rather, an expanse of grey sheets. all you can see is a lump of covers, and a pillow thrown on the floor. satoru sleeps like someone's trying to hold him down, failing all the while.

you nudge him with a hand, sighing again. you got lucky with tsumiki and megumi, who are notoriously easy to wake up in the morning, unlike someone else in the house...

there's no response.

fortunately, you can see a puff of breath from beneath his blanket, so at least he's not dead.

there's a tuff of white hair peeking out from the sheets, and you pull it, albeit gently. because you actually do really love his hair.

(it's irritatingly soft).

"i already know you're awake," you tell him, dryly. "are you crying? tsumiki said you were crying."

the covers are quick to move, two large hands pulling them down with surprising efficiency, and a red-eyed--though not teary--satoru glares at you. "i'm not crying."

"oh, great, then i don't have to comfort you. i don't think i have it in me today."

he pouts, naturally, and throws the covers back over his face. at least this is no different.

you turn around, looking at both of the children helplessly. see, you want to say to them, he's fine. but tsumiki waves you forward and megumi's got a little quirk in his lip, which is answer enough.

you nudge satoru again.

"c'mon, you're scaring the kids."

"they weren't scared when they poked me awake and tried to steal my socks."

you turn back with raised eyebrows. tsumiki looks away guilty, and megumi's smile widens. but your eyes gleam, because satoru deserves at least that. and because all of them are terribly amusing.

you roll your eyes when you turn around and there's a single blue eye looking into yours. "well, you're scaring them now. and obviously," you answer. "socks are criminal in bed."

satoru tries to pinch you from under the covers, and you smack his hand away. "leave me to die," he says.

"they're quivering, satoru," you say, trying not to laugh. "do you want them to cry? because they will. it's probably the bedhead. or maybe the morning breath. seriously, do you make out with your pillows when you sleep?"

the covers move once again, and satoru's glare is vicious. "i do not have bedhead. or morning breath."

"yeah, yeah, you're perfect." you pull the covers back down, even when he tries to initiate a brutal tug-of-war match, which you win, obviously. "grandpa, come on, it's almost ten-thirty."

"i thought we made a rule that none of you can wake me up in the morning."

"the rule was that we let you sleep in on sundays. and you're already awake. the kids want breakfast."

"i know they already ate," satoru's eyes are blinding, "tsumiki told me."

"well, i want to eat. get up."

"go cook."

"get up."

"can't you see that i need to rest?" he gestures to his face, which looks typical and annoyed. "don't i look sick?"

you pinch his arm. "i recall someone saying that they were impenetrable, and trivial illnesses wouldn't affect them."

"i was wrong."

"as usual," you give him a sweet smile.

tsumiki and megumi have both crept up on the two of you, watching as you poke his cheek, trying to get a rise out of him.

it's really not your fault that he looks cute with his hair smushed against his face, slightly sweaty.

you always have preferred a disheveled satoru. when he's forgotten to put all of the pieces together.

actually, grumpy, just-awake satoru might be your favorite. your teenage self certainly had a fondness for him.

though you choose to believe that your tastes in men have since improved (they haven't, nor have they changed).

"i just wanna sleep," he whines. "please?"

"no. get up, because i don't want to hear your moaning while i'm trying to work."

"you can't hear it from the office," satoru hisses, "and it's sunday. go take a nap."

"i'll be sure to do that, right after i shove a toothbrush in your mouth."

"go away," he moans, childishly, and turns on his side. "i feel like someone cut me in half. am i bleeding through the sheets? i don't think my organs are intact."

you make a face. "that's disgusting. please don't talk about your organs in public. i thought this was a safe space."

satoru huffs, but doesn't say anything back.

"aww," you coo, while tsumiki climbs up the other side of the bed, putting her face right next to his. megumi lingers at your side. "is our baby sick?"

"yes."

"what does a sick baby need, guys? i don't remember."

"a lobotomy," megumi whispers.

you turn to him, eyes wide. "who taught you--actually. i already know," you look pointedly back to satoru, who's frowning.

"i shared those thoughts with you in confidence," satoru hisses to megumi, and covers his face with a pillow this time.

"cuddles, right? that's what you do when we're sick."

you smile at tsumiki. "what a wonderful idea, miki. cuddles are exactly what baby needs."

and so, with the grace of a thousand kangaroos, you jump on satoru, your body molding to his as you come face to face with the man, legs over his side, arm wrapping around his neck.

satoru is very close, close enough that you almost can't tell that he's glaring at you.

he's pretty like this, with gleaming skin and dull eyes.

"was that supposed to hurt? because it didn't."

it doesn't escape your notice that you can finger his cheekbones while he says this, no space between the two of you, and neither does the slight twitch of his lips. oh, yeah, you know satoru like this. with his attitudes and his lies.

and you know, really, that this is exactly what he wants. attention, as per usual.

"oh, good." you tug at his hair a bit with your other hand. "we've still got room. come on, children, we have to help our baby."

tsumiki giggles, and she joins you, her face on your back as she lays on top of the two of you, barely a leaf in the pile. you can feel her smile against your muscles and you sigh out. "i think it's working."

you tilt your head to look at megumi, who's staring at the three of you with a look of distaste on his face. "c'mon, megs. we need you."

he gives you a 'really?' look, to which you respond with a nose scrunch, but eventually, he sighs. and then he promptly sits on satoru's feet, setting a hand on your legs so you know that he's there.

"how are you feeling now, baby?"

"smushed."

"good. exactly how we like you." you nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in. he actually smells quite nice--and not that you'll admit it, but he doesn't have morning breath, the bastard.

"are you sad?" tsumiki asks, softly, still concerned, but brighter now. she likes this almost as much as satoru.

"yes," he huffs, again.

but you all know he's lying, and when you dig your finger into his side, tickling him, the kids are quick to follow.

work will have to wait. this is much more important.

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

Text

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter One)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count / 3.4K

Warnings / soft!Joel, reader is a widow, in depth discussions and descriptions of grief and depression, will have eventual smut, SLOW BURN.

Authors Note / I AM SO PROUD OF THIS LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've wanted to write soft!Joel for so long so I hope you love it as much as I do! If you do enjoy it, reblogs, asks and likes are my drug so I'd love to know what you think! Also considering following for more!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. There were days that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw back the sheets of your bed and get up. For the first month, you think you managed to shower three times. No point if no-one was going to see you. You hadn’t left your house since the day of the funeral, life had become a monotonous circle of waking up, soaking your pillow with tears until you made yourself sick, throwing on the same clothes as before and then doing the same thing but led on the couch.

People had reassured you it would get easier. That each day it would subside, little by little, and you cursed them for being right. The longer you sat with your misery, the easier it became. One morning, a few months ago, you remember waking up, only this time you didn’t roll over and place your hand on the empty side of the bed and cry when you realized your husband wasn’t there anymore. You got up and showered, taking 15 minutes to brush the matted mess of your hair, and you dressed in new clothes.

You managed to walk to the market hall and purchase food with your ration cards and Maria had almost fallen over when she saw you in the aisle. That was the worst thing though. You’d been absent from life in Jackson for almost six months, and whenever you left your house people looked at you. Some still had those sympathetic eyes, telling you they were sorry for your loss, but there were the others who judged you. How pathetic you were for falling into despair like you had.

It wasn’t as if he’d met a violent end, he was quite lucky, actually. In this world death came at the hands of evil, whether it was being taken and tortured by raiders, or torn limb from limb by infected. Your husband had died peacefully, drifting off in his sleep in the hospital. The doctors had said it was cancer, which seemed painfully unkind to him. He’d never smoked in his life and was probably the healthiest person you’d ever known, but when was life ever fair?

You could tell they whispered once you’d passed. How dare she be so upset when my husband was killed on patrol? How lucky you were to have been able to say goodbye and hold his hand as he passed, when someone else turned into one of those things all alone. So now it wasn’t grief that kept you behind closed doors, but shame. Shame at knowing you thought they were right, that not being able to pull yourself together was selfish. Selfish to all the people who had managed to carry on with their lives after losing someone, selfish to the community for not being able to pull your weight. You were stuck and you had no idea what to do about it.

The only way you could face leaving your home these days was on Maria’s comforting arm. She’d been your friend for years, she and Tommy seemingly the only people who understood you. Didn’t force you to do anything, let you come to your own decisions when you felt ready. No-one would dare look at you or speak in hushed tones whilst she was around.

The sun was soaking Jackson now, it was summer, and you were grateful for the warmth of the sun on your skin, everything felt better with the sun on your back. With summer came one of your favourites of life’s simple pleasures. Strawberries. In the market you picked up as many as you could purchase after buying your essentials. Maria walked you home, helped you put away everything and then left with a comforting hug.

You carefully placed a large handful of the fruit in a bowl, rinsing it under running water. You were about to sit down on your couch to eat them, but the sun was filtering invitingly through your front windows. You stripped off your jacket, leaving you in your simple tank top and jeans before opening your front door to sit on the bench on your porch. You had sunglasses resting on your face, Tommy had found them on a patrol trip a few months ago and you were grateful for the safety you felt from them. People couldn’t walk past and meet your eye.

You were finishing your third strawberry when Tommy walked past, a man you didn’t know on his left shoulder. He took a look to your house and smiled on seeing you sat in a patch of sunlight, he waved, which you return, then he turns to the mysterious man on his left to say something before they start walking over.

“It’s good to see you out, honey,” He smiled, walking to lean over the railing of your porch, “What’cha got there?” He asked, motioning his head to your bowl of strawberries.

“You want one?” You asked, picking the bowl up and walking over to meet him, he gladly takes the biggest fruit in the bowl, pinching the spidery leaves off before putting the whole thing in his mouth, “How about you?” You asked, extending the bowl to Tommy’s mysterious companion.

He takes a strawberry as well, doing as Tommy did, but he takes smaller bites of the fruit, like he’s savoring it, “This here’s my brother Joel,” Tommy speaks, Joel extends his hand and you take it, shaking it softly in greeting, “He arrived a few weeks back, he’s been getting settled with his daught… with Ellie, but I thought it was high time he started pulling his weight.”

He had a smirk on his face as he said it and you could see the beginnings of a smile on Joel’s face too, “This one’s a real taskmaster,” You say to Joel, a smirk across your lips, “You’ll be wishing we had a retirement age soon enough.”

“Can’t think where he gets it from,” Joel chuckles, “You were takin’ notes all the time we worked together before weren’t you?”

Tommy smiles and nods, “Learnt from the best,” There’s another round of chuckles from the men, “Listen, we should get a move on, but I mean it, it’s nice to see you out like this.”

“Thanks Tommy,” You offer a small smiled, “Here, take a strawberry for the road.”

Both men take another fruit gladly before the way and make their way back down the street, leaving you on your own once more. You slide the sunglasses back onto your eyes and take your place in the path of sunlight on the bench. You sit there for a while, eating your strawberries, thinking about all the times you and your husband had done the same, holding hands as the sunset, cuddling up into his side when the temperature dropped. You realized suddenly that you weren’t sad. That the tears that usually threatened to fall were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was just a feeling of happiness, grateful that you’d experienced love in a world where it had seemed impossible. Sure, you wished he would reach over and take your hand in his like he used to, squeeze it and place a soft kiss to your palm, but you were no longer ruled by the grief that had consumed you all those months ago.

“She seemed nice.” Joel muses as he walks with Tommy.

“She’s lovely,” He replies simply, “Just had a pretty rough time of it recently.”

Joel hums in acknowledgement as his boots hit the ground in time with Tommy’s, “When you said it was good to see her out, what did you mean?”

Tommy sighs at his question, but not out of frustration like he usually did when Joel asked him questions, more out of sympathy, “Her husband died about a year ago,” He begins to explain, “Nothin’ violent or anythin’ like that, the doctors reckoned it was cancer, but she took it real hard, I don’t think she got out of bed for the first week, and then after his funeral she just kinda withdrew, she’s been all alone in that house for months, refuses to leave unless it’s with Maria because people talk.”

“People talk about her?” Joel is shocked, in a world where loss in inevitable, what makes someone else’s grief less worthy than others?

“We’re safe here,” Tommy says, steering him into a building at the end of the street, “But that doesn’t mean people don’t die when they’re out there,” He references his patrol men, he’d lost a few which he would always hold heavy in his heart, “Maria told me once that when she took her to the market a few months ago, some busybody wives were talkin’ about how unfair it was she got to say goodbye, that he’d been sedated and it was easy for him.”

Joel stops in his tracks, letting Tommy walk in front of him. They’re in the gun store, not for anything in particular, just so Joel knows where everything is so he can stop following his brother round like a lost puppy. His mind inevitably wanders to his own grief in this moment. The pain of losing his own daughter, the all-consuming feeling of ‘what is the point in life anymore?’ without her. The scar on the right side of his face and the hearing loss in the same ear when he’d tried to end it all. He hadn’t been strong, not really. If he hadn’t of flinched that would have been it, the easy way out, as some would have said. He’d struggled for a long time with his survival but that didn’t mean his was worth more than your grief, or yours more than his. It wasn’t that simple.

“I spoke to them, told ‘em if I heard ‘em gossiping again then we’d have no issues moving them on their way, but I suppose people are always going to talk, they just do it where we can’t hear them.”

“I’m guessin’ she knows?”

“Of course she knows, Joel, that’s why she shuts herself away, easier that way I guess.”

“Doesn’t make it fair though, feelin’ like you can’t leave your house because people are gonna judge the way your husband died.”

“She’s been better recently,” Tommy speaks, leaning against the table behind him, “Still won’t really go anywhere without Maria, but seein’ her today, it was nice.” Joel nods his way through Tommy explaining the signing out system for guns, follows him around to the stables where he shakes the hand of the young girl in charge of caring for them and then settles himself next to his brother at the bar for a drink. All the while, he can’t stop his mind drifting back to you and your loneliness, your despair at your loss, or the rotten porch step he’d noticed at the front of your house that might just give him the reason to get a little closer to you.

A few mornings later, there is a soft knock at your door. Your face contorts in confusion, Maria wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Leaving the coffee pot to its filtering, you walk slowly to the door, opening it to find Joel stood on your porch, toolbox in hand and planks of wood resting against the railing.

“Good mornin’,” He croons, “Not interrupin’ anythin’ am I?”

You shake your head, “Can I help you?” You asked, wincing slightly at the defensive tone of your voice.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but when I passed with Tommy the other day, I noticed your porch step was rotting,” He points to the old timbers behind him, “I’m surprised you’ve not fallen through it already, so do you mind if I fix them?”

Your exterior softens and a small smile pulls at your lips, “Of course,” You say, “I’m just making some coffee, do you want some?”

“If you don’t mind sharin’, then I’d love some.”

You leave him on the porch to get started. Your mug is already set next to the coffee pot, you open the cupboard and instinctively reach for the only other mug you ever needed. It had meant nothing to you when you moved in. It was white and had a pattern of sausage dogs printed on it, but it had always been his. You hold it in your hands when you realise what you’ve done. His face flashes behind your eyes. He’s standing in front of you, his hair tousled from sleep, his voice still low and raspy. He thanks you as he takes hold of his mug, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You set it back in the cupboard like it had burned your palms, reaching instead of the plain black mug at the back of the cupboard.

You rest your palms on the counter, closing your eyes to take deep breaths, feeling the weight of your body through to the ground. Once you don’t feel the wave of sadness flowing through you any longer, your quickly pour the coffee into the mugs, taking them out to the porch where Joel is currently working to take the rotten boards up, not that it’s taking much work, a little force from his hands and the wood in crumbling.

“Here you go,” You say softly, setting the mug down next to his toolbox, “I hope you don’t mind it black, I spent all my rations on strawberries this week, so no milk.”

“Just how I like it,” He says, looking up at you, “Thank you.”

You take a seat on the bench out front, it’s been a long time since you had the company of someone that wasn’t Maria or Tommy and it was nice to watch him work whilst you sat in the sun.

“Thank you, by the way, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad,” You remark, and before you can think about what you’re saying, you add, “My husband always used to handle this stuff.”

You press your fingers to your lips as Joel’s movement still slightly, he knows what you’ve said, but he continues working, “It’s alright, this is what I used to do before all of this, so I’ve got an eye for rotting wood.”

“You were a builder?” You asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from your loss.

“I was, Tommy and I were contractors, worked on a bunch of different sites together, kinda annoying the world ended, we’d just booked a really big job, was gonna pay the bills and then some for once, my daughter had already spent the money on a trip to Disney.”

“Ellie?” You enquire, remembering the name Tommy had given.

He shakes his head as he sits back on his knees, coffee mug in hand, “No, she’s not mine by blood, she came along a lot later, I lost my daughter on outbreak day.”

“Oh,” You say simply, “I’m sorry Joel.”

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, taking a mouthful of coffee, “I struggled, for a long time, didn’t see how it was fair, but it’s been easier recently, all because of Ellie, and this.” He motions around to the town.

You’re silent for a while, your gaze flits between Joel working and the dregs of liquid in your cup. You understand in a way. The loss is different, but it’s loss all the same.

“What was his name?” Joel asks quietly as he’s rooting through his toolbox for some nails, “Your husband.”

“Mark,” You speak quietly, realizing quickly it was probably too quiet for him to hear, “His name was Mark.”

“Were you together long?”

“Eighteen years,” You answer, “He was my neighbour in the first QZ I was in, I’d lost my parents a few years before the outbreak so I was on my own, he moved in a year later and would always wake me up every morning when he stomped about to go to work,” You were smiling, recounting how you’d met, “One morning I’d had enough, I went right over there, pounded on the door and gave him what for. Said I was tired of waking up to the sound of his work boots every morning, and I guess the rest is history.”

Joel smiles as he reaches for his hammer, nailing in the new boards, “Love at first sight?” He asked, worried at first that it’s too personal a question.

“Something like that,” You offer in reply, “I guess it just kinda happened really, like most things do.”

There’s silence between you again as Joel hammers in the last of the nails. He stands up, pressing his full weight on the step, “All done,” He declares, shutting away his toolbox, “Don’t have to worry about you fallin’ through it now.”

You stand up to admire his handiwork, you must admit he was good at what he did. Efficient but thorough, the step had never looked so good, even when you’d first moved in, “Thank you Joel,” You place a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” He bends to pick up his coffee mug and hands it over to you, “Nothin’ else need sorting?”

“I mean, nothing that risks death or serious injury,” You jest, “But there is something you might be able to help with.”

You gesture for him to follow you through the house, setting the dirty mugs in the sink as you pass through. You open the back door and motion for him to join you. The garden is a mess, there’s no beating around the bush here. The grass is out of control, but that’s because you haven’t been able to go and get your gas ration for the lawnmower. The decking out back is fine, Mark’s handiwork in the year before he died, but you point to the unfinished table and chairs in the corner, or rather the pile of wood that never got to become the table and chairs.

