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the-maw-consumes · 1 year

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“Have you…ever been in love?”

Steve blinked. That…wasn’t what he was expecting. Still, there’s only one definitive answer.

“Yep,” he answers, popping the ‘p’. “Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” His mimicked gunshot doesn’t even cover how that felt, but he does it anyway.

“Oh my god,” he hears from the other side, “She’s such a priss.”

Nancy Wheeler is a lot of things; priss, she is not. And maybe she doesn’t need him to defend her, but, still, he hums, “Turns out, not really.”

Robin scoffs as if that’s unbelievable, and maybe it could be. Then, she asks, “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

No, is the first thought in his mind. And, well, it’s strange to think his answer would’ve been different at the beginning of the year, as much as he’d told himself he’d moved on back then. But, the months in between have just made him realize that how he feels for her has changed a lot since October. He loves her, of course he does, and he’ll never really get over her. But, he doesn’t think he’ll ever love her like he did again.

So, after a moment, he says, “No.”

Then, of course, she asks the question he’s been avoiding thinking about: “Why not?”

There’s a lot of answers to that question, but Steve…well, he knows the one that’s most responsible, even if it’s been thrown to the back of his mind. He’s never really brought it to the light of day before—if bathroom lights could be called that. But there’s just something about this moment, sitting with Robin on a probably disgusting bathroom floor with his mind still kinda floating, that makes him feel like it’s safe here. They just went through hell—there wasn’t a better time, right?

“I think,” he starts, “it’s because I found someone who’s a little better for me.” He huffs a laugh, “It’s funny, you know? Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been saying, like, you gotta find your Suzie, you gotta find your Suzie.”

“Wait, who’s Suzie?”

“It’s some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real.” Steve shakes his head and kinda wishes he’d thought up a better analogy. “But that’s not really the point. Uh, the point is…I think I already found my Suzie. You know—this person is someone I didn’t even talk to in school, and I don’t know why. Maybe Tommy H. would’ve made fun of me, or I wouldn’t be…prom king. It’s stupid.” He sighs. “I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all a bunch of bullshit anyways. I should’ve been hanging out with this person the whole time. I wish I did. I mean, they’re so cool and hilarious—I feel like, the past few months, I’ve laughed harder than I have in a long time. And they’re smart, and a dork, but so passionate—you know, they can talk on and on about so many things, it’s amazing.” Captivating, really, but the second it takes to reminisce about those moments are enough to make him realize he’s been rambling for like, minutes, and he’s gotta stop at some point. So, “They’re honestly unlike anyone I’ve ever even met before.”

Steve smiles to himself for a second, his head still feeling a little flighty—but the silence keeps dragging on beyond that. The smile falls a bit, and Steve really hopes he was careful enough with his words. He really hopes he can trust Robin if he wasn’t.

“Robin?” Steve taps on the stall wall between them, the sound echoing through the bathroom. When the silence just gets heavier, it’s with genuine concern that he asks, “Robin, did just OD in there?”

“No.” He breathes a sigh of relief, then hears it echoed, though weighted, from the other side. “I…am still alive.”

Still, there’s something so heavy in her tone, and a visual confirmation that she is alive becomes essential for him. So, shuffling over to grip the wall between them, Steve slides underneath the stall and lands a little to the left of where she sits, alive and breathing. She smiles a bit.

“The floor’s disgusting.” He huffs and glances down at the sailor uniform that has (probably) seen better. “Yeah, well. I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…”

She breathes a bit of a laugh, and, at the very least, some of the heaviness is gone. Alive and breathing.

“What do you think?” he asks her, almost intentionally vague.

“About?”

“Am I in love with Nancy Wheeler?”

“No,” she grants. Then, very decidedly, “But, I think you’re on drugs and not thinking clearly.”

And the look she gives him feels too significant, too weighted, and he really, really hopes he was careful because the possibility he wasn’t is starting to loom over him. He can’t argue that his mind was in stellar shape a few minutes ago, and everything she’s done since then is just working to form a pit of dread in his stomach. It feels like wishful thinking to consider that nothing she’s said has been outwardly accusing, but it’s still there.

Why did he have to say so much?

No, no, right. The drugs. Robin may be right, he probably wasn’t thinking clearly. And, damn it, this may not be entirely his fault but he does not want the repercussions for it.

“Well, I think I’m thinking pretty clearly now.” Wishful thinking, it is.

“You’re not.” Somehow, her expression feels like an echo of his own worries. “Steve,” she starts, and the dread gets worse, “you’re not thinking clearly about this. Look, you don’t even know this person—” Wait, what? “and if you did know them, like, really know them—I don’t think you’d even want to be their friend.”

Steve blinks. That—That’s what she was talking about? How did she even know who he was talking about? He shakes his head, honestly baffled. “Wait, what? That’s not true.”

She speaks again before he could ask what about everything he said was so revealing, “Listen to me, Steve. It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you—” Harsh. “I really like you. But I’m not like your other friends. And I’m not like Nancy Wheeler.”

