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sevcasejay1chicago · 2 months

Note

Well in that case.... I’m gonna send you this idea... if it sparks inspo... sweet. If not or you don’t want to take such requests at the moment that’s totally cool too.

What about something where the reader is working a couple jobs like waitressing and bar tending or something while also going to college. During finals she’s working and studying and neglecting sleep and self care. Buck and Eddie start to get worried. So they convince her to come hang out at the station. She ends up collapsing (maybe on the stairs? And gets a minor concussion) due to exhaustion and dehydration. Once she gets home they both insist she just relax and nothing else. Lots of cuddles and bringing her food and water and basically only letting her up to pee. Ooh and maybe they give her a bubble bath... very spa like with candles and they do all the work and wash her hair for her and everything...

Over worked and under paid- Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley

Authors note: A few things.

1. I’m sorry this took so long. I’ve been so busy and I’ve only been able to write in short periods.

2. I know this isn’t my normal One Chicago content, but I love these boys too and you asked, so I (very lately) delivered.

Warnings: possible wrong medical jargon, passing out, over working, vomiting, concussion, FLUFF

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The boys are nothing short of proud and amazed by you. You are working part time as a barista at the coffee shop down the street from the station and frequently bartend for a friend at the bar that the 118 goes to every now and then. On top of your busy work schedule, you are also going to school online full time, helping take care of Christopher when Buck and Eddie are at the station, and trying to make sure you do your part around the house. If you asked Buck and Eddie, they would say you do too much in the first place and the house is something they can take care of, but you feel obligated to do your part.

Finals week has always been tough for you, but this is the first year that you are working two jobs and going to school full time. Buck and Eddie have been trying to help you as much as they can, including making sure you eat and drink, but they have been having a hard time getting you to slow down and sleep. Your mind just goes and thinks through all the stuff you need to be studying, so you are often sneaking out of bed to do so, much to Buck and Eddie’s dislike.

One day, Chris calls Eddie while he is at the station to express his worry. You had picked Chris up from school and brought him home like normal, but you didn’t get him a snack and sit down to help with his homework like you always do. He always tells you that you don’t have to, but you always do it anyways. With you forgetting this, the parlor of your face, and the bags under your eyes, Chris is worried something is seriously wrong with you.

Eddie has Buck call you as he calls Carla to come hang out with Chris. Buck calls you an Uber, saying you’ll be staying at the station and they want to help with everything, so you’ll just ride home with them. You cave, thinking that they are all gonna help you study, but not knowing their plan to get you to sleep or rest at the very least.

You arrive with your book bag on your back, still in your jeans and black tee from work earlier. Buck and Eddie hear Hen greet you and go to meet you at the top of the stairs. They both go running down as they watch your eyes roll into the back of your head as you drop with a loud thud, your forehead smacking against the railing as you go down.

“Y/n!!” Buck, Eddie, Hen, and Bobby yell. Buck and Eddie run down to get to you as Hen grabs the kit from the ambo and Cap runs up the stairs, having just come in the side door after getting something out of his personal truck.

Bobby is the first to make it to you and carefully holds your head in one hand while checking your pulse with the other. “She’s tacky and has labored breathing.” Bobby announces to the room. “Hen, give me the collar and then go get the rig ready.” Bobby instructs, passing you off to Eddie to steady you as he calls for Chim. “Chim. I need you on the floor. Y/n’s down. We need to go to the hospital.” He says, then after hearing a quick copy, he switches the radio to the dispatch frequency. “Dispatch, this is Captain Nash with the 118. Do you copy?” Bobby says, waiting for the copy from Maddie at dispatch before continuing. “Maddie, Y/n just collapsed at the 118. We are loading her and taking her to the er. Take the house out of commission.” Bobby says, standing as Buck finishes putting the collar on you and Eddie helps him hoist you into Evan’s arms.

“Copy you. Keep me posted. Dispatch out.” Maddie says.

Buck gently lays you down on the stretcher as Eddie takes a towel from Hen to gently wipe the blood from your face. Your eyes flutter as you groan, trying to swat his hand away. Hen chuckles as Bobby shuts the doors and Chim takes off with sirens blaring.

“Baby. Baby. Shhh. Stop mi amor.” Eddie murmurs, cupping your cheek in his hand as Hen places a pulse ox on your right hand. “It’s okay. We gotcha. You passed out baby.” Eddie explains as Buck clutches your hand and tries to keep his cool next to Eddie.

“Mmmm. Ed-ddie.” You moan, leaning into his touch. “D-don’t f-feel well.” You murmur, trying to push yourself into a sitting position. You don’t even have to express the way your feeling as your face turns ashen and your eyes widen.

Buck immediately pulls a puke bag from the dispenser and puts it around your mouth. “Alright baby. I gotcha. Just do what you gotta do.” Buck says, taking your hand again as you reach for him. It pains him to see you in so much discomfort.

Your breathing gets faster as the nausea builds. You vaguely hear Hen talking to Eddie about you possibly having a concussion as you begin heaving, crying out in pain when you can catch your breath. Your hearing is equivalent to being under water, but you can tell that both Eddie and Buck are trying to sooth you as tears stream down your face. Once you push the bag away, Eddie gets onto the stretcher with you and puts a towel on his neck, allowing you to press your forehead into his neck as much as possible with the collar still on.

Once at the hospital, Eddie ends up having to ride with you into the ER since you won’t let him go. They basically force you to untangle as nurses and a doctor want you moving into a bed to begin assessing you. Buck and Eddie stand at the top of the bed, both lightly touching you somewhere to let you know they are still there, while the doctor examines your head and does a spinal test. After many tests are done, fluids are given, and you get well educated on concussion protocol and the importance of taking care of yourself, you are finally released into the care of Eddie and Buck again.

Bobby was thoughtful enough to grab the guys go bags and drive Buck’s jeep to the hospital. Once you are cleared, the 118 is back in service, but Buck and Eddie are relieved of duty for the time being so that you can be taken care of. Buck drives back home with you curled around Eddie in the back seat. They gave you a sedative in the er and something for the pain, so you are practically knocked out. That is, until you get home.

You sleepily clutch onto Buck as he takes you from Eddie’s arms when you arrive home. You immediately bury your face into his neck to hide from the street lights now that it’s pretty late into the night. Eddie opens the door and disappears into the kitchen as Buck sits down with you on the couch.

“Chris?” You murmur, wondering where your son is.

“Carla has him at her house. Just relax sweet girl.” Buck whispers, kissing you on the forehead.

“Mmm.” You hum, snuggling back into his embrace.

“Alright you.” Eddie says, coming in with a tray of food and drinks. “Toast for you ma’am. I put butter on both, just to help settle your stomach. I also got you your favorite flavored water.” He says, handing you the water first. “Drink.” He says gently, before turning back to the tray. “A sandwich and water for both of us too.” Eddie says, handing Buck his sandwich when his boyfriend makes to grab for it, but you whine at the shift, so Buck settles back down.

You lay on Buck’s chest, nibbling at your toast and drinking your water when prompted. He could care less that you are getting crumbs on him as long as your comfortable and eating. Once everyone is finished, Eddie goes to clean up, leaving you and Buck back on the couch. You yawn, rubbing your face into Evan’s shoulder, causing him to chuckle.

“Alright baby. Bath and bed for you.” Buck says, standing up with you once again. “Eddie! Gonna go get her cleaned up.” Buck calls, nodding as Eddie replies with an okay.

You started to protest, but Buck is quit to shut you down.

“No ma'am. You just chill out. You need to relax and let us take care of you for once.” Buck says, sitting you on the bathroom counter in the master .

“But I-“ you begin to say, but you are cut off by Eddie as he saunters into the bathroom.

“You will relax and let us take care of you.” Eddie says, coming to stand between your legs. “What happened today could have been avoided if we put our foot down. Now, you will allow us to pamper you and give yourself time to rest. Okay?” Eddie says, lightly connecting his forehead with yours.

You close your eyes and sigh gently. “Okay. I’m sorry.” You murmur, bottom lip trembling as you fight back tears.

“Shhh mi amor. It’s okay. We are just worried, that’s all.” Eddie whispered, gently capturing your lips in his.