“Mark was going to build some table and chairs, you know, so we could have guests over or sit out here in the evenings, but he got sick before he could really start,” There’s a lump in your throat now and you’re willing yourself not to cry, not now, in front of a man you barely know, but nothing you do can quell the feeling inside of you and a few tears fall down your cheek, “God, I’m so sorry,” You sniffed, “I’ve done so well not to do this today.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Joel soothes, he pressed a firm hand to your shoulder for comfort but keeps his distance, which you are grateful for.

He gives you a moment to compose yourself, watching closely as you rub the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath, “It would just be nice to have somewhere to sit where people aren’t going to watch me.”

Joel’s heart almost breaks at your words. He doesn’t know you, not in the slightest, but the thought that you felt like you had to hide away, in your own community, the place that was meant to make you feel some semblance of normal, was preposterous to him.

“I’ll build you something, don’t worry,” He reassures, “Tommy has me on patrol for the next few days, but as soon as I can, I promise I’ll build you the best damn table and chairs you’ve ever seen.”

You laugh now, through the remnants of your tears, “Thank you.” Is all you can manage to say.

He’s turning around then, you go to follow him, but he stops in his tracks, eyes admiring the trellis against the back wall of your home, full in bloom of sweet peas, “These are beautiful.” He comments.

“They’re sweet peas,” You inform him, “Maria found the seeds for me, said something about it being good for me to have something to put my energy into,” You shrug, “I guess she was right.”

You reach out and pluck one of the deep purple blooms, “These are my favourites,” You say, turning the bloom over in your fingers before you hand it to him, he looks confused, “Sweet peas are meant to symbolize kindness and friendship,” You explain, “Also fond goodbyes, but I think kindness is more appropriate here.”

He takes the bloom and tucks the stem into the breast pocket, the petals of the flower peeking out where you can both see it, “Well then, thank you,” He nods, “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.”

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#Pedro Pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fan fiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #GOY

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indigosunsetao3 · 2 months

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Sick Day

It's inevitable, we all get sick. How do the COD men help you through it?

Gender neutral reader perspective 18+ Fluff

Warning: Illness, vomiting (in Alex's only)

Alex - TW vomiting

You've been on the bathroom floor for who knew how long. Your knees are screaming in pain to get up but you know the moment you try to go to bed you'll get sick again. It had been like this since you woke up around 2am feeling that telltale sign in your stomach and the watering in your mouth. It must have been something you ate you think as you gasp and lean back against the tub, trying not to think of dinner the night before.

"Hey, it's me," comes a gentle voice from the other side of the door and you crack open an eye. You had asked Alex to pick up a few things from the store, you needed to try and get some electrolytes down. He had been texting you all morning to check in asking if there was anything he could do and you finally caved after finding nothing useful in the fridge.

"You can just leave it outside the door," you answer quietly, your voice a little ragged from getting sick so often. Your throat is sore and your abs hurt from just the exertion. "It's a disaster in here," you joke before your stomach heaves. Fuck. You scramble quickly for the toilet, amazed that there was anything left.

The door swings open and you gasp out for him to get out. You definitely do not want him to see you like this, a sweaty flushed mess as you gag. You groan and rest your head on the seat as a bag rustles and you feel him press a bottle of Gatorade in your hand as he pushes some hair off your sweaty neck. "Drink," he says simply, a soft order but an order nonetheless. He's already broken the seal for you and you smile a bit as you take the cap off.

"Really you don't have to be in here," you say as you sit up and take a sip of the blue liquid. "It's really gross in here and I don't want you to get sick if it's a bug," you try as you press the cool bottle to your forehead almost groaning at how nice it feels.

He's at the sink running water before he crouches down the moves to sit behind you. It's a tight fit, his legs too long to be comfortable but he adjusts making it work.

"I don't have to do anything," he replies as he gently places a cool rag on your neck. It's cold enough to send a shiver down your spine but it feels nice. "But I want to," he finishes before gently pulling you toward him.

You go without much resistance, not having the strength to really fight. He pulls you up against his chest and gently leans your head back onto his shoulder, placing another cool towel on your forehead. He really is much more comfortable than leaning against the tub and you sigh contently.

"Keep drinking," he says gently nudging your hand. "I'll stay with you until you feel well enough to go back to bed." He adjusts a bit, the bathroom cabinet creaking behind him before he softly rubs your arms and kisses the back of your sticky neck. "I've got nowhere else to be," he adds sensing you're going to protest.

Sometime later you wake up in bed with the vague memory of Alex helping you up off the bathroom floor, out of your dirty clothes and into his clean shirt. The worst of the sickness seems to have passed, and now it was just exhaustion wearing on you. There's a fresh bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand along with some bright yellow flowers. You can faintly smell cleaner where Alex has sanitized the whole bathroom for you.

Gaz

"You're sick too," you protest as Gaz sniffs from his side of the bed. You had visited his family and his youngest niece had a cold, when did she not have a cold being a toddler, and she seemed to have shared it with both of you.

"I can go to the store," he reasons before sneezing three times then leaning his head back against the headboard with an annoyed groan.

"Oh yes, because people are going to be delighted to have you sneezing and coughing all over the produce," you tease before coughing yourself and covering your mouth with the hem of your shirt.

"I'll wear a mask," he shoots back before coughing and rubbing at his temples. Each cough seemed like daggers to his head and he had been burrowed under the pillows because even the sunlight hurt his eyes. He would never admit that he was weak because it was his job to take care of you, damn it.

"We can just order take away," you fight back as you grab at him to drag him back to lay with you. "We can do that ramen place you like," you try as a lure. You don't want him to go to the store because you'd feel guilty just sitting there. But most of all you don't want him to leave the bed. Despite being miserable because you were both sick you had secretly been enjoying all the extra cuddle time with him.

"Ramen and I want boba," he mutters as you tug on the sleeve of his shoulder. He falls willingly to the side toward you, flopping over on your pillows as he stares pitifully up at you. His eyes are a bit red from all the sneezing and he sniffs again as he rubs at one of them.

"Ramen and boba," you agree before leaning down to kiss his forehead before snuggling up against him. "But you have to order," you mutter into his chest as you nuzzle in his shirt. "You're too picky," you tease as you feel him reach toward the nightstand for his phone.

"I'm not picky, I just know what I like," he answers as he gently rubs at your back with one hand, the other already scrolling through the delivery menu.

"I want..." you started but he turns the phone toward you to see he's already put in your favorite. He always remembered what you liked, even if it was only mentioned a single time or in passing. You asked him about it once but he just says part of his job is to observe and remember. So why would he not remember what you liked?

"I'm also adding a stop at the shops to get ice cream," he tacks on as he twists the phone away to scroll and add to the order. "You can't properly recover from a sore throat without that," he grins.

"Oh?" You ask, sliding your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach. His delightfully warm and you can feel him involuntarily flinch from your cold fingers. "You sure it's just not your sweet tooth? That doesn't sound like real medicine," you tease.

"It is," he scoffs, "always works for me. You'll see," he slides the phone onto the end table before rolling to curl up around you, your hand sliding to his back. "Kisses are also part of the regiment," Gaz tacks on stealing a quick one from you. "Lots," he adds peppering your lips as you giggle.

Ghost

"You should have told Price you were sick before we left," Ghost admonishes as you try to hide yet another coughing fit. You were out in the field with Ghost on a recon mission and had been drinking water and eating small throat lozenges all day to try and get rid of the tickle in your throat.

"I thought it was allergies," you answer back as you adjust on your stomach and peer down the binoculars again. That is the truth, it was spring after all. But after laying out in the sun for hours now the cough was worsening and the headache was starting to set in.

You stifle another cough as you hear Ghost shift next to you before he taps your arm. You lower the binoculars a bit to glance over and see his hand holding out a jolly rancher. He's not looking at you as he holds it out, his eyes fixed down his sniper scope. You don't ask why he had one, or if he possibly had more, before you take it and pop it in your mouth. It was cherry and you grin since that's your favorite before you go back to peering at your quarry.

"Movement headed our way," Ghost says a few minutes later as he points to a convey of beat up pickup trucks. They are heading right at you. Shuffling quickly you tuck your binoculars in your ghillie suit and look around for a place to hide better. Ghost leads the way in a small crouch, his hand reaching behind him to drag you along as you curse and stuff your fist into your mouth to stifle the cough.

Dragging you into some dense bushes Ghost pulls you between his legs as he crouches. He presses your face tight into his chest, one hand behind your head the other holding a pistol resting against your back. Your body shakes as it tries to cough again and he forcefully pushes your head further into him, his kit digging into your face.

The trucks have stopped and you hear people talking as they get out and slam doors. They are searching the area and Ghost curses as you shake with another cough, your whole body vibrating with it. He shifts a bit and you dare to look up at him. His eyes are locked on the enemy that is getting closer but he darts his eyes down to you for just a second. That is definitely worry etched in his face.

Your hands scrabble around him to hold on, to try and dig even further into his warmth. You just need to keep it together for a few minutes. Surely you can not cough for that long right? Ghost shifts just a bit so you can burrow into the softness of skin between his chest and shoulder where his vest isn't. You breathe in the scent of his deodorant and laundry detergent as he continues to hold the back of your head pushing you so hard you may suffocate. If you passed out from lack of oxygen you wouldn't be coughing at least.

They're close now you hear the quiet click of Ghost flipping the safety off, his hand fisting your hair under the hood of your suit. He jumps a bit as you bite down to fight anther cough, your teeth sinking into his shirt and flesh to stifle it. His fingers flex for a moment before he loosens the grip and imperceptibly rubs your scalp with his thumb gently; a reassurance.

A call over the radio was your savoir. The men were a breath away from the bushes and you felt Ghost tense ready to shoot when the call on their radio came in. The men disburse going back to their trucks and taking off. You both stay still for a moment before Ghost finally lets you go and you lean back to look up at him.

"That's going to leave a mark," he mutters as he looks a the spot where you bit him.

"Sorry," you answer a bit embarrassed as you cough into the back of your hand. He fishes out another sweet and unwraps it and pops it in your mouth before you realize exactly what he was doing. His fingers are quick as he pushes it between your lips, his eyes locked on his movements, before he swallows and retracts his hands. It’s green apple this time, a short zip of sour hits your tongue to pull you from the confused daze he just left you in.

"I didn't say I minded," he answers flatly before pushing his hands on his knees to help himself stand up and scan the whole area. "Come on," he extends a hand to help you up, "we've still got work to do and I only have so many sweets left in my stash."

You swear you see him smirk behind his mask as you walk to a new area to settle in for surveillance.

Price

Three days of a fever. You had been holed up in bed trying anything and everything to get it to break. The old wives tale of sweating it out made you nauseated and raised your temperature too high. Then trying to freeze it out only made you shiver and made you more miserable. Sleep had been fitful, fever induced nightmares and just being uncomfortable made it hard to get decent rest.

But when John comes to check on you for the umpteenth time that day, he finds you curled up in a ball under the blankets. He pulls the covers back and finds you are soaked, your hair plastered to your forehead and t-shirt stuck to your skin.

"Sweetheart?" Price asks quietly, his hand moving to push your hair off your face where a few tendrils are stuck. "I think your fever finally broke," he says feeling at your forehead and cheek not caring about the sweat. "You aren't burning up anymore."

"What?" You grumbled trying to burrow away, still half asleep. You could care less about what he was saying, you just wanted to sleep.

"You've sweated through your clothes," he says simply and pulls the blankets back more. "You'll be much more comfortable if we get you cleaned up," he reasons as you attempt to slide away.

"I'll clean up later," you answer. Though now that you've woken up a bit you find the sweat has cooled on your body and now you're cold. And your shirt was stuck and twisted at odd angles constricting you. "I'm too tired," you tack on as you fitfully trying to right the shirt to no avail.

"I'll help you," he ventures before standing up and disappearing. You can hear him turn on the shower and you huff sitting up, the room spinning for a moment. While your fever may have broke the headache and fatigue were certainly still weighing down on you.

"Come on," John says appearing at your side and gently pulls you out of the bed. He's shirtless and you blink at him a bit as he guides you into the bathroom. The light is bright which makes you wince and he quickly flips the switch before helping you out of the shirt, his shirt, you were wearing.

"I'm not going to be able to," you start but he's already there stepping out of his pants to be fully naked next to you before pulling back the curtain.

He helps you step in before following behind and you stand under the lukewarm water for a moment savoring it before he turns you around and gently massages your scalp. It feels wonderful as he washes away the sweat and gently shampoos your hair then rinses it. While the conditioner sits he does his own, pulling you to lean against his chest for support as you stand with your eyes closed.

He's tender with the washcloth, knowing you had body aches from the flu, but makes sure to fully clean you. Lifting your legs gently in turn and spinning you to wash down your chest and stomach. When he's done he cuts the water and wraps you in a large towel and escorts you to the bedroom to sit on the small bench at the foot of the bed while he strips it down and puts on fresh new sheets.

He leaves you to your slumber while he goes back to paperwork, checking on you a few times as you finally catch up on some rest.

Soap

"When was the last time you took medicine?" Soap asks as you cough into the blanket. You've been on the couch for hours, sliding in and out of sleep as Soap puttered around the house doing chores and keeping himself occupied. He tried to coax you to go upstairs and lay in the bed properly but you refused. He was only home for a few days and you weren't going to waste your time together sleeping. Even though you were sleeping on the couch.

"Mmm, I don't remember. Around lunch?" You answer looking at your phone for the time. You were well past due.

"I'll get it," he answers as you move to sit up. "I'm going to make you what my mother always gave us as children," he adds as he disappears into the kitchen.

You continue to lay on the couch flipping channels as you hear him messing about in the kitchen. The kettle whistles and you hear more clattering before he appears with your medicine in one hand. He's already torn it out of the packaging because you can never get it open. The other hand holds a steaming mug of tea and as he hands it to you after you sit up you sniff.

"Is that...is there whiskey in this?" You ask turning your nose up a bit. Whiskey was not your drink by a long shot.

"Aye," Soap answers as he flops down on the couch next to you. "Hot toddy," he explains as you take a small sip. There is honey and lemon mixed in and you can taste cinnamon. It burns, not just from the hot water but from the alcohol, as it goes down your throat. "Ma always made it for us when we were sick. Helped with the cough and to get us to sleep."

"Weren’t you kids?" You ask raising an eyebrow at him which causes him to laugh.

"Just a wee bit of whiskey for us then," he winks before gesturing for you to continue to drink. "Warms you up from the inside out. Don't know how it works really, but it does." He slides his arm behind you on the couch so you can lean in on him.

You curl your feet up under you and lean against his chest. Once the drink cools enough you pop the medicine in your mouth, trying not to linger on the thought of taking it with alcohol, and down it. He wasn't wrong about the drink warming you from the inside out, you feel a bit flushed as you get to the bottom dregs. He takes the mug from you as you snuggle into him more.

"Haven't coughed in a bit," he observes after about thirty minutes of silence into the movie he had picked. He looks down to see you dozing off and he laughs to himself as he gently tugs you to lay your head in his lap. He gently plays with your hair as he settles in for the long haul.

You fall into a deep, restful, sleep in Soap's lap as he continues to gently tend to you. Long after the movie is over he still sits silently, enjoying the quiet moment with you.

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ganymede-hh · 5 months

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After moving out of his parents' house, despite their concerns- Eric had refused to take any university courses. Finding out that streaming games could earn him enough money to survive, he had gotten used to spending his days playing competitive multiplayer games. Often times, he was too lazy to even pull on a pair of pants- just gaming away bottomless.

As one might expect from a 20-something man, Eric wasn't necessarily the nicest person, and his new lifestyle was bringing out the worst in him. In each game, he'd yell and cuss at his teammates the moment he noticed their shortcomings. He'd regularly make little children cry with his excessive insults, gaining a sick enjoyment each time he made someone rage-quit. Though this day, it would be different.

It was another day of gaming for Eric, when he noticed something strange in the voice channel. It was the sound of a much older man, clearly over the age of 60- asking for backup through the channel. A smirk arose in Eric's face as he realized what a golden opportunity this was. With a loud laugh, he begun insulting the poor old guy. "Hey grandpa, shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a grave to crawl into instead of this game?" He laughed, adding insult to injury "There's no place for old farts here". The older man didn't seem to respond, and soon left the match- leaving Eric to revel in his victory.

Soon though, a wave of restlessness hit the redhead. Yawning, Eric soon laid down- deciding a small nap couldn't hurt. Closing his eyes, the young man drifted off to sleep but things felt... different as he awoke. Firstly... everything was blurry, and this was not the position Eric had fallen asleep in. He was now laying on his back, with his face towards the ceiling. Strangely, he felt heavier- and his head felt a breeze up above. Slowly pushing himself up while rubbing his eyes, Eric muttered "What the hell..." but an unfamiliar voice came out, something raspier and deeper. As he continued rubbing away at his eyes, a pair of glasses fell onto his face- previously on his forehead. Though, what they revealed was perhaps more terrifying than Eric could imagine.

There, in the mirror in front of him was a nude, old man- with a ridiculously obese body. Watching as the old man moved in the mirror with his every move, Eric let out a scream as he begun to realize the extent of his situation. He felt his bald head, previously lush with beautiful ginger hair. Felt his massive, soft belly and embarrassing moobs. He even got a look at the downsized equipment he now had, tiny and from the seems of it... unable to get hard due to his old age. As Eric began to cry, struggling to understand what happened- suddenly he heard a notification from... right under him. Rolling over to grab the phone which smelled like an old man's arse, Eric clicked on the notification to see an image. And image that was all too familiar

"You were right, kid. This game isn't for old farts- I've been doing so much better at it in your body. Hope you have fun finding a grave to crawl into in my 87 year old body hahah!"

That caption had broke Eric, 87 years old!? In the blink of an eye, over 60 years of his life were stolen alongside his perfect body. As he tried to text and call his own number- he soon found out that the new Eric had blocked his number and with no way to do anything to reverse the swap, Eric could only cry and pray this was all a dream.

As weeks passed, Eric was disgusted with his new life more and more. Moving was hard, and doing anything was hard - and the only thing that never seemed to get hard was his penis. Now stuck in the life of this single, obese old man named Herald- Eric never accepted this body as his own. Around three years after the swap, poor Eric passed away due to complications with his morbid obesity while Herald continued to enjoy a young and care-free life long after the swap.

