#and then months later you’re waking up in the hospital with a few cracked ribs and a new personality

[lake-olsen]

I fucjng deleted the original bc typing is ass and I hate every second if jt but I accidentally took a screenshot anyway soooo ur welcome

Oh, easy!

The involuntary kind.

[marauders-venting]

Worth The Wait

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: mentions of being sick and throwing up

words: 2502

a/n: this is a request I got from someone on Instagram and I absolutely love it!

“Evans, are you sure you’re okay?” Sirius asked, glancing over at her. Lily was sitting in the corner of the common room, bent over the table, her head resting on her arm. She had been looking peaky all day, which Sirius might not have noticed if James hadn’t pointed it out to him. 32 times to be exact.

“Do you think she’s sick, Pads? Should I ask her? Nah, she’ll get mad at me. But if she really is sick she should be in the hospital wing. But what if I ask her and she’s actually fine and she thinks I’m insulting her or something?” James had finally asked her if she was alright at dinner when she hadn’t eaten anything.

“I’m fine,” she had said. Except she hadn’t snapped at him. In fact, she smiled a little. James had practically glowed. “Just a little nauseous.” But it was an hour later and Lily still looked ill.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, this time to Sirius. “I’ll be fine.” She lifted her head, looking back at her half-finished essay.

“Lils, you’re pale as fuck,” Marlene said. “You’re sick.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she said. Less than ten minutes later, Lily had rushed to the bathroom and thrown up.

“Okay,” she said when she came up. “Maybe not so fine. I think I have a stomach bug or something, I’ve been nauseous all day.”

“Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital wing,” Mary said.

“Wait,” she said. “Remus and I have prefect rounds.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll cover for you,” Remus said. “You do it for me all the time.”

“Thanks, Rem.”

“Of course. Feel better, Lils.” She and Mary headed for the portrait hole. Sirius glanced at James, who was biting his nail and not paying any attention to the textbook lying open in front of him. Sirius knew he wanted to go with Lily — he was worried about her — but he didn’t want to annoy her. Not when they’d been on such good terms for the past few months.

Barely five minutes had passed before Marlene said, “Well, there’s no point working on this shit without Lily.” She gestured to the essay.

“I could help you if you want,” Alice offered.

“Don’t worry yourself, Alice, she knows,” Dorcas replied before Marlene could say anything. “She could do it herself if she wanted to. She just doesn’t want to do it and that’s her excuse.”

“Shhh stop exposing me,” Marlene said, flopping dramatically onto Dorcas’ lap. “I’m too tired to write essays now.”

“Well, are you gonna go to sleep any time soon?” Dorcas asked, raking their fingers gently through Marlene’s hair. Marlene took Dorcas’ other hand and kissed it.

“Only if you can’t think of anything better for us to do,” she said.

“Oh baby, I can think of several things we can do,” Dorcas said, smirking.

“Oh?” Marlene said, sitting up. “Such as?”

“Well, I’ll give you a hint,” Dorcas said. “They all involve a bed, but not sleep.” Marlene grabbed Dorcas by the hand and pulled her towards the staircase leading to their dorm.

“I’d steer clear of your dorm if I were you, Alice,” Peter said, looking up from the textbook in his hand.

“Yeah,” Alice laughed, “I think I’ll go see Lily in the hospital wing. If Madam Pomfrey will let me in.” So she got up and walked out the portrait hole too.

Half an hour later, only Sirius, Remus, Peter and James, who had been surprisingly quiet this whole time, remained in the common room.

Sirius was sitting on a couch, his feet up on the table in front of him; he had given up on the essay long ago. He knew he would still get a decent grade though, even if he had barely put any effort into it.

Remus was sitting on the floor beside him, his essay spread across the table. Remus quickly scribbled the end of a sentence and flopped his head back onto the couch, groaning.

“It’s going to be so boring, walking around the castle alone,” he complained. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t complain since Lily does it for me every month, at least once but still.”

“You don’t have to do it,” Sirius said. Remus slapped his leg, the one that was near his head.

“You know I do,” he replied.

“Fine then, I’ll come with you,” Sirius said.

“You can’t do that,” Remus said.

“Says who?” Sirius shrugged.

“Well, are you a prefect?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Fair point,” Remus said. He looked like he was contemplating it. 

“So d’you want me to come with you or not?” Sirius asked. His heart was beating faster than it should be. So he’d be walking around the castle with Remus. So what? It certainly didn’t mean anything. Remus hesitated a second before replying.

“If we get caught, can I pin it all on you?” he asked, grinning at Sirius.

“Sure,” Sirius shrugged. “It’s not like they can give me more detentions without cutting into lesson time, can they?” Sirius stood up, cracking his knuckles nervously. He wanted to be alone with Remus but if James and Peter wanted to come… Well, he couldn’t tell them not to without it being weird. But Remus didn’t suggest it and neither one of them seemed eager to join.

“We won’t wait up,” James said, smirking at Sirius. James saw right through him. Sirius didn’t care, as long as he didn’t make it obvious to Remus. Like he was doing right now. Sirius pointed the finger at him from behind Remus’ back.

“Hold on, I need to put this essay upstairs,” Remus said. He ran up the stairs to the dormitory.

“I officially give up on this essay,” Peter said, slamming the textbook shut. “I don’t care, I’ll do it tomorrow. My brain isn’t functioning now. I need a shower and sleep.” He got up and started up the staircase after Remus. “‘Night,” he called.

“G’night, Pete,” James called back.

“‘Night, Wormy.” Once Peter was out of sight, Sirius rounded on James.

“James, I swear to god, if you keep making jokes, I will personally murder you,” Sirius said.

“Oh relax, would you? Nobody takes my jokes seriously except you. Although I guess that makes sense.” James laughed at his own pun.

“That was pathetic,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Only I can pull those jokes off. It’s my name.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” James said. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you think I should have gone with her?”

“Relax, Prongs, she’ll be fine,” Sirius said. “Mary and Alice are with her. Besides, I doubt Madam Pomfrey will let you in.”

“Yeah, I guess,” James said. “Do you think she’d be annoyed if I went to visit her in the morning?”

“I don’t know, James. She might not even stay overnight. Not for a stomach bug.”

“Yeah, probably not. I can’t do what you do and sit by my crush’s sickbed, staring wistfully at their beautiful face and wait for them to wake up so I can spend all day caring for them,” James said.

“What? I don’t do that,” Sirius said, going red.

“Of course, you do,” James said matter-of-factly. “Every month. It’s very sweet, by the way. Disgustingly sweet.” Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. “But really, are you just never going to tell him?” James added. But Sirius didn’t get a chance to reply because Remus came back downstairs and headed straight for the portrait hole.

“See you guys later,” he called.

“Moony, wait for me,” Sirius pouted, hurrying after him and trying not to think about what James had said.

“Don’t be so slow then,” Remus said as Sirius caught up to him at the end of the corridor.

“Slow? I’m the one who waited for you to put your essay in the dorm!” Sirius exclaimed.

“Shh, you can’t yell,” Remus said. “Especially since you’re technically not supposed to be here.”

“Fine, I won’t yell,” Sirius said. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“Literally nothing,” Remus said. “We walk around the school until we’ve covered enough ground that I can report back to McGonagall and say that there are no students out of bed and then we go back to the common room. It’s boring as fuck.”

“Well, I’m here to keep you entertained, Moony, so prepare for the best prefect rounds of your life,” Sirius said.

“Why does that concern me more than it comforts me?” Remus replied.

“Because you’re cynical and mean,” Sirius said.

---------

“I can’t believe you do this like four times a week,” Sirius said, as they headed to McGonagall’s office. “How haven’t you died of boredom yet?”

“You didn’t have to come, y’know,” Remus said. “Your complaining doesn’t make this any more enjoyable.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m making a point about how unfair this is for you,” Sirius said, as they reached the end of the corridor.

“Trust me, I know,” Remus said. “Now wait here while I tell McGonagall that I’m done. Don’t be loud.” It only took Remus about three minutes to get back but Sirius had already made himself comfortable on the floor. He hopped up when he saw Remus come back.

“Let’s sneak out,” he said immediately.

“What?”

“Let’s go out to the grounds, by the lake.”

“Sirius, we’ll get caught.”

“No, we won’t.”

“Yes, we will. We don’t have the Cloak.”

“So? We can be stealthy. And, worst case, we get caught. So what?”

“First of all, you suck at being stealthy, Sirius, and second of all, I’m a prefect. I’m supposed to be setting a good example. And it’s not really setting a good example if I get caught breaking the rules, is it?”

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, Moony. Pleeeeease. I promise we won’t get caught. There’s nobody awake to catch us, everyone will have gone to bed by now. And we can look at the stars. Come on, Moony, you love astronomy. Plus you won’t have an annoying professor asking dumb questions that nobody cares about. Pleeeeease?” Sirius pouted.

“Fine,” Remus said, grudgingly. “If we get caught, I’ll kill you.” But Sirius was right. Everybody must have been asleep because there wasn’t a single person in the corridors.

Remus and Sirius crossed the grounds and went over to the lake and sat down side by side. Remus lay down on the grass and stretched his arms above his head. Sirius flopped down beside him.

“Do you recognise any of these?” Remus asked.

“Some,” Sirius said. He pointed at the sky. “See that star right there? That’s the dog star, Sirius.”

“And this is the thousandth time you’ve told me,” Remus said, rolling his eyes.

“Well if there was a star named after you then you wouldn’t shut up about it either,” Sirius said. Remus rolls his eyes again. “And if you don’t stop rolling your eyes, they’ll get stuck.”

“Stop giving me reasons to roll my eyes then,” Remus says. Then after a moment, he adds, “is there a wolf star?”

“Uh-huh,” Sirius nodded.

“Where?”

“Right here,” Sirius said, poking Remus with his elbow.

“Shut up.” Remus rolled his eyes again.

“I’m complimenting you, Moony.” Remus didn’t reply. He sat up and stared at the lake. Sirius sat up as well. He thought of what James said earlier. He could technically never tell Remus about this. He could keep it a secret. He could grit his teeth and try to get over it. But the way Remus looked at him now as they lay under the stars… their eyes met and Sirius couldn’t explain it but something gave him a feeling that maybe he wasn’t the only one thinking about it. He could see a faint blush on Remus’ cheeks from when he’d called him a star. And he’s so close.

Sirius wasn’t quite sure what possessed him at that moment but he slowly inched closer to Remus. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Remus’ but Remus turned his head away from him, ending the kiss before it even started. Sirius moved back quickly. He didn’t want to invade Remus’ space, he didn't want to force himself on Remus.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly he wasn’t sure Remus had heard him.

“Don’t be,” said Remus. He was looking at the floor. “I just…” He just what? Sirius waited. He wanted to help Remus along like he always did but didn’t know how. He was usually so good at understanding how to help Remus explain himself when words would fail him, how to prompt him without pushing him, but now… Sirius wished a hole in the ground would swallow him. He’d fucked up bad. Sirius didn’t want to pressure Remus so he stayed silent. But the silence was awkward and filled with tension.

“Maybe… maybe we should just…” started Remus, struggling to get out words, “maybe we should just stay… friends.” Sirius felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and knocked all the wind out of him. He bit his lip and it was all he could do to stop the tears rushing to his eyes, begging to spill onto his cheeks. He should have seen this coming. Why should Remus ever want to be with him? Just because he’s had feelings for Remus for the past few months, didn’t mean Remus returned those feelings. What was he thinking, trying to kiss Remus? He wished he hadn’t done it.

Sirius must have been delusional to believe that Remus might want him. Delusional or in love. Same difference, really, he thought. He couldn’t digest this. He felt sick. He turned away, afraid that he would vomit on Remus.

“If that’s what you want,” he said. His voice was feeble. It sounded empty and dead. He hoped Remus couldn’t hear how hurt Sirius felt. He didn’t want Remus to feel guilty. It wasn’t Remus’ fault that Sirius fucked everything up. It wasn’t Remus’ fault that Sirius had fallen in love. (Well, actually, one could argue that it’s entirely his fault, Sirius thought, I mean look at him! How am I supposed to not fall in love with him?) Sirius couldn’t look at Remus.

“Sirius, I—” Remus started. Sirius waited but Remus didn’t continue.

“I think I’ll go now,” Sirius said. He wasn’t whispering but his voice was very quiet. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He was, after all, breaking a school rule. And Remus was a prefect. He stood up without another word and Remus remained silent as Sirius started walking away. Sirius didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see Remus (his amber eyes that could go from tired to fiery in seconds; his soft, brown curls that he brushed away from his face with his hands; his small, sweet, addictive smile that came with a crinkle next to his eyes; his hands covered in scars; in other words, too fucking perfect for words), it would be too painful.

[yikesharringrove]

I know it's dark and maybe you don't want to touch the subject and you've not been doing well lately but can I request one of the boys with an eating disorder? I can totally see Steve being restrictive or purging (anorexia or bulimia) or Billy with an obsession on being healthy (orthorexia)

So, I actually have another drabble request coming soon with orthorexic billy, so I’m gonna do one for our sweet boy stevie. Wanna wreck this babey

Trigger Warnings for: disordered eating (anorexia), hospitalization, and an ng feeding tube.

-

Steve’s mother had a drawer full of diet pills.

She would take a few with her wine, and be much too full, no really she couldn’t dream of having another bite whenever dinner rolled around.

She would smile sadly at Steve and pinch at the softness of his belly, tell him darling, our looks are all we have.

And the diet pills were an easy solution.

Steve stole a few bottles. Not that she would even notice, began taking them to replace dinner. Then to replace breakfast and dinner.

Then he just, kinda stopped eating.

He would have something every few days, a few crackers or a spoonful of peanut butter, when the groans of his stomach were unbearable.

But then he learned to ignore it, to file it away and go days without food.

He kept the weight off.

Of course he did, he wasn’t putting anything in his body to balance it out.

And the thinner he got, the thinner he wanted to be.

He stopped working out.

Didn’t have much in the way of energy for it anyway.

And then his muscles were gone, and you could see his ribs through his skin.

Our looks are all we have.

He liked tracing his bones as he lay in bed at night, liked how delicate his collar bones felt, how sharp his hip bones were.

It didn’t matter that he’d wake up the next morning with a migraine and clumps of hair on the pillow.

His softness was gone, his cheeks weren’t pinch able anymore.

His parents came home to an empty fridge, and an empty drawer where diet pills used to be.

His father sneered at him, told him he looked like death warmed over.

His mother fussed with his clothes, tried to get them to fit right.

Nothing fit right.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he had his looks.

It doesn’t matter if his skin was waxy, or his hair was thinning.

Because his elegant bones stood out so beautifully.

“Jesus, Harrington.”

Billy was staring at him, staring at him like he wasn’t elegant. “You’re. Real skinny.” Steve tried to sit back up, tug on his shirt and kick Billy out of his house.

But he didn’t have enough energy to push Billy off him.

He couldn’t help getting angry, snapping at Billy.

“What about it, Hargrove?” Billy furrowed his brows, rolling off of Steve to sit next to him on the bed.

“Are you, like, are you anorexic?”

He watched Steve’s muscles shift under his skin as he sat up.

“You look-”

“I look how I want.”

“There’s no way you want this. Steve, you look like a fucking skeleton.” Steve pulled the blankets up of himself. Billy wouldn’t understand. “Why are you doing this?”

Because of a mother that always said our looks are all we have and Steven, must you eat like such a piglet? and a father that would say if you were a girl I’d tell you to marry well and people respect you if you’ve got money and looks. Don’t be an idiot and lose them.

“It’s what I want.”

“It’s killing you.” Billy’s eyes were wide. “Steve, you’ve gotta, like, go to the hospital or something. I don’t even know what to do.” He looked panicked, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

But then Steve stood up.

His vision always fuzzed at the edges these days, but sometimes it just went black.

He woke up some time later, a dull pain in his head.

He opened bleary eyes, found himself in a hospital bed.

He glared at Billy sitting next to him. Billy glared right back.

“Why am I here?” His voice was raspy, his throat hurt.

Billy rolled his eyes, scoffing at him.

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” Steve went to wipe at his nose, found a tube taped to his face, shoved up his nostril. His eyes went wide. “Yeah. Feeding tube.”

“What the fuck?”

“Look, you fucking passed out and I wanted to make sure you weren’t concussed. Basically, you’re fine but severely malnourished, so, feeding tube.”

“Fuck you.” Steve slumped against the bed. He had half a mind to yank the thing right out of him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Billy mirrored him, slumping back in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “Just, a lot of shit made sense, I guess. Every time I suggest a dinner date, you get this weird look in your eye. And you never eat the popcorn when we go to the movies.”

Steve looked down at his hands.

“How long?” Billy’s voice was soft again.

“I don’t even know. I’ve always, I don’t think I’ve ever felt good about myself.” He was fidgeting with his fingers.

Since when were they like that? So pale and frigid. They looked like skeleton hands.

“Steve, you do realize you’re hurting yourself, right? Like I mean, you’re just slowly starving to death.”

“Maybe that was the idea. To die in the slowest, most painful way I could on the off chance that someone would actually notice. Would bother to care.”

“I did. I noticed. I care.” Steve gave him a look.

“Not for nothing, but we’ve gone on like, six dates, and were just about to fuck when you got weirded out by my body. Not exactly the best reaction I’ve had.”

“Yeah, but at least I reacted.” Billy’s jaw was tense. He checked his watch. “They called your mom. She consented to have you admitted. You’re keepin’ the feeding tube and doin’ all kindsa therapy and shit. Your mom gave a big ol’ performance. I could hear her screaming through the phone about my precious, beautiful baby!” Billy put on a high voice to imitate her.

“So, they’re institutionalizing me?”

“Nah. You just can’t be trusted right now, so they’re getting you help.”

“So, it’s more like prison.”

“If prison was nicer and you got food shot through your special nose tube and a therapist told you how worthwhile you are every day.” Steve cracked a little smile at that. Just a tiny one.

“Will you visit me?”

“Probably not. I think if I did, they’d lock me up too.” Billy grinned as Steve laughed lightly. “‘Course I’ll visit.”

“Did they say how long?”

“Tops, a month. But your mom was babblin’ about some rehab center in Ottowa that her friend’s sister’s cabana boy’s cousin’s wife’s daughter’s husband went to, or some shit like that.”

“Isn’t rehab like, drugs?”

“Not necessarily.” Billy huffed, his face going serious. “I want you to, like, try. Talk your shit out in therapy and try to work up to eating on your own. I want you to be healthy.”

“But what if, what if my healthy is, like, a little bigger?” Steve had always had a little tummy, some extra meat on his hips and thighs, a round ass.

“Then I’ll fucking welcome it. I don’t care what your healthy looks like. I just want it.”

“You won’t when you realize I’m fat.”

“Yeah? Why not?” Billy had a challenge in his voice, had a sharpness in his eye.

Steve just shook his head.

“Okay, I  seriously, don’t care if your body is big. If you’re happy, and you’re healthy, I don’t fucking care. There’s nothing bad about being fat.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my mother.” Steve scrunched his nose. The tube was uncomfortable, threaded through his nose and down his throat. The tape securing it to his face was itchy, and really, he just wanted to rip the damn thing out. “I don’t wanna hear what she’s gonna say.”

“I’ll stay here the whole time. Tell her to stuff it when she gets goin’.”

Steve smiled at him weakly.

“I just meant, like. If I start getting fat again.”

Billy narrowed his eyes. 

“I think you meant, when you start getting healthy. Because you will. And that will come with weight gain, but that’s not bad. Having fat, being fat isn’t bad, Steve. I know you really don’t believe me right now, but I hope you will. Because it sucks seeing you hurt yourself when I think you’re still absolutely amazing no matter how your body looks.”

Jesus, it was so goddamn sweet. Kinda made Steve melt a little bit inside.

“I, uh, thanks. Thank you, Billy.”

Billy reached forward to take one of Steve’s hands in his. One of his cold, thin, hands. It was shocking, the difference between his hand and Billy’s. It was so much paler, so much thinned despite his hand being overall bigger.

“I’m kinda. I’m kinda scared. Is that stupid?”

“No. Getting better is probably gonna be hard. But, it’s important. You’re, important.” A deep flush was creeping up Billy’s neck, but he was holding eye contact with Steve. “And I’ll be around for you. If you want.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I want you around.”

Billy brought their hands up to press a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand.

“Then I’ll be there.”

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

If you're still taking prompts you should do some rebuke and hurt/comfort!!

Sorry this took so long, but luckily there's a lot of it!! Hope you enjoy!

This is part of my All Too Well Splinterverse series, so a direct sequel to something about it felt like home somehow, cause there we are again in the middle of the night, and so casually cruel in the name of being honest. It won't make much sense if you haven't read all three of those.

read on ao3 here!

--

Bobby gives it three days. Three days where he catches up on missing homework and takes his antibiotics and a lot of naps and feels like a terrible person. And then he calls Luke.

“I fucked up,” he says the second Mrs. Patterson passes over the phone, without so much as bothering to say hello.

“Whoa, uh, okay,” Luke says, and coughs a little awkwardly. “Did you cheat on me or something? Are we breaking up? Cause if we’re breaking up, you gotta at least give me twenty minutes to get over there; no way in hell am I letting you dump me over the phone.”

“No! What? No.” Bobby’s out in the studio for some privacy; he sits up on the couch and runs a hand through his hair, grips the cordless phone a little tighter. “This has nothing to do with you! I fucked up with Reggie.”

“Reggie?” Luke repeats. “Dude, what’d you do? Kick a puppy or something?”

Bobby lets out a sigh that’s really more of a groan. To be fair, he probably could’ve started this conversation with just a tiny bit of context. “ No. I just… I think I hurt his feelings.”

Luke’s quiet for a really long time, in that thoughtful, pensive way he usually only gets when he’s writing a song. It’s usually accompanied by a lot of bouncing and fidgeting, because Luke gets restless easily, and if he can’t expel energy through his mouth, he’s gotta let it out some other way or he’ll implode. It almost brings a smile to Bobby’s lips, just thinking about it. Finally, Luke says, “Can I come over?”

Despite himself, Bobby’s stomach flips at the question. He and Luke have talked almost every day in the last week or so, but they haven’t actually seen each other in person since Luke got out of the hospital. They’ve both been too sick, and then Luke’s been trying to stay home as much as he can, build some trust back up with his mom.

“I might be contagious still,” Bobby warns him, rubbing absently at his chest. “No fever since the day before yesterday, but I’ve still got this cough I can’t shake.”

Luke scoffs, like he knows just as well as Bobby how lame an excuse that is. “Bro, I’m pretty sure I can’t catch the cold I gave you. If you’re not ready, I get it, but… whatever happened with Reggie, I think it’d be easier if we talk face to face.”

Luke pauses, then adds, “Plus, you know… I really do want to see you.”

Bobby has to swallow past a piercing ray of sunshine shooting through his stomach. “I want to see you, too. Okay, come on over, just know my mom’s probably gonna fuss over you.”

“Yeah, well, the last time she saw me, I was unconscious and dying, so I can’t exactly blame her.”

A smile tugs at Bobby’s lips. He and Luke may have gotten together under the strangest circumstances— and “together” is still sort of a loose term; mostly, they’ve just made out a couple times and Luke gave Bobby bronchitis— but at least they have each other now. More than that, even— they both have their families back.

“Think your mom will be cool?” Bobby checks. “With you coming over, I mean? I know she’s been keeping you on kind of a tight leash. And I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“She’s barely met you,” Luke points out.

“Yeah, and the one time she did, she called me a kidnapper. And something in French that you refuse to translate.”

“Purely for your own good.” Luke’s teasing grin is audible, even over the phone. “Listen, Bobbers, that was an emotional day for us all, and Emily Patterson is hardly well-known for being calm and rational under stressful circumstances. But once I sat her down and explained everything to her, I think the ‘saved me from dying’ thing made up for the ‘hid me in your garage for two months’ thing. She likes you just fine.”