“Just let us take care of you. Okay?” Buck adds, coming to your side and kissing the side of your head. “Now, let’s get you in the bath while it’s still hot and I’ll even light your favorite candle. Okay love?” Evan says, trying to get you in bed as quickly as possible given that your eyes are having trouble staying open.

You nod and allow Eddie to undress you. It’s definitely not easy to let yourself get taken care of. You’ve grown used to fighting through this rough patch and hiding it the best you can from your boys, but you love them and they love you. Luckily, that just might save your life.

That night, the boys gently wash your hair. Eddie sitting on the edge of the tub behind you, caging you in with his legs as he gently massages your scalp. Buck washes your body, gently rubbing your sore muscles as he goes. They don’t stop until you are practically asleep against Eddie’s knee. Buck scoops you out of the tub while Eddie goes to throw your pjs in the dryer to warm them up. They then both help dry you off, gently brushing and blow drying your hair. Once you are all dry, they put you in your pjs, which consist of one of their fire shirts and your undies. Then, they get dressed themselves before getting in bed with you and settling in for the night, knowing that you are safe and sound in their arms.

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Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@stellakiddsblog

@100yroldteenagers

@senjoritanana

@celtic-shadow-wolf

@starset21

@mrspeacem1nusone

#911 fox #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie x reader #emeto tw

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 5 months

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hi! could you maybe do full hcs of an MC who still exhibits symptoms of the red plague? :3

The Arcana HCs: MC with Red Plague symptoms

-- for headcanon purposes, MC has the red scleras and veins in their limbs, as well as higher body temperature, fatigue levels, and sore throat. however, their day-to-day life isn't impacted much past their appearance --

Julian

It was a genuine trauma trigger for him at first

One look at you, and all he sees are the countless bloodshot eyes of the patients he couldn't save staring back at him. Hours of horrific "research" led by Valdemar on bodies just like yours

It makes him feel especially responsible for you, but it also causes quite a bit of inner emotional conflict when he starts to associate your appearance with things like love and hope as well

This is ultimately one of the things that helps him figure out how he wants to move forward after you help him confront his past

Every night, he watches your eyes slip shut and checks your temperature and pulse through the night out of habit

And every morning, he feels like he's witnessing a miracle when your eyes open again. You've lived through another night, and you fully intend to keep on living with no holds barred

It's actually a little healing to see someone with the Red Plague survive and smile

He's still extremely conscientious of your physical state, though. It was weeks before he let you carry your own shopping basket

He keeps track of your temperature in his notes in case it goes higher than your average and insists that you keep a healthy diet and stick to gentler exercises (it doesn't change his own habits)

Asra

As painful as it was for them to bring you back and be immediately faced with the condition they left you to face on your own, they had other things to worry about once it was clear you would live

Like your memories, for example, or his own feelings of inadequacy when it came to giving you a life worth bringing you back into

By the time life had reached a rhythm that left them space to breathe and think again, they'd already adjusted

He's naturally quick to adapt - and physical appearance never mattered much to him anyway. Finding out you couldn't walk as far as you used to was better than when you couldn't walk at all

Unfortunately, them not noticing your appearance (beyond thinking it's cute) makes it harder for them to recognize how other people react to your appearance. They're fairly oblivious to outside opinions (just look at that big hat they consider "subtle")

So when you express any kind of distaste with the way you look, he's a little surprised, if not blindsided. He's quick to teach you glamor and temperature spells when you do, though

They only really see the Red Plague on you when the lighting hits your face at an odd angle or when they're watching your hands

And when he does notice, all he feels now is admiration. He brought you back, but your resilience goes beyond his imagination

Nadia

She doesn't have any memories of the Red Plague - not when she first meets you, at least, at that point everything from her arrival in Vesuvia to waking up three months prior is missing

But it drives the point home to her that you're someone who has suffered and survived in ways she can't comprehend

She's initially a little overcautious. Once she knows for certain that you're somebody she wants to work closely with, she's not sure how best to broach the subject beyond asking if you're cold or tired

Very interested in what your life is like once you do start talking about it - it tells her about you as a person, but it also gives her insight about how the people of Vesuvia remember the Red Plague

Can relate more than a little bit to the loneliness

Goes above and beyond when it comes to providing for your needs

Your permanent fever is making you chilly? She's got blankets and scarves and cloaks and slippers to wrap you up in

Your throat hurts? She's got plenty of tea

You'd prefer to cover your eyes and hands? She can commission a pair of gloves that fit like a second skin and don't inhibit your functioning in any way. Also, sunglasses are trendy now

You're tired? She'll work somewhere you can snooze nearby

Won't stand for anyone treating you poorly because of it

Muriel

He sees your symptoms the same way he sees his own scars

He didn't ask for them, they're a permanent marker of his pain, and the sight of them is enough to drastically affect how people treat him (his imposing size and RBF not taken into account)

And you're the same way, when it comes to your appearance

Of course, you're also the opposite from him in many ways. You get tired easily, and he's sturdily built. You're always getting cold, and he's always too warm. You belong somewhere and he doesn't

Until you two travel together and become Morga's students. Then you have a similar problem on your hands:

She won't stop commenting on both of your appearances!

Between her tying Muriel's hair up where it can't cover his face, and telling you to use your looks to scare enemies in battle, you're both a little lost for words

That's it, that's how you bond, you're both feeling a little too seen and a little underappreciated

Plus, with you constantly feeling cold from the permanent fever, you really need his body heat as you travel further south and his heart is too soft to deny you (you're like a shivering, red chick)

In the end, he doesn't care about your appearance beyond appreciating it as a marker of how you got this far

Portia

Yeah, so she wasn't around for the Red Plague

She doesn't have any frame of reference for what it was like beyond the nightmarish descriptions she hears from other Palace staff, about walking corpses and blood soaked hands

So when she first sees you, someone who acts and appears perfectly healthy beyond having a slightly hoarse voice and wearing more layers than normal, she assumes it's a magic thing

Is it because you use your magic so constantly, it leaves trails where it courses through your hands or assists your sight? Is your skin extra warm because you breathe fire??

Do your scleras turn other colors too???

She's a little surprised to find out that you're the only known survivor of the Red Plague (besides her brother) and that that's why you have those symptoms

Come to think of it, that's kind of badass. You have her respect

She intuitively understands how that must change your life socially, though, and she goes out of her way to help you make connections and smooth over any public fear

She's also got a strong nurturing instinct and loves to fuss over you, keeping you cozy and well rested and fed

Pepi loves your high body temperature

Lucio

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

That's it, it's bad enough for him to look at you as a ghost and be confronted with what he knows for a fact is his fault

But it's even worse when he realizes that this is what the body he was supposed to revive himself with ended up becoming: permanently marked by the plague he spent decades outrunning

And it makes him afraid that he'll look like this too, if he makes it back from his horrific goat form in one piece

His fears change as he gets to know you, of course. It goes from not wanting to end up like you to not wanting you to know that how you ended up was his fault

But it also makes it even more real to him how important it is to address the past, even though he doesn't want to

He's not able to look at you without wincing until you leave Vesuvia, after putting things right. It feels too much like the past

Once you do, though, and begin life as journeymen, Lucio gets to find a world that the Plague hasn't touched yet, and that also means getting to see you in a context of your own choosing

He's always been partial to the color red, anyways

And with how much he hates the cold, sleeping next to you is fantastic with your elevated body temp

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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darkjazzpunk · 1 year

Text

Overworking (BaizhuxReader)

Prompt: 'Muse lands in your lap'

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It was a rough day for Bubu Pharmacy. The cold-season had started with three days of harsh weather changes. So there were even more patients in the Pharmacy than expected.

Gui did his best, taking care of every order and handling the smaller cases of barometric headaches and people who were known for 'overreacting'. Qiqi gathered herbs as fast as her little body could and was paid every time with a fresh bottle of coconut milk when you met her and took the ingredients from her before rushing back to the imposing building.

Baizhu did his best to diagnose everyone as fast as he could while also being thoroughly, asking patients to come back later if there's no improvement and bribing children way more generously with candy to get them to take their medicine without throwing a fit.