#male body swap #identity theft #male weight gain #young to old #bad ending

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buckttommy · 10 days

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how do you think Tommy would've reacted if he and Buck (or with Eddie too) had already been dating when Buck was hit by lightning?

absolutely just. filled with the kind of fear you don't even think exists until you're experiencing it and you find, oh. it's actually real after all and this is the worst thing i've ever felt and ever will feel. it's like. you know in books when they say "her heart stopped?" yeah his heart literally stopped. he'll swear it to the day he dies that something in him died the moment he got the call, heard eddie's broken, fragile fucking voice on the other end of the line and like. he's known eddie for quite some time at this point and he's never heard him like this and that's terrifying in its own right because eddie is both all the parts of the army that tommy threw away, and all the kindness tommy always had to fight for. he's his rock, basically, whereas buck (evan) is the sun and hearing your rock so fucking. shaky and terrified is such a surreal and nightmarish experience like you don't actually get it until you Get It.

so he gets in the car and breaks all kind of speed limits trying to get to the hospital and when he gets there and he gets eddie in his arms he swears on his life that something in him dies again in the half second between hearing the words "buck's heart stopped" and "but we were able to get him back" like. his boyfriend could be fine the next day and some small part of his brain would still always be right back in that moment where he learned buck died. like. there's no coming back from that, no matter how well things turn out because now he's been forced to reckon with this idea that it doesn't matter how good his life is going, like. someone he loves is going to die and he can't do anything to stop it and that's shit.

so. eddie is basically the same as he was in canon. very quiet. very grieving widower. very much so doing everything he can to just stay functional except tommy is there to pickup all the little pieces that fall. he gets christopher to and from school and he makes eddie go home and rest and he absolutely does Not think about the fact that buck died. he just keeps pushing forward, keeps pushing forward, holds onto eddie when he hits a wall and clings to and comforts him while he shakes and just tries to get himself to fucking look at him (not that tommy's judging. he can't look at evan either). and that's just how they survive until buck wakes up. and then. then tommy gets his moment. and he's so like. he's happy of course because buck is alive and apparently he's had this enormous revelation and blah blah blah, but tommy. tommy has spent the last three (?) days stressed beyond belief. he's exhausted and overstimulated and it's coming across as anger/irritation even though everyone knows that's the Last Thing he should be feeling.

but buck. buck sees right through him. of course he does. they lock eyes over the sea of people/loved ones between them and when buck kicks them out and holds out a hand for him to come closer, that's the moment where tommy's brain decides that actually we're going to have a breakdown about this now. and the hospital bed is, like, far too small for the two of them because they are both firefighters and are built like tanks. but that doesn't stop buck from making room for him and tugging him down beside him and holding him while he cries and finally releases all that pent up terror that's been turning his stomach for days. and then once that passes and tommy has kissed him (reminded himself he's still alive), eddie comes back in. and the hospital bed is definitely too small for the three of them but goddamnit if they aren't going to try so tommy gets behind buck, buck gets cosy so he's cradled in the space between his legs, and then eddie lays on his stomach, kind of half on buck and half on tommy, so that his head is resting on buck's abdomen. and i know in my soul those nurses are SICK of them when they come in to check on buck and are like ....what the hell.... because why are three grown men sleeping here??? but like. buck didn't die and in this moment everything is alright, and the nurses can fucking deal with it thank you very much

#I got this message when I was sitting in the supermarket parking lot and then immediately proceeded to get nauseous about it #jack answers mail #tv: 911 #bucktommy #buddietommy

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webslingingslasher · 8 months

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trouble being super sick (100% projecting rn) and not telling peter and he hears about it from her roommate and he’s a little upset she didn’t say anything but is just super attentive even when trouble tells him to leave because he’ll get sick 🥲

my laptop isn't showing your emoji :( also- boyfriend frat!peter 🥹

you lightly stomp your foot, 'no! not allowed.' peter turned up at your door, unannounced, after two days of staying away. you were rotten with the flu, it sent your room mate to stay with her boyfriend for a few days.

her boyfriend was in peter's frat, and when he noticed ally staying over he asked if you had a fight, she lets him know you were dog sick and she wasn't catching it.

of course, he called you and you told him to stay away at all costs. you'd never forgive yourself if he got sick, you know how bad you feel and you wouldn't risk passng it to him.

but he couldn't stay away.

your boyfriend pressed his lips to your forehead, a pout formed. 'you're feeling pretty warm, trouble. have you taken your temperature?'

'no. just tylenol when i feel sweaty.' he tries to squeeze past you but you stop him, 'no, i'm not getting you sick.'

'honey, you can't take care of yourself right now, let me do it.'

'i'm fine and i'm not getting you sick.'

peter shakes his head, 'i won't get sick.' you huff at him, 'you don't know that, plus i feel gross and ugly.'

'you've never been more beautiful to me.'

'that's offensive.'

you whine when peter butts himself in, pointing you to your bed as he headed for your bathroom for a thermometer. you hear him open and close drawers, he emerges with a plethra of supplies.

peter drops everything to your desk and pulls out the thermometer, turning it on and shaking it in the air.

'symptoms?'

'um... fever, i think. body aches, headaches, stuffy nose. and i get really, really cold. i'm also super tired.'

'hungry?'

'not really.'

'eating?'

'... not really.'

'fluids?'

'kinda.'

'if the flu wasn't doing it first, i'd kill you.' your boyfriend holds the thermometer to your mouth, 'open, tongue up. hold it.' you watch him move around while you wait for the result.

he's lining up everything he was able to find, vapor rub, tylenol, mucinex and emergen-c. peter plucks the thermometer out of your mouth when it beeps.

a wrinkle forms between his eyebrows, 'my poor baby, one hundred one point four.' his hand cups your face, 'when's the last time you took the tylenol?'

'i dunno, three episodes worth of love island.' you nuzzle into his palm when he strokes your hair. 'alright, i'll give you some more.' you frown when he pulls away, feeling your heart swell when he refills your water bottle and passes it your way with two pills.

you sit up and take it, he kisses your forehead. 'sleepy?' you nod, 'take a nap, i'm gonna go get you some drinks from the dining hall. any requests?'

'juice.' another kiss, 'you got it, trouble.'

---

peter woke you a few hours later, you squinted and pushed him away.

'sorry, trouble. i need your temperature, and you need to eat something. i have crackers and gatorade.'

'apple juice.'

'apple juice after electrolytes.'

'no, i'm sick. apple juice.'

'anything you want, after electrolytes.'

you grumble when he holds out the thermometer, 'you hate me.'

'yeah, you're the worst. which one you want, blue or red?' you point to the one in his left hand, he cracks cap and sets it next to you, a sleeve of crackers following.

peter cheers when your fever dropped, 'ninety nine point six, you're my little fighter.' you bat at his shoulder when he kisses your cheek, closer to your mouth than you'd like.

'no! you'll get sick! and i haven't brushed my teeth.'

'i won't get sick, trouble. i've got super human immunity.'

you suppose he's right, you scooch over and pat the space next to you.

'cuddle me better?'

another kiss to your cheek, 'anything you want,' a kiss to your forehead, 'after electrolytes.'

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x reader #my writing

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tenderlywicked · 1 month

Text

i've been reading quite a few Doctor/Master fics lately (angsty, smutty, or both, mostly Tensimm and Saxteen), so it looks like I'm ready to start another rec list :)

NEW Ever-Fixed Mark by x_los

Summary:

"...there it is. Neat, looking fresh-drawn. It apparently came with the Master’s assumption of the body, with his transformation of the flesh into a shape that suited him. It is so deeply a part of the Master that any shell he occupies must bear its testament. Isn’t love grand."

False Start by Verayne

Summary:

After one of their confrontations goes too far and they regenerate at the same moment, turns out that getting hit with two blasts of regeneration sickness can have some interesting side effects. They know they're the Doctor and the Master, they're just... not entirely sure which one of them is which. (TenSimm AU)

Hurt by Verayne

Summary:

Something awful happens between them, sometimes. Bad timing, bad chemistry. Times when the Doctor's guilt grows rabid in his chest, black and vicious and masochistic, demanding answer. Times when the Master's gleeful sadism rises to meet it in force.

It's the worst of both of them.

NEW The Loop by Lis_zimoy

Summary:

The Master travels with the Doctor. AU after “Last of the Time Lords”.

The Master got up and went to look for another place in the TARDIS.

The Doctor's voice caught up with him on the threshold.

“Are you really not going to kill me?”

The Master stopped, turned to the Doctor and looked at him in surprise.

“What for? Doctor, we died and went to hell. Don't you notice?”

NEW The Love Island AU by imbackintime, Verayne

Summary:

A story told through DMs. No, literally. The authors were having a very innocent discussion about recent photos of lockdown!Ten and somehow it evolved into telling each other a fun story about domestic and dating ridiculousness between the Doctor, the Master, and a very long-suffering Donna...

Need by Lamiel

Summary:

It isn't about what they want.

new gods by sariane

Summary:

The line of salt had drawn new rules into the edges of the universe.

No Exit (Everybody Lives) by Bagheera

Summary:

"So. You'd spend eternity with me."

The Master shrugs again. "It's not eternity. We both know the universe is finite. Been there, done that, remember? Besides, you have an interesting mind."

Of Three Headed Dogs and Fridges by Roxanne_Police

Summary:

The Doctor's exploration of domestic bliss leads him to strange places, Donna has a busy day at work, the Master needs more butter and Shaun is confused.

Out Of His Sight ; Out Of His Mind by SilhouettedBowTie

Summary:

The Doctor, with the Master in tow, walk down a corridor of the afterlife.

'... [they] continued their trek further down into the impossible hallway- which the Doctor found to be quite fitting, really, since just about everything about his present situation was impossible. Now that he thought about it, almost all of the situations he found himself to be in throughout his entire life were those of the impossible sort.'

An AU inspired by the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

NEW A Polished Silver Link in the Chain by Zabbers

Summary:

The Doctor keeps Yana, or tries to. But of course, he fails.

Properly Indecent by lasersonicked (songoshen)

Summary:

"You were jealous," the Master says, holding the Doctor's gaze, unwavering and impassive. Not a question but a statement, clipped and sure.

Heat flashes in the Doctor's cheeks again, rushing to his ears and neck. "You were causing a scene," he deflects, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with the Master, the other's amber stare as if piercing easily through him.

A slow, confident grin creeps up the Master's face. "I was not. I only danced."

---

Post-EoT AU. Tumbling into a broom closet isn't quite what the Doctor envisioned when he wheedled the Master into attending a ball in Victorian England, but he should've never underestimated the Master's propensity for trouble. (Or more accurately, the strength of his own jealousy.)

red like blood and just as sweet by thesecondbeatitude

Summary:

It’s never easy with the Master. It’s never as straightforward as a knife and a watermelon and a picnic blanket spread beneath a slowly burning sky.

to regret the past, to hope in the future, and never to be satisfied with the present by ProdigalPragmatist

Summary:

It’s a familiar feeling, the Doctor falling apart in his arms. The Master covets it each time he feels the degradation of his posture, the rattle of his breaths. He’s well used to being the only thing keeping the Doctor together — shoving the puzzle pieces of his fragile sense of self back with the edges frayed and overlapping. They both sacrifice parts of themselves in the process, but it’s never felt like a loss.

“Please,” the Doctor mouths against his throat.

The Master swallows tightly and yanks him away by the collar of his jacket. “I won’t be gentle,” he says, but they both know nothing else is possible between them. “I won’t stop,” he warns, but they both know neither of them want that.

The Confession Dial was unexpected. The Doctor's reaction to it flying through the TARDIS doors was not. He wanders the halls of the closest thing he has to home, and he falls into the brutal arms of the closest person he has to home. The person who is his home, built on a foundation of grief and thorns.

NEW Saxon and Jones by ellbie

Summary:

The Doctor has vanished, and according to whatever “Emergency Program One” is, he’s presumed dead. Not only does this leave the Master trapped aboard the TARDIS on some no-name planet, but he’s also stuck with his second-least-favorite doctor: Martha Jones.

The Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords as told through Twitter dot com by AFunDuck, SilverTheArcher

Summary:

A reimagining of beloved Doctor Who episodes Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords where all the characters have Twitter accounts.

Stockholm Syndrome is Based on a Lie by NebbyAxolotl

Summary:

Lucy Saxon doesn't shoot the Master. Unfortunately, it's hard to get someone to let you save the man who ended the world when you're very in love and been tortured for a year by him.

The Doctor saves the Master from U.N.I.T..

Theseus' Paradox by Lis_zimoy

Summary:

The Master did not die on a Mondasian colony ship. He meets the Fourteenth Doctor and they start playing.

"Do you know what I was thinking when I came to your room at the Academy? I was thinking about how lazy and sloppy you are. What a dump of things I've always found at your place. Scattered books. Bundles of wires. All the stuff you dragged out of the Dead Zone. Things filled the room like thoughts clogged your brain. There was chaos all around you. That's why you studied terribly. You couldn't concentrate. There were no windows in our lecture halls so that we would not be distracted. You looked at the bare walls as if there were windows."

The Doctor listened to him with bated breath, his face sharpened, his eyes were greedy. The shadows under his eyelashes are deep, like wells. Oh yes, he needs a break from running.

The Master nodded.

"Now you understand why you can't find dirt? You're just being sloppy."

He put his face down and spat on the floor.

"See," he said. "You missed a spot."

The Volatile Nature of Binary Stars by OneOfThoseThings

Summary:

A dark(er) AU in which the Master happens upon a mind-wiped Donna and gives her a little boost the rest of the way to full Time Lord status. Then they both return to the TARDIS and an unsuspecting Doctor.

Life aboard the TARDIS is suddenly much less lonely and much more hostile.

Spoiler: Unlike most fix-its, in this one Donna is Not pleased that she was abandoned and does Not magically just get over that.

To Wither by inckpot

Summary:

The Doctor and the Master attempt domesticity.

And you can also read my fics And Silence Afterwards (human AU, asexual Doctor, mostly angst with a bit of BDSM) and Vicious Games (non-con + not-things) 😉

#doctor who #the doctor #the master #tenth doctor #simm master #10th doctor #simm!master #the doctor and the master #doctor/master #tensimm #doctor x master #thoschei #dw #doctor who fanfiction

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chicgeekgirl89 · 6 months

Text

Fandom: 911 Lone Star Summary: When Carlos receives a late night call from one of his sisters who is worried about the health of his nephew, T.K. doesn't hesitate to jump in and show the entire family why he's worthy of Carlos' love. Thanks to @carlos-tk, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @whatsintheboxmh, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @strandnreyes, @carlos-in-glasses, and @bonheur-cafe for the WIP Wednesday tags. I hope you will accept this instead, belated as it is! A/N: This is my 100th fic on AO3!! 🍾🍾🍾 (Not my 100th fic ever, many of them never made the transfer from ff.net, but still!) I've been sitting on this one for a while and seeing T.K. shine feels like it's worthy of being #100. Also Adriana and Francesca weren't supposed to be in this one, but they literally barged through those hospital doors and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I couldn't love them more!

Read on AO3

“Sooo…never again, right?” Carlos asks.

“Oh my god never again,” T.K. agrees fervently. “Why were the plates so weird? Some of them weren’t even plates at all. And the food was…bad.”

“So bad,” Carlos says. “Tiny and bad.”

“Three hours. We were there three hours,” T.K. says in disbelief as he slows down at a stoplight. “Why did we have to wait like thirty minutes between courses?”

“The menu said it was to give us time to renew our digestive energies and be more present in the dining experience,” Carlos says.

“I didn’t know my digestive energies needed to be renewed.”

“Me neither.”

It had taken them months to get a reservation at the trendiest new restaurant in town and they’d both been excited for the occasion. The menu promised a foodie paradise with unique dishes, creative presentation, and an emphasis on sustainability. They’d gotten dressed up and ready for a fun date night out only to be disappointed the moment they’d walked in the door.

The place had been crowded, they were practically elbow to elbow with the tables next to them. Carlos had learned the intimate details of one couple’s fertility issues and another couple’s trouble with their neighbors.

Then the food had started coming and been a complete disaster. Carlos considered himself something of a foodie, and T.K.’s New Yorker palate had sampled a number of cuisines over the years, but this had been the worst food Carlos had ever eaten. He hadn’t been able to identify a single item on any of his plates and his tongue longed for something with even a hint of flavor. The plate that held a single, lukewarm radish had nearly been his undoing.

Overall it had been three hours of bland food, awkward company, and not at all what either of them had imagined.

“I’m starving. Can we please pick up something on the way home?” T.K. asks, his stomach letting out a gurgle as if to affirm his statement.

“God yes. I think Chu’s is still open, right?”

Carlos pulls out his phone, but it lights up with a call before he can check to see Chu’s hours. “Why’s my sister calling?”

T.K. glances over at him. “Which one?”

“Lucía,” Carlos says. It’s not typical of his sister to call at this hour out of the blue and he feels his internal warning bells activate as he picks up the call. “Luci? Que pasó?”

“Hey Carlos,” she says, sounding tired and stressed. “Sorry for calling, I know it’s late.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “We’re just on our way home from dinner. What’s going on?”

“I don’t—I’m probably overreacting,” she says. “It’s just that Justin is out of town for work and I’m—“

Now he’s really worried. “Lucí, it’s okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Sebastian woke up sick a couple days. I didn’t think it was a big deal, both boys are sick all the time from daycare and school, but he wasn’t any better today, so I took him to the doctor. They said he’s fine, likely just a virus or something, but…his fever won’t break and he keeps saying his belly hurts.”

Carlos can hear the deep seated worry in his sister’s voice and it rocks him to his core. His sister is an amazing mom, fearless and sure. To hear her so uncertain is throwing him off.

“I didn’t know if maybe T.K. could just give me some advice or something?” she says, ending it like a question.

He looks over at his fiancé. “What’s going on?” T.K. asks,.

“Sebastian’s sick,” Carlos says. “Do you mind?”

“No, no, put her on speaker,” T.K. says immediately, turning his eyes back to the road as the light changes.“Hey Lucía,” he says loudly so she can hear him.

“Hey T.K.,” she says. “I’m so sorry, I know people probably ask you for medical help all the time.”

“It’s not a problem. Tell me what’s going on,” T.K. says.

“He won’t eat, he’s barely drinking. His fever had been holding steady at around a hundred, but it just spiked up to one oh two. I’ve given him medicine, done cold washcloths, I don’t know what else to try.”

“And the doctor said what exactly?”

“That it’s probably a stomach virus,” Lucía says.

T.K. mulls that over for a minute. “Aren’t we like fifteen minutes from their place?” he asks Carlos.

Carlos nods.

“Okay, Lucía we’re going to swing by, all right?” T.K. says, flipping his blinker on to get them turned around back the way they’d just come.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that—“

“We’re coming Luci,” Carlos says. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, thank you,” she says, relief flooding her voice and loosening the knot of fear in Carlos’ chest.

He hangs up and looks at T.K. “It’s probably just a stomach bug.”

“Probably,” T.K. agrees. “But if it makes her feel better to have someone give her advice it’s worth going over.”