Bobby’s not entirely sure he believes him, but there’s no point in pushing it. “Well, if you need me to come over there instead, just let me know.” He starts to swing his legs off the couch, bending over to search for his shoes, but has to pause to cough into his elbow a few times, his chest twinging.

“Half an hour,” Luke insists. “And drink some tea while you wait for me, I don’t like that you’re still coughing.”

Bobby grumbles noncommittally, lays back down on the couch. “Just get over here, Patterson. I can’t deal with your mother henning over the phone.”

Luke breathes out a laugh, and it might just be the most beautiful sound Bobby’s ever heard. “Love you, too, baby.”

***

Luke hangs up the phone and immediately takes stock of himself.

The last week, living back at home with his mom and dad again, has not been nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s gotten more patient since running away from home. Maybe his parents have gotten a little more perspective. Maybe all three of them just needed a few months apart and a serious wake-up call to start seeing things through each other’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Luke and his mom haven’t fought once since he moved back home, and his dad even told Luke he’d like to come to one of his shows once Sunset Curve starts playing again. They’ve had to establish a lot of new boundaries, the three of them, and quite a few ground rules— if Luke weren’t sick, he’d be in trouble, his mom said, but she thought his hospital stay and cracked ribs were punishment enough— but so far things have been good. And Luke would very much like to keep them that way.

So, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The breath is free of congestion, doesn’t make him cough or hurt his ribs anymore. His face is a little red— purely just because talking to Bobby these days makes him blush like crazy— so he splashes some cool water on his face and waits until the flush fades from his cheeks before he heads out to the living room.

Emily’s sitting on the couch with her knitting, an old episode of The Brady Bunch playing low on the TV. She looks up and smiles when he enters, and Luke’s skin crawls a little. She gets this look on her face sometimes, when she looks at him now. Like she can’t believe how lucky she is. Like she still sort of expects to wake up and find she’s lost him. Again.

It makes Luke feel all sorts of guilty.

“Off the phone?” she asks him, a little redundantly, as he hands over the cordless. “How’s Robert?”

“Bobby’s feeling better,” Luke says honestly. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops and rocks back and forth on his heels, standing awkwardly in front of the couch. “Can I go to his tonight? Something happened between him and Reggie, I was gonna help him out.”

Emily frowns, but doesn’t outright refuse, or accuse him of lying so that he can go out and play a club or something, like she might have three months ago. Maybe she really does trust him more now, or maybe she just likes Reggie enough to put aside her suspicions, but all she says is, “How are you feeling?”

Luke takes another slow breath, letting her hear how it doesn’t so much as catch in his throat. “No cough, no fever. Ribs only hurt when I get out of breath, but I’ll bike slowly, and we won’t be playing or anything. I’ll leave my guitars here, even.”

He sees it in his mom’s expression— the trust in him, the complete and utter belief she has that he’s telling her the truth. It’s something he might’ve taken advantage of, before. But for the first time in his life, he has absolutely no desire to lie to her.

Emily gently lays her knitting down on the coffee table in front of her and gestures Luke forward, stretching out a hand. He obediently leans down to let her brush his fringe aside and feel his forehead.

She hums approvingly a moment later and lets him go. “Ask your father to drive you. Will you be home for dinner, or are you spending the night?”

“I’m not sure,” Luke says, “but I’ll call around five either way?”

“Perfect.” She gives him that smile again— that look — and Luke turns away before he can think too hard about how much he doesn’t deserve it.

His dad is quiet on the drive over, but he lets Luke fiddle with the radio and kick his feet up on the dashboard, and doesn’t protest when Luke rolls the window up and down every five minutes. He parks the car in Bobby’s driveway, right outside the studio, but doesn’t shut the engine off. Something tells Luke to linger an extra moment or two before getting out.

“You need any money?” Mitch asks, finally.

No, but I’ll take some, Luke would’ve said, before, and then probably blown it on junk food or guitar picks or something. Instead, he shakes his head, leg bouncing, says, “Nah, dad, we’re just gonna be talking.”

Mitch nods and leans forward to peer through the windshield up at the studio. Luke follows his gaze. He can only imagine what his dad must be thinking: So this is where my son was living for two months because he didn’t feel safe at home.

“I’ll call home to let you know when to pick me up,” Luke says, desperate to fill the silence, and reaches for the door handle. “See you later, Dad.”

He catches half a glimpse of his father’s face as he heads up the drive: Mitch looks pensive and sad, and at least twenty years older than he really is.

Luke drags in a breath, and tries not to feel too guilty.

He’s barely rapped his knuckles against the studio door when it’s yanked open from the inside and Luke gets a faceful of t-shirt as Bobby tugs him into a strong-armed hug.

“Hey!” Luke laughs breathlessly. “I missed you, too.”

Bobby presses his face into Luke’s neck, tightening his hold. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, baby.” Luke rubs his back, trying to follow his instincts without getting too self-conscious. He hasn’t seen Bobby in a while, and somehow using pet names and terms of endearment was easier over the phone. Holding him and letting himself be held was easier when he was sick and hurting and had an easy excuse. But he doesn’t want Bobby to think Luke loves him any less, or that Luke’s ashamed of him or something, just because they’re both healthy.

Still. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, lips pressed into Bobby’s hair. “My dad’s kinda sitting in his car watching us, and I can feel him getting uncomfortable.”

Bobby snorts, his shoulders shaking under Luke’s touch. But then he nods and pulls away, swiping the back of his hand across his face; Luke thinks he catches the glisten of tears.

Inside the studio, with the doors shut tight and the sound of Luke’s dad’s car disappearing down the street, Luke sits Bobby down on the couch and says, “So. Reggie.”

Bobby’s quiet as he tells the story, his head ducked low and his hands clasped tightly between his legs. Luke keeps a hand on Bobby’s back, rubbing gentle circles as he listens to Bobby talk.

When he goes quiet, Luke takes a minute to breathe and think, before he carefully summarizes, “So… Reggie’s mad at you cause you didn’t wanna tell Alex about your headaches?”

“Reggie’s mad at me,” Bobby corrects, his voice breathy with exhaustion, “because I didn’t wanna tell him either. If he hadn’t caught me in the middle of one, I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“How come?” Luke tries for gentle, but he’s not sure he quite makes the mark. “You had no trouble telling me.”

“You’re easy,” Bobby grumbles. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to make a good first impression. Doesn’t matter so much if you think I’m weak.”

“And it does with Reggie?” He doesn’t bother asking about Alex. Luke loves the guy, but he knows better than anyone how bitey and judgmental Alex can get. How slow to trust. Luke doesn’t much love showing weakness in front of Alex either. But Reggie… “Bro, Reggie just wants to be helpful. He’d care that you’re hurting, not that you weren’t totally together all the time. He wouldn’t think you’re weak.” He adds as an afterthought, “...and Alex would get over it.”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. He chokes on it, then turns away from Luke to cough into his fist. Luke rubs his back, feeling the tremors that the coughing fit causes, and winces in sympathy as Bobby takes a slow breath and rubs his chest like it hurts. Luke knows the feeling.

Acting on instinct, Luke reaches over and brushes Bobby’s hair back, pressing a palm to his forehead. He doesn’t feel warm, thank god, but he still leans into the touch, his eyes closing in relief, even as he mumbles, “Told you, I don’t have a fever.”

“I know,” Luke says softly, and really means, I’m sorry. “You want my advice, about Reggie?”

Bobby gives a tiny nod, makes a soft whining sound in the back of his throat that Luke is pretty sure is supposed to be a yes.

“You don’t have to try so hard. Reggie and Alex both, they… they want to be your friends. You just gotta let them.” He runs his hand through Bobby’s hair in slow, gentle strokes. “And with Reggie, a sincere apology goes a long way.”

Bobby nods again and slumps over to lay his head on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ll call him in the morning. For tonight…” Luke feels him tense, but when Bobby lifts his eyes to Luke’s, they’re open and vulnerable and honest, as he says, “Will you stay?”

Luke’s heart does a happy little flip-flop inside his chest. “Of course I will.” He presses a kiss to Bobby’s head and reluctantly pushes himself up off the couch. “Lemme just go call my folks and let them know I’m sleeping over. If I’m not back in ten, assume your mom’s kidnapped me to test out that aromatherapy treatment she kept going on about. And I’m bringing you tea.”

Bobby protests out of principle, calls him a nuisance, and a worrywart and a nag, but Luke feels Bobby’s smile on his back all the way out the door.

***

Reggie drops his bike along the wall beneath the Pattersons’ front window and skips up to the door, swallowing back the nerves drying his throat before quickly jabbing his finger against the doorbell.

Its chime echoes long and loud, enough that it makes Reggie flinch, makes him pick at his fingers and start to think that maybe coming here wasn't the best idea after all.

Because Luke’s still recovering. Luke’s got a boyfriend now. Luke shouldn’t have to spend time and energy worrying about Reggie and all his problems.

But before Reggie can turn around and leave, the door opens, and Luke’s mom smiles at him.

“Reginald! How are you, dear?”

“Very well, thank you!” Reggie smiles politely, bouncing on his heels a little. “How are you, Mrs. P?”

“I’m just fine, Reginald.” She leans against the doorway, her expression turning a little amused. “Did you need something, dear? Luke’s not home.”

“Oh, he’s not?” Reggie’s heart sinks. He clears his throat a little. “Um, is he… do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Probably not until morning. He’s staying at Robert’s tonight.”

“He’s sleeping over?” he repeats, surprised. Mitch and Emily Patterson don’t seem like the kind of parents who’d be particularly chill about their son spending the night at his boyfriend’s house.

It only then occurs to Reggie that maybe they don’t know Bobby is Luke’s boyfriend…

“I have the phone number,” Mrs. Patterson says, oblivious to Reggie’s conundrum, “if you needed to get in touch with Luke.”

“Oh. Oh, no, it’s okay.” Reggie fixes his smile back into place, swallows thick disappointment. “I’ll head over to Bobby’s, or… or I’ll catch Luke another time. Thanks, Mrs. P!”

He thinks she might start to say something else, but Reggie doesn’t hang around to listen. He scoops up his bike and disappears down the drive, pedaling as hard as he can so the adrenaline will overtake his complex jumble of emotions.

He shouldn’t bother Luke. He doesn’t really need him. He’d just been lonely, and his parents were fighting, and getting out of the house seemed like a really good idea at the time. Plus, he’s been sulking for days now since he yelled at Bobby, and Luke somehow always knows how to cheer Reggie up, even if Reggie wasn’t exactly planning on telling him what’s wrong.

But Luke’s with Bobby. Reggie can’t interrupt them. Luke will almost undoubtedly be mad at Reggie if he finds out Reggie shouted at his boyfriend. Bobby’s probably mad at him already.

As far as Reggie knows, Bobby might just turn him away on sight. Before Reggie even has half a chance to apologize.

Despite this thought process, Reggie’s bike skids to a stop on familiar concrete, bringing him to the realization that he rode to the studio without even thinking about it.

One of the doors has been left open. He can smell popcorn and spices carried out on the wind. He can hear Luke’s laughter, Bobby coughing, a Rolling Stones album playing softly in the background.

It makes Reggie’s throat feel tight, makes it hurt to breathe. He’s so… lonely. He wants what they have, and knows he can’t get it.

He should just go home.

He starts to turn away, but Luke’s voice stops him, calling, “Reg, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

Reggie swallows and awkwardly turns back to face the studio, where Luke’s lounging in the doorway grinning at him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Reggie manages a tiny smile of his own that he can only hope is convincing. “Hey, Luke. You, uh… your mom told me you’d be here.”

Reggie starts to add, But I should probably just go, but the words die on his tongue when Bobby appears over Luke’s shoulder, looking pale and tired, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up at his ears.

“Hey, Reg,” Bobby says, low and gruff.

Reggie swallows, his hands tightening their grip around the handlebars of his bike. “I just… I wanted to talk to Luke?” he says simply, which isn’t totally a lie. “But I can go… if I’m not welcome.”

“What?” Bobby’s expression crumples, and he pushes past Luke to step forward, toward Reggie. “Reg, no, I— of course you’re welcome here. You’re always—” He breaks off, glancing over his shoulder at Luke, who gestures encouragingly. Bobby sighs and turns back, squaring his shoulders. “Reggie, I need to apologize to you. Again.”

Reggie gapes, baffled. “Wha— I— Bobby, no, I should be apologizing to you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Cause I yelled at you.”

“Yeah, but you were right!” Bobby takes another step forward, close enough that he can reach out a hand to hover over Reggie’s, still gripping tight to his handlebars. “Reggie, I’m not good at asking for help. I’m not used to being seen as weak and not having that be a bad thing. But I’m done lying, and I’m done hiding things. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Reg. And I do want to be your friend.” He takes a deep breath, shoots Luke another quick look, and then says softly, “I’m gonna start being better, Reggie. I promise. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. Like I didn’t like you. I do. I really do.”

Reggie’s left speechless, and a little choked. He stands there for a few moments, his mouth working but no sound coming out, and stares at Luke and Bobby both, searching their faces for any hint of a sign from either of them that Bobby’s kidding or making fun of him.

Reggie knows Bobby doesn’t mean it— liking him — the way Reggie wants him to, the way Reggie likes him back. But it still puts a lump in his throat, to hear Bobby say it at all — Bobby who never admits to liking anyone!

Reggie doesn’t realize he’s started crying until he tastes salt on his lips and Luke bounds forward to pull Reggie into his arms. That seems to break the floodgates open, then; Reggie lets his bike fall to the concrete with a clatter, buries his face in Luke’s shirt, and sobs.

Luke doesn’t ask why he’s crying, or tell him to stop. He just holds Reggie tight, and when Reggie chokes out, “I was just so lonely, ” whispers, Shh, it’s okay, I know.

Somehow, they end up inside the studio on the folded-out couch. Luke gently pushes Reggie to lie down in the middle, and then immediately climbs in next to him, pulling a mountain of blankets over them both.

After a few moments of awkward hesitation, Bobby joins them on Reggie’s other side, lowering himself gently onto the mattress and curling up so that Reggie feels his warmth without them actually touching.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Reggie gasps out, his tears starting to slow.

“I wish you’d do it more often.” Bobby gives him a tiny smile and slowly slides his hand into Reggie’s. “You can’t get rid of me, man. I got you.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

[ffwriterbts]

Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 4

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! The sections should start getting longer as I keep updating :) 

Also! Let me know if you want to be on a tag list for this story! 

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: General angst; slight medical talk; mental health issues; soulmate themes if you squint

Posted: 31 Dec 2020

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When YN wakes up, she is lying in what looks like a fancy hospital room. Her shoulder is on fire, there’s an IV in her hand, her leg is propped up in an almost uncomfortable way, and all the rest of her feels like she was repeatedly hit by a cement truck. 

YN tries to sit up, but only makes it a few centimeters before pain wracks her body and she stops in her tracks. Her eyes snap shut and she takes a few deep breaths, doing her best to remember what happened and where she was.

And- nothing. YN doesn’t really remember anything that happened. 

That is, until Jin walks into the room, and everything hits her all at once- how Jin and Yoongi came to cook, how she was going back to the garden to grab her phone when a mystery wolf tried to harm her, how Yoongi transformed into a giant black wolf, how he fought for her, how Jin helped her. 

“I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon. Welcome back, YN.” Jin breaks the silence, and YN’s eyes snap up to him. 

“I-” YN starts, taking a second to collect her thoughts before continuing. “What happened to me?” Her voice is gruff, hoarse. 

“You were attacked.” Jin gives a little shrug before continuing, “Your shoulder was bitten, your ankle broken, you have three cracked ribs, and deep tissue bruising on the side with the bite. Other than that, you’re covered in scratches and bruises from the dragging and the nasty fall you took.” 

“Oh.” 

“Don’t worry, you have the same blood type as Jimin, and he was more than happy to donate for you. The wolf blood will have you healed by the end of the month for pretty much all of it. The ankle will take a little longer.” Jin shrugs again, going around and checking all of the monitors, making sure everything was good before he makes small talk with YN and helps her sit up, giving her water. 

Once he is sure she is as fine as she can be, he takes a seat at the end of the bed. YN can feel her ears get hot as she realizes that he has plenty of room, seeing as her legs don’t even reach three-fourths of the way down when she’s lying, much less when she’s sitting up. She doesn’t know why she feels this embarrassment, but she does anyway, and she silently hopes that Jin doesn’t know. 

“You must have questions, so why don’t I give you the full story?” Jin lightly pats where YN’s good foot is, smiling warmly at her. “If you want me to, of course.” 

“Please, I feel like I’m going crazy.” YN’s voice is much softer now, as she looks at him with those big, innocent eyes of hers, sipping water. 

“Well, I hope you’ve figured out by now that we are all werewolves.” Jin lets out a little laugh as YN nods softly. 

“We are a hidden race among humans, almost extinct. There are a few large groups over in America, there’s a couple here, a few somewhere in Europe, and a whole bunch over in Africa. There’s also a city of only wolves and special, trusted humans in China, which is also hidden from the world. We are bigger, faster, and stronger than even the very best human. We have the ability to change into wolves whenever we want, so long as we are fully healed.” Jin takes breath, looking to YN to make sure she was following along. 

YN nods, eyes trained on Jin as she listens, and he continues. 

“In order to survive, we had to breed with humans, muddle the gene pool. The fastest, strongest, largest of the humans, they are all part wolf. Our pack is one of the purest here, genetically speaking, but we would be considered basically human by our ancestors. But, to be fair, some humans are able to be welcomed into packs.” 

“Packs?” YN asks, head tilting slightly to one side as Jin smiles. 

“Yeah, like wolf packs. There are Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, which are basically what you think they are, though there is a lot more variation than you would think. Each designation is on a sort of scale, though that scale is not something that can easily be explained.” Jin gives another half shrug, glancing up at the IV, before standing and doing something that YN didn’t understand. 

“Here, let me get this changed so your body doesn’t starve or dehydrate. And I’ll let the rest of the boys know you’re awake, they’re excited to meet you and make sure you’re okay.” Jin clearly makes the move away from the subject of werewolves, and even though YN’s mind is swirling with questions, she doesn’t question the dropping of the subject. 

YN assumes (correctly) that any and all questions she possibly has will be answered in time, because something about the way Jin putters around the room doing this or that feels like coming home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next week, YN steadily gets better. Whatever it is about the werewolf blood that makes healing kick it up into overdrive was working better than expected, which all of the boys were grateful for. She had visitors every day, for most of the day, and she quickly got along with each of them. 

Jin, who YN found out was actually a fully licensed medical doctor and surgeon, mandated that the boys were only allowed to go and see her in pairs, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. 

And thus, YN met Hobi and Jimin almost as soon as Jin opened the door to let the boys know she was accepting visitors. She could see who she would later find out to be Jungkook and Taehyung peaking in the doorway, wanting to be included but not being allowed to be. 

Both Hobi and Jimin very enthusiastically introduced themselves, taking no time at all to occupy the end of the bed that YN was far too short to occupy herself. Talking to them felt like talking to people she had known for years, and they had YN almost rolling with laughter within the first five minutes. 

It was almost an hour of not-so-patient waiting on behalf of Taehyung and Jungkook before Jin came back and kicked Hobi and Jimin out, scolding them half-heartedly for not letting the other two have their time yet. 

With quick apologies, those two boys slipped out of the room as two more replaced them. Again, just as enthusiastic, the two boys introduced themselves, and had YN in stitches almost too quickly. 

Without a second thought, YN is talking with them for almost two hours, before Namjoon comes in and cuts them off. He kicks the two youngest out of the room, telling them that YN needs to rest sometime, that she has to heal. 

Namjoon in turn takes the same spot at the end of the bed, but he is bearing gifts. Namely, the gift of her electronics from her home, a nice lap desk, and some of her very favorite sour candy.

“I figured you would want these things, seeing as you’ll be here for a while.” Namjoon smiles softly as he almost sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. 

“Oh, thank you!” YN is much more animated than she was even an hour ago, snatching the sour candies from Namjoon’s hand as quickly as she dares to, trying her best to open the bag without moving her one arm very much. 

“Do you want some help YN?” Namjoon’s voice is soft but deep, and YN nods without even a second’s hesitation, holding out the offending bag with a small pout. 

Namjoon just chuckles, making small talk as he easily opens the bag, carefully handing it to YN. She lets out a grateful sigh, carefully balancing the bag in her hurt hand, and throwing candies into her mouth. 

“How’d you know I like these?” YN asks absently, paying far more attention to the wonderful flavor than to Namjoon and his response. 

She was tired, her body was sore, and honestly, she was more excited for her candy and the prospect of a nice long sleep than she was about anything Namjoon had to say. That was, at least, until she actually heard the words that came out of his mouth. 

“Oh, we can read minds. We know all sorts of things about you.” His voice was that same even calmness, to the point that YN didn’t actually register what was said for almost a whole minute. 

“You… you what?” YN pauses and looks up at Namjoon, shock and confusion written so clearly on her face that Namjoon didn’t even need to read her mind to know exactly what she was thinking. 

“Hyung was supposed to tell you, but yes. It’s an innate ability of ours, and once you present you’ll probably be able to do the same.” Namjoon gives a little sort of half shrug as YN’s face just scrunches up more as she tries to fully process what Namjoon actually said. 

“I can see you’re confused.” Namjoon speaks again and YN rolls her eyes without taking a second to think about how that might be perceived. Sure, the men she had met had all been incredibly kind to her, but that doesn’t mean that they’re comfortable enough to start with the half-bratty sass that YN was known for with her close friends. 

“Yeah, I wonder why.” YN speaks for the first time, her eyes locking up onto Namjoons in a way that seemed out of character for the girl that he had begun to get to know. “It’s not like this is a lot to process or anything.” Sarcasm seems to drip from every pore like venom, and Namjoon pauses for the first time, slightly confused. Again, this was unlike the character that he had come to know as YN.

He’s sure YN doesn’t mean any harm by what she’s saying, that much is clear to him because of her thoughts, but he was under the impression that YN was just a sweet, mild mannered woman. Silently, Namjoon chides himself for allowing himself to believe that YN, a fully functioning adult woman, was something other than a three dimensional person with multitudes to her personality. 

“May I ask some clarifying questions?” YN asks after a short silence. For the first time, she felt slightly uncomfortable in the silence, wondering if she had actually offended Namjoon inadvertently. Usually, she tried to tame the more bratty side of her personality for fear of being hurt by someone she completely offended, and it seemed to hit her all at once that these men, who were already giant in comparison to her, also held an unknown strength.

YN’s fears are assuaged when Namjoon gives her a beautiful smile, nodding his head and motioning for her to ask away. 

“How much of my head can you see?” YN tilts her head to one side, not catching how strange her phrasing is until Namjoon lifts an eyebrow. By that point, too much time has passed for YN to really change her statement, and she can feel her ears getting hot as she waits for Namjoon to actually respond. 

“Well, any of us can read basically any thought you have. We can also access memories, though it is incredibly frowned upon to do so, as it is sort of like torture for the person whose mind you look into for that one. But, we can also teach you how to make sure we can’t see inside your mind, and when the door to the room closes, we can’t see into anyone inside the room.” Namjoon answers with a sort of practiced nuance, which is comforting to YN in a strange way. 

“Do you look at my thoughts all the time?” 

“No, of course not. That wouldn’t be fair, and honestly, we don’t really look in your mind at all. You do throw off emotion, but that’s different in the first place.” Namjoon gives that same little half shrug. 

“How’s it different?” YN’s voice is much softer now. There’s something about the way Namjoon speaks that makes her feel like she’s coming home. 

She shakes the feeling, instead trying to focus on what Namjoon has to say.

“When in the pack, emotions are shared and felt by the other members of the pack, to varying degrees. When it comes to other wolves, we are sensitive to their emotions and have a large amount of completely non-verbal communication. Part of why you’re so interesting to us is the fact that we can feel your emotions, though you clearly aren’t fully wolf.” Namjoon pauses, brow furrowed. 

“What does that mean?” YN’s expression turns to match Namjoons. 