Well, Steve thought he was thinking clearly, but he is lost. Somehow, this conversation has escaped him within the span of two seconds, and the moment feels wrong to ask how they got here. But, if he’s going to take any guess at her meaning, he much prefers thinking she’s…supportive, maybe. Indifferent, even. So, he doesn’t think of the ball of dread winding through his chest, and he tries to follow what Robin may be saying. “Robin, that’s exactly why I like you.”

And that is the truth, really. He’s never had a friend like her, if they could be considered friends. This summer has carved a small space for her in Steve’s heart, and the past few days have done numbers on expanding that space. She’s funny and smart and definitely not like Nancy Wheeler, wherever that came from. And he really doesn’t want to lose her, not right now. If they get out of this, he wants to be her friend. He wants to know her better than ice cream shifts can tell him.

Robin scoffs lightly as if that’s not what she needed to believe him. “Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah?” He nods slightly.

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you,” she says, slowly, as if a plea to make him understand. He doesn’t. “It’s because…” she continues, hesitant in her words, and he desperately wants to know how to make this better because his heart breaks for the expression she has. Then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, “...she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

He blinks. “Mrs. Click?”

A breath of a laugh at that, but her eyes plant themselves on the wall. She clarifies, almost resigned, “Tammy Thompson. I wanted her to look at me. But…she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.” She looks back at him, with watery eyes. “And I didn’t understand because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you would ask dumb questions and you were a douchebag!” She shakes her head lightly and he really is trying to understand. “And…And you didn’t even like her, and I would go home and just…scream into my pillow.”

Steve stares for a second, trying to will his brain back into place, his thoughts to something clear, because something is being said here, something important and—

The puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh!

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” she echoes.

Unwillingly, Steve laughs. A bark of laughter just bursting out of him because, jesus-–this entire situation is so botched. But her face falls and he immediately stops in a wave of guilt and throws himself at reassuring her. “No, no, that’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean to do that.”

Robin looks away again, shrugs. “It’s fine.”

No, that won’t do. Steve shakes his head, vehemently, and taps her hand. “No, Robin, seriously—there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. I don’t have a crush on you.”

That makes her look back at him, eyebrows furrowed “What?”

“I think you’re awesome, Robin, and super cool and smart. I really want to be friends with you, seriously. But I wasn’t talking about you.” And Steve could stop there, but she just revealed…herself to him and he owes it to her to do the same. He knows how terrifying that is. “I was— Jesus.” He laughs again, brushes a hand down his face. And, still, knowing about her doesn’t make it any less terrifying to say it out loud. “I was talking about, um,” Like a bandaid, right? “...Eddie Munson.”

Her eyebrows seem to go to her hairline, but he celebrates the light that’s back in her eyes. “What.”

“Yeah, we uh—” There’s warmth in his cheeks. This is the first time he’s saying any of this out loud. “I don’t know how it happened, but we ran into each other one day and just started talking and…like, hit it off, super surprisingly. It’s crazy, he wasn’t even on my radar back then and now he’s—” Steve cuts himself off before he can start rambling again, rubs the back of his neck. “I really like him. I was talking about him.”

Robin grins. “Holy shit.” She shakes her head, repeats, “Holy. Shit,” enunciating, as if for good measure. He matches her grin.

“I had no idea what you were talking about.” He explains, “I mean, maybe I don’t really know Eddie, but how do you know that? And then you started talking about Mrs. Click’s…” he mimics an explosion in his head. “I thought the drugs completely fried my brain.”

She laughs, finally, her head falling back onto the wall, and he can’t help but follow her lead. It’s a good few moments before they stop, Robin suddenly sobering to hold a hand, saying “Wait, wait, Eddie Munson? You’re hanging out with drug dealer, total nerd, band dweeb Eddie Munson?”

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say you could criticize my taste, Miss Tammy Thompson.”

She scoffs, sounding just a bit offended, “What’s wrong with Tammy?”

“I mean, she’s cute and all but she’s a total dud.”

“She is not!”

. . .

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steve harrington x eddie munson #there's plenty of these already i'm sure #but i love changing the bathroom scene around to encompass steddie #and i was incredibly bored so #here this is

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waterfallofspace · 11 months

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Old Habits and New Friends.

The one where Y/osano has a cold, and learns how to be okay with this 'weakness' showing in front of her coworkers family. In turn, she learns a bit more about how much they care for her.