Carlos’ heart goes soft at those words. He’d never imagined he’d be with someone like T.K. Someone so kind and good, someone who would drive to his sister’s house at nine o’clock at night just to assuage her fears. It’s beyond his wildest dreams.

They pull into the driveway of the ranch style home about ten minutes later, T.K.’s ambulance driving having shaved a few minutes off their time and a few years off of Carlos’ life. At least they’re not driving the Camaro tonight so Carlos didn’t have to fear for the safety of his baby as they sped through yellow lights and weaved in and out of traffic.

Lucía opens the door before they even knock and the relief Carlos felt a few minutes ago evaporates at the sight of her worried face. She was holding back on the phone; in person she looks even more terrified and exhausted than she sounded. “Hey guys,” she says. “I’m so sorry to drag you all the way over here.”

“Stop apologizing,” Carlos admonishes her immediately as they step inside. “That’s what family is for.”

Sebastian lays on the couch in the living, looking younger and tinier than his six years, his face pale and drawn. There’s an episode of Paw Patrol playing on the television mounted above the fireplace and he has a blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. Carlos can see Fuzzy, his comfort bear, peeking out over the top.

“Hey buddy,” he says, crouching down and giving his nephew a smile. “Tummy bothering you?”

Sebastian nods but doesn’t say anything, another sign that something is wrong. Usually he’s a chatterbox, happy to talk about school or his friends or soccer. Carlos smiles wider, despite the worry swirling in his gut, trying for calm and reassuring uncle. “Do you remember my boyfriend T.K.? From the party at Abuela and Abuelo’s house?” Carlos asks and Sebastian’s eyes move over his shoulder to where T.K. is standing behind him. He gets another nod.

“He’s going to take a look at you, okay?” Carlos says, standing up and moving back to where Lucía is anxiously hovering behind the couch so that T.K. has space to work.

“Hey Sebastian,” T.K. says as he takes Carlos’ spot. “You know I’m a paramedic, right?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, his voice small.

“Do you know what a paramedic does?”

“Help people feel better?”

T.K. smiles and nods. “That’s right. So let’s see if I can help you feel better, sound good?”

“Mhmm.”

“Awesome. Okay, I’m going to pull down the blanket and take a look. You tell me if anything hurts, all right?”

He gently pulls down the blanket and places his fingers on Sebastian’s wrist, looking at his watch while he does it. He pulls out a stethoscope he had in the car and listens to the little boy’s lungs, then takes his temperature with the thermometer Lucía has on the coffee table. He narrates quietly the entire time, letting Sebastian know what he’s doing as he does it.

“Okay, let’s see that belly,” he finally says with a smile.

He pulls up the top of Sebastian’s Power Rangers pajamas, talking to him softly while his hands palpate his abdomen. “You like Power Rangers huh? Which one is your favorite?”

“Red,” Sebastian says immediately. “He’s the head guy.”

“He is,” T.K. says. “I always liked the Green one though.”

Sebastian winces and makes a noise that breaks Carlos’ heart in half. T.K.’s hands immediately immediately stop. “Sorry buddy,” he says. “That hurt?”

Sebastian nods and T.K. gently puts his pajama shirt back into place. “I’m going to go talk to your mom and tío. You stay right here and make sure this couch doesn’t go anywhere, okay?”

He gets to his feet and nods toward the hallway where Carlos and Lucía follow him out of Sebastian’s earshot. “His pulse is a little fast and there is some tenderness in his abdomen,” T.K. says quietly. “That coupled with the fever and the lethargy is definitely concerning.”

Lucía puts her hand on Carlos’ arm and he covers it with his own in an attempt at reassurance. “So what should I do? Wait until the morning and see how he is? Give him more meds?” she asks.

“Considering his symptoms, I would recommend you take him to the ER,” T.K. says gently.

She blows out a breath as Carlos’ stomach drops. “Okay,” she says. “Okay um, okay. I’ll just wake up Nicholas and…”

“No, no, no,” Carlos says quickly. “No I’ll call Mom and ask her to come be with Nicky. I’ll stay until she gets here.”

“And I’ll go with you to the ER,” T.K. offers. “I can walk you through all the paperwork, field questions from the doctors, whatever you need.”

“Seriously?” Lucía looks teary eyed. “You’ll come?”

“Of course,” T.K. says. “Why don’t you go grab whatever might help keep him calm while we’re there? iPad or a book maybe. It could be a long wait.”

“Okay, right. Yes. Give me like five minutes and I’ll be ready,” she says, rushing off to go gather supplies.

“What are you thinking?” Carlos asks immediately.

T.K. has his neutral paramedic face on, but Carlos has learned to read between the lines. “I’m thinking it could be a number of things,” T.K. says. “Just a stomach bug maybe, but even if it is I think he’s dehydrated. And given his symptoms and the decline, I’m also worried about an impacted or perfed bowel or maybe even appendicitis.”

“How worried?”

T.K. blows out a breath. “Worried enough that I wouldn’t wait until the morning to try and get him some treatment.”

His words unlock a whole new level of fear that Carlos has never experienced before, and it takes a lot for him to stay calm as he calls his mom and explains the situation. Lucía returns with a tote bag full of supplies and T.K. scoops up Sebastian, carrying him out to the car with Lucía on his heels.

“Mom says she’ll be here in fifteen minutes. I’ll be right behind you,” Carlos promises as T.K. sets Sebastian gently in the backseat, pillowing his head on Lucía’s lap.

“Can you call Justin?” Lucía asks, looking like she’s barely holding it together. “He knows Sebby’s sick but I want him to know we’re heading to the ER.”

“Yes,” Carlos says. “I’ll call him as soon as I’m back inside.”

“Hey,” T.K. catches his eye as he climbs into the driver’s seat. “I’ve got them, okay?”

“I know you do,” Carlos says and then the door is shut and they’re gone, leaving him standing in the driveway, his heart in his stomach.

He trudges back into the house and sinks onto the couch, eyes glued to Nicholas’ sleeping form on the baby monitor. He’s not a parent, so why does this feel so awful?

It takes him a minute to emotionally prepare for this phone call and he has to take a deep breath before tapping Justin’s name on his screen.

It rings and rings and then sends him to voicemail, so he tries again. And again. The third time, Justin finally picks up.

“Dude, if this is a butt dial I’m going to kill you,” his brother-in-law says groggily.

Carlos forgot that it’s nearly midnight on the east coast right now. “Justin,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“What’s wrong? Are Lucía and the boys okay?” Justin immediately sounds more awake now that he’s heard Carlos’ voice.

“Everyone’s safe,” Carlos tells him quickly. “I’m at your place with Nicholas because Sebastian’s feeling worse. She and T.K. are on the way to the ER with him.”

There’s a pause, Carlos can practically feel Justin’s panic through the phone. “Okay, um, okay,” he finally says. “Shit, I’m in Atlanta. There won’t be any flights for hours…”

“My mom’s on her way here to stay with Nicholas,” Carlos says. “I’ll head to the hospital and keep you updated, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, um, thanks Carlos,” Justin says, sounding a little hoarse. “Please um, please tell them I love them, okay? And that I’ll be on the first flight out I can get.”

“I will.”

He hangs up just as the front door opens and his mom comes in. “Carlitos,” she says softly and he immediately gets up to hug her. “How is Sebby?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. They probably just got to the ER, it could be hours before we know anything.”

“And Lucía?”

“She’s worried,” he says.

“As are we all,” she says, empathy all over her face. “T.K. went with her?”

“Yeah, he said he’d help with things there.”

She smiles softly and touches his face. “You picked a good one mijo. Not every man would drop everything to help his boyfriend’s family.”

There’s a lump in Carlos throat and he struggles to speak past it. “I know.”

“You should get going.”

“Okay. Nicholas is asleep in his crib. I called Justin, he’s working on getting a flight back.”

She nods. “Keep me posted.”

“I will.”

The drive to the hospital is so lonely and silent that it makes each minute feel even longer beneath the glow of the streetlights. How on earth did he go from having dinner with his boyfriend to taking his nephew to the ER? It’s ridiculous. They should be home right now, cuddling on the couch or the bed, watching some stupid show that neither of them really cares about because what they’re actually interested in is making out with each other.

Instead he’s about to spend hours in a hard plastic chair praying that a six year old he loves dearly is going to be all right.

He’s so anxious to get there that he doesn’t realize until he’s through the doors that he has no idea where he’s going. Or even if they’re gong to let him stay. Surely they’re not going to let three adults hang out in the ER in the middle of the night when one would suffice.

He forgot he has T.K. Strand in his corner.

“How can I help you?” the nurse asks when he steps up to the counter.

“I’m here for my nephew? Sebastian Bryant? He came in with my sister,” Carlos says, feeling awkward.

“Oh you’re Carlos,” she says immediately. “T.K.’s boyfriend.”

“I—yeah,” Carlos says, surprised by her familiarity.

“I’m Stella. It’s so nice to finally meet you, although I wish it wasn’t because your nephew’s in here. T.K. talks about you all the time.”

“He does?”

“Oh my god, try getting him to stop. Carlos this, my boyfriend that, and now I see why. You two are gorgeous together,” she says, flashing him a smile. “Here come with me. I’ll take you to them. Darlene? Can you cover the desk?”

Stella takes him down a hall, past the general area of the ER to a more closed off section. It’s not a room, but it’s quieter here, and Carlos can hear T.K.’s voice even before Stella pulls back the curtain to reveal him.

“Found someone who belongs to you,” Stella says.

T.K.’s eyes find him, soft and relieved. “Hey, I was just about to text you an update. Thanks so much Stella.”

“No problem. I’m going to check and see where we’re at with the tests and then I’ll be back.”

“How’s it going?” Carlos asks quietly.

Sebastian is asleep in the bed, an IV in his arm and Fuzzy tucked in beside him. Lucía is sitting in a chair next to him, his little fingers curled around hers.

“They’re going to take him for a CT as soon as one opens up,” she says quietly. “He was crying when we got here, but they gave him some pain medication and he fell asleep like ten minutes ago.”

“Good,” Carlos says in relief. It feels so much better to know that there are people actively working to help Sebastian. “Nicholas is with Mom, he was still asleep when I left. And Justin’s getting on the first flight he can in the morning.”

“Okay.”

Lucía’s face crumples and she immediately puts her hands over her mouth to stifle a sob. T.K. looks at Carlos. “I’m going to go grab us some coffee,” he says, slipping discreetly out of the room.

Carlos squats down by his sister’s chair and puts a hand on her knee. She immediately covers it with her own and squeezes. “I’m sorry,” she says. “He just—he’s so little. He was so scared when we got here, it’s so bright and they put in the IV and he cried and I just, I need Justin to be here, because I am not strong enough for this.”

“He’s coming,” Carlos says. “He’s coming as fast as he can. And until he does I’m here, all right? I’m here with you and Mom is with Nicholas. Sebastian is going to be fine. He’s scared, but you’re taking such great care of him. You are an amazing mom. You’re doing everything right.”

She nods a couple times, clearly trying to internalize his words before taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes. “You know um, T.K. is pretty amazing too,” she tells him, wiping at her eyes. “I thought we’d be here for hours before we got answers, but he called ahead in the car and that nurse, Stella, was waiting for us. As soon as we were in the door they were drawing blood and starting tests. It’s like they rolled out the red carpet.” She nods toward the doorway. “Not everyone would do that kind of thing for someone they barely know.”

“That’s T.K.,” Carlos says, warmth blooming through his chest at her words. “He’s…incredible.”

“You know, I already liked him a lot, but now…” She quirks a smile. “You’d better hold onto him.”

Carlos nods, heart fluttering away in his chest. “That’s the plan.”

T.K. comes back with coffee right about the same time someone shows up to take Sebastian for his CT scan. He’s unhappy to be woken up, but mollified when Carlos promises to take him for ice cream once a week for the next month.

The nurse is incredible, telling Sebastian he’s going to go on a ride in a spaceship, although that does nothing to help Carlos’ heart when they start the sedation and he watches Sebastian’s eyelids flutter shut, his body going limp in a weirdly unnatural way. He’s gone for over an hour, all of them sipping tepid hospital coffee in a desperate attempt not to fall asleep as the clock ticks later and later.

When the orderly returns with him he’s completely zonked out and Carlos hopes he’ll stay that way. It’s not long after that an ER doctor shows up and informs them that the CT scan is indicating appendicitis, despite Sebastian’s slightly atypical presentation of symptoms. Lucía takes the news better than Carlos thought she might, she’s clearly relieved to have an answer and a defined course of action, even if it does mean a surgery they’re told is being scheduled for the early hours of the morning. Someone will be by soon to get them admitted and transferred to a room for the night.

“You guys should go home” she says. “You’ve done more than enough, really. He’s just going to sleep until it’s time for surgery and they’re not going to let you come into the room with us anyway.”

“Don’t worry about them kicking us out,” T.K. says immediately. “If you want us to stay that won’t be a problem.”

She smiles at him. “You’ve done more than enough tonight. I’ll be fine. I promise. Go home and get some sleep.”

Carlos is reluctant to leave her, but she’s right. There’s no point in staying when it’s so late and nothing is going to happen until morning anyway. The moment of crisis is past and now there’s nothing to do but wait.

“I’ll come back in the morning for his surgery,” Carlos says.

“You don’t have to—“ She must catch the look of determination in his eyes because she cuts herself off and nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

He stands and she meets him with a brief hug before she turns to T.K. “I really can’t thank you enough. I don’t think I would have made it tonight without you T.K.,” she says.

“Yes you would have,” he says graciously. “But I’m glad I could help. If anything changes in the night you have my number, don’t be afraid to call.”

“I will.”

Carlos can’t help but notice that T.K. gets a slightly longer hug than he did and the warm feeling in his chest only intensifies. He reaches for T.K.’s hand as they head out into the hall and T.K. gives him a tired smile in return. “Oh, hang on one second,” he says as they pass the nurses station, letting go of Carlos’ hand. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogs over and flashes that winning smile again at the nurse who’s there, not Stella this time, and chats with her for a minute before returning to Carlos’ side. “What was that about?” Carlos asks, interlacing their fingers together again.

“I just wanted to make sure they put Sebastian in a private room,” T.K. says. “They have the space, Natalie says it won’t be a problem.”

“Natalie huh?” Carlos says as they exit the automatic doors and head for the darkened parking structure. “She also falls victim to your beautiful eyes and charming smile?”

“Victim?” T.K. scoffs. “No one is a victim. I have paid for these hospital perks with dozens of coffees and donuts and muffins and even the occasional Target run. This is just good natured southern kindness being returned.”

Carlos laughs out loud. “Right. Not a single bit of it has to do with your innate charm and that smile that brings people to their knees and makes them feel like they’re only person you’ve ever cared about.”

“I mean, it had to start somewhere,” T.K. says, flashing him that exact smile. “But we’ve come a long way since then.”

“Well thank you,” Carlos says, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. “I honestly I don’t how to say thank you enough. My family is…they’re so important to me and I…”

“Hey.” T.K. tugs him to a stop and meets his gaze under the half light of the parking garage. “They’re important to me too.”

The drive home is blessedly short and they fall into bed exhausted at around midnight only to wake up again at five to head back over to the hospital. Carlos tells T.K. he doesn’t have to come, but the look he gets shuts him up immediately. T.K. is clearly invested.

They stop for coffee on the way, real, decent coffee, and some bagels, plus a cake pop for Sebastian after surgery.

He gets a text update as they’re pulling up to the hospital again; Justin is on a flight and should get there by the time the surgery is over. It’s a relief to know his sister will have her support to lean on again in the near future.

Once they arrive Carlos sits back and watches in wonder as T.K. works his magic. Someone shows up to give Sebastian not one, not two, but three different stuffed toys along with a coloring pack and some Hot Wheels cars. T.K. sits down on his bed and explains the whole surgery in terms a six year old an understand, and when the time comes, Sebastian is whisked off without a single tear.

He’s seen T.K. at work before, but this is an entirely different level of incredible. He knows almost every nurse, every doctor, every orderly that they see, and if he doesn’t, by the time they leave he’s made them feel like an old friend. People can’t seem to do enough for him.

Justin gets there about twenty minutes after the surgery starts, exhausted and haggard looking, his collared shirt buttoned the wrong way and his hair looking like he didn’t even comb it. T.K. somehow procures fresh, non-cafeteria coffee for him, whispering something about the doctor’s lounge, as well as a banana and a granola bar.

Everything goes exactly as expected and soon enough the doctor is back to let them know that Sebastian was a champ during surgery and they expect a quick recovery. Lucía and Justin head back to wait with him until the sedation wears off, while Carlos and T.K. continue hanging out in the waiting room until Sebastian can have more visitors.

When Carlos hears a loud commotion behind him, he knows without even looking that reinforcements have arrived. Adriana and Francesca have shown up with more balloons than a circus, a gigantic stuffed bear, and several bags of god only knows what else. “Oh my god, Cesca don’t let them float away,” Adriana is saying as they try and get through the automatic doors that keep closing before all the balloons can make it through.

“I’m not!” Francesca snaps back. “It’s the stupid doors! You could like try to help!”

“With what hands?” Adriana cries, her arms full of stuffed bear.

“Ah, perfect,” Carlos says weakly, looking at T.K. who is already smiling at his sister and cousin’s antics.

“Carlos! Get over here!” Francesca barks and he stands with a sigh, going to help her get in the doorway.

“Hello, good morning, how are you guys doing?” Carlos prompts as he grabs the brightly colored strings and yanks them inside, the balloons bopping along behind and nearly smacking an elderly woman in the face.

“I mean you’re both awake and have coffee, so I assume you’re fine,” she tells him as she plonks into a seat across from T.K.

“Yeah, geez, way to make our nephew’s surgery about you,” Adriana says with a roll of her eyes.

Carlos doesn’t bother to remind her that technically Sebastian is a cousin to her, not a nephew; labels other than “familia” ceased to have any meaning to them long ago. “So what’s the deal? Is he okay?” Francesca asks.

“The surgery went well,” T.K. says. “Sebastian’s appendix didn’t rupture, so the chances of infection are low. He should be able to head home in a day or so.”

“Phew. Poor little dude. This sucks,” Francesca says.

“But he’s okay,” Adriana says. “That’s what’s important. Everyone is okay. And all his friends are going to be very jealous when he gets back to school.”

She opens one of the bags and pulls out a tray of something that immediately fills the air with the scent of tomatoes and cheese. “Why do you have tamales?” Carlos asks. “It’s ten am.”

“Because Mom told us to go by the house and bring them over,” Francesca says. “She doesn’t, and I quote, ‘want anyone eating that hospital garbage, it will rot their stomachs.’”

“Sounds like your mom,” T.K. says with a cheeky smile as he reaches for one of the tamales.