“It means you’re one of us. But also that you’re not.” Namjoon brings a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure what it means, honestly. You smell like an Omega. You act like one, mostly. But you clearly won’t be able to turn once you finish presenting, you know nothing of our world or customs, you’re absolutely tiny.” 

YN shifts uncomfortably when Namjoon looks up at her, her ears heating up again, though she has no idea why she’s embarrassed. It’s not her fault she didn’t know about a hidden society of werewolves, after all. 

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something else, but the door opens and Jin steps in. 

“Namjoon, go separate Taehyung and Yoongi. They’re at it again. Both of them are acting like children.” Jin lets out a deep, exasperated sigh. “And you need to leave YN alone, she needs to heal. Didn’t you say the same thing to Tae and Kookie just a bit ago?” 

YN can’t help but smile softly at the familiar interaction, almost laughing when Jin shoos Namjoon out of the room. 

“As for you, Miss YN, you need to actually rest. Don’t be afraid to tell any of the boys to leave, they know full well that you are here to heal.” Jin gives YN a bright smile as he reaches behind her to make sure her pillows are arranged correctly. 

YN nods, a grateful smile on her features. “I’ll do my best to heal well, thank you.”  She speaks softly, her thoughts a jumbled mess after everything Namjoon told her, her prior annoyance and attitude melting away.

“Do you need anything else? It’s getting late enough I’m going to leave you, I know Namjoon set you up with your technology and chargers.” Jin stands in the doorway, facing YN. 

“No, thank you! I’m good until tomorrow.” YN answers quickly, arranging herself so she can rest comfortably for the night. 

“I’ll leave you then. If you need anything through the night, there’s a call button on the side there. Good night, YN.” 

“Good night!” YN calls, watching as Jin flicks off the light and closes the door. She then proceeds to lay there, in the strange bed, and stare up at the ceiling. 

It was a lot to process, everything that she’d been told. 

“I’m fucking crazy.” YN groans, sighing deeply and checking her phone for the first time in what could have been weeks. 

She was unsurprised to see that the only notifications she had were from her editor, sending back things for her to work on and asking for the corrections and newest works.

YN can’t help but sigh again, throwing her phone to one side and settling in better. She was thankful to the men who had saved her, and she knew somewhere deep down that she could trust them, but it was just a lot to deal with. 

What did it mean that she smelled like an Omega? What the fuck did it mean to present? What did Namjoon mean when he said that she threw off emotions? 

YN was confused, to say the least, but as she relaxed more and ignored the aches of her body, she realized just how tired she was. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, even with her mind swirling with question after question about what everything meant.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was three weeks before YN had the use of her arm back, her shoulder only stinging slightly when she actually used her arm properly. It was another month after that before YN could walk on her ankle, which had been almost shattered from the attack. And that whole time, YN was bonding with the boys. 

She quickly found that the three youngest were incredibly physically affectionate, which YN just adored. She quickly found herself curling up beside Jimin, playing with his hair and feeling completely enveloped in his arms. Or laying across Jungkook’s lap, laughing at his facial expressions as he played his games. Or jokingly having Taehyung carry her around, lovingly calling him her “trusty steed” from her perch on his back.

She found that Jin’s love language was acts of service, which usually translated into him cooking this or that for the group. YN quickly fell into the habit of helping Jin as much as she could sitting at (or on) the counter, laughing at his dad jokes and making some of her own. She made sure that Jin didn’t forget to serve himself as well, always sneaking some of the best parts that he gave to her back into his own portion.

She found that the best way to bond with Namjoon was to just talk to him, about anything and everything, especially philosophical topics. Both YN and Namjoon loved the debate of this or that, the exchange of ideas, the passion of discussing things that others find to be boring. They would spend hours sitting in the library and reading this book or that novel, just to discuss it as soon as both of them had finished, getting off topic in that special way that isn’t really off topic, if you think about it on a deeper level. 

She found that Hoseok loved to dance, loved to explore music and feel it through the movement of  his body. While YN wasn’t able to stand and actually dance with him, even though she would have loved to, she did suggest new songs for him to try making routines to, bringing him water and snacks every so often. He would always ask her to stay and watch, which she did, always giving him the biggest applause she could at the end of the beautiful dances, talking his ear off about her love for movement like that, even if she couldn’t ever really do it herself. 

She found, however, that it was with Yoongi that she felt the most at peace. She quickly gained access to his ever-so-exclusive “genius lab,” where he made his music. Most of the time, YN would work on her writing as Yoongi worked on his music, the studio space filled with the soft sounds of YN’s typing and the sounds of whatever Yoongi was working on. They didn’t need to talk, instead the two sat in silence most of the time, just enjoying the fact that there was someone else there who understood that being together was all that was really needed.

Every so often, Yoongi would spin around in his chair and capture YN’s attention, asking her to listen to something and give her opinions on what could be improved or changed to make the song sound better. While YN didn’t have a lick of musical experience, she was sensitive to sounds and could pick out parts that didn’t quite mesh correctly with ease, which is just what Yoongi needed. 

On the flip side, when Yoongi was taking a bit of a break to stretch, YN would ask him to make certain motions or how to say certain things in different accents to help her be able to write this or that out in a way that actually made sense. Her editor was praising the way her work was coming back with less mistakes and awkward parts, and YN was absolutely loving the way she and Yoongi got along. 

And yet at other points, when neither Yoongi nor YN could seem to focus long enough to get anything done, the two would lounge side by side on the couch and just talk. They never really had something specific to talk about, but YN would find herself opening up about things that she had never told anyone else. She would find herself listening intently to whatever Yoongi decided to open up about, carefully choosing her words in a way that was meant to make him feel better, without making it feel like she was dismissing the feelings that he had in the first place. 

It was a system that worked, with YN falling into the routine of the home far quicker than any of them would have ever expected.  She found joy in helping Jin cook, she felt loved at the unashamed touchiness of Jimin and Taehyung, and again in the much more shy touchiness of Jungkook, she found quiet appreciation in sharing music and watching Hobi, she felt wanted during the long conversations and debates with Namjoon, and she felt at peace with Yoongi. 

She felt like she was home.  

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

But nothing can last forever, can it? YN knew just as much as the rest of the boys that she would have to go back to her own home eventually. 

And so, after two and a half months of living with the seven men, YN was taken back to her own home. 

Jin’s the one who drove her, with Namjoon riding shotgun. There was an aura of sadness the entire time, like none of them really wanted to go anywhere, but it wasn’t like YN could just move into their house. 

This wasn’t a movie or some crappy romance novel, after all. It was real life, and in real life, people don’t just pack up and move into the home of people who were basically strangers. 

The whole parting was quiet. YN couldn’t bring herself to actually say the word “goodbye” to either of the men who had come to make sure she got home safe, instead throwing her arms around their necks and giving them a good squeeze, wishing that she didn’t have to leave. 

The whole thing rang the same as the way she had parted with the other boys before the drive, the ache settling into her chest like someone had ripped out her heart and thrown it under the tires of the car as it pulled away, tears falling freely as a sharp longing settled in her stomach. 

It wasn’t until Jin and Namjoon left that YN actually cried, sobs tearing out of her throat as she crumbled to the ground, knees hitting the hardwood sharply. 

She had no idea how long she stayed there, feeling like there was a hole ripped into her very being, wishing for the comfort of Yoongi’s words, or Jimin’s wonderful hugs, or of Jin’s gentle prodding to “eat well.” 

Eventually, YN drug herself to her feet, stumbling to the kitchen and chugging some water before grabbing the bag she had borrowed to take her things back to her house, deciding she needed to put things away. 

“Why did I let them pack the bag?” YN groans, finding quickly that she is wholly unable to actually pick the bag up, and instead has to drag it to her room. She’s silently thankful for the wood floors because she can actually slide the bag. 

It isn’t until she gets to the last couple sweatshirts in the bottom of the bag that YN realizes she’d picked up a few presents from the boys. Shaking her head, she realizes why they had insisted on helping her in the first place, each of them had gifted her something small and they didn’t want her to refuse them, like they knew she would. The knowledge of how kind they were being was completely bittersweet, however, because they felt like “goodbye, at least remember us” presents.

From Jin she got the knife she quickly claimed was her favorite because it was the only one that was properly sized for her. There was a small note attached tha read “For my favorite kitchen helper, since it’s too small for me, -Jin” 

YN felt the tears well up in her eyes as she carefully set the knife to the side, not wanting to accidentally hurt herself. She then reaches back into the bag, wondering what else she might find. 

Hobi’s gift was next, giving her the one black headband of his that she always stole and jokingly wore around. It was wrapped around an adorable little teddy bear, with a note saying “For my favorite dancer, even if you couldn’t really do anything. Next time, I’m sure you’ll show me up -Hobi <3” 

Tears were flowing down her face now, but YN couldn’t stop looking for what was next, no matter what kind of feelings arose from it. 

Next she found one of the small figurines from Jungkook’s games, the one she always told him was her favorite because of it’s cool jacket. The note simply read “He might be your favorite, but you’re mine.”

YN smiled at the lack of signature, getting up and placing the figure on her nightstand, carefully angling it so it could watch over the room. Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, she reaches into the bag again, pulling out a gift that couldn’t have been from anyone but Namjoon. 

It was a book that was equal parts old and beautiful, and as YN ran her finger down the spine, she took out the note that was sticking out of the book. She wiped the tears from her face before she read the note, not wanting to drip tears onto it.

“Our Miss YN, 

Please don’t take this as a goodbye, but as a promise for the future. You’re just as important to us, to me, as we are to you. Remember us, remember the good, and look to when we can be together again. 

-Joon” 

It’s with this that YN starts sobbing again. They’re so sweet, those boys, and YN couldn’t help but feel almost lost without them. Her chest hurt like someone had shot her, a strong sort of longing that seemed endless settling into the pit of her stomach. 

It takes a while this time, before she can reach into the bag again. When she does, she almost immediately has renewed cries falling from her lips. 

She had pulled out the one super soft sweater of Jimin’s that she absolutely adored. She had told him that she was going to steal it from him whenever he wore it, twisting her fingers in the material and snuggling closer to him. It was soft, it smelled nice, and she knew that it would make her both look and feel tiny. 

There’s no note with this one, but YN can feel the love and sincerity behind the action, draping the sweater over her legs for the time being. She reaches into the bag again, smiling as she pulls out one of Taehyung’s million beanies, wrapped around a small toy horse. 

There is a note with this one, which simply reads “Horse.” It’s the most Taehyung thing YN can think of, and without a second thought, she places the horse next to the figurine, pulling the beanie on. 

She doesn’t find anything else immediately, taking a minute to put the things she had gotten in safe spots and going to put away the last couple hoodies, which she knew were hers. 

It isn’t until she reaches the last thing in the bag that she finds what Yoongi left her. At first, she thought it was just one of his hoodies, which she absolutely adored, but when she took it out to lay it next to the sweater Jimin had given her, something fell out of the folding. 

Quickly, YN picks up whatever fell, and finds that it’s a CD. She shakes her head, knowing that Yoongi would be the kind of person to share music as a gift. She sets the CD carefully on the bed, gathering up her shower supplies and a towel, both because she needed to take them back to her bathroom, and because she needed to actually shower. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Once she’s freshly showered, using Hobi’s headband to keep her hair out of her face, wearing nothing but the amazingly soft sweater Jimin left her, YN settles into her bed with a CD player she found, Yoongi’s hoodie layed out beside her. Now that she had calmed down, she could smell the boys on the things they had given her. She would have been lying if she said that it wasn’t incredibly comforting to have their scent around her. It made the gaping hole in her chest feel a little less bloody, for whatever reason. 

Pressing play, YN settles in, not knowing what to expect. Neither the CD nor the CD cover had any sort of writing on it, so YN had no idea what was going to be playing, or for how long. She can’t help the small smile that graces her face as Yoongi’s voice fills her space, speaking deep and slow in that comforting way YN loved. 

“YN, my lovely secret keeper. You’re hearing this now because the day has come that you had to go back to your own home. I know none of us want you to leave, and if your actions have anything to say about it, you don't want to go.

You know as well as I do that things don’t always work the way we want them to, though.  We will be coming to visit you, as much as we can. And we will keep an eye on you. 

YN, please listen to me when I tell you I won’t let anything happen to you. It broke my heart, letting you get hurt once. And I’m not sure what I would have done if Hyung and I weren’t there when you were attacked. 

If you need me, if you need any of us, we will be there. Always.” 

YN curls up in a ball, hugging Yoongi’s hoodie to her chest, breathing in his scent deeply. She knew that he meant every word, that he truly would never let anything happen to her on purpose, but she also felt abandoned by him. By all of them. 

She had spent the last ten weeks of her life talking to Yoongi or Namjoon when she felt bad. Going to Jimin or Taehyung for cuddles when she was lonely. Gaming with Jungkook when she was bored. Laughing with Jin while prepping meals. Doing what little dancing she could with Hobi when she was restless. Laughing as Taehyung insisted on carrying her from one room to another, even once she had healed enough to walk. 

She had spent the last ten weeks evening out their teams when they played games, singing off-key on karaoke nights, fielding Taehyung’s touchiness before he got on Yoongi’s nerves (because for some reason, Tae insisted on trying to cuddle Yoongi at every opportunity), celebrating with them, helping to clean the wolves if there was a fight, stealing blankets off of every surface she could, curling into the side of whoever sat beside her in the name of stealing their boundless warmth.

She had spent ten weeks creating a space for herself in their lives, in their home. And now, it was back to living in a house that was way too big for her, with nobody to keep her accountable. 

It was because of this that she cried herself to sleep, even the sound of Yoongi’s beautiful music filled the room. She missed them, more than anything. She felt like she was crying more than she ever had, and it had only been hours since she left their home.

What YN didn’t know was that the boys were missing her just as much back at their home. 

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

Jin had decided to make a fancier meal than usual, because it would take more time and take his mind off of everything, but as he went about getting things done, he couldn’t help but miss seeing YN, perched precariously on the counter, babbling away about this or that as she carefully cut whatever needed to be chopped up. 

He internally cringed as the thought of the time YN had slipped and almost fallen on her hurt ankle, his own quick reflexes being the only thing that had saved her from weeks of extra healing. Honestly, even though it stressed him out to no end to have her cutting things balanced the way she was, it was also something that he had come to expect. Secretly, he wished she had fallen on that ankle, because that would mean she would have still been right there, trying to out-joke the dad joke master himself. 

Jungkook had holed himself away in his room, going to game, setting out a second controller without thinking about it. He had been in the middle of teaching YN how to play his favorite game, so that they could properly play together instead of having her just watch him play all the time. It felt wrong for him to have to just put away that second controller. 

The feeling was just exasperated when he went to start the game and it came up with the section that they had been working through. Fondly, Jungkook remembered the way YN would bring her bottom lip between her teeth as she concentrated on doing things correctly, bouncing in her seat when she finally figured out how something worked. Despite the fond memories, he found himself close to tears, staring at that second controller. 

Jimin and Hobi both went to the studio, deciding to dance away the hurt. Without thinking, Hobi went to ask YN what song they should freestyle to, the words dying in his throat as he turned around to talk to the girl that just wasn’t there. Jimin can see just how much pain Hobi is in, not even speaking as he brings the slightly taller man into his arms, feeling the same sense of loss. 

They sunk down to the floor, neither of them wanting to talk, which in itself was strange for the two normally boisterous men. Jimin missed the feeling of having YN curled up beside him, stealing his heat. Hobi missed being able to talk to her about the dances he was doing, getting a perspective from someone who didn’t really know anything about dance. They missed her. 

They didn’t realize until that moment, when the two were both trying to get the same sort of comfort from each other that they had begun to seek out YN for, how much of a hole there was in their group. Sure, they had been just fine before YN, and would be fine again without her, but there was a comfort with her that they didn’t know how to replace. Things just weren’t the same.

Taehyung busied himself with a book that Namjoon had been recommending to him about one artist that he recently found, but he couldn’t focus on the words or pictures in front of him. Instead, his mind was preoccupied with the fact that, for the past two months, he had spent this lazy time in the afternoon helping YN get from place to place, laughing with her as the others did this or that. He missed those moments, with YN laughing in his arms or on his back, even though it shouldn’t have been long enough for those feelings to settle in. 

He closed the book, flopping down onto the sofa he had settled on and trying not to think too hard about what he could have been doing with YN. If he was being honest with himself, he liked having someone who was so small and easily carried around, because he liked feeling big and important in comparison to her. It was an added bonus that her personality meshed so well with his own, and that she seemed to just understand  the weirder parts of his personality, instead of being put off by them like so many others. 

Sure, he was one of the largest of the pack, but that didn’t mean he felt like it. By wolf standards, he was pretty close to normal, but for whatever reason, he loved the way YN would curl into his side when they were seated next to each other, mumbling about being cold, looking absolutely tiny in comparison to his own body. 

Or how she’d sigh dramatically whenever she had to stand to do something, hopping around the room and never asking for help, despite the fact Taehyung would be the first to jump up and whisk her off her feet completely, just carrying her to wherever it was she needed to be, chiding her for not asking for the help she so clearly needed. 

Namjoon decided to go to the library, curling up in the chair that YN usually occupied in the mornings before everyone else woke up. His mind was swirling, automatically analyzing why he felt the way he did, instead of really feeling those feelings. Absently, he stroked the spine of the book that YN had been reading, a soft smile gracing his face when he realized that it was the one he had recommended when she was still completely bedridden during those first few days. 

He glanced down at the small table beside the chair, realizing for the first time that YN had left a little notebook under the book. He picks it up, flipping through it and quickly realizing that she had been taking notes over things she was eager to discuss with him, which should have made him happy, but in reality just made him feel worse because she wasn’t there to actually follow through. 

Namjoon chuckled to himself as he imagined YN, absolutely tiny in the chair, curled up in one of the fluffy blankets she always seemed to be wrapped up in, lovingly devouring the book that he had recommended to her, scribbling notes onto her notepad for later. He realized absently that he had missed one of the ways that she showed her growing love and appreciation for him was through this small action, making sure that she knew what she was going to say before their discussions. Namjoon was surprised when a drop of water fell onto the page in the notebook YN had marked, not realizing until he sniffled that it was his own tears. 

Yoongi locked himself up in his Genius Lab as soon as YN was in the car, headphones on as he did this or that to the song he had been working on. He tried to ignore the fact that he couldn’t hear the soft clicks of a keyboard behind him. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling of being lonely.

 He had never once felt lonely in his studio, not before he started letting YN hang out on the couch as he worked.

 Not until he got used to spinning around in his chair and seeing YN there, typing away on her laptop. He remembered hearing her little sighs of frustration or exasperation when something doesn’t work out quite right, her brow furrowed, her tongue sticking out slightly, with a growing fondness.

Yes, Yoongi liked being alone. He enjoyed the silence, he enjoyed his own company. He had always liked being alone, it was how he recharged. And it wasn’t until he let YN into his most private sanctum that he had ever really felt lonely. 

It wasn’t until Jin rounded all of them up for dinner that they realized that every single one of them were missing YN. 

“This is bullshit.” 

Yoongi is the one who speaks, heads turning towards him. None of them had really been in the mood for much talking, but none of them had figured Yoongi, of all people, would be the one to break the tense silence. 

“What, I know you’re all thinking it too. This is bullshit.” Yoongi glares at his plate, taking a deep breath before he looks up at the others. 

“None of us wanted YN to leave. YN didn’t want to leave. And now we are all miserable.” Yoongi stands now, not bothering to push in the chair he had been sitting on. 

“I don’t care what any of you do. I don’t care what the consequences are. I’m going to YN’s.” Yoongi’s eyes sweep the faces of the six boys he loves the most, a fiery intensity radiating off of him in a way that has them all flinching away from him. 

“Yoongi you can’t ju-” Namjoon starts, standing and going over to try to calm Yoongi down, but a sharp growl from Yoongi makes him stop in his tracks. 

“No!” Yoongi’s voice drops an octave as he steps closer to Namjoon himself, squaring up with the leader in a way that could very easily lead to a fight.

 “You know as well as I do Alpha,” Yoongi spits the word like it’s acid on his tongue. “she smells like one of us. She has our scent all over her. If they find out we let her go, that we aren’t around her all the time anymore, they’re going to kill her.” 

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something, anger bubbling up in him like a cursed well, when Jin stands, pushing himself between the two Alphas. 

“Both of you! Stop it!” Jin stands, making sure each of them are an arm’s length away from each other. “We all miss YN, but there’s a reason she’s not here. As much as it might seem like it, she isn’t one of us. She doesn’t belong with us.” 

The other boys are all standing now, helping to make sure Yoongi and Namjoon stay away from each other, trying to calm both of them down. A fight between the Alphas would not end well.

“How could you say that?” It’s Hoseok who speaks this time, his voice sounding oddly small. 

“Because it’s been almost a hundred years since there was a lost Omega! You all know how rare they are, seeing how strong the Omega gene is. We knew her uncle, and he didn’t have a lick of wolf in him, even if she managed to somehow get some wolf in her, it can’t be enough for her to be able to pack bond.” Jin flicks his eyes between the other boys, focusing his attention on keeping Namjoon behind him. 

It’s silent for what feels like hours. 

“Then why do I feel like I lost a piece of me, huh?” It’s Taehyung who speaks up this time, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, tears rising in his eyes. “Explain that, Hyung.” His voice is barely above a whisper, choked out over a growing lump in his throat. 

“I-” Jin starts, the words dying in his throat as he watches Taehyung turn into the closest person, seeking the comfort of someone else. 

For once, Yoongi opened his arms to Taehyung, glaring at Jin from over the other man’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“I don’t know.” Jin finally admits, his face falling. 

Again, the room falls silent, only the soft sniffles of Taehyung breaking the deafening quiet of the room. 

“I think we all feel the way Tae does, don’t we?” Namjoon speaks for the first time in a while, the anger he had felt having finally subsided almost completely. There are nods from everyone. 

“The feeling is new, and we don’t want to make a mistake. If we report YN as being lost, she will become a target. If we don’t, we will. Let’s wait for at least a week before we approach her again.” Namjoon eyes the others in the room. “But let’s keep patrols heavy in her part of the woods.” 

Yoongi glares at Namjoon, thoughts swirling. A whole week without YN, knowing that she’s in pain being away from them? It sounded like downright torture to him. 

“Yoongi, Hyung, you know how big of a deal it is to be the pack with a lost Omega. She’ll become a target, just because she can’t handle half as much as we can. It’d be easy to not only to just kill her, but to break her spirit, to force her to tell them about our weaknesses as a pack. She’d have to be with at least one of us almost all the time, have to live with us. She’d have to give up big parts of her freedom, and the YN we know wouldn’t enjoy that at all.” Namjoon pauses, taking a deep breath. 

“We have to be sure before we approach her with this. For all we know, she won’t ever fully present and YN isn’t really one of the lost at all.” Namjoon brings a hand up to rub at his temple, a headache starting from the strong mix of emotions. 

Yoongi sighs, Taehyung finally detaching himself from the smaller man as Yoongi runs a hand through his hair. 

“You’re right Joon. I know you’re right.” He lets out another, more exasperated sigh before he continues, “It’s just hard, ya know? Waiting another week feels like torture, because I know, I know, that YN is hurting. And we caused it.” 

The other boys nod, giving murmurs of agreement as they start to dissipate, their meal forgotten as they begin to retreat again. For whatever reason, even the most other-person oriented of the pack wanted to be alone, wanted to have a minute to process everything that was going on by themselves. 

“Jin, Yoongi. Can we go talk further in the office? We need to actually figure out what to do next.” Namjoon catches Jin by the shoulder before he walks out of the room, reaching for Yoongi as well, even though he was across the room. 

Yoongi just nods, Jin letting out a short hum of approval. The trio then turn in unison, heading out towards the office space that Namjoon used so often. 