So I've been thinking about the beloved bringer of life doctor a lot. She's haunting in every sense and I adore her. Thus, this was born. There's quite a lot of 'character dynamic study' things in this, just fair warning! I love thinking about 'A/DA as a Family' Things <3

Characters: Y/osano, R/anpo, D/azai, K/unikida, F/ukuzawa (briefly) and no ships, this is all platonic-family things <3 Word Count: 2.9k

(References to Y/osano's backstory so slight spoiler warning)

~~~~~~~

As she stands outside the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, Yosano allows herself to take a moment. A gloved hand rubs her nose, trying to fend off the cold that’s been attempting to break her all week. Sickness isn’t a common occurrence for her, but it’s not incredibly rare either. She bites back a cough as she reaches for the handle of the door, sliding into the office with confidence she isn’t quite feeling.

The room is mostly empty, the only other person visible being Ranpo. He’s seated at his desk, munching on some ‘candy of the week’ and scanning the paper. ‘Likely hunting for cases. He managed to irritate the police again so they haven’t come to him for a few days. Seems he’s getting bored.’ Her presence isn’t addressed, though there’s no doubt he knows she’s here.

Another prickle works its way through her chest, barely being contained by a quick throat clear. Pointing herself towards her office, Yosano allows her gait to border on running as she glides towards the safe embrace of privacy. Being sick has never been something she was fond of, even before Mori.

She’s always had the mentality of ‘fight through it, don’t show weakness’. Mori certainly didn’t help with that, stoking her strong personality right alongside the fear of being weak. Even with the ADA, she’d managed to distance if sickness emerged, or fight off anything before it could progress past a mild cold.

“Yosano?”

Freezing, she allows the hope of a clean escape to fizzle away, pasting a smile onto her face as she turns to face Ranpo. ‘Hopefully he just wants a little praise, or help picking a case. Something simple I can finish quickly before he notices I’m… unwell.’ The thought is pointless, he’s been aware from the minute he saw her. She knows this just as much as him. Still, denial is a powerful drug if you want to believe it strongly enough.

“Yes, Ranpo?”

“Help me with these cases. They’re just all so boring! Not worth the trip, I could solve them from here. Is it so much to ask for something interesting to happen?”

“Let me have a look. Hm, what about this one? Three people vanished from the-”

“The most boring of them all! It’s so obvious that it was the ferry captain, and they’ll all be returned safely within the week, it’s some insurance thing.”

“I see. Well then, ma- hehh… maybe the car crash?”

“Open and shut, he was on his phone and fled the scene. He’ll turn himself in tomorrow, the guilt weighing on him. Next!”

“There’s also th- the… hh’keshh-! hk’yieshh’iee-! ih’keshh’ieu-! Excuse me, sorry.”

She ducks into her arm for the fit, turning as far from Ranpo as possible. When she spins back with the apology falling off her tongue, Ranpo has leaned forward, eyes showing under the brim of his hat. He’s looking her over in a way she’s painfully familiar with: studying her. After a moment he lets the nonchalant look rest over his face once more, eyes ducking back under his hat.

“It’s fine. Unlike my boredom. Find me an interesting case, I’m running out of snacks!”

“Is that how we ask for things?”

“Mmm… fine. Please find me an interesting case.”

“Better. I mean- it’s quite difficult since you’re so talented at solving them but… hold on- ek’teshh’ieu-! Scuse me. Maybe this one?”

“That one is al- oh actually, I didn’t see that one before.”

“You’re welcome then. So is it worthy of your-”

Breaking off, Yosano spins around again, aiming the cough towards her arm once more. She lets her thoughts wander as it pours out. ‘Damn it, I was hoping to hold out a little longer. This cold might be stronger than I gave it credit for, but I’m still tougher. I can take it.’ Ranpo has remained silent, but as she turns back he meets her gaze with a smile.

“You want a candy?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you though.”

“I think you should have a candy. It’s exactly what you need right now.”

“Well alright, since you insist…”

Grin forming, Ranpo reaches into his desk and pulls out a bright wrapper, holding it out in his palm. A blush creeps across Yosano’s face as she recognizes the brand of cough drop. She takes it, turning it over between her fingers before popping it in her mouth. In an effort to change the topic from the direction it’s steering in, she dawns a playful smirk.

“You shouldn’t be eating these like sweets, you know. They’re not bad for you, but they are still medicine.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t snack on them. I just keep them around in case…”

“Good to hear. And uh… thank you, Ranpo.”

“No problem!”

The innocent tone is a comfort and she offers a smile in return. The taste of honey offers a soothing relief against her throat, but does nothing for the buzzing in her nose. Rubbing a finger against it, she allows a single sniff before dropping her hand again. She chews up the cough drop, surprise crossing her features as Ranpo lets out a laugh.

“I thought I was the only one who did that!”

“Did what..?”

“Chewed them up. You’re supposed to suck on them, but I’ve always liked chewing them.”

“Oh, yeah! Actually… you are supposed to let them linger. It’s better for you that way, you get to absorb more of the effects, but I’ve never had the patience for thhahh… that. hH’ieshh’iue-! hk’eshhii-! ek’zieshh’ieu-!”

“Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

The laughter they had been sharing fades immediately. Her body language veers to defensive, arms crossing over her chest. The change doesn’t go unnoticed by Ranpo as he sits up in the chair, head tilting down to meet her eyes. All smiles are gone, instead her face is tight, a tense calm resting over it as Ranpo offers something unreadable.

“I’m fine to work.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I asked if you should be resting.”

“No. I don’t need to rest, I’m f- fine… hh’eNG’shh-! ek’tnngt-!”

“Hey… you don’t need to do that.”

“Do- hn’tngt-! what?”

“You know what I mean. There’s no need to do that, okay?”

Yosano pales a little, but gives a tight nod as she feels the tickle swell once more. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay with Ranpo, it’s… it’s okay.’ She lets the words repeat in her head, arms slowly uncrossing as she raises one to her face, leaning away from Ranpo again.

“hk’iESHh’ihh-! heh’KSHHii-! heh- kn’TIEZSHhh’iue-!”

Without a word Ranpo abruptly stands, starting to walk towards the couch. He gestures for her to follow, and with a hint of hesitation, she does. Once they reach it, Ranpo sits first, choosing a position at one end of it, before motioning next to him. She follows the direction once more, still hesitant, trying to figure out where this is going.

She sinks down onto the couch, posture tight, each muscle tensing. ‘What is he going for here… is he trying to put me at ease? It’s not working if so… b- but that’s not like him. There’s got to be some goal. Some plan he’s putting to work based on deductions about me and my health. Maybe he’s-’ Before she can finish the thought a sensation rips her from the spiral.

Ranpo has one hand running down her back, calm eyes peeking out from behind his hat. It’s as if he’s waiting for her reaction before continuing. She lets herself go limp, releasing the tension that had been gripping her. A small smile slips over his features, his other hand coming up and guiding her head down to his shoulder. Before she can process the change, she finds herself relaxing into his touch.

“I’m gonna keep looking for cases. You are gonna rest.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Even as the words form on her lips she feels her eyes flutter shut, leaning deeper into Ranpo’s shoulder. True to his word, he begins rambling about cases, explaining the ones that are too easy, and pondering on the ones he’d need to see the scene to figure out. Yosano lets herself drift into the sounds of the office, worry fading away.