You worked yourself up the many stairs and stopped abruptly when you saw that there was no waiting line. Did something happen, or was this just the golden moment for a break before the next wave of customers boarded the Pharmacy? With fast steps, you walked inside and looked around before Baizhu noticed you with a gentle but forced smile:" Y/n! There you are. Just lay the herbs down over there and take a seat. I have a bad feeling that this wasn't all, but we should take a break together as long as we can." His hands still busy writing prescriptions while also sorting the herbs you just delivered.

"As long as you take a break too. I know you…" you said as you set down on one of the stools behind the counter, breathing heavily. The green haired Pharmacist waved his hand in a soothing motion at you and darts into the storeroom, out again into the entrance room checking some drawers before he walked back into his office. You just shook your head at him. Everyone in the Pharmacy knew about his weak constitution, and yet he seemed the only one acting absolutely oblivious to it. Especially now, with Changsheng being busy shedding her skin. Otherwise, she would give him a piece of her mind and be it in front of patients!

Gui came back with a tea-set in his hands and eyed carefully into the direction of the office, then at you. He put the tray down and armed himself for scolding his Boss, but before he could head into his direction the Doctor came out of his office already, paler than usual and walked past you before muttering:" I…I'm…alright…, just a sec…" before falling backwards.

"Xiangsheng!"

"Baizh...!"

You could just pull his body to you, so he landed in your lap instead of the hard floor. His head landed in the crook of your neck and you felt his slow breath.

Gui was about to help you to take his weight off you, but you shushed him kindly. Baizhu was alarmingly light, you thought, before putting your arm over his thighs to secure him further. Him fainting wasn't something too uncommon to the four of you, so you knew there was no need to panic as long as his breathing was normal, and he didn't hit something hard on his way down. You took a deep breath and checked his pulse. Everything 'normal'.

A few minutes past in silence. His assistant watched you shyly: "Say when he gets too heavy for you, I go get his medicine." And with that he walked into his Chef's office. As he was gone, the other man moved in your lap, lifted his head a bit before letting it fall back down. He had already woken up a few seconds after he had fainted.

"How embarassing..."

"That's the punishment for you not taking a break when needed, Doctor. It seems what they say is true: Doctors are the worst patients imaginable."

You pushed him closer to you. You didn't want him to see how red your cheeks were from him breathing into your neck constantly. And you didn't want him to run around again without taking a break! And maybe, just maybe, you liked the feeling of holding him in your lap like this…

"Make sure to slow down next time or I'll make sure you land face first in my lap! Did you hear me?!" your voice was a silent yell.

"Loud and clear, little Lotus." was his answer while he pushed his mouth close enough to your neck that his lips were brushing your skin with every word, making you blush even deeper than before. You wanted to scold him for it, but a high-pitched snarling intervened you two:

"Tell me your two are jussst making out!

Did he faint again?! Boneheaded fool!

Not one week you can handle yourssself alone!

How did you ssurvive this long without me?

And you two! I told you to put him in his place if he actsss up!

Where is this submisssive asssistant anyway?!

..."

#Baizhu #genshin impact #fluff #baizhu x reader #writing practice #genshin impact baizhu #fainting snek dotor #changsheng #genshin impact fluff #pre baizhu release

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ladylooch · 3 months

Text

20 Weeks- Miles Wood

A/N: Today, we are checking in on Miles and Kailey after an angsty request for this AU from 👢 anon.

Word Count: 1.6k

Shot in the Dark series page is here.

Hey, are you on your way home? We have to leave in 15.

Babe? Can you please answer?

Okay, I’m just going to assume you’re meeting me there? I’m heading to the clinic.

Miles, I’m checking in at the clinic. Please tell me you are coming.

Kailey stares at the blue bubbles of her iMessages to her husband. The cursor blinks in the text box almost mocking her about sending him another text. She can clearly see the purple half moon that says his iPhone is on Do Not Disturb. He does this for practice- all the boys do, so their phones aren’t going off during coaching meetings or video sessions. Professionally hockey is a business after all.

But she thought Miles had updated his settings so her notifications got through. At least he told her he had after she became pregnant and they moved to a new state where they only had each other.

Clearly that wasn’t the case.

Kailey clicks her phone closed, stuffing it into the pocket of her thick, winter jacket. She folds her fingers together between her knees, legs bouncing as she looks towards the clinic door to the left. She scans the windows looking out at the parking lot too, not seeing his car turning in.

I guess she will be doing their 20 week scan alone.

A dense lump forms in her throat as she takes in the other women in the waiting room with her. They are all in various stages of pregnancy, most with partners except for her and one other woman who is waiting for a different patient to finish. The realization of everyone having someone here except for her makes it all worse.

“Kailey?” A nurse calls. Kailey hikes up her purse, glancing over her shoulder one more time to see if she can see him coming. But Miles still isn't there.

“No dad today?” The nurse asks immediately, grabbing the labels Kailey was giving at check in. Miles had been at the other two appointments.

“Uh, no.”

“Out of town?”

“Um…” Kailey trails off, pursing her lips. “He got caught up at work.”

“No problem! I’ll let the front desk know he might be coming, so they can show him back to where we are.” Kailey nods, taking the medical cup the nurse extends for her standard sample. She waddles into the bathroom, doing what needs to be done before rejoining the nurse in the hall. After taking her weight, blood pressure and pulse, Kailey is taken to the lab to pull blood work too. Finally, she is settled into the crinkly sheet covered table with the ultrasound technician.

“Okay! Before we start, do you want to know the gender?”

“Yes, but can you write it down? We want to do it privately.”

“Of course! I’ll let you know when I’m going over that area and I’ll have you close your eyes.”

“Okay.” Kailey nods, bringing her sweater up to just below her breasts, exposing her growing bump. “I feel so much bigger than 20 weeks.” Kailey jokes as the gel is squeezed onto her stomach. Her pulse quickens, feeling anxious and excited all at the same time.

“Yeah, the care team want us to check in on the size of the baby.”

“I should not of had sex with a literal giant.” She chuckles.

“We love who we love.”

How true that is, even when he is missing one of the biggest milestones of her pregnancy.

The ultrasound is long and detailed. The technician clicks buttons every few seconds, taking a large amount of snapshots of the baby. Once she is done with an area, she begins to explain.

“Heart looks fabulous. No worries there.”

“The baby is measuring pretty big for your anticipated due date.”

“Spine and neck look great. No weird curves or under development happening.”

A knock sounds on the door. The technician stands, opening and peeking out.

“Hi, dad is here!” The nurse from earlier says.

“Oh great!” She exclaims, stepping to the side.

Miles walks in, looking incredible out of breath, with wind whipped cheeks and an extremely apologetic look on his face.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry, babe.” He runs around to the opposite side of the table. He quickly shrugs his jacket off, tossing it onto the back of his chair. The metal scrapes against the tiled floor as he settles in next to her. He eagerly reaches for her hand, but Kailey doesn’t hold his hand back. Her fingers stay limp in his grasp.

“So, as I was telling mom, spine, neck, and heart look good so far.” The technician repeats. Miles squeezes Kailey’s hand as she watches the screen, avoiding his gaze.

“That is great. We should double check the brain. They’re half me.” Miles jokes.

The technician laughs. Kailey doesn’t. Miles chews harder on his gum, then brings her hand up to his mouth to kiss. He drops kisses here every few moments as the rest of the scan is completed. The last item is the gender, which Kailey and Miles both close their eyes for. The technician writes the word on a piece of paper, then tucks it into an envelope for safe keeping until it is time. The envelope gets tucked into Kailey’s purse by Miles.

“Any questions? Everything looks great. The baby is measuring a little large, so we will have to keep an eye on that as you get farther along. But nothing of concern at this point.”

“I don’t have questions.” Kailey responds.

“I’m good.” Miles confirms.

“Great! I will let you get cleaned up. You are free to go once you’re ready.” The room is quiet until the door shuts behind her.

“Baby, I am so sorry. I completely forgot the appointment was today.” Miles says as Kailey uses the paper towel to wipe off the gel.

“I’m really upset.” She states matter of factly.

“It was not intentional. I thought it was tomorrow.”