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Fear

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Warnings: Cursing; canon-typical violence; character injury; angst. This one is angsty ‘cause we haven’t had an angsty one yet. Whoops. Notes: The next one will be more chipper, promise. Summary: You’re not ignorant to the fact that what the guys do day in and day out is dangerous. 

Your world doesn’t stop when it happens. 

It feels like it should, but it can’t. You’ve still got shit to do, the rest of an op to help coordinate, even as your insides are squirming and you think you’re going to be sick. You’re not ignorant to the fact that what the guys do day in and day out is dangerous. You worry about all of them, you always tell all of them to be careful.

But that doesn’t matter now, you can’t really dwell on what you have said or what you should’ve said, because you can still hear the odd gunshot coming through your feed and god, what the fuck is going on over there? You can hear Nick telling one of the guys to stay still and Henderson to keep applying pressure. And then Nick is telling you to call in a medic because Borracho has been shot.

--

When you do get to the hospital, the team’s all there. You don’t have to ask; Nick is up and telling you: “He’s in surgery right now. Bullet hit him in the abdomen,” Nick pats the spot on his own torso, on the left, just under his ribs in an approximation, “Doc says he got lucky, it didn’t hit anything vital.”

“It went through his tac vest?” You hiss. 

“We were one short, he gave his to the witness,” Connors grumbles. 

Stupid bastard. Stupid noble bastard. When you see him, you’re gonna kill him. 

You want to ask more, but you hear your name being called. You turn to see Gabriel, Megan, and Borracho’s mom, Regina, coming down the hall. They need answers; you can ask your questions later. --

You don’t register much after the doctor says, “he’s going to be alright,” because that tiny bit of you that’s been ready to kill him this whole time just crumbles. Cause yeah, you’re still out in the waiting room, and you’re still worried, but Borracho was doing his job, and you may or may not already be planning to buy him his own tac vest for Christmas. Maybe L.L. Bean has them and you can get it personalized? “Can we see him?” It’s Gabriel that asks it; you haven’t even bothered, for the simple reason of the doctor’s answering question of, “Are you family?” They are. You’re not. They’re allowed in; Gabriel is already starting down the hall to his brother’s room. Regina and Megan turn back to you, apologies poised on their lips, and you wave them off with a thin smile and tell them that it’s alright, that you’ll see him later, that he needs his family right now. Megan wraps her an arm around her mom’s shoulders and gives you a thankful nod before following Gabriel. You’re alone for a split-second. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the vending machine next to you, and the buzz-crackle-mumbling of someone being called to the O.R. on the hospital’s intercom overhead. Then Nick’s hand is on your shoulder, and he’s telling you that one of them will drive you home. You shake your head, tell him that you can get yourself back. “How’d you get here?” Nick asks. “I… I um…” You drove. You drove, but you barely remember doing it. The guys are watching you, all of them. They’re waiting for the tears. But you’re not going to do that here; besides, they’re just as worried about Borracho as you are. You want to be there for them just as much as they want to be there for you. You can fall apart later. -- Visiting hours are over before the doctor lets anyone but Borracho’s family in to see him, so you and the guys decide to clear out (well, the guys decide to clear out, you know that you’ve gotta go with one of ‘em). Megan does come out to tell you all that he’s stable, and sleeping, that the doctors expect him to only be in for a few days before he’ll be able to come home, barring infection or complications. She promises to text you with updates; you tell her to call if she or the family needs anything - food, clothing, a babysitter - anything. She gives you a tight hug, and when you lean away, a few tears have leaked from her eyes. You reach up and carefully smooth them away, giving her a small smile. “He’s gonna be alright,” You remind her. “He’s gonna be alright,” She repeats back to you, because you both need to be told. -- The ride home is silent. You’re in the passenger seat of your car as Nick drives; Henderson, Zapata and Connors are following in the car that they all rode over in. You’re staring down the dashboard like you could melt it. When Nick pulls up in front of your place, you mumble your thanks. You both get out. Nick doesn’t toss you your keys like he would on another day. He walks around the car, puts them in your hand, claps you on the shoulder and tells you to get some rest. Before he can get in the car with the others, you call out to him. “You get the fucker that did it?” You ask. He nods. You nod in turn before you go inside. That’s been weighing on you. You’ve hadn’t been able to ask at the hospital; you’ve been worried about someone coming back to snag Borracho, maybe finish the job, but if Nick says they’re gone, that means they’re gone. You shut the door behind yourself and look around. Your apartment feels off -- weird. Like someone snuck in and moved everything two inches to the left. It’s a few moments of quiet before you realize how tired your body feels, how hollow. You drag yourself into the bedroom, barely kick off your shoes before you fall onto the bed. You need to rest now. You can fall apart later. -- Henderson seems stunned to see you when you come into the office the next day. He glances at Connors, then Zapata. “If I see money change hands, I’m gonna slap all three of you,” You warn as you lower yourself into your desk chair. The guys turn back to their work. Nick comes over to your desk a few minutes later. “You sleep?” He asks first. You nod. “You see him?” He asks next. You haven’t. He’s still resting; his family has been taking shifts at the hospital, and you wanna be there, you do, but they told you that they’ve got it under control. And fuck, you wanna argue, but you don’t wanna push back on this, not right now, not with them. “He’s in good hands,” Is your answer. “... If you wanna take a day…” Nick almost looks pained as he offers it. You glance up at him. “We still have work to do?” You ask. “Yeah.” “Are you all takin’ a day?” “No.” “Alright then.” You put your headphones in, and you turn your music up, and you fight the urge to look at the little post-it notes you keep in the front of your notebook. -- “Hey, sweetness.” If your eyes had been closed, you almost could’ve almost trick yourself into thinking everything’s normal, the way he mumbles it -- it’s the way he mumbles it when you wake him up in the morning. But you don’t have the beeping of a heart monitor and the harsh bright of overhead lights to contend with in your bedroom.

Regina had warned you that he’s still hopped up on pain meds and pretty tired.  And it’s only been three days, and you know that he lost a lot of blood, but damnit, Borracho looks small and sallow in that hospital bed. “Hey there,” You speak softly as you pull a chair up beside his bed. You're sitting on the right side of him; the chair one on the left is piled high with his mom’s purse and her coat, and one of the niece’s diaper bags. You take his hand in both of yours, a gentle grip, like he’s gonna turn to dust in front of you if you clasp too tight. You haven’t seen him in three days but it’s felt like a fucking year. “How are you feelin’?” You ask. He chuckles, mumbles, “Like I got shot,” And you push out a laugh and give him a smile, because that’s what he needs right now. You can tell him that you hated hearing him say it later. -- “This is payback for when I got that concussion, isn’t it,” Connors grumbles as he grabs his jacket, heading out for the third time that day. Borracho’s on the last day of his first week of desk duty. He’s been home for just as long. “How else are you gonna learn, Connors?” Is Borracho’s answer, and the guys crack up. They laugh, because they’re coping by making light of this, because this wasn’t the first incident, and it won’t be the last. Those are just the facts. And they can make light of this, because Borracho’s in one piece. You can’t, though. You haven’t worn your headphones in the office so much since those first few months at the department. The guys don’t question it; Nick doesn’t push you to interact like he did last time. They just let you at your work. Look, you’re fine. Things are fine. Borracho’s back to being home with you, sleeping in your bed. His stitches have been taken out, they say he’s healing up well. He’s fine. You’re fine. -- “I’ve got it.” You can’t count how many times you’ve said that since he got out of the hospital. Listen, you’re not babying him, it’s just -- well at first, he still had residual pain. And you don’t mind grabbing things for him, you really don’t. So if he was hungry, you’d grab him food, or if he wanted more coffee, you’d get up and get him some. Problem is it’s been about three weeks now and you’re still saying, “I’ve got it.” You can see that it’s starting to wear on him a little bit, but it’s automatic now, you can’t bring yourself to stop trying to help - even when he hasn’t asked you for it. So when you see him reach for something in the cabinet, and he winces just a little at the stretch, you hurry over, and bat his hand away with a mumble of, “I’ve got it.” “Cut it out,” He chuckles. You freeze with your hand wrapped around a box of graham crackers, and turn your head to blink at him. “...I can get things for myself, sweetness,” He adds, softer, “‘Sides, I’ve gotta get used to moving around again. Just lemme grab ‘em. Okay?” You let go of the box and nod, and he pecks your lips before you can step away. You settle back down on the couch, your stomach twisting, your emotions a mottle of uselessness and idiocy. Borracho sits down next to you a few minutes later, slings his arm around your shoulder. You take a nibble of the graham cracker when he holds a piece in front of your mouth. You don’t lean into his side - it’s his left side. You’re sure the spot is still tender, you don’t want to aggravate it, even when Borracho’s arm tightens around you and he tries to coax you closer. -- You blink at the light as it’s flipped on. You’re frowning - for a couple of reasons. The first is that the room that was just dark is now bright as hell. The second is that Borracho is also frowning - at you. “What’s going on?” He asks quietly. “What are you talking about?” You shake your head. He tips his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Come on, you know I know you better than that.” You’d taken your time coming to bed. Borracho had gone in ahead of you, but you’d stayed on the couch, zoning out to some television show you really didn’t care about. He’d been touchy all night - hands skimming over your thigh, your arm, your side; kissing your cheek, your neck. You’d pecked his lips a couple of times, but you hadn’t reciprocated otherwise. Thing is, it’s not just tonight. You’ve barely touched Borracho since he’s been home. You don’t know what it is. It’s not that you don’t want him, you do, you always do, but you just… “You can turn the light back off,” You turn back to the dresser and grab your pajama bottoms, “You should be sleeping.” You cringe when you hear the thud of Borracho’s feet on the floor of your bedroom, and then he’s touching your shoulder and carefully turning you to face him. “What’s going on?” He presses, “Sweetness, I’m sorry if I seemed harsh in the kitchen earlier--” “It’s not that,” You shake your head. “Then what?” He’s looking over your face, “You’ve been acting like I’m about to disappear--” “You scared the shit out of me!” And then you slap your hand over your mouth because fuck. You yelled, and you’d told yourself that you weren’t going to do this. What happened wasn’t his fault - it wasn’t his fault that they didn’t have enough tac vests. He took the initiative to protect their witness. You tell yourself that every time you see that damn scar, every time you see him wince. You shake your head, lowering your eyes from his stunned face. Your eyes are watering and you need to move. You make to step around him, but Borracho gets in your way, and hooks an arm around your middle and hurries to say, “Don’t, hey-- talk to me--” You’re still shaking your head, but you can’t stop the tears now, so Borracho gathers you into his chest as you fall apart against him. Neither of you speak; you can’t, couldn’t even if you tried. He just wraps his arms around you and keeps all of your shattering pieces together. You couldn’t do this before. You felt like you didn’t have permission. The guys needed you to do your job, and then his family had needed you to keep your head, and then-- and then he was out of the hospital and home with you and what was the point of crying about it? You’ve been walking around with panic and pain and worry for a month and the dam has finally fuckin’ broken. When you’ve calmed down a little bit, the two of you crawl into bed. Borracho shuts the light back off. He takes one of your hands and slips it over his side and gently presses it to the puckered skin of the scar. It brings a fresh wave of tears, and you turn your head and press your face into the pillow to hide from him. “I’m sorry, sweetness,” He mumbles, letting you lift your hand away from the scar to rest on his chest, where you can feel his heart beating steadily. You know he isn’t doing it on purpose; you know he’s trying to help, to show you that he’s healing and that he’s alright, but he doesn’t quite know how to. You’re not sure how to make this better, either. “Can you stay home tomorrow?” He whispers the question when you’re half asleep. You sniffle and nod a little bit, and press your face into his neck. You shyly let your hand slide back down to the scar. Your fingers smooth over the raised skin before you settle your palm over it. -- Borracho lowers himself onto the couch beside you, tucking you against his right side as you cradle your mug of coffee. The morning’s been slow. Borracho’s been moving around you like you’re a skittish little thing. You’ve been staying out of his way in the kitchen and the living room and the hall, letting him do things for himself and shaking this urge to be his shadow. “Megan said she didn’t understand how you were so calm the whole time.” “...Well, unfortunately, now you know,” You grumble, looking down into your mug. You’re still embarrassed for yelling; you’ve apologized three times now. Borracho’s hand runs up and down your shoulder. He’s patient, quiet. You finally manage, “I’ve never… Been with anyone that puts themselves in danger like this every day. When it happened, I was in work mode, and then when I got to the hospital, I was just...I don’t know, I was trying to find ways to fix it, cause… Cause when it happened, I wasn’t anywhere near you, I couldn’t do anything. And then I couldn’t see you at the hospital, since I wasn’t family,” You feel Borracho tense up beside you, but he doesn’t stop you, “But I could run errands for your mom, or look after your sisters’ kids, or grab Isobel coffee, something. That helped. It was distracting. And then we were back in the office and you guys kept joking about it, and-- and I know, I get it, you guys have to sometimes, but I just couldn’t.” You shut up, biting down on your lips as you feel tears springing up again. You don’t know how; you could’ve sworn you’d cried everything out last night. Borracho doesn’t interrupt you still, just squeezes your shoulder encouragingly. “I’m sorry I babied you so much when you got home,” You add once you’re sure you’ve pushed the tears away, “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve had something like this happen. I was trying to fix that, too.” “You weren’t babying me...At first.” He’s teasing you now, and you’re smiling a little despite yourself. Borracho presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “There’s my girl.” “And I’m sorry for yelling.” “I know, sweetness.” “But I will probably yell again if you ever do a dumbass thing like removing your tac vest again.” “Understood.” “And the guys. They will not escape my wrath, either.” “Your wrath?” “My wrath.” 

[synmorite]

Behind These Eyes- Chapter 3

Summary: Life in the bunker, a hunt gone bad, cuteness, and goodbyes.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3642

Warnings: fluff, angst, injuries, more angst

A/N: This section was definitely written to be more “slice of life.” There’s a few time jumps. One more part after this!

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

You settled into life in the bunker quicker than you thought you would. Dean took you shopping and you picked up some essentials so you could be set for the next couple of months with them. You also insisted on picking up food so that you could cook for them. Mostly, you wanted to return the favor. They took you in and welcomed you as part of their family. The least you could do is give them some good home cooked meals. The first time you cooked, Dean moaned at the first bite of chicken. Sam smirked at his brother.

“Hey Y/N?” Sam turned to you.

“Yeah?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Clearly, you’re an excellent cook. Can you bake?”

You frowned at the random question, missing how Dean’s gaze zeroed in on you. “Yeah, I can bake too. Why? Something in particular you’d like?”

“How about cake?” Sam said, smirking at his brother before dodging the spoon that Dean threw at him.

“Sammy!” Dean growled. You looked between the brothers, utterly confused at what was going on.

“Can you bake… pie?” Dean asked, somewhat hesitantly.

“Yea, I can bake pie. Apple, cherry, blueberry, strawberry rhubarb, peach, basically any type.  You got a preference?” You shrugged.

Dean was staring at you. “Can you make all of them?” 

Sam burst out laughing. You frowned at them. “Can you guys eat that many pies?” You asked. Sam dropped his head into his hands, practically choking on his laughter now.

Dean glared at him. “Sammy doesn’t get any pie. They’re mine!” You joined in with Sam’s laughter, finally realizing that Dean must REALLY love pie.

***

One month later...

The boys still looked for hunts, but for the ones they found, Sam usually called another hunter to take care of it. They had a fairly large network of hunters set up. Dean explained that they had ended up in an alternate universe and brought back several people with them from that world. You weren’t surprised when Dean informed you of the existence of other worlds.

“I have an angel inside me. Why shouldn’t there be other worlds?” You shrugged.

It wasn’t long before there was a hunt that they needed to take. Something was killing soldiers that had returned from the Middle East. Wounds they received in the war and had long since healed, were reappearing and killing them. Sam and Dean had never come across this before and didn’t want to send someone else in to investigate something unfamiliar. There was no question that you would stay behind in the safety of the bunker.

Before they left, Dean cupped your cheek in his hand and ran his hand over your cheekbone. He’d been doing this a lot more. Little touches here and there. His olive green eyes burned into yours.

“Sometimes I swear I can see Arti behind your eyes.” He whispered. 

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

His hand dropped and he shrugged. “I dunno. I just feel like I see something that isn’t you.” You frowned at him and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Stay in the bunker. Stay safe, sweetheart.”

“You too, Dean. And you, Sam!” You called over to him where he was climbing into the impala. Sam gave a short wave and Dean climbed into the driver’s seat. He flashed a grin at you. “See you soon, princess.”

***

Dean checked in with you each night to ensure you were still safe and inside the bunker. They still didn’t know what was killing the soldiers, but they had tracked down that they all signed up and served together. Sam and Dean couldn’t get a hold of any details of where they served that may have caused them to become targets for whatever supernatural creature was now hunting them. 

However, on their fourth night away, Dean didn’t check in at 10pm as he usually did. You waited and waited, but he didn’t call or text. Neither did Sam. You’d tried calling them both, but their phones went straight to voicemail. You paced through the halls in your PJs, clutching the phone that Dean gave you. You tried not to worry, but as the silence from the boys continued, your anxiety over something being wrong grew. As 4am approached, you heard the growl of the impala and bolted to the garage. Sam was getting out of the driver seat and Dean was leaning against the passenger window asleep. Sam gave a small smile as you approached and gave him a hug. You could smell blood and smoke on him.

“I was so worried when Dean didn’t check in.”

“Yea, sorry about that. My phone died and Dean’s got...damaged.”

“Are you guys okay?” You asked.

“Yeah. Turned out it was a valkyrie. She posed as the army recruiter, and when her recruits didn’t die in Iraq like she planned for them, she decided to take care of it herself. FYI, fire kills valkyries. She hit Dean pretty good and he thinks he has a broken rib so he asked if I could drive us home.” Sam explained. He leaned down and called over to Dean. Dean didn’t move. 

You leaned down to the open driver’s door.

“Dean? Wake up, you’re home.” You called to him. He still didn’t respond. It was then that you noticed the light sheen of sweat across his face and the paleness of his skin.

You ran to the other side of the car. “Sam! Something’s wrong!” You pulled the door open and Dean fell out into your arms. His skin was clammy, but still warm. Sam was right behind you and helped pull Dean from the car to lay on the garage floor. Sam didn’t hesitate to pull Dean’s shirt up to expose his chest. There was dark bruising all across his skin. You could see his chest rise and fall shallowly so he was still alive luckily.

“That’s where the valkyrie hit him.” Sam whispered.

“What do we do?” You looked at him, panicking. Sam just stared at his brother. “Sam! WHAT DO WE DO?”

He shook his head. “I-I don’t know. The closest hospital is half an hour away and he has been bleeding internally for at least 8 hours while we drove back. I- I thought he was just asleep. I didn’t know.” Sam’s voice cracked. “Cas is too far. He can’t help in time.”

“Wait, Cas can heal because he’s an angel!”

“But he’s too far, Y/N.”

ARTI! You screamed internally. You forced all of your urgency and panic into the scream to hopefully reach him.

Little one? Arti’s soft voice echoed through your mind.

Please Arti. Please heal Dean. You choked on a sob.

You felt Arti’s presence move through you and had the odd sensation of him looking through your eyes to what was happening.

Little one, I am still weak. To heal him will weaken me further. I am not recovered enough to even fully heal him.

Please Arti. I need him. I need you to heal him.

Very well, Y/N. Press your fingers to his forehead and let my grace flow from you to him.

You did as Arti said and pressed your fingertips to his forehead just as Cas had done for you. You felt Arti’s warmth spread from your own chest, down your arm, and into Dean. You watched in amazement as the bruising on Dean’s chest vanished. His breathing strengthened and he let out a low groan. 

He is as healed as I can make him, little one. He will live. Arti replied weakly and you felt him recede.

Thank you, Arti.

Sam was staring at you. “Arti helped me.” You said softly. Sam nodded slowly and reached down to his brother. He pulled him up so that Dean’s arm was around his shoulders. Sam dragged his brother down to his room. You followed behind, suddenly feeling very tired. Sam laid Dean down on his bed. You reached forward and tugged Dean’s boots off before tugging the blankets out from under Dean to pull over him.

Sam walked out of the room and you looked at Dean again before following and pulling the door behind you leaving it cracked. Sam was on the floor with his back against the wall, shaking. You slid down the wall next to him and grabbed his trembling hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. I thought I was going to lose him.” Sam whispered, squeezing your hand.

“I don’t want to lose him either.” You replied softly. 

Sleep didn’t want to come that night. Or rather morning. Sam had retreated to his room and you to yours, but you couldn’t stop worrying about Dean. Eventually, you got up and went back into Dean’s room. He was still fast asleep, but he looked much better than he had earlier.

You tentatively climbed on top of the bed and laid down on top of the covers next to him. You finally fell asleep watching him.

***

When you woke, you could feel fingers threading through your hair. You blinked your eyes open sleepily and realized very suddenly that you were curled up into Dean’s side. He was sitting up slightly in bed, with his computer on his lap. He had a tv show that you instantly recognized playing. Dr. Sexy. 

“I love this show.” You said softly and Dean looked down at you.

“Hey sleepy head. Was wondering when you were gonna wake up.” He smiled at you.

You scoffed. “Some of us didn’t spend most of the night unconscious. Some of us spent it worrying because someone missed check in and then showed up half dead.” You glared at him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. That valkyrie broke my phone when she hit me. And I just thought it was a couple of broken ribs.” He looked sheepish. “Sam said that Arti healed me?”

“Yeah, he did. He depleted his grace again, but he helped me and saved your life.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” His green eyes held your Y/E/C ones. You broke the eye contact and looked at the computer screen again.

“This is a good episode.” You murmured.

He hummed his agreement and continued to comb his fingers through your hair as you tucked back into him.

***

Another month later...

Dean pulled Baby up to a small park with a little pond.

“Why are we here, Dean? Thought we were doing a supply run?” You asked.

He shrugged. “You spend most of your time cooped up in the bunker. You said most of the places you visited in your haven were nature related so I thought you’d like to get outside a bit.”

You grinned at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sweetheart. I know the bunker covers the libraries part of your haven, but there isn’t much variety to Kansas nature wise. There’s a little pond here. It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thank you.” You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, missing his blush. You opened Baby’s door before climbing out and running over to the pond. You leaned over the edge of the water and saw the tadpoles swimming in the shallows. You sat down on the grassy bank and sighed happily. You liked the bunker. But there was no sunlight. No breezes. No nature. Dean came over and sat down beside you. You dug your hands into the grass and felt the warm dirt beneath your fingers. You laid back onto the ground and closed your eyes against the bright sunlight.

“I forgot what the warmth of the sun really feels like.” You murmured.

“I never really thought about what it feels like. But it’s nice. It’s not just a warmth on your skin, but it’s down to your soul.” Dean replied just as softly. 

You peeked your eyes at him and saw him watching you with a soft expression on his face.

“Will you miss it? Will you miss… us?” He whispered. You sat up and laid your hand on his knee.

“Yeah. I’ll miss the bunker. I’ll miss Sam. I’ll miss you.” You rubbed your thumb gently across the fabric of his jeans and he was looking at your hand instead of your face now.

“Do you ever think of not going? Of kicking Arti out?” 

You let out a slow breath and looked across the water. “Yes. I do.”

Dean hesitated. “I don’t think you should.” You looked over at him, surprised. “Arti can protect you. I don’t think you should kick him out.” 

You felt a pain in your chest at his words. You nodded slowly to show that you’d heard him. You sat in silence with him for a few more minutes, but the comfort the pond had given you was gone. You stood up and dusted your jeans off. 

“C’mon. We should get the shopping done before it gets too late.” You were quiet during the drive to the store and you separated in the store to get everything you needed. As you checked out, Dean kept glancing at you. When you got back to the car and were loading the groceries into the trunk, Dean smiled and said, “Would you like to drive Baby back to the bunker?” You dropped the bag you were holding in surprise. Luckily, you had already moved it to the trunk and nothing spilled out or broke.

“What?”

“Do you want to drive Baby?”