~~~

After a few minutes the door slams open, Dazai waltzing in. He freezes at the sight of them, hands in his pockets as he surveys the scene. Yosano pops up quickly, careful to tighten her expressions once more as she feigns nonchalance, letting her legs cross and one arm droop over the couch. The safety she felt with Ranpo has evaporated, her relationship with Dazai not solid enough to allow it to remain.

Weakness has never been something she’s okay with others seeing, and Ranpo was the first it truly felt okay with. Dazai though… while she doesn’t dislike the man, she’s hesitant to let him see her in that state.

‘I see Mori in him sometimes… Just- in the small things. The way he carries himself, how he plans, the expressions he’ll choose to wear. Though… I often wonder if he feels the same about me. I know he isn’t the same, and I shouldn’t be treating him like he is… but…��

She lets her eyes drift to his face, expecting some form of taunt to spill out at any time. Instead, much to her surprise, his usually unreadable expression softens and without a word he places himself on the free side of her.

Her gaze tracks each movement, hand raising to her mouth as another cough starts to break through. Through it all, Dazai remains silent, posture very cautiously relaxed in that deeply rehearsed method she’s all too familiar with.

The coughing tampers off, the itch in her nose taking this as a perfect time to re-emerge. For a minute she considers suppressing it, but Ranpo’s hand still gently rubbing her back provides enough comfort to let it out against her arm.

“hh’KSHH’iee-! hk’ESHH’iue-! hahhh- tnSHH’ihh-! ‘Scuse me.”

“Bless you.”

“Th- thank you.”

The blessing comes as a surprise, and she finds herself thanking him out of instinct. She still holds a reasonable amount of caution, but there’s something… almost soft about the expression he’s wearing. As she lets out another sniffle, he points a measured look in her direction, before muttering something.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that?”

There’s a noticeable pause as Dazai’s cheeks gain a hint more colour than before. He raises his gaze to meet hers, and clears his throat before speaking again. Yosano can’t help but feel a rush of protectiveness as the voice that comes out sounds almost timid.

“I just asked if you were feeling okay?”

Yosano wants to say yes. Everything inside her is screaming to say yes. ‘Deny till the very end, don’t show weakness, don’t admit flaws. Tell him that you’re fine, and then be fine. We don’t tolerate weakness in our soldiers.’ But… something about the cautious look on his normally collected face washes every image of Mori from her mind.

Dazai is nothing like him, no, he’s just like her. Taken in way too young by a person with no intentions of saving them. Never given the chance to be anything other than what he planned for.

She had managed to find something special here; to become someone special here. Someone that’s good, and kind, and her. And watching Dazai’s actions since he joined… seeing the look on his face now… well, maybe he’s trying to find that too.

“Not really. I have a bit of a cold. hih’ISHhiee-! aisHH’iew-! hk’SHH’iue-! hh’KSHH’ih-!”