“We also have…taquitos, mac and cheese for Sebastian, and…arroz con pollo,” Francesca says, checking the other bags.

“Your mom just had this all on hand?” T.K. asks, his mouth full.

“Tía Andrea always has everything on hand,” Adriana says.

Despite his initial scoffing, by the time Justin comes back an hour later to tell them Sebastian is up for visitors, Carlos has eaten three tamales, half a dozen taquitos, and a plateful of arroz con pollo. Apparently hospitals make him hungry. They’ve also fed four nurses and an orderly that T.K. knows, and they haven’t even put a dent in what’s there.

Justin looks a little less of a mess now, he’s clearly spent some time in front of a mirror and his shirt is buttoned the right way now. He’s smiling in spite of the tiredness in his eyes, which widen in delight at the sight of the food. “Oh thank god for Andrea,” he says, immediately reaching for a taquito.

“Hey, how do you know it wasn’t us?” Adriana asks, clearly offended.

Justin fixes her with a look and she shrugs. “I mean, yeah it was Tía Andrea, but we’re the ones that brought it over here,” she says.

“Thank you for your service,” Justin says around a mouthful.

“How’s Sebastian?” Francesca asks.

“Better than Lucía or me,” he says. “He says it barely hurts and he’s very excited to have a cool scar.” He looks at T.K. “Apparently you’ve really made this hospital experience feel like a vacation T.K.”

“I’m just glad he’s doing all right,” T.K. says.

“Can we see him?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah,” Justin says. “Lucí sent me to get you all.”

“Well then let’s get this party moved!” Francesca says, closing up the tupperware with incredible speed built from years of cleaning up house parties and hiding the evidence before their parents got home.

They make quite a parade marching through the pediatric wing of the hospital with balloons and bears and food galore. But then, the Reyes clan usually does. They’re not exactly known for being a calm and quiet bunch.

Sebastian is sitting up in bed eating a popsicle, looking like the happiest human alive even with an IV in his arm and stitches in his side. “Sebby!” Francesca says happily. “You’re looking good there buddy!”

“You brought me balloons?” he asks as Lucía quickly rescues his popsicle, which is in danger of falling to the floor.

“We brought you balloons and a bear and macaroni and cheese from Abuela,” Adriana tells him.

“Can I have mac and cheese right now?” he asks Lucía.

“Let’s maybe wait until after the doctor comes by again,” she says.

“But then I can have it? And the ice cream Tío Carlos promised me?”

It gets a chuckle from everyone in the room.

The women start to fuss, setting up the balloons and bear in the best possible place, but Carlos’ eyes are on T.K. who is not-so-subtly checking out all the monitors and lines, ensuring that things are exactly as they should be. God, he loves this man. He loves him more than he thought he could ever love a human being.

“Well this looks like a party!” A man whose name tag identifies him as Dr. Nguyen, comes into the room, iPad in hand. Carlos assumes this must be the surgeon. “Sebastian who are all these fine people who came to visit you?”

“This is my Tía Cesca and my Tía Adriana. They brought me balloons,” Sebastian says, pointing to them in turn.

“Well that’s very nice.”

“And that’s my Tío Carlos,” Sebastian says.

“Oh, is this the Tío you were telling me about? The one who’s a paramedic and helped you feel better?”

“No, my Tío Carlos is just a police officer,” Sebastian says. “My Tío T.K. is the one who’s a paramedic.” He turns his head to look at where T.K. is standing next to his IV pole. “Paramedics help people feel better. Right Tío?”

T.K. freezes for a second, his eyes locking with Carlos’. “Um, yeah,” he says finally. “Yes, that’s right. Paramedics help people. And then doctors help them even more.”

“Yeah, Dr. Nguyen took my appendix out,” Sebastian says. He looks the doctor square in the face. “My mom says you have to tell me if I can have mac and cheese or not.”

Dr. Nguyen laughs. “I can do that. Let’s give you a little check up and see.”

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Francesca says, which is hilarious given that she hasn’t let anyone have a single minute of privacy since the day she was born.

They step out into the hall, Adriana and Francesca immediately abandoning T.K. and Carlos to go look for hot doctors. Carlos runs a hand through his curls and looks at where his boyfriend is leaning up against the wall. “Well I guess we know who his new favorite tío is,” he says.

T.K. looks up, uncharacteristically nervous. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. You’re not just a police officer.”

Carlos chuckles. “Oh I’m sure he meant it exactly like that. Tío Carlos is just a tío who wrestles and gives him ice cream. Tío T.K. saves lives. You made an impression.”

T.K. blushes. “I’m glad I could help.” His gaze softens. “I can’t believe he called me tío.”

And despite the fact that no one in the family has ever referred to T.K. that way before, Carlos isn’t surprised in the least. “Is that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” T.K. says quickly. “Yeah I—as long as you and your family are okay with it. I don’t…I wouldn’t want him to be confused.”

“He’s not confused.” Carlos’ words are soft and he reaches down, intertwining their fingers. “I don’t think anybody is confused anymore about why you’re so important to me.”

T.K. meets his gaze and Carlos feels like he can see all the way into the vulnerability at the core of this man who came here so broken and lost, and is just starting to figure out how vital he is to everyone around him. Carlos leans in and their lips meet, soft and sweet. It’s not enough to really say thank you, he’s not sure he can ever truly find a way, but in this moment he knows he’ll try. Everyday for the rest of his life if he needs to.

The door to Sebastian’s room opens and Carlos reluctantly pulls back, keeping their hands firmly clasped even when T.K. starts to pull away a little. “Bad news,” Lucía says. “Mac and cheese is off the table until tomorrow. T.K., he would like to know if you have any connections that can get him jello instead. But only the red kind. Not the green.”

“Absolutely,” T.K. says, already pulling out his phone to send a text. “Red jello coming right up.”

Carlos shakes his head and smiles as they reenter the room, Sebastian’s face lighting up when he sees T.K. again. Carlos has always thought T.K. seemed like magic. And now everyone else can see it too.

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #911lsfic #Tarlos Fic #The Reyes Family (My Version)#Adriana and Francesca #Whump of a minor #Appendicitis #Family #Competent T.K. Strand #T.K. shows off his paramedic skills

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sc0tters · 6 months

Text

Stay | Thomas Milic

summary: If there was one good thing about staying in the WHL it was you.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing?

word count: 1.05k

authors note: I truly do not know what this was and I tried to write it like two or three times and just never really liked it. This is a trope I've used before so I wanted to end it differently. This is also goalie number 2 in the goalie dedication, so if you want to go see number one then you can find it here!

You felt sick as you reread the headline.

Thomas was moving to Norfolk and he hadn’t even told you. Six months of giving him everything and allowing him to become one of the most integral parts of your life in Seattle.

Having had grown up out of state when you arrived at the university of Washington and found a friend in the goalie. Never in your life had you predicted that it was going to end in the way that it seemed it was meant to now.

On the other hand Thomas had been sat in his car staring at his lock screen that was a picture of you in his jersey. His arm had been wrapped around your waist as he kissed your head once he won playoff game.

That day had been filled with so much love as Thomas had asked you to be his girlfriend. But now he was trying to figure out how he was meant to tell you that he was moving across the country.

Sure you both knew that the possibility was there especially with him being with the Jets. But still the amount of hurt that went through your heart in that moment was something that not even you could predict in that moment.

So that was how you ended up in an emotional state wrapped up in his hoodie with tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked at the transfer announcement. Silently praying that you were in the midst of a horrible dream “go away.” You mumbled hearing a knock at the door.

But Thomas couldn’t leave you that easily “open the door f’me.” He begged hoping that you would listen to him.

Your weight shifted beneath you as you made your way to the door “what do you want?” You sighed opening the door to see him.

It seemed that Thomas had also been struggling today as his hair was messy “I needed to see you.” His confession hung in the air as it made you feel sick “did you decide that before or after you booked the flight to Norfolk?” You crossed your arms as you clicked your tongue.

Thomas sighed as he felt like he deserved that blow “so I take it you know?” The hockey player chewed at his cheek as he ran his fingers through his hair. Even though he had requested a few hours to tell people, this was still his worst outcome.

You nodded as you scrunched your nose in disgust “that my boyfriend is leaving?” You asked as you nodded subconsciously moving to the side so that you could let him into your apartment.

Of course he took it as he dropped his bag on your floor “I need to hug you baby.” Thomas pleaded when tears formed in his eyes as the idea of him leaving you actually went through his brain “you don’t get to do that.” You chocked on your words as you frowned.

It probably would have made you sound like an idiot as you were upset that he was leaving you “I wanted to tell you, just me I did.” Thomas reached out to grab your hand but for once your reaction time was quicker than his when you pulled away.

You wanted to yell at him or say that he needed to leave. Yet somehow you still couldn’t do that “when did you know you were going?” Your lip caught between your teeth as your eyes screwed shut silently praying that his answer was this morning.

Thomas finally felt like something was in his favour “I thought it was gonna happen but they called me last night and said I needed to be in this morning.” He began to ramble as it made you laugh “T-” you raised your hand cut him off.

It made him stare at you as his lips screwed shut “when do you leave?” The new question came into your mind as it made your chest feel tight “tomorrow.” At that point you were crying finally giving the boy a chance to hug you.

His arms were warm as it comforted your soul when his lips kissed your forehead “let it out.” He sighed rubbing circles against your back.

Thomas knew you were going to be hurt by him leaving but never would he have predicted this “I don’t want to say goodbye.” You confessed looking at him with a pout “you don’t have to.” Thomas ran his fingers through your hair wanting to comfort you.

The boy tilted your jaw up “I still love you.” The hockey player smiled as he wiped your tear away “I did really want to tell you first.” Thomas’ voice was soft as he sighed.

You felt your heart swell at his words “you love me?” It wasn’t something that you two had spoken of yet “of course I do baby.” His fingers pinched at your chin making you laugh.

He didn’t even care that you hadn’t said it back as he squeezed your hand “I know you hate packing but maybe you want to come help me?” Thomas proposed as he had now decided that he wanted to spend every last second of the rest of his time with you “I’ll put my feelings aside just for you.” You nodded pushing yourself onto your tippy toes to peck his lips.

And that was exactly what you two had done. From sleeping together in his room one final time to sealing that final box, all the way to finally being at the airport.

Thomas watched you in all of his clothes as he moved half of his closet into your place so now they were basically your clothes “you promise you won’t miss me too much?” The goalie smirked as he pecked your lips wrapping his arms around your waist.

The two of you were enjoying your moment until the sound of his boarding call came in “I can’t promise that.” You pouted causing him to sigh “but I can promise that I do love you.” Your confession made his pupils grow full.

He squeezed your body as he spun you around “Thomas!” You squealed as your hands squeezed his shoulders “I love you too.” The hockey player mumbled moving his hands to your face so that he could make this final kiss count.

#ambers goalie dedication #thomas milic #thomas milic imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #oneshots #imagines #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #amber writes fics

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lokisbiiiitch1993 · 22 days

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Long Time no See

Loki x Reader fluff

Hi - it's been a few months sorry for my long absence - I had COVID in December and since then I have been sick all the time - my Immunsystem is the worst , I felt depressed and also worked a lot overtime but I hope I have more time now

It's been a few months since the last time you saw your dear Friend Loki.

"I will call you,when I am feeling better" was the last Message you sent him - damn,time flies so fast , you thought -feeling bad .

Feeling better, you wanted to surprise Loki in Asgard but for that to happen you needed to persuade Thor to bring you to the Palace .

After a lengthy honest conversation about your need to see and talk to Loki ,he agreed to bring you.

Walking through the long majestic Hallways for some time , you pondered about what to say to him - feeling like you walked too fast because you were standing in front of his Door already , taking a deep breath,nervously you knocked three times.

"Who is there " Loki asked

"Heyyy, it'sss Me" you answered softly

"Why are you here ? What do you want after all this Time?" Loki wanted to know ,he already suspected you lost interest and abandoned him.

"You... I wanted to talk to you...I wanted to see you.." suddenly the Door opened and Loki let you in

"Long Time no See " you whispered

"I missed you" you added

"Should I believe that, really?" he stood in front of you with crossed Arms and a hurt look

"Well , Yesss - to my Excuse I was really sick ,I felt a few days better and then was sick again and again , even the People at my Workplace said I have the Immune System of a 90 year old -well .. that means probably nothing to you but what I want to say is I feel much better now and I am sorry"

"I understand but that wasn't all ,wasn't it?"he responded in an honest interest and not typically Loki teasing way

Dumbfounded you stared at him - "You can see right through me, don't you?"

"Yes"

"Alright,to be honest I've been depressed lately,I hate the Winter months , the darkness it's so cold and depressing,i felt so tired all the time ,In addition to me being sick."you answered, staring at him, waiting for Loki's reaction

"So ,why didn't you call me?I could have at least tried to make you feel better. "

Smiling at him you caressed his Cheek "I am sorry but I didn't want to bring you down,it's my Job to cheer you up"

"by the way I heard you were sulking in your Chambers?did you miss me that much ?"you teased

"That's ridiculous,who told you that Nonsense?" Loki answered defensively with a blush

"The one who brought me to you , your good and kind Brother"

"Good and kind.....that Idol of Idiot Worshippers ..and why did you ask HIM to bring you here anyway" Loki hissed grumpy

His reaction made you laugh "Is that jealousy? "

"That's absurd why should I be jealous of that witless Oaf?"

"I don't know?you tell me " Loki rolled his eyes at your response

"Are you that oblivious? You should have called me instead of spending time with Thor "

"I should have done many things differently"you answered honestly before hugging him

"I should have also checked up on you but I was so terrified of crossing your Boundaries and you hating me" Loki confessed

"I could never hate you, my Dear"

"It's actually the opposite" you admit with reddened cheeks.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki fluff #loki of asgard #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki mcu #marvel loki #loki fanfic #loki laufesyon x reader #loki x female reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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gigicreates562 · 9 months

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Surprise Attack- Fred Weasley x Reader

When death eaters show up at the shop, Fred shows some serious heroism.

TW: Blood, Injury

1540 words

------------------------

It was a normal day at the shop: George stocking the shelves, Fred talking to some kids about the newest products, and y/n at the till busy being hopelessly in love with her best friend.

The trio had been friends since before they could remember, but around their fourth year y/n realised her feelings for Fred were more than just friendly. However at the time, Fred was with Angelina, so she kept it quiet, and even though they'd been broken up for a year now, it just never felt like the right time to tell him. The wizarding war was approaching and there just seemed to be more important things.

So there they sat, working as usual.

CRASH. SCREAM.

All at once cries for help broke out. The black smoke whizzing past the window was unmistakable: Death Eaters.

The shop cleared out quickly, leaving only Fred, George, Y/n, and three Death Eaters.

She knew why they were there, a Malfoy abandoning her blood family to fight for the order wasn't exactly taken lightly. She just was hoping they wouldn't find her so easily. How naive she'd been. She ducked behind the counter in a feeble attempt to hide.

"She's not here," Fred said defiantly.

"Bullshit. Don't make this difficult Weasley." A rough voice said

She heard noises of struggle, and then "Search the place."

Luckily, although naive, she hadn't been stupid. There was a portkey hidden on one of the top shelves that would easily whisk them all to safety. One simple summoning curse and it would be in her hands, but how to get all three of them to touch it?

"Stupefy!" George cried out, and she knew that was her cue.

Popping up, she quickly assessed the situation, Fred was holding two of them off, while George handled the last one. She began firing curses while inching her way toward the boys.

"George! Take Y/n!" Fred shouted, firing curses left and right. They were making a valiant attempt, but the death eaters were gaining ground.

"We're not leaving you!" Y/n detested, but just as she had spoken up, more black smoke was beginning to fly by outside.

"Time to go," George said running to her, "Accio"

"Fred!"

But her cry was too late. By the time she had blinked, the small walls of the cabin had materialized around her.

"Stay here," George stated firmly, and before she could protest he grabbed the portkey again and was whisked away.

She was alone and safe.

And it was awful.

Waiting was the worst thing in the world. She paced, feeling sick that her best friends were fighting for her, while she sat so far away in safety. The minutes ticked by, but no twins. It felt like hours to her, for all she knew they were dead.

After about two hours she finally heard the crack of the portkey.

But something was wrong. Fred was holding on to George, who was supporting almost all of his weight. Fred looked pale, exhausted, and worst of all: there was a pool of red actively growing larger on his button-up.

"Bathroom." She told George and he nodded. She rushed to retrieve the first aid kit as George sat his weary twin on the edge of the sink.

"Hello love" Fred began, always the jokester.

"What happened?" Y/n asked

"Particularly nasty diffindo charm," George answered for him.

"You should see the other guy" Fred added, trying to cover up his wincing.

"Go tell the order, I'll take care of him," y/n said kneeling in front of her bleeding best friend. She began cutting off his shirt with the scissors from the first aid kit.

"Woah," Fred started, "at least take me to dinner first" He was met with a glare from her, as she finished removing his top.

"Tough crowd." He said through clenched teeth.

"I've been worried sick about you for the last couple of hours, and you've shown up with a six-inch gash in your side. Excuse me if I'm not exactly cheery."

"I'm the one bleeding so-"

"This is going to hurt" She cut him off as she began applying antiseptic.

"Fuck!"

She applied the liquid as quickly as she could, but she knew it was hurting. She internally winced every time he hissed. Taking note of how hard he clenched his jaw, and how he gripped the counter so hard his knuckles were white. It was all too much for her. The man she was hopelessly in love with was in so much pain because of her. She shouldn't have come to work for the twins. She should have just stayed in hiding. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she worked, and Fred noticed. Because he always notices. Because he's Fred. And she's his y/n.

"Y/n-" Fred said softly as she finished with the antiseptic. "What's wrong?"

She sniffled and wiped her eyes quickly with her arm.

"Lean back," she told him, actively avoiding the question. She reached for his chest to apply the drops of dittany but he grabbed her wrist just before she could get there.

"Look at me," Fred told her, and the tears began to well up harder in her eyes.

Even now he was more worried about her than himself. She was truly the worst friend in the world.

"Y/n please"

She finally met his eyes. He stared at her so gently, like she was about to float away from him entirely and he was desperately trying to hold on. She took in a breath, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of how close they were.

"Fred- I..." She looked back down at his wound, which was beginning to drip blood again.

"Shit!" She exclaimed frantically trying to dab up the excess. She was not going to let him stay in pain any longer. It was her fault he was like this in the first place.

"Look, I'll tell you what's wrong, just let me finish this first."

Fred looked at her with worry, but he let it go for the moment.

She was almost done, but she knew these dittany drops weren't going to be fun.

"I have to apply the dittany, just take my hand and squeeze it if you need to okay?"

She offered up her left hand, while she applied the dittany with her right. She worked quickly, and the wound closed up, but not before she thought Fred might break her hand. Still, he was going to be fine.