You looked towards the car and then back to him. “YES.” He laughed and tossed the keys to you as he returned the cart to the corral and went to the passenger side. You sat in the driver’s seat and stroked your hands down the wheel. You pushed the key in and started her up. Listening to the roar of her engine, you glanced towards Dean. “Are you sure?” You asked.

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. Let’s get home.”

The drive from the store back to the bunker was all too short for you. You pulled into the garage carefully and shut the car off. Sam was leaning against the garage door, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his brother. “You let her drive your car?” Dean shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Gotta give her something to reference when Arti takes over again.” There’s a weird note in his voice that you catch, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. When you turn to look at him, his face is smoothed out with no sign of what it was. Sam raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

“So you gonna help us unload these bags or what, Sammy?” Dean asked. Sam shook his head and walked to the open trunk to start bringing the groceries in.

***

Two weeks later...

“Wanna go outside, Dean?” You asked, bouncing up to him. Dean raised his eyebrow at you.

“It’s raining.” He replied with a frown.

You grinned at him. “That’s the point.”

“What? To get wet?” 

Still frowning, he said, “I don’t get it.” 

“Haven’t you ever danced in the rain, Dean?”

“No? Why would you?”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed at his hand and pulled him towards the bunker door. He offered little resistance as you pulled him outside into the summer storm and to the little clearing near the bunker door. You let go of his hand and toed your shoes off so you could feel the wet grass beneath your toes. 

“Sweetheart, I’m getting wet.” Dean whined at you. Closing your eyes, you laughed and tilted your face up as the droplets ran down your cheeks and through your hair. You could feel the warm water soak through your t-shirt and you spun in a slow circle. You opened your eyes and smiled at Dean who was just standing and watching you.

“C’mon, Dean!” You reached for his hand again and pulled him toward you. You gripped his other hand and tugged him further into the clearing and started pulling him back and forth.

“Now what are you doing?” 

“Trying to get you to dance!”

He frowned slightly at you before looking around. He pulled his hands from yours and moved them to your waist. You rested your hand around his neck as he started to sway with you in the rain. 

“Why do you like the rain so much?” He asked with a cock of his head.

You shrugged at him. “It just feels freeing. Like I can do anything. Be anything. Smelling it on the summer air, feeling it run across my skin. The sound of it hitting the trees and the earth. Seeing the clear puddles and the drips off the leaves. It lets me just BE, ya know?” You blushed at the admission, knowing that Dean would think it’s silly.

You looked up and met his eyes. His normally bright green eyes were darker as they looked at you now. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth at the intensity you could feel in his gaze. He started to tilt his head down towards you and your breath froze in your chest as he got closer. 

“What are you guys doing? It’s pouring out here!”

You and Dean jumped apart at the sound of Sam’s voice. You looked over at Sam to see him trying to hold his coat over his head to keep dry. 

“You worried that it’s gonna ruin all that hard work you put into your hair, Sammy?” Dean said, walking over to his brother. Before Sam could even retort, Dean grabbed Sam’s coat and pulled it off. He ran further away, laughing at Sam’s startled look.

“DEAN!” Sam yelled and he took off after Dean. You laughed, watching the brothers chasing each other through the rain. Your heart panged at the realization that you were running out of time with them. With Dean. You could feel Arti inside you again and knew that any day now, your time was up.

***

It was close to 3am and you were still sitting up in bed reading a book when you heard it. Dean was having a nightmare again. His grunts and whimpers could be heard through the wall. You could hear him having nightmares almost every night. You listened for a few more minutes before deciding that you needed to help him. Setting your book down on your bed, you got up and went to his room. The door was cracked open slightly and you could see Dean in his bed. His fists were clenched in the bedsheets and the veins in his neck were sticking out from how tense he was. His brows were furrowed and there was a slight sheen of sweat on him.

Carefully, you made your way to his bed and softly climbed over the top to him. You reached out and stroked your hand through his hair gently. You started to hum ‘You are my sunshine’. Your mother used to sing it to your little sister when you were a kid, so when you needed a distraction, you’d hum it to yourself. Slowly, his body relaxed under your fingers and his breathing evened back out. His head turned towards you and he let out a soft sigh.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He whispered as he fell back into a deep sleep. Once you were sure he wouldn’t wake up, you leaned over and kissed the top of his head before slipping back to your room. You read your book for another hour and waited to hear if Dean had any more nightmares before cuddling down into your blankets and shutting off the lamp. You drifted to sleep quickly.

***

You were sitting in the library of the bunker and Arti was sitting across from you. A grin stretched across your lips.

“Arti! You’re okay!”

He nodded. “Yes, little one. I have recovered my grace. It’s time I take control again.”

Your smile dropped instantly.

“O-oh.” 

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”

“I just- I’ll just miss the boys is all. Can I say goodbye to them first?”

He tilted his head to the side and frowned a little. “If you wish. Let me know when you are ready.” 

You blinked your eyes open in the darkness of your room. You took a shuddering breath. How were you supposed to say goodbye? Dean and Sam had quickly become your family. You didn’t want to give them up. But you had given yourself to Arti so that he could help people. People like you. Rather, like you had been. You realized that for the last couple of months, you’d been happy. Truly happy. And most of that had been because of Dean. You felt so whole when you were with him. How could you say goodbye? You couldn’t. Not really. You pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the desk and wrote a note. 

Dean-

I’m sorry. Arti’s recovered and I made a promise to be his vessel so it’s time for me to go and I’m too much of a coward to say goodbye directly to you. I want you to know that I won’t ever forget you. Or Sam. You gave me some great memories over the last 2 and ½ months. Singing along to music in Baby. Watching Dr. Sexy. Family dinners. Baking pies (and eating them!) Dancing in the rain... I’ll be reliving them in my haven forever. Thank you.  For everything.

Love, Y/N

You folded the note in half and wrote Dean’s name on the front. You propped it up on the desk and looked around your room. At your home. You debated going back to Dean’s room one more time to look at him. But you doubted that you’d be able to walk away from him if you did. You sighed.

“Ok, Arti. I’m ready.” Everything went dark.

Go to Chapter 4 >>>

[howtosingit]

Fic: I’ll Build My Life Around You

Sometimes TK can be reckless on the job, and he doesn’t always think about what that means for his boyfriend.

*

Written for @tarlosweek2020 - Day 3: First Love Confession

2.2K | Also on AO3.

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The drive from the hospital to Carlos’s apartment is tense, and TK has no idea how to lighten the mood. 

He’s not quite sure what he expected, but as he turns to look at his boyfriend in the driver’s seat next to him, it’s not a clenched jaw or a hard stare forward. He doesn’t really get why Carlos is so upset; it was only a minor accident, he’s got a few scrapes and bruises, but he’ll be back to work for his next shift later this week with no problems. He’s totally fine.

Except, Carlos isn’t acting like he’s fine. If TK didn’t know any better, he would almost say that Carlos seems angry with him.

They’ve been dating for almost three months now, and anger isn’t something that TK really associates with his boyfriend. Not that Carlos is an emotionally shallow person or anything. TK has heard him go on and on about work and other officers and politics and a number of other things. His boyfriend gets frustrated a lot, and because he tries to remain professional in public, TK is one of the few people who gets to see it unleashed. 

Carlos can also be sensitive. If there’s one thing that TK knows with absolute certainty, it’s that his boyfriend wears his heart on his sleeve for the world to see. He feels the pain of others so deeply, and all he wants to do is take care of everyone that he meets. His hero complex is the size of Texas, and it’s something that TK can relate to. They both have an overwhelming need to help people, and for TK, it’s what keeps landing him in the emergency room.

But TK knows that Carlos gets that, that he understands it. So, the negative energy radiating off of him right now is confusing. Especially since he’s usually very tactile and gentle when TK gets hurt, always willing to wrap him in his arms and cover him in kisses. It’s actually pretty gross, how cute they are together, but TK wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

He loves Carlos, even if he hasn’t told him yet. 

They pull into the driveway, still not a word said between them, and Carlos makes no move to exit the car once he’s parked. TK watches as he curls his hands tightly around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearms visibly flexing, even in the dim evening light.

“I think they said I should ice my side as soon as I get home,” TK finally says after what feels like an hour of sitting in silence. Carlos jumps, turning to look at him. His expression is hard to read, but TK sees a storm of emotions in his boyfriend’s brown eyes, and it causes his heart to beat painfully in his chest.

“Right, yeah,” Carlos says blankly, turning to push his door open. TK doesn’t move, watching as Carlos circles around the car to open the passenger door. They don’t speak as Carlos holds out his hand, helping TK out of the car and up the front path to the front door. 

He breathes through the slight discomfort in his side as Carlos sorts through his keys, unlocking his apartment and ushering TK inside. He immediately moves towards the couch, sinking slowly down onto the cushions while Carlos passes through to the kitchen. TK warily watches as he preps an ice pack, trying to gauge how best to break the ice that currently separates them.

Carlos comes back into the living room, handing the ice pack to TK and reaching for the pillows at the far end of the couch. He silently places them around TK, ensuring that he’s properly supported, before moving over to the armchair and taking a seat. 

“You know, you could’ve just taken me to my dad’s house if you didn’t want me here,” TK says, his own frustration growing as the minutes pass. Carlos looks directly at him for the first time in what feels like forever, his brown eyes wide as he stares at him.

“I never said I didn’t want you here,” he replies, his voice smaller than TK thought it would be based on his previous scowl.

“Well, you’re sure not being very welcoming,” TK grits out, giving his boyfriend a hard stare.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carlos fires back sarcastically, his eyebrow arched, “my boyfriend was in the hospital today, so I’m just feeling a little off.”

“Why are you acting like this is a big deal, Carlos? I’m fine,” TK sighs, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“Of course you are,” Carlos mutters, shifting forward to place his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor. “You’re always fine.”

“And you’re usually much more comforting, so I don’t get what your problem is right now,” TK snarks. 

“You’re right, TK,” his boyfriend snaps, his voice louder and harsher than TK has ever heard it. “I’m usually scared out of my mind, or at least I have been the past five times you’ve been in the hospital since we started dating!”

“I have a high-risk job, of course I get hurt sometimes!”

“You get hurt so often because you’re reckless!”

TK’s jaw snaps shut, his heart hammering in his chest as he reels back. Carlos gives him a hard look, his chest rising and falling as he breathes heavily. 

“Getting shot was not my f--”

“You know I’m not talking about you getting shot, Tyler!” Carlos cries, jumping to his feet. TK watches as he paces in front of the TV, his boyfriend’s agitation rolling off of him in waves. 

“I’m talking about you tearing your stitches when you were supposed to be taking it easy. I’m talking about you getting a concussion because you took your helmet off before clearing a site. Or running up a flight of stairs before making sure that they were safe, and then falling through and bruising your ribs!

TK rises from the couch, tossing the ice pack to the side, his blood boiling from hearing all of  his failures from the past two months.

“It’s my job to save people, Carlos, you know that!”

“You can’t save anyone if you seriously hurt yourself, Tyler.”

“So, what?” TK snaps, throwing his arms in the air. “Are you reprimanding me? Are you saying I’m bad at my job? What do you want from me, Carlos?”

“I want you to care about your own damn life sometimes, TK!”

Carlos’s words ring throughout the room as they both stare at one another, TK trying to figure out what the hell is going on right now. In the months that they’ve been together, they’ve never raised their voices at one another. They’ve actually been disgustingly cheesy, to the point of vomit-inducing, if Judd is to be believed. TK knew that a fight was bound to happen; they’re both such passionate individuals who care very deeply about things. He just never expected it to be following an injury. 

The silence goes on for too long, and before TK can respond, Carlos breaks it. 

“Do you know that I still have trouble sleeping sometimes when you work a night shift?” he starts, and TK’s heart sinks, wondering where Carlos is going with this. “I’ll dream about you laying in that hospital bed, after you got shot, not knowing if you’ll survive, and when you’re not there next to me when I wake up, it takes me a while to remember that you made it through that.”

An emptiness crawls through TK at Carlos’s confession, his mind racing as fast as his heart as he pictures Carlos waking up by himself, terrified that he’s lost TK forever. He doesn’t remember being shot or his short coma, but that doesn’t mean that no one else does. He never even expected it to still be on Carlos’s mind; he’s certainly never mentioned it before.

“And I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty,” Carlos continues, bringing his hand up to rub at his temple. “I just need you to know that every time I get a call or a text saying that you’re in the hospital, a part of me wonders if I’m ever going to get to see you again.”

TK moves a step closer, twisting his fingers together for something to do. This conversation has gotten so much bigger than he thought it would.

“Carlos, you know I understand that,” TK starts, his voice small between them. “I grew up with this, so I get what you’re going through. I guess I just thought you were okay with it because of your own job.”

Carlos gives a nod, turning away a moment. TK stares at his profile, watching the way he clenches his jaw as he bites his bottom lip, the tense set of his shoulders, the way his hands ball into fists. He recognizes that his boyfriend is trying to ground himself, and it’s best to give him his space to do it -- which is why he’s not expecting it when Carlos suddenly turns to look at him again, his eyes now shining with tears.

“Can I hold you for a minute?” he asks quietly, his voice cracking on a sob.

TK doesn’t respond; instead, he cuts across the room, ignoring the twinge of his bruised ribs, to fold himself into Carlos’s strong arms. His boyfriend all but collapses against him, the tension and anger finally dissipating as he holds TK close, ducking down to press his face into his neck, near TK’s pulse point. 

They stay like that for a moment, allowing their actions to speak for them. TK rubs his hands up and down Carlos’s back, soothing him. His mind is still trying to sort through the past ten minutes and everything that they admitted to. Even though they’ve only been dating for a little while, TK feels confident enough in them that he knows what Carlos said without actually saying it. 

He pulls away slightly to take his boyfriend’s face in his hands, rubbing away the tears that have fallen on his cheeks. They look into each other’s eyes, brown meeting green, and TK finds the confidence to push forward.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, babe,” he says, making sure that Carlos understands how much he means it. “And I’m for not realizing how much this was all affecting you.”

“No, I’m sorry, Ty,” Carlos starts. “You got hurt today, and instead of being there for you, I was an asshole.”

“I’m glad we talked about this, though,” TK admits, plastering on a small smile. “Look, injuries are going to be a part of this relationship. If it’s not me getting hurt, it could be you. We’re going to have to find a way to deal with them.

“And I know I can be reckless, I know I can get myself into trouble. I’m working on it, I promise.”

Carlos looks away for a moment, his shoulders rising as he takes a deep breath in and out. 

“I know you can be hot-headed sometimes, TK, it was the entire topic of conversation on our first date.”

“Hey!” TK exclaims, pulling back a bit to level his boyfriend with an affronted look. 

“Am I wrong?” Carlos asks, nodding when TK doesn’t contest it. “I didn’t think so. I guess it’s just different, the consequences feel bigger now, and more personal.”

TK takes Carlos’s hands in his, bringing them up to his mouth to press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“I get that, I do,” he assures him. “It feels bigger for me, too, what you face every time you’re on patrol.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” TK nods, stepping close again. He looks up slightly, taking in Carlos’s open expression. “This thing we have here, it means a lot to me, and I’d really like to hang on to you for a long time.”

Carlos closes his eyes, a bright smile taking over the bottom half of his face. The sight of it makes TK’s heart beat faster, the love he has for this man threatening to overwhelm him.

So, he decides to let it.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, watching as Carlos’s eyelashes flutter, his warm brown irises reappearing. It’s breathtaking. 

“I love you, Carlos.”

Carlos practically melts in front of him, a bright sparkle appearing in his eyes as his smile widens even further. Then, he’s pressing forward, connecting their lips in a kiss made impossible by their shared grins. To TK, it’s still perfect in every way.

“I love you, too, TK,” Carlos breathes out when they separate, pressing their bodies together in a tight hug.

TK lets the joy of hearing those words consume him, holding tight to the man he loves more than he’s ever loved anyone before as tears start to fall from his eyes. 

He knows that he’ll do everything in his power to keep coming home to Carlos, and that they’ll build a long and happy life around their love and commitment to one another.

He believes in them. 

[random-shit-fuck101]

I can’t get this idea out of my head. Like imagine you meet pro hero Deku while he’s running away from reporters and you are outside a little café run by underground heroes that you do some side jobs to you since you are a college student and you need the money. So you see him like really desperate to hide and you motioning over and he goes like... no self preservation at.

After you you are seated inside a café you just scold him because he is a hero and he should know better than to just follow random people into alleys and him being himself just rub the back of his neck and went:

“Eh, you’re right.”

Like you know you are right you don’t need him to tell you but then after a while and after meeting for a couple of times in the café because now he know a good spot to hide the both of you start developing feelings for each other.

You don’t tell him you’re an underground hero, He finds out a month after you meet for the first time during a debriefing when he walks in and sees you at the end of the table.

He’s like “what the hell are you doing here?”

And you just go “oh yeah I never told you.”

He gets upset because he thought you trusted him and you see that something clouds his eyes after he sees you.

Before any of you can say anything else the planning starts for the rate. Your quirk is suited for planning and strategising since it allows you to connect everyone that you work with through a mental link and allows you also to see what they see and therefore you use that to form a plan on the go, sort of.

The raid raid goes well. But you can see Izuku’s not acting the same way and you kind of guess why. So you give him space and wait for him to go to you. But that doesn’t happen, not for the next month or so and you’re starting to get worried, because you like him (you realise that by now) and at least you want him as a friend.

So you talk to the owner of the the café and they tell you that he still goes there. So you realise he’s avoiding you and that hurts. You just leave and go home trying to think of a plan to ambush Izuku and kind of force him to talk. Probably not your best idea but it’s the only one you’ve got.

So you ask the head of the café to help you and they do, they tell you when he’s around but you don’t go like the next week to speak to him you kind of wait a few more days and you know he always goes Sunday mornings to get is drink so one Sunday you just wait for him outside the door. 

Is it a bit creepy? yes,

Not very heroic? also yes.

And you know this but you just have to try.

When he sees you he just stops and after a few beats of silence he just walked past you. You just turn around and grab his arm telling him:

“Wait please I just wanna talk.”

He stares at you for a bit and then just nods, so hoping that you’re not followed, you take him to a park close to the café and he’s being like very cold to you.

“You wanted to talk so talk”

That’s what he tells you and you just lost all your courage by looking at his eyes not because you are flustered or anything but because they are so very cold so the only thing that leaves your mouth is

“ I’m sorry...”

It just looks at you in the eyes and you feel like it’s staring at your soul so you continue

“I didn’t think that telling you I was a hero would change anything like it wasn’t important in my eyes”

“So you lied to me when you told me you were a college student?”

“No I didn’t I am a college student but I’m also a hero well an underground hero I usually work as a side job because not always my quirk is needed. I’ll be honest with you I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Why is it such a big deal if I’m a hero or not? I’m still myself and I’m still the person you met that day that helped you run away from reporters so why are you so upset?”

“ it doesn’t matter I think that perhaps our friendship wasn’t meant to be.” And he walks away.

Your heart breaks into tiny little pieces because now he doesn’t even want to be your friend anymore forget crushes or love or whatever you would be happy with just friendship but now you don’t even have that. You walk back to your home and sit on the couch looking through the picture you have of the both of you on your phone and this sounds awfully like a break up because your heart was broken in the end so you just let it be.

A couple of months later you are called into a raid and there is various heroes there you have Deku, you have Eraserhead, there is red Riot and Chargbolt and some other underground heroes along with the police, so you are sitting in HQ doing your job which is coming up with a plan if something goes wrong. And something goes wrong, as soon as they walking everything goes dark your connection with them breaks and you are left in pure silence. You try and try to restart the connection but something was blocking your quirk but you can still connect with people outside the warehouse so you assume the problem is within the warehouse so therefore you think it’s a good idea to just go there you drop everything gets loaded and go in.

It was not a good idea. You are very good in combat that’s not the problem, the problem is going alone. Everything is dark and everyone kind of passed down, you don’t quite know, you’re confused so you just look around without being noticed looking for the problem or why are you can’t connect with them.

Every time your quirk is used with another mental quirk usually yours is annulled so you assume another mental quirk. You hear the villains boasting about what happened, you hear them say “oh yes they are now facing their worst memories and fears and they are probably never going to wake up again”

Dread feels you , because you don’t have a way to counter that and you are afraid for the first time in awhile. Many of these types of quirks can be stopped if you defeat the person who casted whatever is happening so you decide that fighting the villains it’s a good idea. 

You check if you have everything in your suit and your utility belt. You do, so you jump into the fryer. 

Bad decision. There were far more villains than you knew and soon you felt yourself being overwhelmed. During the fight somehow you manage to knock the right person down so soon everyone that got him was waking up.

You reestablish the connection “hello everyone welcome back” you say in a show off enthusiasm and when everyone looks and sees you fighting everyone is a bit taken back because no one thought you could fight like that but realise you cannot fight everyone so they join.

Izuko it’s looking at you and thinking how much of an asshole he was do you all those months ago and while fighting, he makes a goal telling you about his feelings even though he’s pretty sure you do not reciprocate them.He’s wrong but he doesn’t know that.

Then among the chaos someone jumps you and since you are tired because holding a connection this large and making plans and everything is taxing so you are not paying 100% attention and you get stabbed. Not just once but multiple times and someone using their quirk just yeets you across the warehouse leaving you badly injured and possibly passed out. 

Deku sees red, he screams and launches some self to the villain that attacked you and wipe the floor with them, he doesn’t even let anyone else join the fight he just went ballistic.  everyone is shocked minus maybe Aizawa, Kaminari and Kirishima, mostly because they know him and what he did to overhaul.

When he stops fighting he leaves the villains to be apprehended by the police and rushes off to you. You are passed out in the back of an ambulance covered in blood not only yours but blood nonetheless and he hears the paramedics say that you have some serious injuries mostly cracked ribs and a broken one that’s very close to puncture your lung. 

His world falls after realising that if you die he never got to apologise for being an asshole so he desperately wants you to survive even if you don’t forgive him or anything really he just wants you to live.

In a hospital he stays by your side for as long as you are asleep after everything healing and all the procedures of the hospital so it just says by the side of your bed holding your hand while blaming in him self. When you wake up you look to the side can you see him there all crawled up on an uncomfortable armchair and you look around and you realise what happened. He wakes up and sees you awake, he jumps up and nearly launches himself onto the bed barely stopping after we realised the state of your ribs and you look at him he looks at you and you stay silent for awhile and then you ask

“Tell me what happen.” and he does.

While are you are healing he never really left your side and you don’t realise why because you’re not friends, you’re really not anything to each other at this point so you are confused.

So now you’re back home and he’s carrying your bag to your door on the last floor of a building and it’s not necessarily uncomfortable but is also not very comfortable you have a lot to say to each other but you haven’t said it yet so everyone is a bit confused.

You open the door you let him in, you offer something to drink he refuses... pleasantries.

You’re sitting on the couch and he is standing in front of you and he opens is mouth

“sorry” he says his eyes shining with unshed tears so much like himself and the person you met all those months ago and if you’re honest to yourself the person you fell in love with.

You don’t know why he’s sorry so you ask him that he just kneels in front of you grabs your hand and says:

“ I was an asshole you didn’t deserve that because you were right it was not my thing to know I wasn’t obligated to know you were a hero you are a hero whatever but I was mad because you hid something from me and I thought you trusted me so I was mad and then when it hit me that you are a hero it means you can get hurt and you can get hurt you could die you could be paralysed you could be everything and I was scary because I care about you and I don’t want you to be in harm’s way and I hated it and I hated myself because I knew you didn’t feel like that for me and I was confused and I hated it and and and...I’m rambling again... anyway I hate the thought of you getting hurt because I love you and I don’t want you hurt.”