“No, it is not tomorrow because have a game. My appointment would have bled over into your pre-game routine, so being the loving wife that I am, I made the appointment purposefully on an off-day for your convenience.”

“I know. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I’m sure I worried you too. I dropped the ball. I’ll make it up to you.” Kailey laughs, blinking in disbelief.

“Good luck.” Miles faces drops deadly serious.

“Babe, I am trying. This is still a whirlwind to me.”

“Are you?” She snorts. “Wow, I feel so bad for how hard my pregnancy is for you. If this is you trying, we have bigger problems than I thought.” A whirlwind to him? Like his body is the one changing every second of every day. Like he is the one who has to grapple so hard with this reality of never being the same again? He has months left to prepare. She didn’t get that choice.

Kailey swings her legs off to the side and jumps down, passing on Miles’ offer to help. She shoves her sweater back down, then walks to put her jacket back on. She tries to get the buttons closed, but it refused because of her belly. She leaves it open then grabs her belt bag, tossing it over her head. She rips open the door to the room, then turns to the right to head back to the lobby. Miles’ sneakered feet scrape the carpet which is her only indication that he is following.

“What were you even doing after practice? What was so important that you couldn’t check your phone?” She suddenly whirls around at him when they enter the parking lot.

“I… stayed on the ice longer working with Ross on a few things.” Nothing would have made it better to Kailey, but imagining her worrying about him while he was messing around on the ice with his teammate infuriates her further.

“Great! Good for you. So glad you and your buddy had fun this afternoon while I worried you were dead in a ditch.” She snaps, then rips the driver’s side door open of her car. She slides in. “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you going home?” Miles asks through the window.

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll find out when you get there.” Then she throws the car in reverse, leaving Miles standing in the parking lot, watching her leave.

- - -

Nothing made Kailey feel better during her hours out of their apartment. Not the Passion Fruit Lemonade from Starbucks. Or the Shake Shack cheeseburger. Or the new shoes she found at DSW. She was still upset when she came home to Miles cooking dinner for them as the sun was setting behind the mountains.

“Hey.” He calls to her as she walks in. Kailey mumbles a greeting. She tosses her new shoes into their entryway closet, then shrugs off her too small jacket. “I heard you today.” Miles says as he grabs the jacket from her. He puts is on the hanger. He looks annoyingly handsome in his professional kitchen apron with pockets and nice leather straps. “I will be better than this. It’s what you two deserve.” Kailey looks at him, studying his apologetic stature. She heard him too, but she can’t help how angry she feels looking at him right now.

“I wish you had cared enough about this appointment to show up on time.”

“Kails, I did care.”

“How do you expect me to believe that? Especially when your actions said everything else. You literally showed up twenty minutes after it started! I was mostly done. Did you go home first and were like huh, wonder why she isn’t here? Instead of checking your phone the moment you could!? What if something happened to me, Miles?” The intense lines of his face get deeper as he frowns harder. He shakes his head slightly, having no answer for her.

“You’re gonna be someone’s dad in 4 months. But more importantly than that, right now you’re someone’s husband. I depend on you to show up when you say you will. Don’t make me learn how to do this without you because I fucking will.”

Kailey walks down the hall to their bedroom. She opens and shuts the door, then bursts into silent sobs.

#shot in the dark au #Miles Wood x OC #miles wood imagine #hockey writing #my writing #nhl fan fiction #NHL writing #NHL fic

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pedroshotwifey · 4 months

Text

Favorite Bounty chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab!bounty!reader

Chapter word count: 7.3k

Chapter summary: Being on the run is harder than you thought...

Chapter tags/warnings: angst, canon-typical violence, cliffhangers bc I like chaos, stuff I'm forgetting

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so, so sorry this took so long to get out! I think I had gotten used to writing shorter fics, so doing a long chapter was just kind of a pain for me. I'm super happy to get this updated though. Gonna go ahead and say that this will likely be a short series with less than ten chapters purely because of the length of each one, but that's not set in stone. If this is your first time reading this series, there are four parts before this! <3

****

It’s easy to get lost in the crowd once you step off the Crest. Mando had landed fairly close to the open market but, unfortunately, a good bit away from the spaceport. You immediately get sucked into the throng of people browsing the shops, your heart pounding hard against your ribs. The only thought that settles your ridiculous pulse is that you must be pretty damn hard to find mixed in with this lot. Though, of course, you know Mando, and you know that if he really wanted to spot you, he would. Bounty hunting fucking bastard.

You can't help but look over your shoulder every couple of minutes. Each time you do so, you fully expect to see Mando trailing behind you, cuffs in hand. You choose to ignore the pang of hurt in your chest when you think about him—about how easily he betrayed you. It didn’t even seem like he gave it a second thought. You curse yourself for dwelling on the issue and shake your head. You can't afford to waste time on facts you have already accepted.

You stumble as a man knocks into your shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts and making you lose your balance. You narrowly miss running into a woman holding hands with a young boy as you struggle to keep yourself up. You flash her a sorry look in response to her dirty one. You really need to figure out where you’re supposed to be going. You’re unfamiliar with Nevarro’s layout so you have no idea what direction you should go.

You walk straight for a few minutes before you decide that isn’t going to get you anywhere. This part of the planet is so ridiculously congested that there's no point in even moving your feet if you don’t have a set path. There's no telling which way you might be swept. kriff, a few minutes from now, you might realize that you had been traveling in a circle, and hadn’t even noticed.

Deciding that you would like to avoid such a circumstance, you push your way out to the side of the crowd so you can find somewhere to get a better view. You have to be quick about it—you know you’re low on time as it is, you can’t waste precious seconds trying to figure out a game-plan. You need to come up with a quick and easy route in a quick and easy fashion.

Fortunately, as you push your way out of the heated blob of people, you spot a building that looks easy enough to get on top of. It's not super high up, so you won’t attract any unwanted attention, but it’s just tall enough for you to be able to spot the space-port.

You figure it’s the best plan you’re going to be able to think of for now, so you quickly scramble to the side of the building, stopping in front of the ladder that goes all the way up to the top. Grabbing the first wrung, you begin to climb up, glancing back every now and out of paranoia. Of course, Mando’s never there, but you can’t help but check just in case.

On the roof, you find that it’s easy—just as you suspected—to spot the port over the thousands of people. You easily map out a path before rushing back down the ladder. It shouldn’t take too long to get to the port, most of the roads you picked out were clear of people for the most part.

Once your feet are back on the ground, you take off toward the first turn in your plan. It looks pretty busy, but from here it should be smooth sailing.

You become part of the market crowd the second you turn onto the street. Your jaw drops at the sight of so many people in one place. And you had thought there had been a lot of people around the crest… that was nothing. It definitely didn’t look like that many people from above.

The throng of people is quick to take you into its embrace as you hastily make your way into the streets filled to the brim with shops. Everywhere you look, there is some kind of cart or stand offering some kind of merchandise. You ignore it all as you try to push your way through the crowd.

It’s a bit hard to do when there are vendors shouting in your ear and popping out in front of you, making you stop briefly as they shove their product in your face. You resist the urge to push people out of your way. You really don’t have the time—or patience—for this right now, but you don’t need to draw unwanted attention.

You look for signs posted with directions, letting them guide you until you’re able to push your way out of the main strip and into a less crowded street. You let out a breath of relief as you take in your surroundings, noticing the port close by. It’s not a straight shot, but it should only take you another few minutes or so.

You try to stay discreet as you cling to sides of buildings and use hanging awnings for cover. It’s surprisingly hard to act nonchalant and unsuspicious if you’re trying too hard to do so. Having a price on your head is a real pain in the ass.

Adrenaline starts to sneak into your system as you grow close enough to the ships to decide which one to take. You need to be quick and choose one that will be leaving within the next few minutes. You know well enough to be aware of the fact that security will start to check passengers if there’s word of an escaped bounty. You can feel your breath starting to grow thinner and your body getting hotter.

There’s a passenger ship near the back of the port. It seems smart enough to catch something like that so you don’t seem like you’re, well, on the run. You look around again before starting that way, breezing past people to find the line for tickets. You cross your fingers that there will be spots available on such short notice.