They sat in silence for a bit as the pain began to fade away.

"How do you feel?" She asked tenderly.

He laughed, "This better leave a pretty wicked scar, or else I'll be seriously pissed off".

They both laughed at that and for a moment the tension left the room.

But it wasn't long before the weight of what just happened settled in again. She knew he was going to ask about it, so she might as well tell him. Unfortunately in their normal Fred and Y/n fashion, they both tried to talk at once.

"What was-"

"Why did you do that for me?" With these words, he stopped. Not quite understanding what she meant.

"What?"

"This whole situation is my fault. I should've just gone into hiding like Remus said. It was stupid of me to come to work for you. I put you in danger, and then when the time came I let you fight for me. I should be the one bleeding, but instead, the man I love comes back wounded. On top of that, even when I am actively hurting you with that stupid antiseptic, you are still more worried about why I am upset than your own wound. I don't deserve that! It's all my fault, but you're the one who got hurt."

"You love me?" He whispered. Desperately searching her eyes for some sign of confirmation.

She gaped at him. She couldn't believe she just said that. Shit, shit, shit. How does she come back from this?

She doesn't. There's no way to talk herself out of this one. So she just stares at him.

"Y/n?"

She can feel the tears welling up again, but she can't help but do anything but look into his eyes. They're so kind, so loving. He's looking at her like she might break, might fade away if he says the wrong thing. So he doesn't say anything either. He just slowly takes his hand and brings it to her cheek. Gently, he wipes her tears away with his thumb. He is searching her face, for what? She isn't sure.

"I never noticed that you have a little bit of gold in your eyes," He said softly smiling at her, "It's cute."

She smiled at him. He beamed back at her.

Slowly, he snaked his other hand around her waist and pulled her closer, and ever so delicately he brought their lips together. It was a soft gesture, his lips were slightly chapped and he tasted of salted caramel. It was slow, and as their lips parted, he watched as her eyes took a second to flutter open.

"We should definitely never do that again unless you want me to fall hopelessly in love with you," Fred said airily.

She cracked a smile, and promptly pulled him back down for another.

#fanfic #fred and george #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #fanfiction #fred weasleyxreader #fred weasely x y/n #reader insert #y/n #fluff

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dottores · 2 years

Text

LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

previous chapter -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER ⅩⅡ. WHATEVER I'VE DONE, I DID IT FOR LOVE

TWELVE YEARS EARLIER.

It had been a very long time since you’d felt like this. You felt as if your stomach was eating itself as you sat alone in the penthouse, fingers shaking as you stared at the phone resting on the table in front of you, waiting for a call from your uncle, or Miss Sara, or Mister Mado, or one of your uncle’s colleagues, or anyone who would tell you what was going on.

One week. Seven full days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Too many minutes for you to try to calculate.

It had been too long since the Kanto Incident--or so the news was calling the disastrous fight between the Tokyo Manji Gang and Tenjiku--considering you had yet to find anything out about what had happened that day. Your uncle was away on business and wasn’t picking up his phone, Miss Yua and Mister Ayato were taking some well deserved, and much needed, time off in Fiji and you didn’t want to bother either of them, you had tried to go to the police station to get information but nobody gave you answers, you had even tried going to Izanagi Headquarters to try to talk to some of your uncle’s colleagues but only one had spared you some time and even then, he had only given you a half-assed, ‘I’ll look into it,’ before rushing off to his next meeting. You couldn’t blame him--Izanagi was dealing with some heavy lawsuits from another tech company--it was shitty timing all around and it was making you sick to your stomach.

Three dead. Five arrested.

You didn’t know who died. You didn’t know who was arrested. You couldn’t get answers no matter how hard you tried and it made you want to cry. You were fucking useless without your uncle’s support.

Rindou and Ran hadn’t come home since the incident, neither had any of the rest of their friends--your friends. And you could only pray that they had been the ones arrested because you knew damn well that they would have come to you afterward if they had been able to.

(Deep, deep down you knew that was impossible. Three dead, five arrested. There were six of them.)

The thought spinning around the back of your head froze the blood flowing through your body, fear clawed at your chest. Three dead, five arrested. Six of them. Anxiety built faster than you could push it away, your heartbeat raced erratically, your body shuddered as an unnatural chill ran up your spine.

One of them is dead.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

No. That is not necessarily true. Maybe they just hadn’t had the chance to come talk to you yet.

It was a waiting game, and you were quite certain now that waiting games might be the worst possible games in existence. All you could do was wander around your penthouse trying to keep yourself distracted as you waited for news. You had only felt this helpless once before in your entire fucking life--the night of the accident when you were waiting for news about your family--and you hated it. Every passing second had your heart leaping to your throat, your knees weak, tears building in your eyes that you could only barely catch before they fell.

You were scared. You had lost your entire family in one blow once before and it had nearly destroyed you. You were terrified that it was about to happen again and you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover from it a second time.

You pressed your face into your palms, pulling your knees to your chest as you rocked yourself back and forth, trying to keep yourself calm.

Everything would be okay, you tried to convince yourself. Everything would be okay.

Ran and Rindou. Izana and Shion. Mochi and Mucho. They were fine--probably caught up in juvie again and without your uncle’s influence, it was just a little harder to figure out what was going on so you could try to get them out. That was all.

That was all.

Everything would be okay.

As soon as you got word of what detention center they were being held at, you would haul your ass to them and give them the scolding of a lifetime. All of them. Ran and Rindou. Izana and Shion. Mochi and Mucho. None of them would be able to get out of it.

Especially Izana.

Fury stirred in you at the thought of your white-haired friend. You had warned him so many times--a countless amount of times--to not let his resentment get the best of him, to not let it make him lose sight of his goals.

And he did.

He fucking let it.

You wanted to scream and shake him, rattle his brain in his head and demand answers--what the fuck was so important to him that he let it risk his goals, your goals? Every time you tried to ask him what exactly the ‘detour’ was, he would withdraw like a damned turtle, give you the silent treatment and force you to drop it.

You should have known that it would come to this.

You supposed you blamed yourself as much as you did Izana. You should have pushed more. You should have asked more questions even if it did piss him off. Maybe things would have gone differently.

You exhaled deeply, standing up to pace around the main room of the penthouse. The news station was playing in the background, muted and unintelligible to your ears. Your legs were unsteady but you forced yourself to keep moving. If you stopped, you would drown.

You couldn’t let that happen, not yet. You needed answers.

You needed to know they were okay.

Your phone buzzed back at the kitchen counter. Your head snapped to the side, eyes wide.

At once, the fear began crawling back.

Your phone had not buzzed since before the Kanto Incident.

Your feet dragged against the ground as you made your way back to the kitchen--slower, less excited than you should have been at the prospect of possibly finally getting news.

One of them is dead.

The thought rang around your head--screaming, whispering, you couldn’t push it away this time.

One of them is dead.

They would have come to you if they had been able to. They would have come to tell you what happened. So five of them are jailed. One of them is dead.

Best case scenario.

Worst case scenario, three of them are jailed, three of them are dead.

Your stomach twisted and turned, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at whatever message had just come through. Three jailed, three dead. You couldn’t breathe, you forced yourself to walk away from the counter your phone was resting on, moving over to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water.

You downed the liquid immediately, nearly choking over it before slamming the glass back down. You braced your hands against the counter, leaning over it, breathing heavy as you tried to control yourself.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Everything would be okay.

All you had to do was figure out where they were and get to them.

You pushed yourself up, smoothing out your shirt and forcing your lips flat.

First, you had to read the message. There was no reason to stress about anything else until you did.

Letting out one more heavy breath, you moved back over to the other counter, ignoring how your fingers trembled as you picked up your phone. Inhaling softly, you unlocked your phone, taking note of the unknown number who you figured must be Amon, one of your uncle’s colleagues who had promised to get back to you if he figured something out.

Your heart dropped once the message registered.

16:43 UNKNOWN: A Haitani Rindou was admitted to the Kawagoe Juvenile Prison infirmary in critical condition two days ago.

---

You had never moved so fast in your entire life. You were out the front door of the building in less than five minutes and you were grateful that your driver for the week had been in the area because he was already waiting for you underneath the awning outside of the building, car running and ready to go.

You all but leapt into the passenger seat when you got to the car, telling him to drive as fast as he could.

It was an hour’s drive to Kawagoe Juvenile Prison without traffic. And it was a Friday night, on the verge of rush hour. Every second you spent in that car you swore was taking time off from the end of your life. It was frustrating, anxiety-inducing.

‘It would be faster running there,’ you tried to tell Mister Mado but he only clicked his tongue at you and told you that if you stepped out of the car in the middle of rush hour traffic, he would drag you right back into the car and drive you back to the penthouse. And you did not doubt his capability--Mister Mado was ex-special forces, like Mister Ayato. They had trained together, and Mister Ayato was the one that introduced Mister Mado to your uncle a few years back.

If you had tried to make a break for it, he would have caught up to you easily. And then you wouldn’t be able to see Rindou, or Ran, or any of the others at all.

Assuming they were all there.

Critical condition, the words rang through your head as Mister Mado pulled into the juvenile prison. Critical condition, two days ago.

Three dead, five arrested. Rindou, Ran, Izana. Shion, Mochi, Mucho.

Six.

Schrodinger’s cat. You would not know who was dead or alive until you entered that building, thus, until you enter it, the six of them, in a sense, are both dead and alive.

Once you entered that building… at least one of them would be dead and nothing would ever be the same after.

Your nails dug into the cloth of your slacks, trying to calm yourself down as Mister Mado talked to the man at the front gate. You couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying, too focused on the large building ahead of you.

Three dead, five arrested.

Please be okay.

You rested your head on the cool window, letting your eyes slide shut.

It was too hot for a February day. Muggy. Suffocating. Ugly.

You hated the humidity nearly as much as you hated the rain. You could feel the heavy air weighing down on you through the rolled-down window Mister Mado was leaning out of to talk to the man at the front gate. You swore you felt like you were going to pass out.

It took an outrageous amount of time for the guard to let the two of you through the gates. Or well, you were being dramatic--it only took about five minutes, but those five minutes felt like five hours. Every moment you were separated from them was hellish, every moment of uncertainty, every time you questioned whether or not all of your worst fears might come true.

You just wanted to be with them again, your throat was tight at the admission--you wanted to be hanging out in their room annoying Ran with Rindou, you wanted to force Ran to sit down so you could brush his hair, you wanted to fight with Rindou over what movie you two were going to watch, you wanted to complain that the two of them were being too clingy when Rindou draped himself on top of you and Ran was forcing his head on your lap when he came back into the main room of the penthouse--having woken up to you shrieking at a jumpscare--dragging one of the soft blankets that Miss Yua had given him for his birthday behind him as he joined the two of you for the last half of the movie you were watching,

You felt your eyes well with tears, you forced them away.

Now was not the time.

Finally, the car was moving again and your heart was stuttering in your chest as Mister Mado pulled up to the front of the detention center.

“The guards will guide you to the infirmary,” Mister Mado told you, “stay with them. I’ll meet you there.”

You nodded once, slipping out of the car and into the humidity. The heels of your boots clicked against the dark gray pavement as you approached the building, keeping your chin up and your gaze forward.

One of the guards pressed his access card against the scanner, a loud ring and the front doors swung open. They waited for you to move inside.

You hesitated.

Schrodinger’s cat. As long as you did not enter the building, all six were both dead and alive. A state of unknown that might just be better than whatever reality you would face walking into that building.

“An alarm will go off if you don’t go in,” one of the guards said, voice brusque. You bristled in annoyance, shooting him a sharp look before letting out a sigh of defeat, stepping into the building.

Two guards were waiting for you in the long hallway, the doors shut behind you with an ominous bang.

“Come, l/n-san,” one of them said, “We’ll take you to the infirmary.”

You nodded, following after them silently. You had half a mind to ask who all was arrested--their names were on the tip of your tongue. Haitani Ran. Kurokawa Izana. Madarame Shion. Muto Yasuhiro. Mochizuki Kanji. You swallowed their names, continuing down the long, dreary hall of the juvenile prison.

You knew Rindou was alive at least, and the thought put you at ease, if only momentarily.

Alive but his last known condition was critical.

You felt sick.

Right, left, left, right.

You bit down on your bottom lip. The prison was cool and damp compared to the humidity from outside but it was just as suffocating. A part of you wanted to run before you learned the truth.

Three dead, five arrested. Six of them.

You were scared. It was a sort of low, creeping fear that was eating at your mind and soul. One that was building and building and had been building since the news first came out about the casualties of the Kanto Incident. It was becoming too much for your body and mind to handle.

You were going to break.

“Here,” the guard said firmly, stopping in front of a grey door, “We’ll wait outside unless you call for us.”

You couldn’t break. Not yet.

Hold yourself together. Now is not the time.

Chin up, back straight. Push all of your emotions to the back of your head. You can only fall apart in the privacy of your own home. Your uncle’s words rang on repeat through your head.

You took in a deep breath, you straightened your back, you raised your chin.

“Thank you,” you said. Your voice was steadier than you expected as you stepped forward, pushing open the door.

You entered the room, heart tight in your chest. It was a shitty little infirmary--not equipped to handle any serious wounds. You felt anxious as your gaze drifted around before it tunneled to a figure laying on one of the beds on the opposite side of the room.

“Rindou,” you breathed out, rushing forward toward him. And you nearly broke there and then—eyes blurry with tears when you noticed how badly his face was bruised up and the way his arm was in a sling. You stood at his bedside, half kneeling on the bed next to him. You brought your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks gently and your fingers trembled against his skin as he peeked up at you through swollen eyes, split lips pulling up into a small smile, “What happened?”

“Got the shit kicked out of me,” his voice was rough, scratchy, and he winced as if his throat hurt when he spoke, “Real bad.”

“No shit,” you laughed, but your voice cracked as the tears spilled over your cheeks. Your uncle would be disappointed if he found out. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You shifted the thin sheets off of him, one hand leaving his face to trace gently down his chest and abdomen across all of the deep purple bruises marring his skin all the way down to beneath the waistband of his pants.

You pulled away when his abdomen spasmed beneath your touch, sliding the sheets back over him as he shivered. You looked back up at him as he leaned his face into your touch, bringing your other hand up to brush a lock of blonde hair from his face.

“Who did this?” you asked quietly.

Rindou shook his head, “Doesn’t matter,” he murmured, “How’d you get in here anyway? They said they don’t allow visitors.”

You scoffed lightly but there was no heat behind it as you gazed down at Rindou, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you took in just how hurt he was, “Do you even know who I am?” you said light-heartedly, fingers ghosting along his cheekbone, “I can do whatever I want.”

“Ah yes, I forgot, Miss My-Uncle-Owns-Half-Of-Japan,” Rindou teased, but there was an odd tone in his voice, one that you couldn’t quite place and it had you on edge because you could always, usually pretty easily, tell what Rindou was feeling. “Why’d it take you so long anyway? Figure you’d be here as soon as news got out about what happened in Yokohama.”

Your small smile faltered at the reminder of your own lack of capability, your inability to get anything done without your uncle’s help. How the fuck were you supposed to start up your own business, much less make it successful, when you can’t even do basic shit on your own? When you can’t even find out if your friends are dead or alive without going to a dozen and a half people for help.

Well, you supposed you wouldn’t be alone, you remembered. You and Izana had planned it all out over the few months you spent in the music room together. He would be at your side, and you were quite certain that you and Kurokawa Izana would be an unstoppable force once you got the momentum going.

You didn’t have to answer his question. Instead, a new familiar voice spoke up, “What am I? Chopped liver?” a petulant voice asked and you all but leapt off of the bed, eyes wide and desperate as your gaze swiveled around the room, eyes falling upon Ran lounging back on a nearby bed, studying you carefully.

“Ran,” you gasped, leaping off Rindou’s bed and toward Ran.

Ran spread open his arms for you and you buried yourself right into them. He huffed in amusement as he wrapped his arms snug around you and you couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered shut, you couldn’t help the warm feeling that swam throughout you at the feeling of his arms holding you tight.

“You’re okay,” your voice was choked as you pulled back, hands going right to cup his face just as you had to Rindou, eyes tracing over his skin, and then down his body. He wasn’t as fucked up as Rindou, but he was clearly bruised and battered.

“Okay is a relative term,” Ran murmured in response.

“Wh-what happened to you guys?” you demanded, going to look back at Rindou but your gaze caught on the other three in the room: Shion, Mochi and Mucho, all of whom had also been beaten albeit none as badly as Rindou. Your voice rose in anger, “How the hell did Izana let this happen? Wher-”

Three dead, five arrested.

The anger washed away, your hands trembled. You pushed yourself off of Ran’s bed, looking around one last time--maybe you had missed him.

Your voice was little over a hushed whisper as you finished your question, “Where is he? Where-where is Izana?”

Neither Rindou nor Ran would meet your eyes. Mucho’s lips were pressed together tight. Mochi stared ahead at the barred window of the infirmary blankly. Not even Shion opened his mouth to answer you.

“Where is Izana?” your voice was louder, more frantic, “Hey! One of you fucking answer me, where is he?”

No response.

You looked between Rindou and Ran, desperately trying to get one of them to look at you, “Answer me,” you were begging, you never fucking begged. “Answer me, please, one of you answer me. Where is he? If this is some sick joke-”

“Izana’s dead.”

It was Shion that spoke. His voice was more serious than you had ever heard before. You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes wide. His face was cold, stony--any and all hints of the wide, wild smile you were used to was gone as he watched you.

He was lying.

“You’re lying,” you accused, shaking your head, “Izana can’t die, he’s Izana. Where is he? This isn’t funny, Shion.”

But even as you spoke the words you knew, you knew deep, deep down that what Shion was saying was true. He was an asshole, but not even he would go this far--not with his friends.

“He’s dead, y/n,” Ran said. Your eyes were wide, glassy as you looked back at Ran, searching his face for any hint of a lie. “He took three bullets to the chest during the fight.”

There was none.

“No,” you said, “No, no no no, what do you mean bullets? It was a fist fight, you guys do fist fights, why the fuck was there a gun? What do you mean bullets, Ran? Who brought the gun? Who shot him? Ran, tell me who the fuck shot him, I’ll have them ki-“

Your world was spinning and tunneling all at once, you weren’t even sure how you were still standing up straight. Your head felt light, you were dizzy.

“What are you trying to name it after?”

“Huh? Name what?”

“You said you’re trying to break off from your uncle. You’re gonna need a new company name, what’re you trying to name it for?”

“…”

“… you don’t know, do you?”

“… I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“… whatever, I’m done practicing today anyway. Come here, let’s think something up.”

“You can’t kill him,” Rindou shook his head, “You can’t-”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” your voice was shrill, loud. “Don’t you fucking forget that, Rindou. Tell me who had the fucking gun.”