“Bless you.”

“Wow, even I couldn’t get her to admit to illness out loud.”

Up until now Ranpo had remained silent, watching the interaction play out. However, upon her admittance, he gives a low noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp. At the statement Yosano turns to him, Dazai’s eyes following suit, and gives him a light smack.

“Hey! That hurt…”

“Oh really? Are you- injured now? Because I can certainly help with that if youuu…”

“No! No, no I think I’m okay.”

Laughter bubbles from her chest as she lets her head dip to rest once more against Ranpo’s shoulder. Dazai joins in with a light chuckle of his own, leaning back into the couch. Not a minute passes until Yosano’s sitting up again, another set of sneezes tumbling out into her waiting arm.

“hh’KSHHiee-! aiiyshhh’iue-! hehh’tizshh’iue-! Excuse me.”

“Bless. Hang on.”

With that Dazai stands up, walking over to his desk and starting to aggressively rummage through the drawers. Ranpo and Yosano watch it unfold, neither sure what he’s doing, until he returns, triumphantly holding a pack of tissues above his head.

“Thought you might want these!”

“I didn’t know you kept tissues in your desk?”

“Yeah, well… never know when they might come in useful. Placing them in Kunikida’s belongings when he comes in with the sniffles is particularly fun.”

“You’ve done- hH’TSHH’iee-! ‘Scuse me. Done that before?”

“Of course! This one time I bought a bunch of identical packs, then kept leaving one on his chair in the same exact position every time he left the room! When he asked, I always said I didn’t know what he meant. Ended up going home early cause he was sure he was losing his mind!”

By this point Ranpo is leaning against Yosano, the couch shaking with laughter. Dazai shoots them a wicked smile, tossing the pack at the couch, which she catches easily. Attempting to suppress laughter of her own, she wears a fake glare, pointing it first at Dazai before turning it to Ranpo.

“Boys, that’s not nice.”

“Maybe not, but it sure is hilarious. Besides, he’s the one who forces me to do paperwork on a weekend! Way I see it, he’s asking for a little torment.”

Yosano just sighs, pulling a few tissues out as she directs another “hih’KSHH’ihh-! tiezshh’iue-! hk’ISHH’iee-!” into the soft folds before lightly blowing. Grimacing at the quality of it, she coughs a few times before sucking it up and blowing again.

Ranpo gives her a sympathetic smile before turning back to the paper, dead to the world once more as he surveys cases. Yosano turns her attention back to Dazai as he drops back onto the couch beside her.

“That was gross, sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. You should hear me in the spring.”

“You have allergies? I… ih’KSHH’iee-! I never noticed-”

“Bless you. You wouldn’t have. I take meds most of the time, or if it’s a really bad pollen day I tend to just avoid the office. Hah! It drives Kunikida insane.”

“Does it now?”

“He still doesn’t know why I don’t come in during the spring on seemingly random days! I make sure to pick a few days where pollen is low too so he can’t track the pattern. I also make up excuses that he can tell are lies, but can’t actively disprove!”

There’s a deep seated glee in his voice as he describes all the details of how he torments Kunikida. Yosano can’t help smirking at the boyish nature of the teasing. It’s cut short by another coughing spell, ducking down into her lap.

This time she feels two hands grazing her back. One is absentmindedly rubbing circles, the other is hesitant but gentle. A yawn escapes as it comes to an end, Ranpo looking up from the paper.

“I told you so! I said you should be resting!”

“Yes you did. Right as always Ranpo. I guess… I should probably go home…”

‘But… I don’t really want to… Home is empty. It always feels cold, even with the heat on. But here… with them… this feels warm…’ She doesn’t say any of this out loud, but there’s no need for that. They both know. While Dazai may not have Ranpo’s deduction skills, he sees more than most.

Slowly they start to shift positions until her head is resting against Ranpo’s lap, her legs strewn over Dazai as he slides in next to Ranpo, echoing her earlier yawn. ‘That man is able to fall asleep anywhere. I’m quite jealous of that skill.’ Letting her tension start to fade away, Yosano feels a sigh escape. She melts into the warm embrace, drifting off to sleep. Dazai quickly follows suit, his head dropping onto Ranpo’s shoulder.

~~~

About an hour later the door swings open once more, this time Kunikida stepping inside. At the sight of Yosano and Dazai sleeping, he opens his mouth to make a remark. Ranpo shuts him down with a single look, tilting his head to let his eyes show once more. He’s careful not to disturb them, quiet as he begins to speak.

“Don’t wake them. They need this.”

“But-”

Kunikida cuts himself off, pushing up his glasses as he seems to sort through his ideals in his head. Ranpo patiently waits, letting his arm rest against Dazai’s shoulder as the younger man shifts. Eventually the peaceful look on their faces seems to sway Kunikida as he grabs a book and sinks down beside Dazai, beginning to read it. Yosano stirs, a few sleepy sneezes brushing from her lips.

“hh’ishh-! kishhh-! heh’tieshh-!”

“Bless.”

The blessing Kunikida offers is timid, volume matching that of the sneezes. A smirk crosses Ranpo’s face as he watches Kunikida attempt to keep his face neutral. Yosano mumbles a thanks before curling back into herself and drifting back off.