As you approach the stand, you discover that there are only a few people waiting to purchase a seat. By the time you’re standing still, there’s only one person in front of you. A warm feeling rushes through your body, making you almost light-headed. You’re so close to escaping. Nobody ever does that.

“Next!”

You take a breath as you step up, trying to calm your nerves.

“Hi, I need to get one ticket to…” you glance at the sign hanging from the stand. “Coruscant.” You wince internally. That probably isn't the best place to go in this situation, but at least you’ll be off of this planet.

The woman looks at you skeptically, obviously confused by why you didn’t even know where the ship would be going. You flash her what you hope is a disarming smile as she squints and tells you your total none-the-less.

You quickly swing your bag around and unzip it, pulling out your money. You’re handing it over when you hear your name called from behind you.

Your heart drops to your ass as you turn, wide eyed, to see Mando running full speed at you. You don’t even have a second to think before you’re running too, scanning the area in front of you for an escape route.

Curses repeat themselves endlessly in your panicked mind as you spy a ship getting ready to depart. It’s beat up and seedy looking, but it’s also likely your only chance. With one more glance behind you, you turn sharply to the left and make a bee-line for your escape.

You try to focus on your breathing instead of the Mandalorian quickly gaining on you. The ship you’re headed toward is already starting to descend, and you just about triple your efforts.

You hear your name again, and it makes you wince. A dull throb starts in your chest. Being this close in proximity with Mando again, but now as official enemies, hurts in a way you didn’t think was possible.

You’ve been betrayed before, but not in such an intimate way. The fact that he pretended to have genuine interest in you—to engage in sexual acts with you—when he knew the entire time that he would be turning you in for a reward, digs deep into your chest like a rusted knife.

Tears are obstructing your vision before you can deny them, but you push through until you’re only a few feet away from your ship. The gangplank is still open about halfway, but it should be enough for you to squeeze through by the time you reach it. It’s maybe five feet in the air right now, so it’s going to be tough to get up there.

Mando is only a few feet behind you now. You lunge for the plank with everything you have, and your fingers grasp on by just a few inches, the jagged metal stinging as you pull up enough to get both arms up.

You look at the ground, seeing Mando coming to a stop from where you just jumped. You’re up too high now for him to jump after you, but you forget he has his jetpack until it comes to life. You scramble up the plank as it continues closing to avoid getting cut in half.

In the end, it’s your only saving grace. You and Mando are able to see each other face to helmet briefly before you’re closed inside, and you make sure to let him see the raw anguish on your face before it does so. You almost wish he had that stupid helmet off so you could see for yourself if the asshole has any kind of remorse.

A shuddering breath escapes from your lips as you wipe your tears. You turn around on your knees to examine the ship. It’s dark, dingy, and smells absolutely horrid. There’s no crew in sight, to your absolute relief.

Resisting the urge to gag at the stench, you begin to crawl quietly away from the closed hatch. There are crates everywhere, taking as much floor space as possible and stacked as high as they can go. You’re confused for a moment as to why there needs to be so much product on board, but then a heavy realization dawns on you.

These chests are filled with spice.

You’ve seen these come in at your job at the junkyard. Old ones that had surpassed any kind of use for runners. Never in your life though, have you ever seen so many in one place. You absentmindedly hold your breath as you crawl forward, trying to find a place to hide.

You stop in your tracks when you hear laughter coming from the cockpit—at least two men.

Shitshitshitshitshit

There’s no getting out of this if you’re discovered. Your heart races in your chest as fear overtakes your body. You really can’t seem to catch a fucking break, can you?

You look around frantically until you see a small space toward the ceiling. It’s partially covered by a crate, which will make it harder to get to, but better for hiding. You scootch to the end of the crate you’re currently behind, peeking your head out just enough to make sure the hull is clear.

As soon as you’re in the clear, you bolt as quickly and quietly as you can toward the concealed space. As you approach, you map out the notches and grooves you’re going to use to climb up there.

Step by shaky step, you pull yourself up, ignoring the stinging cuts in your hands and forearms from the plank. They’re not very deep or wide, but the strain on them hurts almost just as much.

The crate at the top wobbles as you put all of your weight on it, the entire stack swaying slightly. Your eyes flutter shut as you mutter a silent prayer. It’s much too precarious for your liking as you swing one leg onto the edge of the cubby. You’re way too close for this plan to fail now.

You’re only able to take a full breath once your entire body is safely tucked within the small space. It’s cozy, barely enough room for you to sit comfortably. You don’t even think it’s big enough to lay down if you wanted to.

Chatting and laughter continues from the front of the ship as you slowly pull the crate in front of you to conceal you better. It’s heavy as hell and you have to nudge it inch by inch so as to not make a screeching sound against the one below it.

Once you’re satisfied with the placement, you lean back against the cold metal wall behind you. Now that the exhaustion is beginning to seep into your bones, you can’t help but think that the feeling reminds you of sitting in the Razor Crest.

You don’t stop the tears that run down your cheeks now. You deserve to cry after the week you’ve had.

****

You realize much too late that you have no idea where this ship could be going, nor how long it’s going to take to get there. You have food and water in your bag, but you don’t know how you’re supposed to go about your other…needs.

Thankfully, it seems that the destination is close enough to only be in hyperspace for what you assume was about half the day. You’re half asleep when you feel the tell-tale jerk of the ship coming out of it. It startles you enough to wake up the rest of the way, and you silently scold yourself for letting your guard down for so long—though you can’t remember exactly when you last got some decent sleep.

The ship rattles as it cuts through the atmosphere of whatever planet it’s dropping this shit off at. The thought crossed your mind at one point that you could have possibly inhaled some of the spice lingering in the air.

How great would that be? Trying to plead guilty of whatever crime you supposedly committed and then failing a drug test. Really screams “I’m innocent!” You roll your eyes, tired of your brain making up scenarios to throw you through more hoops.

The ship stops rattling after a moment, and you can feel the glide as it lowers to the ground. The crates rattle once again as the ship plants itself. The walls of the craft creak and groan as a swaying starts, which is strange considering you’ve definitely landed.

The motion makes you sick to your stomach, but it’s almost a welcome distraction from the fact that you’re about to piss yourself. You need to find a way off of this death-trap before one of the runners discovers you.

You hear the gangplank starting to lower, and as it does, a gust of heavy rain pushes into the hull. A cold spray hits your face, making you flinch and cover yourself with your arm. From the sliver of scenery you can see, the sky appears to be dark, but not enough so for it to be night.

You’ve heard about places like this; planets that storm every day of the year and never see the sunlight. They’re usually only used for fishermen, junk yards, and spots for spice traders to meet up. Which absolutely makes sense at the moment.

You back into the cubby as much as you can, making yourself scarce as two men walk out of the ship and into the dreadful weather. They appear to be dressed for it, both of them wearing rubber boots and thick raincoats. You watch them until they’re out of sight, and then wait a few minutes before climbing back down to the floor.

You get low, bending enough to be concealed by the chests until you get to the opening of the ship. You let out a breath of relief upon seeing that there’s no threat anywhere near at the moment. You’re so sick of luck not being on your side. This is definitely a welcome change.

The rain is bone-chilling as you step out into it, immediately soaking you. It’s so thick that you can barely see in front of you. A couple buildings are within view every couple of seconds when there’s a break in the sheets of rain due to the heavy wind. With no other options, you decide to head that way.

As you trek through the unforgiving storm, you can’t help but compare the way the fat drops of water hit your face to being cut by shards of glass. Though even if you were being cut, you would never be able to tell with how fast the blood would be washed from your numb skin.

When you reach the closest building, you don’t waste a second before pushing the door open. The loud atmosphere of a cantina immediately welcomes you into its warmth. Despite the heat, you still shiver as you make your way through the main room and to the back. You rush into the bathroom and wait until a stall empties.

As you wait, you get a couple strange looks, but you’re too tired to do anything about it. You just want to pee and find some directions to get the hell out of this place.

****

When you get out of the restroom, you spot an empty stool wedged between a burly looking man with a beard and a plump woman who seems to have had one or a dozen too many. Every other spot is full, so you hop up and lean forward, trying to catch the bartender’s attention.