“Well I can’t do Japanese mythology, ‘cause that’s what Uncle Ichirou’s is… um…”

“Roman?”

“Hmm okay, I don’t know much about Roman mythology.”

“I actually have an idea, hold on.”

“Kisaki Tetta.”

“Shion!” Ran roared, “shut the fuck up.”

Shion stared right at you, “His name was Kisaki Tetta. The one who killed Izana.”

“Guys, I had the best idea for the name of my company when I get it started.”

You wanted to throw up. You pressed your hand to your mouth, turning around to face the wall so none of the others could see you.

Control yourself. Do not break down here. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Who had the best idea?”

“I-okay well, I guess it was Izana’s idea. But we’re pretty much the same brain at this point so it’s technically my idea too.”

“Excuse me, we’re what?”

You could feel nausea build in your stomach. You shut your eyes and the world around you shifted. You were back in the car with your family, reaching out for your sister, yelling for her to get up, that you guys had to get out of the car before it exploded. You could smell the smoke and the blood and the gasoline, you could feel the heat burning your eyes, you could hear your mother gasping for air as she breathed her last.

You couldn’t breathe. Izana, he-

“Anyway, get this! Janus! After the Roman god. He’s the god of beginnings and endings, and transitions, doorways, gateways, do you get it?! A new era for technology, and a shift away from my uncle, a new era for all of us, really. Once we get it started, everything will be easy after that.”

You wouldn’t be able to do it without him. You knew it. You fucking knew it. How were you supposed to? How were you supposed to build something alone that you had promised to do with him? Something that he named, something that he helped you plan, something you were supposed to do together. Your new era. Together.

“Stay away from that family, death follows them.”

How many times had you denied it? Spat those accusations in the face and then cried in Rindou’s arms at home because they spoke of deals with the devil and curses of death that weren’t true and you couldn’t make any friends because of it.

Maybe they were right, a part of you whispered. Izana had been fine and then months after befriending you he gets shot at a fist fight, what the fuck are the chances of that? They had so many big fights over the years but the first major one since you befriended him ended in his death?

Who was next?

Shion? Mochi? Mucho?

Rindou or Ran?

Your chest heaved, you pushed away the nausea.

Not here. Not here. Not here.

Not in front of them. Control yourself.

The door to the infirmary creaked open. You stiffened.

“Huh? What’s this?” an unfamiliar voice. Male. Deep. Accented. “What’s a girl doing in here? Smuggling whores in, Haitani?”

His voice was low, teasing, but there was an underlying edge that had your hair standing on end. Ran shifted in the bed next to where you were standing but before he could open his mouth to say something you were looking over your shoulder back at the room.

They were tense. Uncomfortable. All of them. At once, a deep-set hatred swept throughout you. Whoever this was, he was not a friend.

“Who the fuck are you?” your voice was also low, but it did not have the same teasing edge as his did. Next to you, Ran inhaled sharply, a look of warning thrown in your direction.

The new guy was large—obscenely large, really, larger than Mochi and Mucho and they were the tallest guys you ever met. There was a tattoo curling down his neck to his chest, top unbuttoned, and you couldn’t help but notice the scars that riddled his chest.

“He took three bullets to the chest during the fight.”

Resentment flooded through you too fast to control it. Your gaze drew up to meet a strange golden one that made your skin crawl.

“Watch yourself, girl,” the amusement in his voice was also gone, your eyes narrowed.

The resentment shifted into a steadily growing anger.

“Take your own advice,” your words were milder than the ones sitting on the edge of your tongue, ready to burst. “I asked you a question.”

Your name left Ran’s lips, a warning. He was telling you not to fuck around with this guy. One glance at Ran and the rest of them told you all you needed to know—his eyes were wary, hesitant, he looked torn between standing in front of Rindou, who was immobile on his infirmary bed, and dragging you behind him. Mucho was on his feet, standing to the side between you and the new guy, ready to jump in, Shion and Mochi were still sitting on their own beds, significantly more tense than before.

This was the one that beat the shit out of them.

Your gaze drew sharply from them, onto the two guards who had walked you here, now standing stiff at the doorway due to the new arrival, ready to intervene.

“Leave,” you said. Their eyes snapped to you,

protest visible in them.

“L/n-san,” one hesitated, looking at you.

“Now,” you interrupted before he could continue and you watched as the two of them shared a look before stepping out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind them.

“Sending away your only means of protection wasn’t a smart move, girl,” his voice was low and derogatory, the amusement was back again. That deep-set hatred began to boil again as your gaze fell back on the scars on his chest—proof of his survival against something that had killed Izana. “These fuckers can’t protect you. They hadn’t even been able to protect themselves.”

Your hands shook with anger from where they were stuffed in your pockets. If Izana was here-

You wanted to cry. Izana was not here. He was dead, and you felt like it was your fault. Cursed. You were fucking cursed.

Now is not the time. Control yourself.

If Izana was here, he would put this asshole in his place without sparing a second. You could practically picture it and-

-and if Izana wasn’t here to do it, you had to. For Ran and Rindou, for Shion and Mucho and Mochi, for Izana, who you knew would be furious if he knew some ogre was beating and bullying them.

Izana was gone, you couldn’t shake the words from you. Dead. Three bullets to the chest during the fight. You were on your own now—well, you supposed you weren’t on your own. You had Ran and Rindou and Shion and Mucho and Mochi, but they were not Izana.

Izana understood you in a way that they did not. And that’s not to say that Ran and Rindou didn’t understand you—they did. But it was different. You knew they struggled to see you as someone independent, as someone they didn’t need to protect all the time. You loved them. You did. But Izana had always recognized your potential whereas they did not.

“I think you underestimate yourself too much, and I think when push comes to shove, you’ll do what needs to be done.”

Maybe he was right, you considered as words twisted through your head—bullets ready to fire at the asshole standing in front of you. But things were different now that he was gone. Izana’s presence had been a reassurance. A reassurance that if you split from your uncle, you would still have someone there watching your back—someone who understood, someone who wouldn’t coddle you or try to hold you back.

But Izana was gone. He was dead. And now you were drifting alone, drowning in the open sea and the only buoy you could cling to was your uncle until you could learn to float yourself.

You could stand on your own—you knew you could. Izana had faith that you could, and you had faith in yourself. But not yet, you knew you weren’t ready yet, and you knew that things would only get more dangerous as time passed. More threats to you, to them—threats that you wouldn’t be able to eliminate on your own. Not yet.

Your family name was like a bulletproof shield that surrounded the pedestal the world held you on. You hated using it, it always left a sour taste in your mouth but…

“When push comes to shove, you’ll do what needs to be done.”

If it was to protect them, you would use it. You would use your family name, you would use your uncle, you would do anything.

This was only the first test.

Chin up, back straight. Push all of your emotions to the back of your head. You can only fall apart in the privacy of your own home.

“You’re foreign, so I suppose I can’t blame you for not understanding how things are run in Tokyo,” you said. His gaze darkened, you raised your chin, straightened your back. Your uncle's words swam throughout your head yet again. You did not know all of what your uncle was involved with, but you knew enough to realize this brute had no right trying to threaten you. And perhaps you were about to speak out of your ass considering you were crying about not being able to get anything done, not even a half hour ago, but nobody needed to know that.

“I run Tokyo. Or well, I suppose my uncle does right now. But I will sooner or later. My family has this city in our pocket. Someone like you should already know just the way this world works,” your gaze drifted down to the bullet scars decorating his chest, the tattoo that you were sure had some sort of gang significance, “and you should know to avoid the larger fish of the sea.”

He scoffed, loudly, and he took a step forward, you did not move. “You tryna say you’re a larger fish?” he sounded amused, you were not.

You smiled thinly, “The largest someone of your standing will ever have had the misfortune of stumbling upon,” you said coolly, gaze flickering down to the name etched on his uniform. “Brutality and aggression get you nowhere in this world. Money is what makes the world go round, Terano, and our wallets are all but endless. You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

“Or what?”

Your eyes trailed back down to the scars marring his chest before flashing back up to his eyes.

“I don’t think you need me to answer that question,” any amusement that might have been apparent on Terano’s face was gone in an instant.

He stepped forward and at once there was a cock of a gun. Ran, Shion and Rindou flinched, Mucho and Mochi tensed. Your eyes flickered behind Terano to where Mister Mado was holding a pistol up.

A bullet to the chest might not kill him but Mister Mado always aimed for the head, and he never missed.

Terano’s brows knit together, his lips pressed tight. He glared so hard that you swore you’d be a boiling puddle of flesh and blood and bone if he had the power. His eyes flashed with something dark, angry, a sort of blinding rage and bloodlust that sent a chill running down your spine.

He was not a man that liked to be backed into a corner.

The adrenaline was fading, you could feel the nerves reappearing. You had to leave before you broke.

“I’ll be back to visit next week,” you didn’t look back at Ran or Rindou as you started walking away. They called after you but you ignored them. You were running out of time; you only had a few moments before reality smacked you once again.

You stopped as you passed Terano, tilting your head up to look at him, shoulder brushing his arm. Pupils constricted, gold stared down at you furiously. All it would take was one movement, one snap of his arm up and he would have your neck in his grasp, snapping it in one swift motion.

“If you touch them again, you won’t leave this center alive,” you said before turning your gaze back forward brushing past him and out of the door, ignoring the calls of your name.

As soon as the doors shut behind you, you pulled your hands from your pockets, revealing just how shaky they had become during the confrontation. You took deep breaths, trying to keep yourself calm.

“I’ll have the cameras wiped and we’ll pay off the guards to keep an eye around here,” Mister Mado said, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You handled this well. Your uncle will be proud.”

Your chest sunk. His words rang bitter in your ears.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?

—-

PRESENT.

You were sure that this was all you had ever wanted in life.

Thin rays of sun slipped past the blinds, beating against your eyelids, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not with Ran’s arm wrapped snug around your waist, his face buried in the nape of your neck. Warm, soft puffs of air fanned against your skin, short purple and black hair tickled your shoulders.

You could feel Rindou laying somewhere in front of you, one hand curled around your wrist, as if he was trying to stop you from trying to flee when you woke up. You had always been the one to wake up first of the three of you. Your chest tightened at the thought, his grip was tight, holding your hand close to him.

Rin…

You let out a shaky breath, letting your eyes peek open. The sun burned, but only for a second as your gaze focused on Rindou’s sleepy expression, inches from your face. His lashes brushed his cheek and his pink lips were parted as he took in slow, even breaths.

You swallowed thickly, eyes tearing up as you realized just how at peace you felt at that moment. You felt safe, genuinely and truly safe, for the first time in years, even if you did know deep down you were in more danger than ever.

Rindou let out a quiet hum in his sleep, grip tightening on your hand, and you inhaled sofly, bringing your free hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, scared of waking him up. Your fingers brushed his cheekbone and your breath caught as his eyes fluttered open, purple eyes lost and confused for a moment before his eyes trained on you.

His face was unreadable, if only for a moment, and then his lips lifted into a small smile, “Creep,” he accused, but even as the word left his lips, his eyes slid back shut and he leaned his face into your touch.

“Shut up,” you murmured, no heat behind your words as you let out another uneven puff of air. “I just-”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say your thoughts out loud. I just wanted to make sure you were real, I wanted to make sure this wasn’t some sort of sick trick.

But you didn’t have to say it out loud. Rindou’s grip on your hand tightened in response to your words, his way of saying that he had been fearing the same, and his grip on your hand was his way of keeping ahold of reality. Ran’s grip on your waist shifted, nuzzling in closer to you as he let out a low groan in his sleep.

Rindou’s eye’s flickered behind you, a strange expression crossing over his face. Your brows furrowed, asking him a silent question, and Rindou only shrugged, eyes sliding shut again.

“He hasn’t slept well in a long time,” he murmured, “Not without sleeping pills, at least.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, guilt stirring in you once again. You wondered if you leaving had anything to do with that, or if it was just something that had come with years in his line of… work.

You grimaced at the reminder. You knew what they were a part of—you had known since that morning at Izanagi Headquarters—but it was different hearing it directly from them. They didn’t spare you any details, and you weren’t sure if you were grateful for it or not.

Bonten. The rival gang that has been trying and failing to back Sugawara into a corner. They knew just as much about Sugawara’s group as his knew about Bonten up until recently. Both groups were slippery, good at keeping to the shadows, careful and calculating.

But Bonten couldn’t keep up. And you supposed it was nobody’s fault but your own. Your return to Tokyo had been the turning point in the cold war between the two gangs. Your money, your technology, your relationship with the Haitanis.

You shut your eyes, guilt pooling in every pore in your body, weighing you down heavy.

Bonten was on its last legs. Sanzu Haruchiyo and Kakucho were frantically trying to get their shipments out of their warehouses before the police raided them. Kokonoi Hajime’s businesses had all but burned to the ground. Akashi Takeomi was trying to get in talks with smaller gangs but nobody wanted to step into a raging fire for a gang that would’ve looked away had they been in the same position.

And Rindou and Ran were here. With you. A part of you wondered if there would be backlash for it, but you doubted that Bonten could spare the resources anyway. And you were certain they couldn’t afford to drive away two of its executives when it was already falling apart.

Your fingers trembled.

You should have stayed away, back in Europe, or the Americas, anywhere but here. All you did was bring death and misfortune with you wherever you went.

You were certain that the kids from all those years ago were right. You were cursed.

A palm pressed softly against your cheek and your eyes fluttered back open, meeting Rindou’s.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly, and you let out a breath.

“Nothing,” you said quietly. His brows furrowed in annoyance, you sighed louder. “Really, nothing, I was thinking about Izana,” you lied, “or well, just that day at the detention center.”

Rindou’s lips pressed together tight at the reminder of Izana before he shook his head, snorting, “South. I cannot believe you and him work together now. I swore he was going to kill you that day. Even when we were with him in Rokuhara Tandai after, I don’t think I ever saw him so angry before. You made it look so easy.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “I was terrified,” you admitted, “and I was pretty much talking out of my ass. I was literally crying on the way to the detention center because I couldn’t do anything without Uncle Ichirou’s help.”

Your eyes fluttered shut again as Rindou’s fingers danced along your cheek, “Couldn’t tell,” he murmured, “You were…”

His voice fell off and a strange, uncomfortable feeling swept over you as you waited for him to finish the sentence.

You were what?

“I was what?” you finally asked when Rindou never continued.

He blinked, as if he himself hadn’t realized he never finished his sentence, before a strange look crossed over his face, “I don’t know,” he said quietly, “Looking back on it, that was really the day it all changed, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you responded. You couldn’t meet his eyes, his hand drew back from your face and an unwelcome, longing feeling swept over you. “Yeah, it was.”

Rindou grimaced, and you could see all the thoughts running through his head.

I should have realized, I should have done more, things would be different if I had noticed, I should have, I should have, I should have-

You squeezed his hand gently, “There wasn’t anything that could’ve been done,” you told him softly, but he shook his head, pulling his hand from yours and rising off the bed.

Your hand felt cold. Your lips parted to call after him. He wouldn’t look at you.

“I’m gonna go see what Miss Yua is making for breakfast,” he said, not waiting for a response before he turned on his heel and left the room, letting the door shut loudly after him.

An excuse, of course, Miss Yua always made eggs in the morning. Mister Ayato was the one that did fancy breakfasts for the three of you and he was all but bedridden.

As soon as the door shut, the arm around your waist tightened. You let out a soft noise as you squirmed beneath Ran’s arm, turning your head to look at him, eyes meeting violet ones that peered at you from over your shoulder.

“How long have you been awake?” you asked, trying to shift away, but even wounded, Ran was still stronger than you.

“Long enough to hear you talk to Rindou. What were you really thinking about?” Ran questioned, voice low and sleepy, “I know you were lying.”

“Ran-“

“Don’t play games with me, I’m not in the mood,” Ran muttered, finally letting go of you so you could turn around to face him.

You could barely meet his gaze, eyes darting around to look everywhere but at him until his hand came up to hold your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you-“ you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes. How fucking embarrassing. Were you really going to admit to this? “Do you remember what those kids used to say about me and my family? When we were younger?”

Ran’s brows furrowed as he nodded, unsure of where you were going with this, and you could feel the tears pool in your eyes behind your eyelids.

“Do you ever wonder if it’s true?” you finally asked and you hated how your voice shook, and you hated even more as Ran let go of you.

“What?” he asked, tone inlaid with such disbelief that it had your face heating up in embarrassment, “What are you talking about? Why would-?”

“My whole family died, Ran,” you interrupted him, “in a freak accident on the way to one of my

ballet recitals. And then as soon as I befriend your friends, two of them die too. I go to Europe and thousands of people are killed in the explosion. And now I come back to Tokyo, and everything goes to shit in a matter of two weeks. Everywhere I go, tragedy follows. And I’m scared, I’m scared every day that you and Rin will be next.”

You expected a multitude of reactions from Ran. You expected him to get angry, annoyed; you expected him to blow you off and call you dumb; you expected a roll of the eyes and a ‘quit it with the paranoia.’

You did not expect him to laugh.

Your eyes flew open, glaring at him. Amused purple eyes watched you fondly. Your glare lessened when you felt his hand rest on your bicep, thumb rubbing soft circles on your skin.

“Rindou and I have been around you for what? Seventeen years? We were together for nine before you went off to school? Don’t you think that if we were cursed, we would’ve been struck down by now?” Ran teased, “Is that really what’s got you so wound up?”

You looked away, he brought his hand up to cup the side of your neck and your eyes instinctively drew back to him. The amusement was gone and instead replaced by worry.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” Ran’s voice was quiet, more serious. You grit your teeth to try to stop the tears.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. You told yourself it over and over again but it wasn’t working this time.

“You don’t-you don’t understand,” you shook your head, which was a mistake considering the movement made the tears start to fall. “You don’t understand waking up every day and being terrified that you’re going to get the people you love killed-I-Ran, it’s so-“

Your vision was blurred but you could still catch the look on Ran’s face—the questioning and then the understanding and then the anger.

He spoke your name and you nearly flinched, “Was this the reason for the rush? When you left? You told us two days before, y/n, you didn’t even give us any time to process it before you were gone.”

He was trying to stay calm, you could hear it in his voice, but you could see the fury boiling behind his eyes. Your shoulders shook, you took in a wet breath. You opened your mouth to deny it. Deny, deny, deny but instead-

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke as a sob wracked your form, your hands flew to cover your face and you tried to move away. “I was scared.”

The excuses and apologies flew from your lips like bullets, but even as you cried and asked him to forgive you, you felt as if the last of the weight bearing down on you had been lifted.

Even if he hated you, at least you had nothing left to hide from them.