~~~

By the time the president walks in, he finds all four of them asleep, a tangled mess of limbs and snores. They should be working, it’s nearly two on a Thursday, but he can’t bring himself to wake them. Content spreads through his heart, a smile breaking through to his face as he grabs a blanket from beside the couch and lays it over them.

“Sleep well, children.”

#waterfallwrites #this is SO wordy im so sorry hahaha~#its also a lot less dialogue focused than my work usually is #so hopefully its still enjoyable #i tried to make sure the paragraphs were a manageable length #aNYWAYS point is- i love their dynamics and poni's yosano drawing got me THINKING sooooo #here this is #thank you to anyone who bothers to read this!#and i hope you enjoy if you do~~#b/sd #y/osano #snz #snzkink #snzfic

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thewholecrew · 5 months

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@deathvisited said: " come on. you deserve a night off. forget about everything, just for tonight… " --- mare to hunter bcuz hes a grumpy boyo and needs some fun too

"i have a feeling your definition of night off is vastly different than mine..." hunter murmured but closed one of his many medical textbooks. he honestly didn't mind studying late into the evening, it wasn't just assigned work to him but it interested him as well. he wanted to learn all he could to help those in need, to make sure when he was done his schooling that no patient would be turned away without help or an answer. but he could understand that for many all work and no play was a dreadful thing.

rising from his desk he turned off the lamp as he then faced mare with a quirk of his brow. he felt bad about disappearing on her the other night but, he would rather die than put her in harms way especially if it was done by his own hands, or rather claws with what the full moon forced upon him. it had been another reason he'd appeared particularily more grumpy than usual. pulling on his jacket, he then tucked his hands into his pockets, "what did you have in mind?" he asked her.

there was a small drop of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach because knowing their friends and his sibling it would be something he'd rather not do. hunter was the first to admit he had a rather boring life, but he enjoyed the peace and serenity it gave him. being a loner kept people safe, from the potential threat of him harming them but also from the disappointment that most often than not, he wasn't an overly emotional person, he had one facial expression most of the time and that was it. so taking him to things others deemed as fun, he wouldn't want them to be upset with his lack of outward enjoyment.

he did appreciate the sentiment mare had for him though, that she was offering to brighten his evening. and he wasn't completely opposed to it, even if he did fear that instead of him feeling better he would in turn accidentally have her feeling worse. however, they knew one another well enough now that he was sure she understood he was a bit of a stick in the mud. "after you," he offered with a gesture of his hand as he followed her out of the building.

#IDK #BUT #DFNSLDKFNS #HERE THIS IS #deathvisited #hunter everheart: answered ask.

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hold-him-down · 2 years

Text

Derek’s Back: Part 2

TW: mostly emotional whump/angst, implied prisoner abuse, implied eating issues, anxiety, referenced med whump, poorly researched international affairs/law

✥ ✥ ✥

Jack’s eyes had adjusted to the dark hotel room by now. In one hand, he held a now-cold coffee. His other hand was waging some type of war on his brain. His fingers danced over the bruised skin on Derek’s wrist, not touching the faded splotches, but close. He curled them in, pulling back. Although he couldn’t see Derek’s face from his angle on the floor, he knew that he was staring blankly toward the balcony door. The tension didn’t leave his shoulders, and he jumped at every noise. Jack grew to predict it. He was almost glad that he couldn’t see Derek’s face. Almost.

As the hours crawled by, Jack’s mind raced.

His thoughts bounced between the past and the present in a brutal cycle that he could neither control nor predict. He would watch the way Derek’s arms wrapped around his stomach. And then, as a special treat, his brain would supply every possible reason for it. He would eventually get his imagination under control, and then he would see the way Derek’s legs curled in as tightly as they could.

Jack found some solace in the recognizable pattern of dozing off and waking himself up, over and over, that Derek’s body eventually settled into. Some invisible force would startle him awake. He would scan the room. His gaze would ultimately lock on Jack’s. There would be a brief flash of confusion. He would stare, pupils large, confused and empty, out the window of the balcony. Eventually, his eyes would once more close. Like clockwork. Unsettling, dark clockwork that Jack tried to tuck away.

Needless to say, Jack felt an immense sense of relief when the sky eventually shifted, taking on those familiar hues of orangey-pinks.

He watched the sun rise in relative silence, not daring to move, for what felt like hours before Derek lifted himself cautiously, disoriented as he took in his surroundings.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He could feel Derek’s eyes on him, and watched warily as Derek clutched his arms tightly. Cold, or scared, or just not sure what to do with his own limbs. They stared at one another in silence.