He takes a deep breath and he looks at you because he was looking everywhere but you and you see he’s honest in even with all these rambling that you think it’s cute you realise what he means he also loves you and that revelation hits you like a ton of bricks. You blush deeply and you don’t quite know what to say but when you open your mouth:

“Izuku... you don’t need to apologise I understand why you felt hurt. I’ll be honest with you it broke my heart when you just left and started to ignore me because I also have feelings for you and they go beyond friendship but I rationalised it to be like if we can’t be anything else at least we are friends but we weren’t even that so it was a rough time because I didn’t know what to do with those feelings other than bottle them... i’m also sorry because perhaps I didn’t handle this in the best way possible...”

He interrupts:

“no no no no no no I am at fault I’m sorry you have nothing to be sorry for”

“Before we fight over who’s more sorry or who’s at fault let’s take a deep breath, we have both apologise to each other let’s move on. What do we do with this?” and you motion between you two “what are we? what should we do?”

“Well I don’t know.” he says “Do… Do you… Do you wanna be my girlfriend(or boyfriend, or datemate)?”

Your brain short-circuit a little bit and you don’t know how to answer it. He starts getting antsy and before you start apologising you say:

“yes”

It was a simple answer but it was something that filled him with joy and it filled you with joy too.

He sits by your side puts an arm around your shoulders pulls you to him, careful of your injuries, and just kisses your forehead. You stay like that for awhile enjoying each other’s company because being a hero is full of surprises and you never know what might happen so you stay there leaning against his shoulder and after a while he repositions himself with you now laying on his chest feeling so safe and still tired from the healing you end up falling asleep dreaming of green and home.

He smiles down at you but he can’t help himself but kiss top of your head and closes his eyes also falling asleep with the person he loves on his arms safe and sound.

[angelspenance]

Prompt: AruYuki + Pink in the Night

"And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again"

Rewrite verse bc if I did canon adjacent I don’t think I could Take It. Also u know its bad when after all the other essays ive typed out i put a readmore on This One.

To begin with it’s… nothing much. Or at least that’s what they both try to think. Yuki sits at the side of Aru’s hospital bed at two in the morning still trying to process why they’d ever take a knife to the back from Yuki’s own father to protect his mother. And Yuki doesn’t know at all how to feel about, well, Anything. He’s grateful but at the same time he’s… concerned. If anything he doesn’t want Aru to suffer the fallout of his own family’s personal issues despite the fact Aru probably saved his mother’s life. And… fine. Maybe just maybe Aru has wormed their way into Yuki’s heart and thoughts and the blood rapidly pulsing through his veins as he takes their hand in his. “Thank you,” Yuki says aloud in nothing more than a whisper to make sure they don’t wake up. A coward as always, he thinks to himself as he thanks Aru in the only way that feels right to him: a kiss on the lips. And it tastes like a hospital and their lips are unnervingly cold against his, but it’s gentler and longer than anything he’s given Yuno, who’s been disturbingly quiet as well as respectful of Yuki’s space since Aru found her alone in her house after the kidnapping fiasco, to the point of allowing him time alone with Aru “your mans a hottie” Akise. And maybe it’s more than just a thanks. Yuki allows himself against his better judgment to brush some of their hair out of their face and hold their hand a little longer. He remains at their bedside but makes sure there’s no indication of his actions should they wake. And of course Aru’s been semi conscious the whole time but so out of it on pain meds they think the whole thing is a sick dream; a fabrication of a reality they could only ever pray for. So neither of them speak of it, despite the fact Minene saw the moment of truth but figured it would be best for the two to figure it out on their own accord.

The next time it’s Yuki slumped unconscious in Aru’s arms after having been thrown back into a wall by an explosion while distracting the mayor’s men so Yuno could snipe him in the vault. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth and his nose as Aru runs their fingers through his hair and mutters desperately “please wake up please wake up please Yuki… please don’t leave me” with no avail to the point where, even with Minene and Nishijima and Mao and Hinata and Kousaka looking on, they cup his cheek and choke out “I never got to tell you that I…” and they close the narrow gap between their lips and his, tears mingling with blood as Aru barely audibly says “I love you, Yuki; I’m completely undone without you. Please just… know this in your heart.” And with that Yuki coughs and shakes and his eyes flutter open to make out the dust in Aru’s hair and the blood smudged against their face from his; it tones down their otherwise borderline angelic appearance in Yuki’s eyes between the crimson eyes and halo of a mess of hair against their skin marred over with scars like constellations. More tears, a genuine “Yuki you’re alive!” that outdoes their last given after being kidnapped, a thousand thoughts in a mind still buzzed from being unconscious interrupted by a single clear I don’t care, a thumb numbly caressing their cheek and wiping a smudge of blood off of their pale skin, a pair of lips clumsily colliding with theirs but they’re so relieved and downright ecstatic to the point where the taste of coppery blood and dust means less than nothing to them, a quiet “I love you too; I think I have for a while now,” an embrace that threatens to crack his ribs and a few barely contained sobs. Minene ruefully tearing her eyes away from Nishijima for a brief second to say “let’s get a move on, lovebirds” and a flash of Mao’s camera are the only thing that breaks the two of them apart from an embrace best described as “if I let my grasp loosen I’m sure you and this moment will both disappear.”

Yuki watches his beloved torn apart at the seams before his eyes and all he’s allowed to do is hold what remains of them as Kousaka desperately punches something into their phone as for once Yuki is rendered speechless. Silence. They begin to mend back together. Tears begin to flow freely from his eyes as he waits for them to say something, anything. When their eyes flutter open as Yuki’s tears fall onto their face and they say with wide eyes and a shaky voice, “I-I’m…. Yuki do you mind cutting the waterworks for a second I don’t need rain for the theatrics at the given moment,” Yuki cutting them off with a firm kiss and a “don’t you EVER pull that on me again I swear to fucking god” and the second Aru regains their breath they say, “Speaking of which, I-I’m not human. Deus created me to spy on this game of his without my will or consent and the second I faced him he decided I had lived beyond my usefulness and that’s why I… I’m not. I’m not real.” And Yuki just says “Damnit Aru you’re the most real person I know, nobody else would put themself in harms way over and over for their friends and help out a terrorist who was starving in a river and… and bother to try to respect me and understand me and…” and this time Aru sits up and turns around to face Yuki and smiles at them with such fondness despite the tears in their eyes and cups his cheeks in their hands and earnestly says “Deus asked me for any proof I was a real being with any will of my own; he asked what my strongest emotion was during my existence. And do you want to know what I responded with? You; my love for you, Yuki” and with that they gently pull Yuki in for a genuine kiss; one without the haste of the threat of death. One without the aftertaste of blood. One that promises that there will be more regardless of where the future leads, so long as the two of them are together it doesn’t matter. “You really are an angel, Aru.” “I can make you regret that statement so so quickly, but thanks for the sentiment.” “Fresh from the grave dug by gods hand and you still… I stand by my sentiment.” And Aru has the audacity to laugh and that in itself makes Yuki realize just how… natural his thing for Aru is. It lacks the “is this repayment is this real is this just out of what I believe to be obligation” that he had with Yuno, who converses with Mao and Hinata intently in the corner. Aru is Aru and that in itself is enough to tug at Yuki’s heartstrings.

When they’re in the final stages of their plan to kill Deus, the remaining diary holders, Hinata, Mao, Kousaka, Nishijima, and Aru are all gathered together in the cathedral of causality with the same intent: to put an end to the game that’s costed countless lives. Aru’s hand is firmly held in Yuki’s, Yuki knowing damn well just what is probably going through their head and trying to ground Aru despite the fact his own fingers tremble and his entire body feels numb. Aru puts their free hand on Yuki’s shoulder and gazes into his teary eyes; vermillion into indigo; blood into water. And they say “just in case this should go horribly wrong, given that we’re literally facing off against fucking God of all things…” they trail off. They hesitate. Their lips tremble and their eyes burn and their throat closes in emotion but they still manage to do what they intended to: place a final kiss to Yuki’s lips despite they can barely feel it from the numbness of their lips and they can narrowly register Yuki’s hands moving to their hair and their neck and they feel as though they will collapse as Yuki wraps them in a bone crushing embrace the second they pull away. “We’ll be fine; we’ll make it and that’s a promise.” “Since when are you one for confidence?” They manage to joke despite dedicating all of their attention to memorizing Yuki’s embrace and Yuki’s voice and Yuki’s horrible taste in fashion and Yuki’s awful blue eyes and— “Since you refused to let me happily race to my own demise and I couldn’t get rid of you in the same way a stray cat follows you around; plenty of space but a fondness you can’t shake that starts to take root in your heart and—“ “Did you really just try to, with romantic intent, compare me to a stray cat” “Aru what the fuck do you want from me” Yuki laughs through his tears “I don’t know, another kiss couldn’t hurt” “if this doesn’t kill you I will” “You prommy?” “Forever and always, asshole” Aru buries their face in the crook of Yuki’s neck for one final time “Good.”

And after the killing game is out of the way they’re basically inseparable; Yuki sneaking into Hinata’s family manor, which Mao, Yuno, Nishijima, Minene, and Aru moved into thanks to Hinata not wanting to wander its extensive halls like a ghost anymore and figuring you know what why shouldn’t she let her two gfs and their lameass gay detective friend and their weird bisexual parents move into the otherwise vacant estate, nearly every night his mother is at work which is a great majority of them. So Yuki will sneak in at midnight despite Aru giving him a key nearly every night with him usually falling asleep on the couch and Aru falling asleep on top of him like an oversized cat an hour of pacing later. And finally one night Aru finally remembers what they’ve been haphazardly planning out for months and drags Yuki to the roof on a particularly clear night and they go “I know it’s not much and I plan to one up this inevitably but you always said you wanted to look at the stars with a loved one and I’d hope you’d consider me a loved one because good fucking god Yuki I’m positively enamored with you and I—“ and Yuki cuts them off with a kiss that knocks the wind out of their lungs. “Of course I consider you a loved one, you asshole,” Yuki teases tearfully and Aru pauses and blurts out “Oh so I hit this one out of the park huh” and yes they’re the Worst and more than a little rough around the edges but the way the starlight faintly illuminates their white hair into a halo and makes their constellations of scars glow just a little bit and fine maybe the way their scarlet eyes widen and soften at the sight of Yuki makes him equate them with the equivalent of Yuki’s personal guardian angel. “Enjoying the view” they taunt goodheartedly, knowing damn well Yuki’s been staring at Them for the past minute straight. “Fuck you, maybe I am gayass” and Yuki wraps his arms around them and lets his head rest on their shoulder and god maybe just maybe after Everything they’ll be ok.

[obscureoperations]

ok so

to fufil my dream of killing cuda, how abot martin manages to survive bieng stabbed, and we find him, and then comfort him and tell him hes loved as he goes to bed

You and me both anon. The old man is gonna have to pay.

Bit of a blood tw. I just went off on a tangent here. I kinda missed the point, but not really. Hey, there's comfort... and he survived!

Realistically speaking, unfortunately I can't come with any scenario in which Martin could have survived the attack. Perhaps Cuda's hands were too shaky and feeble, he misses his heart completely?

The tip of the stake piercing his breastbone, barely grazing the organ itself. There was a lot of blood and screaming, mostly coming from from Cuda himself. He cursed the young man as he hammers the stake further into his chest. Latin prayers as blood splatters across his nightdress. The sickening crack of broken bones, the hiss of blood spraying from broken arteries.

I imagine, Martin might have reach for the phone for help only to end up knocking over the nightstand entirely. The ruckus alerts Christina. She barges into the room to be met with the horrific scene. In her shock and horror, she does the only thing she can think of. She grabs the stainless steel paper weight on the counter, bashing it into her Grandfather's skull.

A strange sort of catharsis, she continues to hold Martin's hand as she speaks to the medics. She keeps urging him to open his eyes, focus on her face until they get there.

"E'everything is so co-ldd."

His voice was barely a whisper. Tears begin to steam down her face as she urges him to hold on. She had to phone you, she only hoped she could keep her sobs at bay.

Pleas... y/n... just get here in time.

The longest three minutes of her life, she continued to speak to him and prompt him to answer. "Y/n is on their way.. they can't wait to see you Martin... please just hold on okay."

~

The whole ordeal in itself left him with a form of ptsd. The nightmares were unrelenting, he would often wake up in a haze. Sobbing uncontrollably into the pillow, as memories of that morning swirls through his mind. It always felt like someone actually stepping on his chest. His entire body grows cold and he starts to shiver. During the worst of it, you would awake to him pinning you to the bed, with his hands poised around your throat.

You managed to 'talk', him through it, even in moments where he seemed unreachable. The yellowish glow overtaking his pupils as he whispers through gritted teeth "Never...never again.."

That was when he decided that he needed to get help. It was the final straw, the incident had already hurt you enough. You were there with him every day in the hospital... temporarily taking a leave for work. You picked up his medication every week-- the attack left him with an abnormally slow heart rate.

The therapy seemed to help for the most part... he never imagined himself willingly doing to a 'head doctor'. He refused to talk about the sickness, in fact he left that part out entirely. First things first. He just needed to work through his trauma from the attack. He couldn't believe that he had nearly hurt you.

Nearly three months in, there were no more night terrors. No more sleepwalking in the middle of the night. He no longer found himself ambling down the steps, in a daze only to end up at the local cemetery. Tada Cuda ended up being sentenced to life, and coincidentally suffered a heart attack three days later. It was all over the news. "Local Braddock supplier snaps and attempts to murder cousin in his sleep."

Now, there were just the occasional nightmares, they were manageable, mostly because of the pills. They kept him subdued just enough for his brain to realise that the horrific scenario was nothing more than a dream.

The weight on his chest was crushing, it felt as though his ribs might actually snap in two. The sharp point of the steak piercing the skin, ripping through tender arteries. A near outer body experience, there was so much blood--it nearly made him sick. He could see it spattered all over the walls--feel the coldness spreading through his limbs. The old man's voice appears twisted and warped as he continues to condemn him--twisting the stake with a renewed vigor.

All he could picture was your face. He had so much to say to you. Due to his moods, he had been exceptionally cold to you all week. Now, he might never get to apologize. Please... not yet.

You continued to attempt to get his attention for the past few minuets. The small sniffles turned to whimpers--outright anguished sobs into the pillow.

By this time, you knew just how to drape yourself across him to get him to withdraw from an attack. Your limbs sprawled across his slight frame as you embrace him with your entire weight. Whispering words of affirmation into his ear. "Martin, you're completely safe. He cant hurt you anymore."

You'd hold him so close, in an attempt to get his heartbeat to mirror your own. His breathing slows, fingers entwine in the sheets as tears seep into his hairline. Pillow soaked with snot and drool as you weave your fingers through his dampened locks.

"Martin, you're completely fine sweetheart... you're here with me now. "

[strawberriestyles]

Prologue

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

DISCLAIMER: I have no medical expertise, nor do I have an individual at my disposal to help me check the realism of this story. I'm just writing for fun. Basically, I've tried to form a plot around my very basic knowledge of head trauma and PTSD, and sometimes I've forced things to serve the purpose of the story that I'm trying to create. If you have any information that might help change what I've already written for the better without fundamentally changing the plot ("Harry should have died" is NOT useful), please let me know! Otherwise, please keep the fact checks to yourself and if you must, try to suspend your disbelief. :)

Author’s note: I’m so excited to continue exploring the story of Harry and Melody!! I hope y’all are just as excited. Please let me know your thoughts on the beginning of the sequel! As always, like and reblog. Enjoy! Xx

It looked like an early autumn in the city. The beginning of September was usually hot but after her run, Melody had to slip into a sweatshirt. Clouds filtered out a majority of the sunlight that she’d grown so used to over the previous months. She saw the edges of leaves growing ruddy and bright out of the window of a cab as she made her way back to the hospital.

She paid her fare and slipped through the lobby to purchase a smoothie and a bagel from the cafeteria. She had learned that the hospital food wasn’t so bad as long as you weren’t an actual patient. There had been a lot of nights spent over spaghetti dinners with Sean, even a few grilled cheese nights with Bea. But Melody’s roommate thought that eating in a building where people were sick, dying, or even dead was rather morbid, so she tended to avoid the place entirely.

The stairwells were empty and Melody’s sneakers squeaked against the floor, each footstep echoing as she traveled up to the fourth floor. She was ravenous and had finished half of her breakfast by the time she pushed her way out into the hallway. Everyone at the desk was busy, hands occupied with paperwork and computers, so Melody didn’t give her usual greeting, just sipped at her green smoothie to wash down her bagel and rounded the corner to Harry’s room.

The door was propped open, cool air drifting in from one of the windows. Melody placed the second half of her bagel between her teeth, shivering as she crossed to yank the window shut, but when she turned back into the room the food fell from her mouth. Cream cheese stuck it to the tiles.

“Harry?” she whispered.

He was laying as he always was in his bed, fingers splayed out over his sheets. But this time, they were dancing atop the cotton. His eyes were hooded but open, that familiar green flickering as they roamed the room. Melody heard his pulse spike over the machine he was hooked up to. It took her a moment to recover the rest of her senses.

“Uh, just…stay there,” she mumbled, slipping her smoothie onto the windowsill and leaving her bagel on the ground as she fled the room.

When Melody reached the hall, she thought her lungs had ceased working. Her heart was beating so hard that she thought it might bruise her ribs, crack them even, and she practically yelled when she reached the corner, where she could see the floor desk.

“Vanessa,” she rushed, eyes wide and wild, fingers whitening around the corner of drywall, “I need Dr. Florin. Now.”

“What?” asked the nurse, looking over, a telephone still pressed between her ear and her shoulder. “She’s at—“

“Now, Vanessa,” Melody snapped. “He’s awake.”

Vanessa stared over the desk. When she hung up the phone, she nearly pulled hair out of her bun with it, the strands locked still in her grip. She hurried down the opposite hall and Melody receded around the corner, pressing the back of her head to the wall, trying to slow her staggered breaths.

Dr. Florin and Vanessa came whirling into sight not moments later. The doctor rushed right past and into the room, but Vanessa paused when she saw Melody, lips tightly pressed together, eyes directed toward the ceiling. “What are you doing out here?” she asked.

Melody swallowed and shook her head. “I—I can’t.”

Vanessa’s sigh sounded exasperated. “Melody, this is a good thing. You’ve been waiting for this. I don’t understand what the problem is."

Melody touched her fingertips to her forehead. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” she whispered. She didn’t ask, What if he does? What if he still doesn’t need me? Doesn’t want me? She had been waiting for this, but now that it was happening, she didn’t know how to react. She felt like she was falling. Months hadn’t been enough time to prepare for this reality. And she felt selfish for thinking so.

“You’ll have no idea what you’re working with until you go in there,” Vanessa told her, and she pulled Melody away from the wall by her elbow. “And if he does remember you, I’m sure he’d appreciate a familiar face right now. Go.”

Melody made it to the doorway and paused again. The doctor was leaned over Harry, blocking her view, and she felt her fingers trembling at her sides. Vanessa, however, had followed closely behind her and shoved her into the room. Dr. Florin looked up at the sound of her footsteps.

“Oh, good,” she greeted.

Already Harry was rid of his breathing tube. He glanced at Melody when she came into view and the weight of his gaze felt absolute. It pressed upon every inch of her skin, closed up her lungs. In that one glance she could discern nothing, not recognition or hate or love. It did nothing to ease her dizzy mind.

“Do you remember who this is?” the doctor asked. Melody didn’t see or hear Harry respond. But he must have, because Florin smiled at her and nodded. “Good, good. I’ll let you have some time with him before we take him in for some scans and tests, Melody.”

She pressed Harry’s hand back to his side when he attempted to lift it, his muscles straining with the effort. “No big movements yet, all right? Be patient.” Then she backed away from the bed and stopped at Melody’s side, lowering her voice and smoothing down the side of her own tied-back hair.

“This is good, Melody. He’s responsive. There’s no speech, not yet, but that’s all right. It can take some time. He’ll squeeze your hand once for ‘yes' and twice for ‘no' if you ask him questions. Try to talk with him, but do it gently. Take it slow with the explanations of what’s going on, we can do that later. Okay?”

Melody gave the doctor a delayed nod and before she knew it she was left alone with Harry, the door shut, his eyes blinking up at the ceiling. She pulled in a shaky breath and took tentative steps to the chair at his bedside, where she had spent so much time. Her current read was still sitting on the table, spine cracked and cover curled from frequent handling. She pulled the chair over the tiles until her knees touched the edge of the mattress and then slipped her fingers gently into Harry’s before she could second guess herself.

His eyes lowered from the ceiling and to her face. They were wide, glassy, wet, and she reached instinctively forward to dab at the water that collected beneath his lash line as he blinked.

“Hi,” she whispered, sitting back. She licked her lips and ran her thumb along the back of his hand. She could have cried herself when his fingers fluttered in her grip.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked. It was a pitiful first question. She had dreamt about Harry waking up so many times, so vividly, laughing and crying and forgiving. Those dreams were unrealistic. She knew that. Speech would not be immediate. Understanding would probably not be immediate. There were so many possibilities that the damage to Harry’s head might affect his memory or his personality, short term or long term. Doctor Florin had told her recovery wouldn’t be easy or simple or fast if Harry woke up. And now it was happening, the thing that had been so out of reach and implausible, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

Harry’s hand contracted around her fingers so gently that at first she didn’t even register it. Then she let out an overwhelmed gasp and closed her eyes. “Good,” she murmured.

Harry was staring unblinkingly at her when she looked back at him. God, she wished she could have a real conversation with him. She didn’t know what she could tell him, what she should ask that he could respond to. But she couldn’t just sit there in silence when he was looking at her like that.

“And…do you remember what happened? Why you’re here?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered as he examined Melody's face. She felt a thin pressure on her fingers once, twice, and her heart dropped in her chest. She didn’t want to have to explain it to him, even if she wasn’t going to do it today. She relived that day enough in her head, in her nightmares. She didn’t want to have to verbalize it all over again.

Melody nodded after a moment. “Okay,” she whispered. “I can tell you, but…just not right now.”

Harry just watched her, waiting, patient. She stared down at her own hand, the skin around her nails cracked and red and bitten raw. Her heart leapt, but she made herself ask the questions anyway.

“What about the night of my reading? And the Tuesday after? Do you remember those?”

There was no delay between her words and Harry’s squeeze of her fingers. Just once. Yes. Yes, I remember.

Melody curled her lower lip between her teeth. She squeezed his hand back. “Well, I’d say I’m sorry again but you can’t really tell me to fuck off right now, so I guess that can wait.”

He made a sound between a grunt and a sigh, a quick outlet of air that sounded foreign in the comparable quiet of this space. The door opened again. Almost a laugh, Melody decided. And that was all it took for her to burst into tears as Dr. Florin and Vanessa entered the room. Harry had laughed.

Chapter 1

[anasticklefics]

Tickle Cheating

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy

Summary: Jim tickles Bones. It’s what he DOES. So how does one react when you see someone else tickle your usual victim? Like a mess if you’re Jim Kirk apparently!

A/N: I blame @fickle-tiction (are you HAPPY?). Also I don’t know how hospitals work don’t yell at me. Might rewrite this idea with lee!Jim because he has my heart.

Also does this whole fic and my author’s note have a general chaotic air about it or am I going crazy haha?

Words: 3 124

The first time Jim noticed it was when he dropped by the hospital to deliver Bones’ lunch that he’d left at the kitchen counter of their shared dorm room. Entering a space that was oddly both chaotic and completely still at the same time, the general air so suffocating that it was no wonder Bones was exhausted each time he returned from a shift. Jim grinned at the receptionist, unsure of where the med students where and if he was even allowed past a certain point and if so, “would you or someone give this to Leonard McCoy?”

But the woman, hair framing her heart shaped, incredibly kind face, met his grin with a smile and told him he could go right in.

“If someone stops you or you can’t find him, simply ask if someone can leave the box in the kitchen.”

Her words sounded scripted in a way that told him this probably happened more often than not, and he thanked her and left. Up three stories with the elevator to the floor she’d directed him toward, footsteps echoing around the empty corridors, until he eventually found a more chaotic environment in the form of the emergency room.

How many times had he been here just that semester?