Ran let out a heavy, shaky breath, his hand wrapped tight around your bicep again, pulling you in close. You buried your face in his chest, melting into the warmth of his body, wrapping an arm around his waist as he held you.

“Rindou was right, you really are somehow the stupidest and smartest person we’ve ever met,” he muttered. “You are so fucking infuriating. So fucking infuriating.”

You ignored the insult, instead letting your eyes slide shut as Ran pressed his lips to the top of your head. And for a moment, the two of you just laid there--you bundled in his arms, trying to calm your breathing and dry your tears, and him clutching you tight, blunt nails digging a bit too hard into your skin but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid there curled up into each other but you were sure that you would have stayed there forever if given the chance.

“Breakfast is ready.”

You jumped at the sound of Rindou’s voice, pulling away from Ran to sit up and look at him. There was an odd expression on his face as he eyed the two of you but you only let out a breath as you pushed yourself off the bed, straightening out the button-up you had slipped into last night after the three of you were two bottles in.

Rindou’s, you recognized now that you weren’t drunk out of your mind--you could smell his cologne heavy on the collar of the button-up, a woodier scent than the one that Ran wore.

“Eggs?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows. Rindou tore his gaze from where he was staring at the bed you had just been in with Ran.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, “eggs.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder, “Coulda told you that,” you said.

“Miss Yua always makes eggs,” Ran agreed as he stood up, a grimace crossing his face, his hand flying to his abdomen.

You and Rindou both took a step toward him but he waved you off, irritation flashing through his eyes, “I’m fine,” he snapped. You sighed, sharing a look with Rindou as Ran made his way toward you, breath shaky and knees wobbly. He was barely walking straight, the bruises marring his skin were dark and ugly against his pale skin, blending in with the tattoos on the left side of his body.

You shook your head, moving toward him, you took a spot on the right side of his body and Rindou moved to the left, helping steady him.

“I don’t fuckin’ need your help,” Ran, ever the difficult one, tried to push both of you away but you only tightened your grip on him.

“Relax, Ran,” you said quietly, “Let’s just get to the kitchen.”

“I can walk myself,” Ran muttered, unamused, but he didn’t fight as he leaned into the two of you, letting you guys guide him to the kitchen.

Miss Yua was there waiting for the three of you, graying hair pulled up into a bun, lips flat as she scowled at the three of you. You could almost pretend that you guys were teenagers again, about to get a loud and unending scolding after the three of you had stolen Mister Ayato’s alcohol and blacked out, missing breakfast and lunch and stressing Mister Ayato out intensely when you didn’t meet him at the school like you were supposed to.

“Good morning, Miss Yua,” you murmured, Ran echoing your words.

The woman raised her nose, sliding three plates of eggs and toast toward you guys. You picked up your fork immediately, going to shovel a forkful of food into your mouth. You paused when you caught all three of them staring at you.

“What?” you asked, disgruntled, “I’m hungry.”

Rindou snorted, looking down at his own food, and the irritated look on Ran’s face disappeared momentarily as he smiled down at the plate in front of him.

“You, boy,” Miss Yua pointed a kitchen knife at Ran, Ran froze mid-bite of food, finishing chewing slowly and swallowing as he watched her, “Do not overexert yourself, I’m not going to do checkups on you every few hours. Your body is weak--” Ran flinched “--and it will become weaker if you push yourself. Take it easy.”

Ran let out a noise of agreement but from the look on his face you knew damn well he had no intention of taking it easy, and from the way Miss Yua rolled her eyes, she knew that too. Miss Yua let out a heavy sigh as she smoothed out her clothes, making her way back in the direction of where her room and Mister Ayato’s were located.

Before she left, she paused to look back at the three of you, there was a strange, longing look in her eyes as her gaze traced over the three of you, lips tugged up gently. Her lips parted as if to say something but instead she only shook her head, turning away, “It’s nice to see the three of you home together,” she murmured before making her way back down the hall.

With Miss Yua gone, a heavy silence overtook the kitchen. You chewed your food slowly, swallowing and placing your fork down.

“We should probably get out of here,” the words felt bitter. You wanted to stay, pretend that you had never left Tokyo and the three of you were lounging around the penthouse like old times.

But you couldn’t. The longer you stayed here, the more danger you would put Miss Yua and Mister Ayato.

That wasn’t an option.

“Yeah,” Rindou said quietly, and you could see on his face that he probably felt just as reluctant as you did. “Let me go get changed,” his gaze darted over to you and Ran, “you two should get dressed too.”

You let out a breath, rising to your feet after finishing the last of your eggs, moving your plate to the sink, grabbing Ran and Rindou’s, placing them with yours. You swallowed thickly as you stood at the sink, hands braced against the counter as you shut your eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You had to get away from the penthouse--it’ll be the first place that Sugawara looks. But leaving the penthouse meant facing reality again and you didn’t know if you were ready for it. Facing reality meant facing danger, and facing danger meant that Ran and Rindou would be at risk again.

You felt a palm press against your lower back, and you turned your head to the side, eyes falling upon Rindou, who watched you with furrowed brows and a concerned frown. You shook your head, giving him a small smile, “I’ll go get changed,” you said quietly, stepping away from the sink.

And you didn’t give him a chance to respond as you started your way back down the hall, a sinking feeling in your chest and a heavy weight returning to your shoulders.

---

The hardest part was saying goodbye to Miss Yua and Mister Ayato again.

You sighed as you leaned against the wall of the elevator, tilting your head back to look up at the mirrors lined in the ceiling. You could see Rindou and Ran standing against opposite walls, Ran typing furiously on his phone while Rindou stared ahead at him, fingers toying with his rings. He looked just as upset as you felt.

“Where are we gonna go?” you asked after a few moments. Rindou’s head lolled to the side as he looked over at you, raising his eyebrows, “... well we aren’t going to go back to your apartment, right? You said the cops have been raiding all your warehouses?”

“What’s that gotta do with our apartment?” Ran muttered, lips twisting down as he started typing out another angry message.

“... who do you guys think has the cops in their pocket?” you asked slowly, Rindou and Ran both looked up at you, Rindou’s face falling and Ran’s brows furrowing. “My uncle has had the TMPD in his pocket since we were kids, and if he does, Sugawara surely does too. Plus they have access to all the CCTV cameras in the city… that’s on me, I guess… sorry. Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is that we can't really stay in Tokyo right now. It’s not safe. They’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, literally.”

“The fuckin’ cameras,” Ran muttered to himself, shooting you a half-hearted glare before returning back to whatever argument he was having over text, “God, Sanzu won’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“What’s he want now?” Rindou rolled his eyes, turning his attention back toward Ran and you tuned them out as your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You recognized Takuya’s number flashing on your screen and you swallowed thickly as you answered the phone, praying to whatever god that would listen that they managed to get out of Tokyo safely.

“Takuya, are you-”

“Get out of the fucking elevator now,” it was Mina’s voice on the other side of the phone. Your heartbeat faltered in your chest, your body moved on instinct, eyes darting up to catch the thirteen on the elevator as it descended down to the ground floor. You slammed your hand against the button for the twelfth floor.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, “Mina-”

“Sugawara’s fuckers are in the building, they’re waiting at the bottom of the elevator, coming up the north and south stairwells. Eight on north, nine on south. We’re way outside the city right now, I won’t be able to get to you. You’ve gotta get out of there.”

“Oh fuck,” you breathed out, looking down each hall, “Oh fuck, fuck, what floor are they on right now.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Rindou demanded, clicking off the safety of his gun as he readied it in front of him, eyes wild as he looked up and down the hallway, trying to figure it out on his own.

“Sugawara’s men are here,” you said quietly as Mina and Takuya talked in the background, trying to pinpoint where exactly Sugawara’s men were. “In the building. Coming up now.”

“They’re on the sixth floor, or close to it. I can’t tell exactly, there’s no cameras in the stairwells. They seem to have your location, they’re not even bothering to check the other floors, just coming right up,” Takuya’s voice sounded further away, you could hear him typing away at whatever computer he was on, “I’m trying to get into the building’s cameras now. They’re not ours, it’s taking a bit longer than it would if they were.”

“We need to move,” Ran said, grimacing as he pushed himself off of the wall. Sweat was beading at his forehead, his face looked paler than usual, his legs shook with every step.

He was not okay.

“Ran,” you breathed out, trying to move forward to grab him but he batted your hands away.

“I’m fine,” his face was resentful, angry. He despised weakness. He hated being the one holding people back, “I’m fine. We need to move. Start moving.”

“You can’t walk,” Rindou spit right back, not having any of Ran’s shit, “You’re going to hold us back.”

“Then leave me,” Ran’s tone was absolutely vile, eyes on fire as he glared at Rindou.

“Fuck you,” Rindou snarled, shoving the gun in your hands before moving to wrap his arm around Ran’s waist, steadying him and helping him move along. His face softened as he looked back at you, “You know how to use that?”

“Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, holding the gun correctly in front of you, “I know how to use it.”

“Go to the left, down the north stairwell. They’re moving slower and there’s less of them. You’ll at least be able to get down a flight or two before they catch up. The building’s gym is on the tenth floor, it’ll probably be the easiest place to take cover and take them out. I’ll try to get the cameras out before you get to the floor,” Takuya said, you hesitated.

“Stop fucking standing there and move,” Mina boomed and you were moving forward immediately, sprinting to the north stairwell and shoving your phone into Ran’s hands as you reached the metal door.

“You’re on phone duty,” you said to Ran, who gave you a scowl so deep that you swore it would be permanently etched on his face.

The door creaked open as you pushed it open, holding it for Ran and Rindou before closing it quietly behind the two of them. Your eyes darted around. There were no cameras in the stairwells, but you knew they must have seen the three of you enter it from the ones on the twelfth floor. You had to keep moving.

You let out an unsteady breath, holding the gun in front of you as you started down the steps, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. You glanced back at Rindou and Ran. Ran had shoved a fistful of his shirt into his mouth, muffling the grunts of pain that rose at all of the jostling, giving you a clear view of the nasty bruises lining his abdomen courtesy of your decision.

Guilt swelled again, you pushed it away.

Now was not the time. Hesitate and it’ll get all three of you killed.

Focus.

You turned down the staircase, glancing down. You felt sick, anxiety was eating at your chest and stomach. You could hear the footsteps slamming against the metal stairs from floors below, the hushed voices. They were all armed, you were sure.

And you were the only one of the three of you armed. One versus eight, plus the additional nine on the opposite side of the building.

You felt sick. You couldn’t let them die here, not now. Not ever. You had to get them out, even if it meant giving yourself up.

They would never forgive you.

You don’t even know if they would actually let them go. They could lie.

It might be your only shot.

You felt dizzy, nauseous. You couldn’t push it away.

Floor Eleven.

One more floor, then sprint to the gym. You could make it. The three of you had done this a million times before, running from Miss Yua and then trying to camp out in the locker room, hiding behind the benches before she inevitably found you.

An intense sense of nostalgia swept through you as you looked back at them again. You could practically picture yourself hopping down three stairs at a time, shrieking and laughing and looking back over your shoulder as Rindou tried to keep up with you and Ran. The two of you had always been the fastest.

You were almost there. One more staircase.

You turned down the last twist, and you swore your heart stopped beating when you came face to face with a man around your age, dark hair, darker eyes. Gun in hand.

No. They had sent someone ahead?

Recognition flashed through his eyes when he saw you, gaze ripping to the side, halfway up the other staircase to where Rindou was struggling with Ran.

Your eyes widened.

You hesitated.

He raised his own gun, but not at you, and your body acted before your mind could process what was happening, watching Ran use the last of his strength to force Rindou behind him, using his body as a shield. All of the lessons from Mina and Mister Mado before he passed away coming back to swim at the forefront of your head.

Brace your feet. Steady your arms. Aim and pull the trigger.

Do not hesitate.

The bang that echoed throughout the staircase was terrible, loud, you wanted to cover your ears and curl up. In front of you, the man dropped dead to the ground, a hole through his forehead.

Your breath was erratic, your eyes were wild. “W-we need to keep going,” you told them. You could hear shouts from below, closer, the pounding of feet moving faster.

You raced down the steps, swinging open the door to the tenth floor, holding it for Rindou and Ran before taking off down the hall to where the glass doors of the gym were situated in the middle of the floor.

Your fingers trembled as you typed in the passcode—it was the same after all of these years and tears of gratefulness sprung to your eyes. A small mercy.

Your face was wet and sticky, you could feel a hot, thick liquid dripping down your cheek, something chunky in your hair. Your vision blurred and spun, shaky arms pushed open the doors.

Rindou and Ran slipped in and you shut the doors just as the doors to the stairwell slammed open on either side. Ran looked worse, you noted as you followed them into the locker room, locking the metal door behind the three of you. He was barely standing, shivering and sweating at the same time.

“Ran-“ you began, but he interrupted you.

“Are you okay?” Ran asked, your brows furrowed, unsure of why he was asking you that when he was the one in awful shape. “Was that the first time you killed someone?”

Your lips parted to answer, no noise left them. You swallowed, clearing your throat as you tried again, “Directly, yeah,” you said softly, looking away.

You felt two fingers press against your jaw, Rindou turned your face to him, bringing a warm, damp rag to your skin and wiping off the blood, removing whatever had been in your hair and hiding it in the rag before you could see it.

“You did good,” he murmured, “He would have-“

He would have killed us.

Well, you corrected, them. Your mind danced as you recalled the brief second before you shot him. He had seen you, recognized you, and then purposefully turned his body to pull the gun on Ran and Rindou.

They weren’t targeting you.

“They’re not targeting me,” you said quietly, refusing to look at either of them, “They-he looked at me and recognized me, but then he turned to try to kill you guys.”

“I figured they wouldn’t,” Ran said, grunting and shifting from where he was sitting on the ground, arms circling his abdomen, “Not when you’ve got all the money from Izanami. They’ll probably try to take you in and-“

“I should go,” you said, interrupting him. Rindou and Ran’s heads snapped toward you, confusion on the former’s and fury on the latter’s. “They won’t kill me, I can make a deal-“

“They won’t kill you yet,” Ran hissed, “That’s not to say they won’t once they’ve got their hands on Izanami.”

You shook your head. Your throat felt tight, your hands were shaky, you didn’t even know how you were talking coherently.

“We won’t make it out of here,” your eyes were tearing up.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

Ran opened his mouth to protest but you continued before he could, “There are what? Seventeen rounds in this? There’s seventeen of them just coming up here looking for us. There’s god knows how many downstairs waiting for. There’s only two exits for the building and I’m sure both of them are covered. I would rather-I would rather take the chance than certain death.”

“No,” Ran said instantly, “Absolutely not.”

“You can barely even walk,” you hissed, taking a step closer to him, “You can barely walk, Ran. H-“

“They’ll kill you as soon as they get what they want,” Ran’s expression was livid, “You fucking promised that you wouldn’t pull shit like this. We can hold out here-“

“Hold out for what?” you demanded, and to your horror, your voice cracked, “Hold out for what? Bonten isn’t coming. You said it yourself, they’re busy dealing with the raids. What are we holding out for? For them to finally break in here and kill you guys?”

Neither Ran nor Rindou responded, you let out another shaky breath, “Answer me,” you said, voice pleading as you looked between them, “Tell me there’s something else we can fall back on and I won’t. But I’m not going to stay here like a sitting duck so they can come in here and kill you guys.”

You could hear banging coming from the hall, a shattering of glass—you flinched violently. They were in the gym. It was only a matter of time.

“They’ll kill us anyway,” Rindou’s voice cracked, you had never heard him like this before. Tears sprung to your eyes and you forced them away. You had to stay strong, convince them that this was the best route. He grabbed you by the jaw, forcing you to look at him. “They’ll kill us anyway, all you’re doing is giving yourself up. If we can hold them off, you can get out of here.”

“That’s a big ‘if’ when you have one gun,” you snapped, “you’ll die if we do it that way. There’s no way.”

“We’ll die either way,” Ran shouted, trying to hide the grimace that swept over his face at the action. “We’ll die either way, I’d rather die knowing you might’ve got out of here instead of you having thrown yourself to death row for us.”

“I’ll hold Izanami hostage,” you looked away, staring at the door of the locker room that led to the gym, to where Sugawara’s men were gathered and searching for the three of you. You heard a shout and a bang against the locker room door.

They knew where you were.

“They’ll need me to sign over Izanami before they kill me, otherwise the company will go over to Takuya at my death,” you said quietly. “I’ll refuse to sign it over until I know you guys are safe.”

“No,” Ran said, “No, stop. They’ll just take us in and torture us until you give in. There’s no win-“

“The signing is public, for a company of Izanami’s size. Or even if the signing itself isn’t, I’ll be expected to make some sort of public announcement and speech detailing the future of Izanami under someone else’s leadership,” you interrupted, staring at the door blankly as the metal shook underneath the force of a kick. “They wouldn’t risk me speaking out in public.”

You smiled wryly, looking back at them, “Unfortunately for them, I’m a lot more popular with the general public than my uncle is. They know it would start an uproar.”

You supposed there was always the issue that they could just hold Rindou and Ran hostage to keep you quiet during the speech but… you were running out of options, and time. They would die here without a doubt if you didn’t do anything. At least they would have a chance if you played along.

You rose to your feet.

“No,” Ran’s voice was hoarse, panicked as he struggled to his feet.

You did not look back at him.

“Don’t you dare walk out that door,” Ran spat out, “I won’t forgive you. Don’t you fucking dare. Rindou, stop her.”

You did not look back at him.

A hand reached out to grab your wrist, holding you in place. You turned your head to the side, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly.

“Trust me,” you responded. “Please, Rin.”

Rindou stared at you for what seemed like an eternity, searching your eyes for some sort of answer. You waited, hoping and praying that he found it.

He let go of your wrist.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you.”

Ran was shouting, furious, but you did your best to tune him out. Distantly noticing how Rindou was forcing him back down to the ground instead of chasing after you and Ran, too weak to fight back, could only spit vile insults and curses at his younger brother.

You stood in front of the door, swallowing thickly.

“I’ll come out,” you called loudly, the shouting on the other side of the door ceased. “I would prefer not to be shot.”

For a moment, there was no response, you could hear your heart beating in your chest. You could hear Ran begging you not to go—you had never heard him beg before. Your throat felt tight, your hands felt shaky.

“Come out,” one man called, “Any tricks and we’ll shoot down all three of you.”

You reached out for the lock on the door.

“Please,” Ran was gasping, his voice was cracking, your lips trembled, “Don’t fucking do it, don’t go out there. We just got you back, we just got you back.”

Chin up, back straight. Push all of your emotions to the back of your head. You can’t fall apart now. Don’t let them see you break, they’ll latch onto weakness.

You raised your chin. You straightened your back. You opened the door.

***

WC: 12.2k

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED !!!

— feedback on character development and story progression pls do not nitpick little mistakes

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