He was startled out of the stalemate by a vibration on the table. Followed by several more. Their collective attention was drawn to the phone.

Is he there

Jack

Please tell me he’s there

Jack

Not more than twenty seconds later the phone lit up.

“He’s here,” Jack said, by way of greeting. “We’ll head over soon.”

After a quick exchange, he set his phone back down, his eyes slow to meet Derek’s.

“Your mom,” Jack said, although Derek didn’t ask. The silence penetrated the room for a moment too long. “We’ve been working on our friendship in your absence.”

It earned him a smile. A half-smile at best, but he couldn’t hold back his own in response.

“Would you like some water? Or… I do actually have coffee.” Jack indicated toward his own cup as he stood from the floor where he had spent the last several hours, stretching backward.

“Coffee sounds good,” Derek said, rising with a wince. “Ow,” he whispered, expression tight. In the light of day, with zero minutes of sleep, it was more obvious now than it had been before. His once tan, lean muscle was now pale and gaunt. His once confident stride was now a timid, cautious movement. The stubble covering his chin, the dull hollows under his eyes. “Jack?” Derek interrupted the appraisal of his physique, nodding toward the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Jack replied. He was. For a lot of things. Derek smiled his empty smile and walked past him, opting for water instead. There were pieces of him still there, Jack thought, as he watched his back. If he squinted, he could still see the outline of Derek. Just… a new version of Derek. One that Jack hadn’t even begun to peel back the layers on. Jack stared at his back as he drank a glass of water. Almost greedily. Too quickly, he decided, and immediately compartmentalized it.

✥ ✥ ✥

“I didn’t know what you would want, so I just... had them send up a few options that I thought would be easy on your stomach,” Mrs. Lewis said, wringing her hands. “The doctor, yesterday, he said your…” She watched Derek, who held his plate tightly, and swallowed. “Well, he said that mild foods are... probably best for right now.”

Jack offered a superficial smile; the awkward pauses throwing off the cadence of her speech were jarring. He had never seen her so unsure.

Derek nodded, the slight tremble of his fingers reverberating through the ceramic, his eyes focused intently on keeping it steady as he made the short walk from the kitchen island to the dining table.

“I hope it’s okay,” she continued, when it became clear that Derek wasn’t going to share his opinion on the breakfast menu. “If you want something different, though, I can run out and grab you something…” Pause. “Anything you want.”

“This is fine.” His voice was low, his eyes trained on the floor. Everyone in the room felt the extended silence, and Derek must have, too, because he looked up, swallowing. “T–thank you.” He forced a tight smile. “Mom.”

Jack registered what was happening just a moment too late, as Mrs. Lewis made a split-second decision to lay her hand on her son’s arm. Derek hadn’t seen it coming and jerked away, his plate crashing to the ground.

He didn’t hesitate; immediately, Derek dropped to his knees, eyes wide. He picked up the broken pieces of dish, tension visible in every line of his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he said, a kind of frantic panic settling into his voice, as Jack knelt down next to him. Derek kept his gaze aimed at the floor, his fingers shaking more visibly now as he made a futile effort to spoon bits of egg onto broken shards of plate.

“Hey,” Jack said, collecting as many of the glass shards as he could. He watched Derek’s mannerisms cautiously, a mixture of frenzy and hopelessness deeply ingrained into every movement. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, I– ” Derek paused as he stood, regarding the contents of his hands, before finally dropping them into the trash can. He looked around himself, his face flushed. Jack could swear there were tears welling in his eyes, but Derek maneuvered around him too quickly for him to confirm. “I’m going to just…I- I’ll go take a shower.” The last part was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jack said quickly, standing too. “It’s really okay.” Derek looked at him then, taking a long breath. “You take mine, and I’ll grab breakfast downstairs.” Jack pushed his plate into Derek’s hands and smiled, nodding toward the table. “I’m going to go take a walk, okay? Grab some coffee.”

They stood closely, eyes locked. Derek’s were red, tired from a bad night’s sleep plus seven years of who the fuck knew what, with tears threatening to spill over. Jack’s desperate to convey the absolute okay-ness of Derek taking his meal. “Thank you,” Derek finally whispered. It didn’t sound relieved, or grateful, or anything other than anxious.

Jack smiled toward Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, who were seated at the table, all stiff-backed and solemn-faced, as he made his much-needed escape. He walked through the hotel lobby and into the bustling streets of Adana, replaying the scene in his mind over and over; one thought kept poking at him: Derek Lewis was weird about food.

✥ ✥ ✥

Jack, eager to get back to the hotel, didn’t stay gone long. He grabbed a quick coffee and a few groceries, keeping Mrs. Lewis’s words in mind.

The hell did she mean by mild food? He stayed away from fruits, carefully examining his options. He took a small stock of vegetables, a few cans of soup. He tried very hard to keep his mind off of Derek. His phone, a heavy weight in his pocket, beckoned him. He was under very strict orders not to share this news with anyone, but in the moments where he was successfully not thinking about Derek, the guilt clung to him like a magnet, unwilling to release its hold on him for even a moment.