She works quickly, cleaning glasses in between serving replacements and taking orders. It takes a moment for her to come your way, but when she does, you have her full attention.

“What can I get you, hon?”

The bartender is a clean but busy looking woman with frizzy hair and a stained apron. You clock the kindness in her eyes immediately, and decide to put your trust in her. She looks like one of those women who would offer up a pad or tampon even if it was her last one.

“Hi, uh, I’m actually not looking for a drink,” you say, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You’re not sure if it’s there due to the cold, the exhaustion, or the anxiety. “Can you tell me–”

You stop talking when the woman purses her lips and shakes her head.

“Sorry, babe, I can’t hear you over this damn ruckus,” she gestures to the people around you, and then points to a corner where you assume the entrance to the bar is. “Meet me right there.” At least she can tell you’re not here to party.

You slide down from your stool and squeeze your way to where she pointed. She’s already there when you get there. She’s taken her apron off, which confuses you slightly.

“Hey, I–”

“Honey, you need to get out of here,” she cuts you off, hanging up her apron.

“What, why?” You ask through your stomach dropping. She flashes you a sympathetic look and you return a defeated one. You’re so fucking tired. How long are you going to have to put up with this shit?

“Bounty Hunter’s Guild just sent out a high stakes bounty warning. Picture looked just like you, babe.” She raises her eyebrows and gives you a pointed look.

You nod at her. Great, so not only do you have pucks out for any hunter that’s willing to find you, but every being in the galaxy has gotten an alert to look out for you.

“Yup, That would be me.”

“Mhm, figured. C’mon, let's get you out of this place. I’ve got somewhere you can stay until you can get off-world.” She exits from behind the bar and takes your hand, attempting to pull you with her.

You give her a wary look, confused as to why she’s helping you.

“How do I know you’re not turning me in?”

“Humor me for a second, just come outside at least. Please?” She stops and looks at you, a pleading look in her eyes.

You lick your lips but decide to follow her. It really doesn’t seem like she wishes you any harm, but you can’t be sure—you never would have thought Mando would, after all. Just outside, like she said. No further until she spills.

You allow her to pull you back the way you came, into the rain, and then down an alley next to the bar. There’s a flickering street lamp tucked under an awning between the two buildings, which the two of you huddle beneath.

“Look, I’m gonna make this quick,” the woman says before you have a chance to speak. She pauses and watches you intently. You nod at her, signaling for her to continue.

“I know how this bounty hunting shit is. My sister was hunted for a good while because she was seen outside the scene of a robbery. She was just a pedestrian, but she got taken in and questioned pretty thoroughly and then ended up spending a few nights in a cell. It’s fucked, to put it simply.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” you tell her, your voice cracking just slightly as you shake your head. She gives you that same sympathetic look from the bar.

“I know. I read the reasoning for your bounty. It was bantha-shit.”

“Great,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re well aware that 90% of the population doesn’t care about that—all they’ll see is the pay for turning you in.

“There’s a place on the outside of the city, it’s been abandoned for a couple years. I’m pretty sure the heat and water are still connected, but nobody ever goes there. It’s an outdated complex. You okay with staying there for a bit?”

You nod at her, not knowing what else to say. Maybe a thank you? She’s talking again before you get the chance to do that though.

“Alright, you stay here for just a second,” she instructs before running back into the bar. You lean up against the building, listening to the rain as you let out a shuddering breath. The woman is only gone for a few seconds before she re-emerges with a piece of paper in her hand.

“These are the instructions to get there from here,” she says, grabbing your hand and shoving the paper into it. “I’m here if you need me, but please don’t try anything if you don’t have to.”

You look at her, and then the paper, studying the scratchy writing.

“Thank you, really,” you tell her. She just nods and releases your hand with a tight-lipped smile.

“Be safe, hon,” she says before ducking back into the bar.

The trek to the safe house is absolutely miserable. Everything on your body is soaked down, and the paper the woman gave you was starting to fall apart. You had to keep ducking under buildings and awnings to memorize what you could of the directions.

You’re glad you did, because by the time you reach the place, the paper is non-legible. The building itself is pretty isolated. It appears to have been apartments at one point, but is now just a tall junkyard. There’s piles upon piles of trash around it, but you suppose that only gives more of a reason for people to not go inside.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You run up to the first door you see, and curse when you try to pull it open. It’s locked, of fucking course.

You walk around to the side of the building until you see a window that’s not boarded up. Your palms slip against it as you try to get some leverage to push it up, but with some persistence, it comes loose. You almost fall when it springs up, but at least it’s towards the room inside.

You glance behind you one more time before pushing yourself in. You close the window behind you and take a deep breath as the deafening storm is somewhat quitened. It’s cold in the room you find yourself in, but it’s far better than being out in that shit.

Looking around, you spot a stove surrounded by counter space, hanging cabinets, and a small, round table accompanied by four outdated chairs. Definitely a kitchen. There’s what appears to be a hall to your right. You walk toward it, trying to hold back your shivering.

It’s not super long, but you notice how eerily quiet it is as you walk though. On the other side, there’s a room with a bed and a couch. There are three doors, which you can only assume lead to a bathroom, a closet, and the main hall of the building.

You open the first door, which goes out into the hall. It sends a gust of even colder air into the room, making your teeth chatter as it envelops your wet body. You look left and right, and then reluctantly step into the freezing hallway. It’s dark as shit, but the occasional uncovered window allows enough—albeit dim—lighting to lead you toward the stairwell.

There’s a sign tacked on the wall there, and you sigh with relief as you spot the directions to the maintenance room. That must be where you can flip the heat on. It’s not far, just down the first staircase and down the hall a little. Without the windows, the room is even darker than the rest of the building.

You mutter a curse under your breath, figuring that your best bet is going to be blindly running your hands around the walls until you find a switch. You put your hands out and start to glide them slowly left to right, and then up and down until you find an abnormality in the wall.

You shudder, trying to ignore the cobwebs that have accumulated on the panel which are now sticking to your hands. As long as they’re not spiders, it’s okay. You hesitantly flip the first one, and then the second. Nothing happens in your area, but you swear you hear a click come from one of the floors above you.

In quick succession, you flip the rest of the switches, and a light finally comes above you once you reach the second to last one. You huff out a breathy laugh at your luck. Now that you aren’t in total darkness, you can clearly see the other panels around you, along with their labels.

You flip the switch for water, and then another for heat. A low humming starts above you as you do so, indicating that at least the latter is working.

A piping hot shower and half a ration bar later, you’re laying on top of a bed under a heater, still trying to warm up. You feel the most relaxed you have since you found your bounty puck, although it still isn’t enough to fall asleep without keeping an eye open. Eventually, though, the humming from the heating system lulls you enough to fall into a half-sleep.

****

You spend three days on what you’ve learned is Attera Bravo before you run out of luck. Word of a Mandalorian bounty hunter is quickly spread, and you catch wind of such as you pay a visit to town for more rations. The panic which had ebbed away after the last few days is suddenly back in full force.

You really thought you would have a second to catch your breath, but you’re quickly learning that there is no such thing when there’s a price on your head. While you’re in town, you pick up a few rations on the outskirts, and that’s it. You had wanted to find a rain jacket on your trip, but you decide not to risk being in town for too long.

So you begin to make the trip back to the safe house without a cover from the cold, biting rain. It sucks ass, but it’s better than carbonite. Even though you’re on the outskirts, you still hug the sides of buildings as you make your exit. Your head keeps snapping towards the slightest movements; a flickering street lamp, a closing door, a flash of far away lightning.

You break off into a sprint as soon as you’re a few feet away from the cover of the nearest building. You don’t look back as you push yourself, not wanting to risk slowing down. All you can see is the terrifying image of Mando catching up with you like he did on Nevarro.

You glance at the spaceport as you run past, seeing if you can get a glimpse of the Razor Crest. You don’t see it, but that’s probably for the best. There’s no mistaking that the Mandalorian bounty hunter the town’s people are talking about is your Mandalorian bounty hunter, but seeing the Crest would probably crack something within you. That would mean that the kid is likely with him, and you can’t afford to think about him right now.