“Kirk!” someone Jim recognized from the Academy called out, glancing up from a clipboard. “What have you done now?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It’s been months since… whatever. Do you know where Bones is? McCoy. Whatever you call him.”

“I tend to call him Leo.”

“That’s weird. Do you know where he is? He left his lunch.”

The guy, unnamed for now and the rest of eternity, pointed his thumb in the direction of yet another corridor. “Third door to the right.”

“Should I just go in?”

“They don’t have any patients in there right now.”

So Jim went, wondering if he was breaking any rules but feeling extremely ready to get out of there.

He saw it then. The small room - do they perform surgeries in there? - with a bed and a table and four windows and five people, all on top of each other with Bones in the middle. All talking, simultaneously grave and cracking jokes. Familiar, whether they wanted to or not. A job where you couldn’t be timid of bodily contact; eating and sleeping almost in each other’s laps. Jim looked at Bones, saw how easily he moved with elbows in his guts and people breathing down his neck.

He also saw his face light up when he caught sight of Jim.

“I brought your lunch,” he said meekly, holding it up, and if Bones was the type to profess his undying love for his friends, Jim was sure he would be going down on one knee right now.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” he said later, having entered their dorm as Jim had been nearly falling asleep over his homework. “You bringing me food literally saved my day and I will grant you one wish as a reward.”

And Jim, exhausted, lonely and closer to the verge of tears than he would’ve liked, demanded cuddles.

In their years of living together Jim had never asked for cuddles. He always wanted to, but whatever physical affection he had a tendency to hand out to his friends like a way too common gift, he always stopped before they could get mad, and therefore always stopped before he felt satisfied.

“I just want a good fucking cuddle,” he was saying now, his tone too desperate for it to sound like a joke. Bones, bless him, didn’t comment on it.

“Let me take a shower and change,” he only said. “Trust me, you don’t want whatever my clothes have.”

Jim nodded, suddenly feeling too vulnerable, too exposed, so he ducked his head back down, eyes on his books. Listening to every sound Bones was making, thinking he was being both too quick and too slow, and when he finally returned Jim was fully aware of it, but pretending to be too engrossed in his work to notice.

“You wanna cuddle now or later?” Bones asked, so casual about it that Jim knew he’d never manage to get a single thing done for the rest of the night.

“Now,” he said, standing abruptly enough to nearly knock his chair down.

Bones grabbed it, his face a mix of amusement and concern. “Right then. The couch? Movie night?”

“Sure.”

“Want to pick the movie?”

“You go ahead.”

“Okay.”

Jim tried to shake the sudden awkwardness out of his limbs as he followed his friend into the living room area of their tiny dorm, realizing this was probably a bad idea. They hadn’t even touched yet and he was acting like a total fool.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurted out, causing Bones to stop in his tracks. “I don’t know why I asked for it. I’m over it. I was just tired. We really don’t have to.”

“Jim.” Reaching out to grab Jim’s arms, Bones gave his flesh a squeeze. “Breathe. It’s fine that you asked for it and we don’t have to do it if you’ve changed your mind, but if I really didn’t want to myself I would’ve said so.”

Jim deflated. “Promise?”

“Jesus, you must be exhausted. Yes, promise.”

“It’s just that-” Jim wasn’t sure why he was trying to explain when Bones hadn’t asked for an explanation in the first place. “-I saw you at the hospital and you seemed so okay with being physically close to people and I feel like I might die if nobody holds me for, like, half an hour-”

“Jim.”

“-and I know it’s part of your job so I don’t want to overstep-”

“Please shut up for a sec.”

Jim did, but only because Bones had said please.

“I don’t necessarily enjoy having my personal space so violated,” he continued. “But of course I don’t mind you doing it. You’re my-”

“I know,” Jim said when Bones trailed off. They had no words to describe what they were. “So I shouldn’t be jealous?”

“Absolutely not, but mostly because you act like an idiot when you want something you think you can’t have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act like a petulant child.”

“Oho, is that so?”

Bones ruffled his hair. “Go back to being timid. It was cuter.”

So maybe Jim didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in the movie and fell asleep in Bones’ arms ten minutes later, Bones’ fingers squeezing at various places on his body to get him to “relax for fuck’s sake”. Maybe he couldn’t picture himself falling asleep in an empty bed again for weeks. Maybe Bones was really fucking good at cuddling.

Waking up sweaty with Bones’ knee pressed to the small of his back later was a whole other thing. “Hhng. Get off.”

“You’re nearly on top of me.”

“Feels like I was hit by a truck.”

“You snore like a goddamn-”

Jim somehow managed to roll over and press his face into Bones’ neck. “Shh. Too loud.”

A spasm went through Bones’ body, convincing Jim he was trying to throw him off the couch and making him resort to clinging onto his torso for dear life. “N-no.”

“What was that?”

Bones was, miraculously, laughing.

Jim tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of his face, but he only succeeded in pressing the top of his head beneath Bones’ chin. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

Bones said something incoherent, his words slurred with sleep and higher in pitch with laughter. His hands were clawing at Jim’s back, unable to get a good grip of his shirt and therefore only managing to lightly tickle him, which was kinda nice actually.

Wait.

“Oh, this is tickling you,” Jim said, laughing into Bones’ skin as if this was a group activity. “Hey, I didn’t even know you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” came the strangled denial.

“Hmm, I think you are. Otherwise this wouldn’t bother you.” He spidered his fingers up Bones’ side, noticing the squirming getting a notch more desperate the closer he came to his friend’s ribs. He paused just beneath them. “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t react to this I’ll believe you’re not ticklish. Okay?”

“Jim, you fucking-”

Jim jabbed him in the ribs and nearly lost his hearing from the shriek that left Bones’ mouth.

“Ah, so you’re ridiculously ticklish, then?”

Bones cursed and managed to slip his arm out from beneath him, placing it against Jim’s chest, but not pushing him off.

“And you don’t mind this? I see.”

“I’m gonna kill you, James Tiberius-”

“Don’t you middle name me, Leo.”

Years passed. They graduated. Jim somehow became a captain and got a ship. Bones for some reason decided to work on said ship, bestowing Jim with his constantly shifting moods for the next five years. Not that he complained. Was literally doing the exact opposite. And, all the while their lives changed and kept changing, Jim kept tickling him nearly daily.

“Don’t fucking tickle me in front of others,” had been Bones’ one demand disguised as a request.

So Jim didn’t, but kept it behind closed doors as they always had. The image of Bones being physically close to others always prompting him to demand cuddles, now that he wasn’t ashamed of this dire need anymore. And, more often than not, he would slip his hands beneath Bones’ shirt and make him laugh uncontrollably for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure how it had become a part of their routine, but he felt that if he didn’t get these intimate yet playful moments as often as he could he would shrivel up and die.

“You’re a drama queen,” Bones had said more than once when Jim had complained about them not having gotten any alone time.

“You literally beg me to stop when I’m barely even touching you,” Jim countered each time. “Don’t call me a drama queen when you’re just as bad.”

Bones would only wave a hand at him, having gotten out of the habit of blushing over his sensitivity years ago.

Something else that had become more common than they probably realized was how often Jim brought him food into medbay. Sometimes it was breakfast, snacks, his forgotten lunch or dinner. Other times it was just a drink, just as an excuse to stop by. Sometimes he came empty handed.

That day Bones truly had forgotten to eat, his empty seat painfully loud in the cafeteria. Jim knew his habits more than anyone and knew he wouldn’t eat unless food was visibly presented before him, and so he filled a tupperware with everything he knew Bones liked and skipped through the corridors, suddenly feeling like he was back at the Academy again.

Bones wasn’t alone, but he rarely was. The crowded hospital rooms had been replaced with him and Chapel dancing around each other, sometimes with more than one crew member present; arms and legs and chests and heads laid out for Bones’ magical fingers to heal, or so they hoped. Jim had lied there more times than he could count, so he was highly familiar with the nooks of this part of the ship.

Bones was standing on a stool, which made Jim stop in his tracks before he announced his presence, greeting dying on his lips and being replaced with a grin. Whatever Bones was trying to reach, it seemed to be just out of reach and he was grumbling as he kept stretching.

“Do you need a hand there?” Chapel asked, her tone playful while Bones let out an unprofessional curse.

“Can I borrow some heels?” he muttered, and she laughed, all familiarity due to working together in such close proximity for years. It wasn’t elbows in guts or naps in laps, but Jim recognized it from his crew on the Bridge. It was impossible to not grow close.

“It might help if I make you jump,” she continued.

“How the hell will you do that?”

Jim was almost proud of the fact that he didn’t let out any sound as he watched her reach out and poke at Bones’ ribs, just at the spot that could make him scream with laughter. It was a coincidence, it had to be a coincidence, how the hell could she know.

Bones didn’t squeal, but he didn’t pretend as if nothing was happening as he had learnt to do back in school, partly because back then people never meant to tickle you if they tried to get past you quickly and had to grab your waist. Chapel did indeed mean to make him squirm.

Jim watched his arms shoot down, swatting at her with a laugh so relaxed this really truly couldn’t have been the first time she tickled him. It really truly couldn’t.

Other people tickled Bones. Bones let other people tickle him.

He started backing away, lunch box forgotten when he literally bumped into Uhura who was coming from the opposite direction. The tupperware flew out of his hands as he let out a gasp in surprise, the food littering the floor only a second later. Things were a bit chaotic after that, but maybe because everything was overpowered by his frantically beating heart, that really had no business freaking out but there they were.

“I’m so sorry!” he heard Uhura say over his own incoherent babbling, the two of them crouching down to clean up the mess while Chapel and Bones kept repeating that “it’s fine, we have a broom, please get off the floor” that Uhura eventually listened to while Jim had to be pulled upright by Bones who was laughing, only to start frowning when he realized just how truly stressed out Jim was by the whole situation.

It wasn’t even about the food, but.

“I’ll go get you some more before they close the cafeteria,” he said, heart in his throat, threatening to spill out among the food on the ground, and who knew what that treacherous heart would reveal. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, leaving them be and rushing to the first restroom he could find, finally allowing himself to calm the fuck down and breathe.

What a stupid thing to get upset by, but.

He heard someone enter the room, causing him to press his body against the stall like a coward, but Bones’ voice rang clear anyway. “Jim?”

He didn’t reply.

“Come on, I know you’re in here.”

“I’m peeing.”

“Right, well, I’ll wait until you’ve finished.”

“Okay, I’m not peeing.”

“I know.” A beat, and, “Come out. Please.”

It was always the please that got him.

“Before you ask,” Jim said, exiting the stall. “I was gonna go get your food just after this stop.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about the food. I mean I do, and it was really nice that you brought me some, but it’s a slow day and I’ll be fine.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to see what was up with you.”

“With me?”

“You seem… I don’t know. Freaked out? Like something is wrong?”

“I see.”

“Jim.”

He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, looked anywhere but on Bones. “I don’t know. The whole situation sort of shook me and now I feel weird.”

“You spilling the food?”

“No. Jesus, no. Just-” He waved his hand in Bones’ general direction. “You being tickled by someone else. It was weird being an onlooker.”

“You’re acting like a disaster because of that?”

“Look, you know I’ve acted worse about tamer things.”

“You’re so stupid.”

Jim snorted, finally meeting his friend’s eye. “I’d love to have this conversation-”

“Stop lying.”

“-but I have to head back. Got a ship to run and all.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m bringing this up tonight.”

Jim patted his shoulder as he passed. “I’m counting on it.”

It didn’t mean that he was looking forward to it, however.

“Ugh, just get it over with,” he groaned when Bones entered his quarters, looking rather alert, pointing to a calm rest of the day.

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” Bones deadpanned. “We’re gonna talk about my sensitive spots, after all.”

“I love your sensitive spots.”

“Focus.”

“I just thought it was something only I did to you, that’s all.”

“You got jealous?”

“Maybe a little?”

Bones relented. “You’re being-”

“Ridiculous, I know.”

“And kind of endearing, but I’ll only say that once.”

“You say many things once. Doesn’t mean I’ll forget them.”

“Oho, you’re kind of asking for it yourself, you know.”

Jim threw up his hands. “Tickle me, then. This whole day’s weird and backwards anyway.”

“You know I would never take your job.”

“Chapel did.”

“Oh, come on. As if you’ve never tickled anyone else before.”

Jim huffed, crossing his arms. “I never said my reaction was logical.”

“You gonna tickle me or not?”

“Are you asking me to?”

Bones did flush then, so rare nowadays. So wonderful. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

Jim barked out a laugh, already approaching him. “Stay still.”

“You know damn well I won’t.”

“I do, but it’s fun watching you struggle.”

“You sadist- wahait!”

Jim cornered him and pushed him down onto the couch, fingers already working over his hips, a spot he was certain no one else knew of. A spot that could make Bones scream so loud Jim had to stop out of fear of accidentally killing him.

Usually he was gentle, starting slow to make him giggle, but Bones had technically tickle cheated on him and that just wouldn’t do. Pinning him beneath his thighs, Jim dug into the sensitive spots, Bones’ clothes doing nothing to help him whatsoever.

Oh, how he laughed. Not a quick little inconvenienced laugh as he squirmed away, but a proper, desperate belly laugh. This was theirs and only theirs. Jim the only one Bones trusted to know this intimately. He was grabbing at Jim’s wrists now, but despite his strength he wasn’t pushing Jim away. Merely steadying himself.

Whatever they were and whatever they had, it always had and always would include this.

“I should tie you up and torture you,” Jim teased, even though he’d never immobilized him during this and only tickled him for a couple of minutes at a time, but Bones had once become a stuttering mess when Jim had threatened this and he did love a flustered Bones, after all.

He was laughing too hard to stutter, but the way he was shaking his head told Jim all he needed to know. His words had left a mark and whatever he did now, wherever he touched, would be more ticklish than usual.

He got to work.

[makomori]

TWO | FAMILIARITY (Brand New Story)

Ushijima Wakatoshi x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She's recovering from a nasty breakup and he's reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua's drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It's the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

Length: 2.8k words

Yua's well-earned vacation starts with breakfast at her favourite cousin's house. But her habit of being early brings her face-to-face with a certain left-handed wing spiker. 

If you don't like where you are, change it. | Jim Rohn

SATURDAY, 7:33 A.M.

I could get used to this.

Nishimura Yua fully intended to go into Tetsuya’s house to have breakfast. But she was currently leaning against the roof of her car, chin resting comfortably between her hands. The sun was out, a light, crisp breeze swept through the ends of her long, ink-black hair. And the temperature was steady at a cool, but comfortable fourteen degrees Celsius. All signs to the start of a good vacation.

Oh, I could definitely get used to this.

It was hard to describe spring in Sendai. “Beautiful" wasn’t enough to describe how beautiful the city really was. She had as few weeks off until the renovations at Peak 1’s new event management office were finished. A picnic in Mikamine was definitely in order; Amaya would join her in a heartbeat. Or they take a trip to Shiroishi with the kids. Yua loved how quiet it was along the riverside.

After everything that happened in Tokyo, she needed peace in her life right now.

Yua shook her head; it was too early for her mind wander into unsavoury places. Tetsu asked her to grab some eggs because he was making her favourite— scrambled eggs with furikake and rice. Her stomach groaned loudly at the thought, so she locked her car, snatched her bags, and quickly made her way to her cousin’s compact, but welcoming suburban home. As soon as she let herself in, the familiar sounds of fish being grilled, and the warm scent of rice threatened to overwhelm her senses.

“Ojama shimasu!” She called out as she hastily put on a pair of slippers. Tetsu had always been an excellent home cook, and she was happy that she’d get to eat his cooking more often. She wished Amaya could’ve joined them, but she was on a business trip and wouldn’t be back until Monday.

“You’re late,” her cousin teased when he saw her come in. He was still sporting his Dragonball pjs, but his shift at Sendai City Hospital didn’t start until nine, and it was just past seven-thirty now. “I was just about to send out a search party.” He was trying not to laugh because he knew that she always arrived at least a half hour early for anything.

“Well, I was gonna break the door down at seven, but I feel like you would’ve given me shit about it,” Yua huffed as she handed him the eggs. While he deftly cracked a few into a new pan, she moved to the counter to start chopping vegetables. But Tetsu’s right hand shot out and protectively covered the chopping board and its contents.

Before she could protest, he pointed at the dinner table and scolded, “You’re on vacation and I’m treating you to breakfast. Now, sit.”

Yua gaped at him for a few seconds. As one of the Event Directors at Peak 1, she was usually the one giving out instructions, not taking them. But Tetsu was right. She was on vacation, and she made Tetsu promise to remind her to relax.

But that was easier said because she was used to always having a hand in things, even if it was something as simple as helping with breakfast. Kazuki, as a joke, said she was a control freak when they first met. Ironically, it ended up being one of the main reasons they broke up a month ago. This was one of the few times she saw one of her greatest strengths as something negative.

And she still didn’t know how to feel about it.

A gentle nudge from Tetsu brought her back to reality. “You’ll need a good breakfast to deal with the twins later. Natsuko and Sayuri don’t know you’re babysitting, so they’re gonna freak out when they come back from their sleepover.”

Yua pulled out a chair and made herself comfortable. No point in dwelling on past mistakes now. “They’re growing up so fast,” she whined. “I can’t believe they’re eleven now. And Rui’s starting high school in two years!” She sometimes forgot that Tetsu was thirty-six, eight years older than her. He had always been fitness nut, and still somehow managed to be a dad and full-time nurse.

Her cousin laughed and flipped the now-scrambled eggs in the air with ease. “I can’t believe it either. I saw more white hairs pop up the other day, but Amaya says they make me look distinguished.” Yua’s eyes flicked to the back of his head and was surprised when she saw silver peppering his black, low fade. Silver also made an appearance in the beard lining his defined jaw.

“You’re getting old,” Yua ribbed, taking satisfaction at the dark scowl he shot back at her. “Good thing I stopped by Ishiiya last night. These should make you feel much better.” She pulled a tray of chocolate rolls out of her bag and presented them triumphantly on the table.

“Fuck, you got the large ones, too,” Tetsu groaned. “Hide those. I don’t stand a chance against the kids if they find them.”

“Don’t worry,” Yua soothed. “These are just for you and Amaya. I bought apple and custard buns for the little monsters.”

Tetsu’s relieved sigh brought a smile to her face. If he was still fighting over sweets with his kids, he wouldn’t feel old until they were grown and had kids of their own. Ten minutes later, breakfast was ready. In addition to the grilled fish, furikake, and rice, Tetsu had made sunomono and ensured a generous amount of nori was right beside her.

“Itadakimasu!”

The endless gurgling in Yua’s stomach was finally soothed a few plates later. Despite not seeing each other for nearly a year, the two of them spoke and laughed as if they’d seen each other the day before. Tetsu was an only child and lived just a few streets away when they were in Osaki, so he immediately took on the big brother role when she was born.

When he was in high school, he was never embarrassed when she came around and always made time for her, even when he was with his friends. A big part of why she volunteered to move to Sendai and help set up the new office was because Tetsu and Amaya lived only a short drive from her apartment. Plus, her parents and childhood home were now less than an hour’s drive north. It felt so good to be close to home and to people who loved her.

“Thanks again for taking Rui to his first practice with the Tigers. He’s been talking about it nonstop for the last few weeks.”

Yua popped another nori piece into her mouth. “Oh, hush. You know I’d do anything for you and Amaya. And I love Rui-kun to pieces.” They had helped her out countless times in the last few years, so this was the least she could do for them. “I still can’t believe it’s hosted by the Shiratorizawa Academy. Tak is so proud of him.”

“I’m pretty sure Saitou-sensei coached Tak while he was at Shiratorizawa,” Tetsu said with a wide grin. “He said that Rui has the potential to become a great outside wing spiker.”

“Looks like you have a baby ace on your hands,” Yua laughed. Rui was currently at Chidoriyama Junior High. But if he was already noticed by a coach at Shiratorizawa, the chances of him getting into the academy had already increased.

“Rui’s had his eyes set on Shiratorizawa ever since he saw Tak play,” Tetsu chuckled. He started to gather the empty plates and didn’t protest when Yua moved to help. The look she gave him left no room for argument. “I’d be scared shitless for their entrance exams, but Rui’s way smarter than I ever was at his age.”

“Tak said they were brutal but making the volleyball team was worth it.” It was the first time she’d seen her younger brother want something so badly and put in all he had to achieve it. He took that work ethic with him when he graduated and now, he was the starting middle blocker on the men’s team at Waseda University in Tokyo. She knew that Rui could go down that same path if he worked hard and continued to love the game.

“Ugh, tell me again why I decided to switch with Ryo-kun and take the early shift?” Tetsu yawned and tried to sit back down, but Yua pulled him up and shooed him toward the stairs.

“Because you have three lovely children, a beautiful wife, and freeloading cousin to feed, that’s why!”

“The freeloading cousin can afford to feed herself,” he snickered as he grudgingly started up the stairs.

“Nuh uh! I just went through a breakup; everyone should be feeding me.”

~

“Yua-chan? Yua-chan, wake up!”

Yua groaned and wondered who was ruining the best nap she’d ever taken in her life. Maybe it was just a dream. She tried to chase the blissful weightless of sleep, but it quickly fled her grasp. Her eyes blinked open and she saw a Rui standing over her, a toothy grin on his youthful face. He looked almost exactly like Tetsu with angles defining his features, but his eyes were soft like Amaya’s. She returned his grin and sat up from the bed in the spare room, working the odd kinks from her neck slowly.

Rui was wearing his red Chidoriyama tracksuit, and a yellow and blue volleyball was tucked under his right arm. Suddenly, Yua remembered why she was at Tetsu’s house in the first place.

“Rui-kun, what time is it?” She asked, her breath hitching in her throat. Had she overslept? That was one of her greatest fears. Damn, she forgot to set an extra alarm—

“It’s 11:25. I was gonna wake up you earlier, but it looked like you were having a good nap.” The laughter in his voice was evident, but he also sympathized with her because he felt the same after a long practice.

Yua heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. She’d feel terrible if Rui were late to his first practice because of something she did. “You’re right, I was having a good nap. But thank you for letting me sleep.”

“Kaa-san always lets me sleep after practice,” Rui replied, taking a seat beside her. “She says it’ll help me grow.”

“I guess she’s right because you’re taller than me already,” Yua teased. It looks like he’d grown almost two inches since the last time she saw him.

“Well, you’re not that tall anyway, Yua-chan.” The laughter was back in his voice. He was definitely Tetsu’s son.

“You’re sounding more like your dad every day,” She pouted as she ruffled his thick black hair. “He always gave me a hard time about my height.”

Rui was so happy when he heard that Yua-chan moved to Sendai. He never got to see her because Tokyo was far, even by train. She and Tak-kun had always treated him and his sisters like siblings and they took them to the best places whenever they did come to visit.

Yua checked her phone. 11:28. Shiratorizawa was only twenty minutes away by car. It was early, but she wondered if Rui wanted to go early to check things out and get a head start on warming up. The coaches and managers were usually there to set everything up, anyway.

“Rui-kun, I know it’s early, but do you want to leave n—”

Her nephew cut her off by jumping to his feet. “I’ve got my bags by the door already!” Before she could answer, he hurried to the door and down the stairs. She smiled. Tetsu wasn’t exaggerating when he said Rui was excited for practice.

Half an hour later, they pulled into Shiratorizawa Academy. Yua had forgotten how big the place actually was. But she had visited enough to remember how to get to the office and the main gymnasium. She was worried that the office assistant wouldn’t let them in, but fortunately, one of the coaches had already arrived and was setting everything ready for practice.

Yua could feel Rui’s excitement build with each hurried step they took towards the main The grip on her hand grew firmer as the sharp, repetitive thud of a volleyball hitting the wall reached their ears. His pace quickened and she matched it so her shoulder wouldn’t be ripped out of its socket.

“Someone’s doing a wall spikes drill!” He all but squealed just before he dragged her through the doors. “Coach Hayate made us do that yesterday!”