It had been years since he had spoken to any of their friends. Their closest friend, James, had called him nonstop when he first moved back. It had been painful to hear his voice, but he had tried; he had answered the phone as often as he thought he could, but he found himself sending to voicemail more and more as time passed, and when James, the last person left in his corner, had finally given up on him, the calls had stopped. But even after, James sent him an email and a single text message every six months or so. A plea for any updates he received. And a reminder that he was not alone, no matter how much alone-ness he felt.

Jack forced the thought out of his mind and instead cashed out. The Embassy guy had been clear: until back on U.S. soil, lay low. No phone calls announcing Derek’s freedom. No phone calls at all would be ideal. So, he swallowed back his guilt, and he walked.

By the time he got back to the hotel, he had three missed texts from Mrs. Lewis. He read them on the elevator.

At 10:05: We just finished breakfast. He didn’t speak. He ate, though. :)

At 10:17: Could you pick up some food for him while you’re out?

At 10:33: Please come back soon.

That last one gave Jack pause. So much has changed in the last two days. He hadn’t even really processed what everything meant. What it would all mean. God, he hadn’t really processed anything.

✥ ✥ ✥

“I brought you some–” Jack said by way of greeting, unceremoniously entering the bedroom after a solid ten-minute internal debate over whether or not to knock. He stopped short, second guessing his decision, the instant he realized that Derek was… asleep? No, not asleep. Derek was on his side, as though he was asleep. And his eyes were closed, as though he was asleep. But the tension in his jaw gave him away. “–soup. And some other stuff, I didn’t know what you’d want but… uhh, I just kind of grabbed a little bit of everything in case you get hungry.”

“Thank you,” Derek responded, his voice more than a little gruff. Jack would have thought it was sexy in another life. He still kind of did, but now he chastised himself for it. Derek spoke, interrupting the war Jack’s brain had declared on itself. What did he say?

“What was that?” Jack asked.

Derek hesitated, then a little louder, said, “I’m sorry.” At Jack’s obviously bewildered expression, he added, “About earlier.”

Jack stared for a moment too long, then shook his head. He came around the bed, sinking onto the mattress as Derek shifted, making room for him. It was a small gesture, but damned if it didn’t get Jack’s stomach tied in knots. “Don’t be. No harm done.”

“Right,” Derek replied, slowly sitting. Jack couldn’t ignore the wince that flashed across Derek’s face. Nor was he able to ignore the bruising that was both more apparent in the daylight and darker than it had been. These were recent. Jack took the risk and put his fingers on top of Derek’s, flipping his hand as they both watched, exposing the under-side of his wrist.

“What happened here?” he asked, his thumb hovering the dark splotches. Derek’s eyes met his, sucking in a deep breath.

“I–” A muscle in his jaw tensed, his mouth closed. There was a moment of silence, Jack waiting for Derek’s move, and Derek… doing the thing that he did when he didn’t know what to say. “It’s a long story. What have you been…” His voice trailed off. “What have you been up to?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, taking the bait. “Yeah. Okay.” He smiled a little bit, regarding Derek in his full form. Loose sweatshirt, buzzed hair. Hollow cheeks, grey-blue eyes. Watching his every move. “God, I don’t even know where to start. Oh, I live in Florida now…”

“Florida?” Derek’s eyes lit up a little bit, the first spark of… anything… that Jack had gotten from him.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I got a full ride to the literal crappiest law school in the country, and I landed up in bum fuck Florida with all the red necks and–” Noticing Derek’s face fall, Jack paused. “Sorry. I… it’s not that bad. I just… it’s weird for me. Being there, in Florida. Alone.”

“Law school?” Derek’s expression was guarded but interested, and given the level of interest shown in the last twenty-four combined hours, Jack wasn’t going to complain.

“Yep, I’m a full-blown third-year law student. By the skin of my teeth. I’ve been in Florida for the last two, just… soaking in sub-par legal knowledge.” Eager to get to an easier topic, he shifted gears. “I’m just a few hours away from Disney, though. When I really want to suffer, I go walk around Epcot and cry. Scare the children. And their parents.”

Derek didn’t ask questions, but he listened as Jack talked. And Jack kept it light. He didn’t talk about law school, or his sexual history, or how thoroughly familiar he was with the taste of hard liquor. He talked about Disney. And the sun. And the ocean. And a life that really, if he was being honest with himself, didn’t quite exist for him.

tag list: @redwingedwhump, @whump-cravings, @crystalquartzwhump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @nami-writes

#derek's back #prison whump #the recovery/caretaker arc will be posted chronologically #im not sure how the dark prison arc will be posted yet #still playing with that #if it'll be in flashback or just like #exist as individual pieces that don't explicitly connect to the main story #regardless #here this is #the next part should be late this week #because it's written #so that's not a false promise :)

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