You can hear your heavy breaths over the sound of the rain, and you choose to focus on that instead of the icy chill. You try to take breaths in through your nose to calm yourself, but you just get a nose full of water, so you scratch that and continue your panicked breaths through your mouth.

Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out, breath in–

Your breath hitches. There’s a buzz coming from behind you, steadily growing louder. You spare a glance over your shoulder, and you can just make out the headlights of what looks to be a speeder bike. The pathetic “no” that leaves your mouth would be extremely embarrassing if anyone were around to hear it.

You try to pick up your pace, but almost trip with your effort. The bike is getting closer, you don’t have to look again to know. There’s no way you’re going to outrun it. You have an idea, but it’s going to be risky. You grit your teeth, thinking it over, and decide that the risk is better than definitely getting caught.

You stop suddenly, just for a second, until the bike is almost to you. Then you turn around, seeing Mando atop it, only a bit away. He didn’t anticipate your stop, and doesn’t register the fact that he needs to slow down until you’re running past him and back toward town.

You don’t get much of a head start, but luckily the space port is still close enough that it’s not absolutely necessary. As soon as you’re close enough, you dive around a crate to get out of the way of the speeder. Mando arrives right behind you, quick to hop off it and start on foot after you.

You make your way to where you remember the ship you came on had landed. The last time you passed here, you remember seeing the gangplank open. Either they make routine stops, or they’re here for a while. Either way, it means that your escape will be aided by the same ship that helped you the first time.

By some incredible luck, it’s still there. There’s a group of relatively shady people gathered a few yards away from it, standing under a wing of another ship, but you’re getting used to dealing with shady things at this point. You run past them, not intending to stop until you’re alone without the threat of Mando.

Without stopping to turn around or even check if there are people in the ship, you run up the plank, slamming your palm over the button to close it behind you. You hear a couple panicked “Hey”s from behind you, which you can only assume is the protests of the guys who own this ship. You run into the cockpit, which is thankfully empty.

You start to flick switches and pull knobs, everything you can try to get this thing off the ground in the fastest amount of time. If you learned anything on the Crest, it’s how to work a ship’s panel. You hear pangs coming from the closing door, and look out the window to see that half of the group from earlier has run off, and are likely the source of the sound.

You looked out just in time to see your Mandalorian coming to a stop in front of the other half of the group, who are blocking him from getting further toward you. You huff out a tiny laugh. Take that, asshole. The ship starts to ascend just as Mando throws his first punch.

****

Once you’re back into space, your heart gets the memo that it can stop working overtime. You decide you’ll just cruise for a bit while you figure out where the best place to go would be—assuming Mando will be occupied with his opponents below for a moment. It needs to be somewhere pretty isolated and unknown for the most part, but also not painfully obvious.

You consider going back to Jakku for a moment, but scratch that idea quickly. You would for sure be turned in by someone there. And besides, Mando would look there eventually.

You sigh and lean back in the outdated pilot’s seat, staring at the stars around you. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this view. It’s quiet and peaceful, and it almost makes you forget everything you’re dealing with right now. A lump catches in your throat at that thought.

You really don’t understand how you’re going to get through this. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life running; that’s no life at all. To be in constant fear of being caught, never being able to settle down, never able to make connections. It genuinely makes you sick to your stomach.

You lean back and put one hand over your eyes as you try to think about what your next step is. It also needs to be somewhere where you can get more supplies. You need more clothes since all yours have been pretty weathered by the constant rain. You’re also going to need money at some point.

How are you going to do that? Something tells you that you won’t be able to just snag a job along the way. You sit forward in your seat again, shaking your head. The air con on the ship has kicked on, hitting your drenched body and making your teeth chatter as you pull up the navigation system to browse nearby planets.

You’re only pressing the first button when the ship suddenly jolts, a crashing sound coming from the back. It scares the shit out of you, your hand clutching tightly to your chest as you spring up out of your seat and look behind you.

An alarm sounds, frightening you more as you realize that you’ve just been hit. The impact didn’t seem like enough to do a lot of damage, but you have no idea how to work the cannons on this thing—if there are any cannons at all. Judging by the looks of this thing, if it is equipped with a weapons system, it’s likely out of date and of no use to you.

You speed up and grab the steering to quickly turn to the right, trying to get out from in front of the offending ship. Maybe if you can get behind them and far enough away, you’ll be able to get into hyperspace. It seems that your best bet is going to be running. You’re sensing a bit of a pattern at this point.

You grit your teeth as the ship tilts slightly with the momentum of your turn. A couple of left over bins in the hull spill over, making you wince at the crashing sounds. There’s suddenly a sweet smell, and you close your eyes briefly as you pray that there wasn’t any spice in those crates.

It was only for a split second, but when your eyes open, you’re face to face with another small craft. You swerve again to keep out of its way. As you do so, another pops up in your path, and then another, each of them coming out of hyperspace in quick succession.

Your heartbeat picks up with your panic as you realize you’re surrounded. You can’t see behind you, and there’s no way to go forward. There’s got to be at least five or six of them, and they’re probably carrying between at least four to eight people a piece. They could take you out right now if they wanted.

Gulping down your anxiety, you do the most rational thing you can think of in the moment, and reluctantly slow down to a gentle drift. As the ships come in closer with your surrender, you think ahead. If they take you onto one of their ships, you might be able to—

Your train of thought is stopped as you get an alert of an incoming transmission on the dash. You breathe out a shaky breath and press the button to accept it.

A holo-image of an extremely pissed looking Weequay sprouts from the com. You stand tall and put on a brave face. He stares at you, his eyes narrowing. You gulp, hoping it goes unnoticed. There’s a sour taste in your mouth, and a sick feeling in your stomach. You don’t know if you’re getting out of this one.

To make matters worse, the spice that had spilled with your turn is starting to creep up to the cockpit in a thick fog. The rusty-orange looking powder floats higher with every second, the effects quickly making you dizzy.

“Okay, girl,” the rugged looking creature drawls with a weird accent you can’t quite place. “I personally was having a good day today, and I think you should know that, first of all.”

You furrow your brow but don’t interrupt. The creature starts to pace slightly as he speaks in a casual tone.

“Everything was going great, I was making good sales, had deals going for that spice you have in my ship—which I’m sure you’ve discovered at this point. I was just about to have my guys deal with it—and then I got the call that some bitch stole my ship containing the goods. Would you know anything about that, sweetheart?”

You wince lightly at the insulting pet name, a stark difference from the way Mando used to say it. The dust around you is starting to pick up to the point where your eyes are stinging. You wish you could think of something to say back, but all you can focus on is the bile crawling up your throat.

“Hm, I think you would,” he stops to say flatly. “Now, my initial plan had been to force you off my ship and maybe take you out to have a little fun! Told my guys they deserve to have a little treat on me after their hard work the last few days. We’d just need you for a little bit, I’m sure these guys don’t have much stamina if you know what I mean…”

The man continues talking, but you’ve frozen in place. Your stomach twists at his threats, and you suddenly feel the need to throw up. The spice growing thicker around you is definitely not helping that factor.

“...would have been such a good time,” you zone back into the man’s vulgar words. Letting your gaze drift back to him from where it had fallen to the floor. You find yourself wishing for Mando, for the safety you felt as you laid so briefly within his comforting arms. You want to punch yourself for thinking that.

The pirate, obviously annoyed with your lack of response, continues rambling about this inconvenience, but you can hardly hear him through the ringing growing louder in your ears. The truth that you’re finally trapped is just catching up to you.

“Anyways, when I found your bounty poster, I thought just for a second that it must be your lucky day! But then, I figured that whoever wants you probably doesn’t give a shit about what kind of condition you’re in.”

He laughs at the increasingly panicked look on your face.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart! We won’t go too hard on you now. As long as you cooperate, of course. Just be good for us and we’ll send you to Nevarro without so much as a—”

There’s another crash from behind you, but this time it’s not your ship taking the damage. The man in front of you swivels around, straining to see the source of the sound. His eyes widen, and so do yours when you see the fear in his eyes. You take a step back.

“What the—”

The pirate is cut off again as his ship abruptly explodes right in front of you. His holo-image glitches out as you scream, falling back into your seat. Your ship is knocked back slightly at the same time you feel two other crafts quickly flying by you, chasing the shadow of the one you see above you.