Yua grinned at his energy; it reminded her of Tak when he started playing. “Tak hated that drill until he learned how to snap his wrist down properly,” she chuckled. “He almost drove mom crazy because he’d practice outside against the kitchen for hours.”

But Rui had barely heard her. He had tossed his duffel onto the floor and begun rummaging through it quickly, muttering something she couldn’t quite hear. Not wanting to disturb him, Yua checked her watch. 11:58. Practice didn’t start until 1, and she still hoped that they weren’t imposing by being this early.

Punctuality was a hard habit to break since being an event planner repeatedly taught her that there was no such thing as “too early”. She had witnessed several events almost derail despite everyone arriving early and trying to account for any surprises. It never hurt to be on the slightly paranoid side.

Yua quickly found the source of the steady THUD, THUD-THUD, they heard on the way in. At the back of the spacious gym, a man was diligently performing a wall spikes drill just like Rui had said. He wore black shorts and a white, long-sleeved shirt. Yua could tell that he was tall, but that was no surprise as most players were close to six feet and over.

What did surprise her was his technique. Even from this distance, she noted that his movements were effortless and precise; habits that could only be honed through hours and hours of practice. As the ball bounced toward the man, he cranked his left arm back and paused for a breath before a hard and fast overhead swing sent the ball hurling back to the wall to start the endless cycle again. Yua wasn’t a player by any means, but she knew enough about volleyball to understand this man’s skill was something special.

No doubt he was a wing spiker.

That surprised Yua even more. There were very few lefties in any sport, and she only knew of one volleyball player who made a name for himself playing southpaw. As she eyed him more closely, she thought his features and bearing seemed familiar, but she wouldn’t be able to discover more until he turned around.

She saw the net, posts, and antennas laying haphazardly on the ground nearby; he must have started to set up for practice before deciding to warm up instead. Besides, it was easier to set up with two people. He’d most likely accept her offer to help if she extended it.

As Yua considered more options, she was reminded about how much she missed going to Tak’s games. The Waseda campus was only a twenty-minute train ride from her apartment, but she could barely find time for even herself in the last six months because of the back-to-back events she had to plan and execute for Peak 1. Anything social had to take the unfortunate backseat. She always made sure to watch replays of his games, though. It made her heart clench every time she thought about it, because she was his biggest fan other than mom and dad.

Yua shook her head, opting not to give her guilt a chance to creep in. There was enough of that to deal with in her other relationships. She crossed her arms and went into planning mode. Eyeing the man again, it was safe to say that he was either the head coach or, at least, an assistant coach. Ideally, the net had to be up and level before the rest of players and coaching staff arrived, so he’d definitely benefit if she offered to help him.

Plus, she could introduce Rui and ask if he’d be willing to pepper with him or practice a drill before everything started. Yes, that could work. It was a win-win situation. Tetsu probably knew the other coach’s name, but she forgot to ask him before he left this morning. Ah! She turned back to Rui, hoping that he’d be able to help, but her brow furrowed when she saw him gaping at the man on the other side of the gym.

“Rui-kun?” He instinctively reached for her and she closed her hand over his, hoping to provide him with some reassurance.

“Yua-chan…” His normally strong voice was timid, so she could barely hear it above the ball’s constant thudding.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

He swallowed, trying to find his voice again. He turned to her, his brown eyes blown wide with awe and realization.

“T-that’s Ushijima Wakatoshi."

[fleckcmscott]

“Strogonof”

Summary: Arthur reminisces about his and Y/N’s first dinner together. Y/N’s happy to relive it with him.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,433

A/N: This request comes from the amazing @sweet-nothings04​. Thanks to @ithinkimawriter​ for beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Arthur thought it was a great idea, albeit a last minute one. Not having known it was a thing when Y/N had given him his desk, he'd done nothing for their six month anniversary. He wanted to make damn sure to note one month of marriage. The dish she'd cooked the night he'd first come over had been delicious. And he would always associate it with falling in love with her. He found the name of it in his old journal, in the entry he'd written after their date, when he'd been high on the ease of their conversation, their too-short dance, and the kiss they'd shared: "strogonof."

Celebrating by having it again would be lovely. "I liked it a lot," he said when he called her office, notebook in hand. "Maybe we could make it for dinner?"

Her voice had a smile in it, though she turned him down. "Arthur, it takes nine hours to cook."

Nine hours? Unable to hide his consternation, he frowned. "Oh." Tension entered his shoulders, and he rubbed the back of his neck to quiet it. He'd have to come up with something else. Going to Kao-Wah's would work, though it wouldn't be as intimate. He could try to get the same booth as before. He started to flip through his notes, seeking to find the names of what they'd eaten between his earliest stand-up performance and the cementing of their relationship.

"Tell you what," she said, unknowingly interrupting his planning. The tap of her pencil on her desk was crystal clear through the phone. "We can get the ingredients tonight and make it tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

The suggestion warmed him, though it would be a day late. "That sounds great." 

During their walk to the nearby grocer's, he explained why he wanted that specific dish. And he told her he'd finished paying for the ring he'd picked out for himself (which he wouldn't let her help with, though they had combined their bank accounts): a gold band to match hers. Then he showed it to her. She snagged it, held his left hand steady as she slipped it on his finger, then kissed him firmly. Right there on the sidewalk in front of everyone. Y/N laying claim to him so enthusiastically, in public, made him feel like he was floating. Lips cracking a toothy smile, he led her through the store's entrance.

Arthur carried the shopping basket as they strolled each aisle. She was swiftly going to and fro, grabbing groceries as they went. And she made sure to pick the same wine as they'd had that night. It was cute, really. That wasn't a word he often used to describe her. But her grin was growing with every item she picked out. She was almost girlish. But he knew if he said that, she'd remind him she was the older one, and he wouldn't hear the end of it. Smirking at her was the best option.

As he picked up sour cream, she told him their supply of TV dinners was almost out. They weren't eaten often, but Y/N brought them to work once in awhile. Though their roles were reversed, a feeling of deja vu swept over him as she walked down the frozen food section. He watched as she stood in front of the freezer, apparently trying to decide which one she wanted. He tried to recall what she'd said to him when they'd first met. After approaching quietly, he stood behind her. "There are too many to pick from."

When she looked over her shoulder, he knew she'd understood. He continued. "Want me to get one for you?"

Beaming, she opened the door for him and leaned back against it. "Yes, actually. The Polynesian Style Dinner. With the orange tea cake." He reached in and got it for her, then presented it with a small bow. She took it, giggled, and whacked him lightly on the bicep with it. Then she caught him off guard by grasping his collar and pulling him to her. "You know, mister," she purred, "you're very handsome. Want to sneak in the back? I'm sure we can hide behind some boxes."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw a nearby man look at them with disapproval. Arthur snorted, blushing. "I'll just take your number. You might be a nut." She gasped, putting the back of her fingers to her mouth, then ducked away from him in mock outrage and hurried towards the cash register, glancing back as she went. God, he loved it when she was playful - generally she was just sarcastic. He grabbed the same dinner for himself and took off after her.

~~~~~

Y/N went over the recipe, guiding him through each step. It was easy enough. He cut the beef into bite-sized pieces while she drained the mushrooms. The condensed soups were thrown in, along with a chopped onion. As they worked in tandem, she told him the cream cheese needed to be taken out later to soften. He had a therapy appointment that morning and a gig, a kid's party, in the afternoon, but he'd be home in between. He wrote a note and left it on the counter so he'd remember. Then she handed him a spoon. "So," she started. "We've been Mr. & Mrs. Fleck for a month. How does it feel?"

He released a soft "hm" as he stirred all the ingredients together. Their engagement had been about a half hour - he hadn't gotten used to being a fiance before becoming a husband. Marriage elicited numerous reactions at once. He'd hoped for it one day. He'd thought it would be gratifying to have a partner, a person who loved him enough to take his last name, along with his issues. Someone who wanted to fold her life into his. With every seldom, missed chance, though, whether due to his apprehension or lack of women to interact with, he'd grown to assume that type of union was out of reach for him.

When they'd initially gotten together, he'd thought of Y/N in the context of what she could do for him. How her presence would improve his existence. That she validated him. His musings still often skewed that way. But he'd found he didn't only enjoy his wife being there whenever he needed or wanted her. It fulfilled him to support her. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by that. He'd spent most of his years looking after Penny. It made sense he'd want to care for Y/N, too. Especially since marrying her was a choice he'd made, not a circumstance he'd wound up in as a kid.

During the prior months, mornings had become one of Arthur’s favorite parts of the day. Normally, he'd wake up an hour before her. He’d kiss her forehead, put on coffee, and go on the fire escape to smoke. It was a peaceful routine. But over the past four weeks, there had been a slight change. There were days like this one, when awe would overcome him as he stirred and looked her way, like it had when he'd first moved in. Awe at having her instead of permanent solitude. He would press into her sleeping form, simply to hold her, to feel her solid weight and heat against him. To remind himself he'd never go unseen again.

And he found a modicum of happiness in the small, domestic niceties he hadn't considered in his fantasies. Like when they would plop on the couch after a long day, and she would read a newspaper while he watched a variety show, keeping each other company even as their interests diverged. Or if she would forget to grab the bar of soap before hopping in the shower, and call for him to retrieve it for her. And there was the time he'd tried to impress her by fixing a leak under the kitchen sink himself. It had worked, temporarily. She'd lauded him, anyway, not caring the repair had only lasted a couple days and the-

Y/N poked his ribs. "I hope the silence doesn't mean you hate it," she teased.

He had a tendency to grow quiet and think too long when she asked him questions. But she didn't seem to mind - she'd said it was sweet. His lips turned up as he gave her a sidelong glance. "No." The spoon went in the sink after he rinsed it off. "It's nice. Especially with you."

She was setting the timer on the slow cooker. "Good." Her smile was wide as she stepped to him, her arms encircling his skinny waist. "I wish I could stay all day, but I've got to get to work. Call me if you need anything."

She always told him that before she left. And the fact that she meant it made him feel whole, at least for a few seconds. He said he would, kissed her, and helped her with her coat and bags as she headed out the door.

~~~~~

The meal was as appetizing as he'd remember. And because he wasn't nervous this time, he was able to fully enjoy the richness of it. He'd gotten used to drinking wine with Y/N occasionally, too, and poured the correct amount for both of them. But he often felt its heady effect after one serving. It was probably what emboldened him tonight, along with the Nat King Cole record in the background, and Y/N's attempt at dimming the pendant light over the table by tying a kerchief under it. “Can I tell you a secret?” Arthur asked, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkins Y/N insisted they use.

As she took another bite of her egg noodles, she grinned and tapped his calf with her toe. “We still have secrets?”

He pressed his lips together. He’d truly opened up to her some time ago, when she’d come back after Murray. But there would always be things he would never tell her. How he’d gotten fired for bringing a gun to the children’s hospital. That he’d quit school at fifteen. Or that he’d had the urge to follow her when they first met.

But this he wanted to share. “I…” He could feel his cheeks turn pink as he chuckled softly. He rested his face on his hand. “I thought about marrying you after we slept together the first time.” Trying to hide his bashfulness, he jabbed at a mushroom, blinking down at his plate.

The response was a full-throated laugh. She put down her fork and picked up her glass. “I’m glad you didn’t say that to me then.” The sip she took was longer than usual. It made him wonder if he’d screwed up, admitting that to her. Then she said, “I knew you were a romantic at heart, but I didn’t realize you were quite so old-fashioned.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started, concentrating on her wine as she swirled it gently. “I hadn't realized sex was one of your big considerations for getting married. Given how often we had it beforehand.”

He scrunched up his face. “That’s not it.” Sighing, he started eating again. “I didn’t want someone to take you away from me. I was afraid you’d realize I’m a mess and not want me anymore.” Those notions felt ridiculous now and he shrugged at himself. “I just- I wanted you to know how quickly I loved you,” he said quietly.

He could feel the heat of her gaze on him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable - they were beyond that. But he felt his blush deepen. (That reaction was so ingrained in him. Vaguely, he wondered if he’d ever stop doing it around her.)

She cupped his chin and turned him to her, their eyes meeting. His eyebrows lifted and he held his breath, stomach doing a little flip. The adoration he felt for her was reflected back at him. Leaning forward, she kissed him. Though the movements of her lips were soft, the passion behind the gesture was clear. “I apparently like messes. And dimples," she said, squeezing his cheek. "I hadn't been aware they could be so cute." The glare he gave her made her giggle. Then she continued to eat. "I didn't plan on getting married again."

"Why not? You're good at it."

A pleased expression crossed her face. "Thank you." But then she bit her lip. "I've told you how unhappy I was with my ex. And then I had to jump into being miserable with my father. When I was free of all that, I wanted to live for myself." She took her plate to the sink and started rinsing it. "I still do. But it's not the same. You being a part of my life has made it better." Scoffing, she shook her head. "I never expected that from anyone." Her voice was getting rough, which he knew she'd blame on the wine. "I'm thankful for you everyday, Arthur."

He closed his eyes as he took in what she said. The romantic dinner, the LP playing, her precious words (which he planned to jot in his journal later)... The tightness in his breast was acute, and he thought he might burst if he simply continued sitting. Articulating his feelings was difficult when he was overcome. But touching her had become easy. Rising from his seat, he took a step towards her and laid a hand between her shoulder blades, massaging tenderly.

Chuckling, she leaned back against him. "Listen to me prattling on like an idiot. You'd never guess I started dating you for your looks."

He kissed the side of her head. No matter how often she told him how good-looking he was, he'd have his doubts. But he believed she found him attractive. Maybe his ego would someday let that be enough. "Why do you think I started seeing you?" he murmured.

She turned around in his arms and put her hands on his chest. "All right. The clumsy grace hiding under all that reservation probably had something to do with it, too."

The food and wine forgotten, he hugged her, hard, and nuzzled the side of her face. Y/N had told him before not to worry about saying the wrong thing. That when he managed to trust himself, which had gradually become easier, she thought he spoke beautifully. And sometimes the simplest phrases were the best. "I'm glad you married me."

"I love you, too." She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Let's finish that bottle of wine."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @ithinkimaperson​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​

[applepiewinchesters]

Wreck (Malcolm Bright x Reader)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN 

It was just supposed to be an easy arrest, no one, especially not you, expected the suspect to jack a car and go on a joy ride through the streets of New York City.

He, you, and Malcolm quickly climbed back into Gil’s car, the older man flipping on the police lights as they whipped out of the parking lot of the apartment building and started flying down the city streets.

The guy managed to lose them, turning down another street

“Gil?!” Malcolm shouted when Gil continued down the street you were currently speeding down, swinging around a corner.

This was insane, you’d never actually been on a car chase before, and you actually hadn’t been a part of Gil’s team that long. You’d met Malcolm when he joined the team a few months ago, and a rather wonderful relationship had blossomed since then.

“I got it,” Gil said, hands gripping the steering wheel as he took another few hard turns. The car was coming up on the street the man turned down, the large truck was coming for the passenger side of Gil’s car, exactly where Malcolm was sitting.

Before any of you could react, the large truck slammed into the passenger side, Gil didn’t even have time to hit the brakes.

Gil’s car slid sideways, the windows of the passenger side shattering, the deafening sound of twisting metal filling the air. The windshield shattered, glass flying into the front seats of the car.

Thankfully, you were sitting behind Gil, so you didn’t get the brunt of the impact, but you felt pieces of glass cut your skin.

The most horrifying part was, you watched as Malcolm took the full force of the impact, it caused his entire body to jerk towards the driver’s side then back towards the impact, his head made a sickening crack when it slammed into the metal framing of the car and you couldn’t help the scream that left your lips.

When the car finally came to a stop at the other side of the intersection, it was silent, save the people outside yelling and the sound of the car’s broken horn blaring.

You were in shock, not able to move, that is, until you felt a warm liquid dripping down your forehead, you reached up, immediately hissing in pain when you felt the huge gash where the blood was oozing.

“G-Gil, are you okay?” you asked.

Gil groaned, managing to yank off his seat belt, he probably had a few bruised, possibly broken ribs. When he turned to look at you, you could see he had a few cuts, especially a particularly nasty one on his eyebrow.

“I’m okay, you?” he asked, you could only nod, trying not to freak out, your whole body was shaking, blood was dripping into your eyes and you definitely had whiplash.

Everything hurt and you were really just trying to comprehend what had happened, people around you were yelling, saying they were calling an ambulance.

Gil pushed open his door, pulling his gun from the holster, yelling something at the suspect, who had gotten out of the truck, almost completely unscathed.

You managed to pull yourself together enough to reach in front of you, shaking Malcolm slightly. He was limp, head back against the headrest.

“Malcolm, hey, wake up,” you said, panic rising inside you once again.

“Malcolm!” you shouted, shaking him harder, his was limp still, so you quickly pressed two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse, it was weak, but it was there.

“Gil! Malcolm’s hurt!” you shouted, not even really knowing if he was still outside the car.

You painfully climbed into the front seat, eyes widening when you took in the entire state of Malcolm’s injuries.

His head was bleeding, more than likely from the cracking noise you’d heard earlier. He was still strapped into his seat belt, so you reached over, unbuckling it, it seemed to be the only thing holding him up, because he fell against you.

He was covered in scratches, and blood was blossoming across his chest, it seemed that the seat belt had cut him, and no doubt had broken some bones as well.

You had no idea what had happened to him internally, but you were still extremely careful when you laid his head in your lap.

Gil appeared at the door again, “Hey, the ambulance is on it’s way, how’s he doing?” Gil asked, he sounded breathless, panicky, he didn’t panic much, but it always seemed to be because of Malcolm when he did.

“H-His head is bleeding a lot, and I think the seat belt cut him, he’s not waking up,” you spoke, the last part coming out as a whimper, tears were falling down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, they’re almost here,” Gil told you, “just keep him still.”

It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself as much as he was trying to reassure you.

“Malcolm,” you said, voice wavering, “you’re going to be okay, hang in there, it’s okay, please, stay with me.”

You had no idea if he could even hear you, but you figured you’d try.

The sirens broke you out of the shock a bit, and soon, other police cars, two ambulances and a firetruck pulled up to the scene.

Paramedics rushed over, taking Gil’s place at the open driver’s side door.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to carefully get out of the car, can you do that?” one of them asked you.

“B-But Malcolm, he…. I can’t leave him,” you cried, running your thumb along Malcolm’s paling cheek.

“They’ll take care of him Y/N,” came Gil’s voice, “come on, you need help too.”

You nodded numbly, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Malcolm’s forehead before carefully sliding his head off your lap as one of the paramedics grabbed you out of the car.

“I got her,” Gil told him, holding out his arms.

“Take her to the ambulance, we’ll be there soon after we get him out,” the paramedic instructed, handing you to Gil.

“You don’t need to carry me, you’re hurt too” you protested weakly, turning your head to see paramedics and firefighters blocking your view of Malcolm as they slid a backboard into the car.

“I’ve been through worse kid,” Gil said, gritting his teeth as he set you down on the back platform of the ambulance.

You sniffed, reaching up to wipe at the tears on your face, “There was so much blood,” you said softly.

Gil sighed, sitting down beside you, “I can’t promise you anything kid, but it will be okay,” he said, wrapping an arm around you.

When they got Malcolm out of the car, you watched as he was quickly loaded into the other ambulance, he looked paler, his dress shirt stained with blood.

The paramedic from before came over to you both, he assessed your injuries and decided you both needed to go to the hospital as well.

You both rode in the same ambulance, Gil insisted you take the stretcher while he sat next to the paramedic, but you could tell every bump they hit on the road hurt him.

You and Gil were admitted to the emergency room, and after you were checked over, you were given stitches for the cut on your head and your other minor wounds were cleaned.

There wasn’t much they could do for whiplash except advise you to take it easy.

Gil came and found you once they’d wrapped up his torso, his ribs were bruised, but thankfully nothing was broken.

“Have you heard anything about Malcolm?” you asked him.

“He’s in surgery,” Gil sighed, they’re going to let us know when he’s out.

“What happened to him?” you asked quickly.

“Broken ribs, concussion, sternum might be broken too, they’re weren’t completely sure,” Gil told you, making the anxiety build once again.

It was silent between the two of you before you spoke again, “Someone should probably let the team know what happened, and call Jessica,” you said.

Gil nodded, “I’ll do it, stay here, get some rest,” he told you, using his “dad” voice.

You definitely didn’t feel like arguing, so you slowly laid down on the bed, closing your eyes.

*

It must have been a while later because the next thing you knew you were being woken up by a tired looking Gil.

You sat up, too quickly, pain shot through your neck and you yelped.

“Hey, take it easy,” Gil said softly, “Malcolm’s out of surgery, we can go see him.”

Nodding, you took Gil’s hand as he helped you out of bed and you followed him down the hall and to a set of elevators, you took it two floors up and got out, taking a few turns before stopping at a door.

“Listen,” Gil said, turning to you, “he looks bad okay? I came to see him before waking you up.”

“Just let me see him, please,” you said.

Gil sighed but gave in, opening the door, you quickly walked in, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw the state Malcolm was in.

He was shirtless, gauze wrapped around his torso, a large bandage covering his chest. An oxygen mask covered his mouth, his head was stitched up where it had been bleeding and the beeping of the machines was the only sound in the room.

It was bad, besides all that he was covered in small cuts and a large bruise rang the length of his right shoulder to his right hip.

He’d definitely taken the brunt of the impact.

Quietly, as if afraid you’d wake him, you made your way over to the bed, taking a seat in the chair beside Malcolm.

“Is he going to be okay?” you asked, turning to look at Gil.

Gil nodded, giving you a small smile, “Lots of healing, but they got to him in time,” he said.

It felt like a huge weight lifted from your shoulders and you sighed, turning back to look at Malcolm, some of the color was coming back to his face, he would be okay.

Gil came into the room, taking the other chair beside you.

“You can sleep,” Gil said, noting how exhausted you looked. “He’ll still be there when you wake up.”

Sighing, you leaned forward, placing your arms on the bed and resting your head on top of them, closing your eyes, the sound of the heart monitor’s steady beeping lulling you to sleep.

*

Malcolm woke up early the next morning, he was coughing hard, startling both you and Gil awake.

“Hey, hey kid, it’s okay, calm down,” Gil said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up.

You lifted your head just in time to see Malcolm pull the oxygen mask from his face, “Y-Y/N,” he said, eyes wild as they darted around.

“I’m right here, it’s okay, we’re all okay,” you reassured, taking Malcolm’s hand in yours.

The quickening of his heart beat must’ve alerted the nurses because one came in, checking over Malcolm’s vitals and making sure he was okay.

Once Malcolm was comfortable again, you leaned over, grabbing the cup of water that was on his nightstand, when he’d been talking to the nurse, his voice sounded hoarse.

“Here,” you said, bringing the cup to his lips, he took a few small sips before you set it back down.

“Thanks,” he said, voice a bit lighter than before.

You smiled, “Of course,” you told him. Malcolm gave you a weak smile of his own, he was in pain, so they upped his morphine dosage, he’d probably pass out again soon.

“Did you get him?” he asked, turning to Gil, who chuckled.

“Yeah, the guy’s sitting in prison as we speak,” Gil said, that seemed to reassure Malcolm a bit.

Malcolm did fall asleep again a few minutes later and spent most of the next week in the hospital recovering, Gil gave both of you some much needed time off as well, so you spent the days with Malcolm.

He was recovering quickly, he was tough, one of the qualities you loved about him.

Malcolm was released from the hospital a week later but was given another few weeks mandatory leave from Gil, which of course killed him. He hated being away from work.

You made up for it as much as you could, making his favorite foods, cuddling with him whenever he wanted and watching as much Investigation Discovery as you could both handle, Malcolm mostly just watched it to critique the detective’s methods.

He was whiny, complaining all the time, but you’d rather have him here than six feet underground.

Besides, the guy got what he deserved, and you were all okay, that’s all that mattered.

  A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one lol, I wrote this at midnight so if there are any grammatical errors please let me know but I hope you love it anyway! Thank you guys for all the love, you’re amazing! ~ Sara <3