Two ships emerge from either side of you, and your heart skips a beat once you catch a glimpse of the one they’re chasing. You know that ship. Two of the smaller crafts race after the Razor Crest as it trails them away from you.

That doesn’t mean you’re surrendering to anybody today. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you scramble to push the thrusters, planning to get as far away from here as you can. The two ships that aren’t tailing the Crest suddenly change direction to follow you instead. Shit.

You continue forward at full speed, making quick turns and dodges to throw off the idiots behind you. Unfortunately, it’s not working in your favor. You feel your ship jolt as a blast lands on the surface of it. You hear the sound of something powering down.

Your craft slows to about half its speed, making you cry out in frustration. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Crest take out one of the ships that had been pursuing it. Another hit comes to your ship, and this time the hit is so great that you jolt forward and almost hit your head on the dash.

Another one immediately follows, and this time you do slip out of your chair and smack your head on the edge of the panel. Your vision blacks for a second, and you know it has to be at least a small concussion. A ringing starts back in your ears again as your vision blurs slightly. A big flash blinds you momentarily as—at least you assume—Mando takes out the other craft on his trail in front of your ship.

For a second, nothing makes sense. There’s another blow to the side of your craft, and then one more, one right after the other. You get rocked back and forth forcefully, only making you more confused. There’s too much going on at once for you to process; time’s moving too slowly and the spice is making you hazy and the alarm’s too loud and there’s another big crash and muffled explosion as another ship is annihilated.

You scramble, trying to stay up straight as you use your chair to push yourself up. You need to find a way to get out of here before you’re left alone with Mando. Does the hyperspace still work on this thing? Too bad you won’t find out, because as you reach for the dash, you get sent forward and smack your head again. This time, everything goes black.

***** Thank you for reading!! I'm going to try to have another part out in a few weeks!! I'm also making a taglist for this series if anyone would like to join.

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danganronpafan777 · 8 months

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Tsurugi, Rei, Teruya, Utsuro, and Hajime Reacting to S/o Fainting

Ask: Ok, how about when their s/o faints in front of them, I don't matter what characters though lol

Alright, I decided on Tsurugi, Utsuro, and Hajime cuz trauma, and also Rei and Teruya simp lol

Tsurugi Kinjo:

He’s always on the lookout in case something happens to you, so the moment you mentioned that you felt lightheaded, he was already preparing for the worst.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/n? We should go to the shade, do you need water?”

Tsurugi reached his arms out the moment you began to sway, catching you immediately as you fainted.

“Y/n!? Are you okay? Y/n!”

He gently tapped your shoulder a few times to check if you were responsive, before carefully laying you down. He was skilled in first aid, so he quickly loosened any tight clothing you had, and lifting your legs above your heart level, so blood could easily flow to your brain.

Demanding someone nearby to call for help, he prepared himself to give you cpr if you stopped breathing. Tsurugi hated how his face turned red when he thought about that…

He completely steps aside when help arrives, but still checks on you whenever he can.

For the next few weeks, he constantly asks you how you feel, if you need to lay down, and to tell him if you ever feel lightheaded again. Even if everything turned out alright, it’s a new worry that keeps him up at night, and it will take a lot of reassurance to convince him that you’re okay.

Hajime Makunouchi:

He was worried the moment you started yawning. He recognized every sign at first glance, and quickly offered you water or to take a break from training, but you insisted on continuing

"Are you sure?...Alright, but if you get too tired, let me-"

Hajime caught you the moment you began to fall, gently laying you down and checking if you were breathing. He wouldn't hesitate to give you cpr, and he sure as hell wouldn't leave you

He yelled for Shinji and Yuki, who were training not far behind you, to call for help. He placed a hand on your forehead, then quickly fanning you with his hand. He didn't even realize he was shaking, he just couldn't stop thinking about you.

He gets in the ambulance with you when help finally arrives, refusing to let go of you for even a second. Hajime knew exactly how you felt right now, and he would never abandon you like his parents did to him.

"Y/n....it's going to be okay...I'm here...I'm here."

He gives your hand a soft squeeze, trying to reassure himself that you'll be fine.

Whatever happened, his luck should help you. And… he wasn’t sure he could take losing you. The moment you recover, you’re met with your favorite boxer, who doesn’t waste a second to hold you, hoping you don’t realize the tears rolling down his face

Rei Mekaru:

Under most circumstances, she would've been able to tell right away that something was wrong, but with, in her words, your "ineffectual comprehension" of yesterday's math lesson, she was too busy lecturing you to notice the signs

"You use the derivative to find the increasing or decreasing interval, Y/n. If the first derivative of a function is positive, then it is an increasing interval. However, this is only correct for a real-value-"

Thud!

Rei's eyes widen in surprise. Her first thought was, 'real funny, Y/n' but her gut had a heart wrenching feeling...

Her knowledge is first aid was pretty basic, but she was quick and well at assessing the situation. She quickly checked for a pulse, tapping your shoulder and calling your name.

"Y/n? Can you hear me? Y/n!"

Placing you in the recovery position, she tells a nearby student to call for help. Rei retraces her steps from her time with you. Had you drank enough water? Were you yawning a lot before you passed out? Did you say anything about feeling lightheaded?

Her thoughts race as she lightly fans you. She would never admit how worried she felt, not hesitating to chew out any onlookers.

"What are you still doing here!? Are you idiots going to help or just watch!?"

She's much more patient when the first responders arrive, stepping aside and letting them do their job, while also sneaking as many looks at you as she can.

Rei would be restless and more irritable for the rest of the day, checking up on you as soon as she could.

You sigh a bit when she scolds you for scaring her like that, but it made you smile how she genuinely cared.

Teruya Otori:

Teruya had been telling you about the new shipment of overseas products that his father had showed him that weekend, holding your hand and rambling with an oblivious smile

He noticed that your hand felt sweaty, and you looked rather anxious about something, but he chalked it up to nerves

"Hey, Y/n? Ya nervous 'bout somethin'? You can tell meh!"

"It's not that... it's just...I..."

He's completely caught off guard when you suddenly drop to the ground. He tried to catch you, but ended up falling down with you.

"Y/n!? Y/n!"

Teruya quickly gets to his knees and lightly shakes you. You mumble an incoherent response, and he yells for help.

He knows basic first aid, so he lays you on your back and loosens any tight clothing on you. (Blushing heavily as he does so)

He steps aside when help arrives, beginning to bite his nails in worry. He tries not to get in their way, but he’s desperate to know what happened to you.

Teruya is glad to know it's not serious, making a mental note to tell your teachers you were absent, and to visit you when you recover, a banquet of flowers in hand

Utsuro:

He notices you seem to sway a bit, and your steps slow, but with his luck protecting you, just brushes it off

It wasn't until he heard a small thud from beside him that he felt a strike of worry

"...Y/n?"

Utsuro thinks you're joking at first, lightly tapping your shoulder. He puts his hand in front of your face to make sure you're breathing, unconsciously letting out a small sigh of relief when he feels your breath

He nudges you a few more times, before hoisting you up against his shoulders. Your breath lightly tickled his neck as he brought you to some shade.

Feeling your forehead, he signals for help.

This whole situation is strange for him. Divine luck should keep you safe from...everything! He knew nothing about first aid, and somehow his divine luck wasn't waking you up yet.

Was it heat stroke? Were you dehydrated?

It was the first time in years he felt... fear. Why were you still unconscious??

Besides Akane, you were the only person he had who truly loved him. He spent his life being used for his luck, just for it to disappear when his S/o was hurt?

It felt like an eternity before help arrived.

His heart... was beating fast... He tried to keep his unbothered face, but it became increasingly difficult.

Just what happened to you?

#hajime makunouchi #dra utsuro #sdra2 #dra #utsuro #teruya otori #rei mekaru #tsurugi kinjo #danganronpa another #danganronpa x reader #super danganronpa another 2 #sdra2 x reader #dra x reader

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kirnet · 27 days

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1.4k words. read on ao3

Rust Cohle lies in the dark and dreams of women.

He has since his wife, since his daughter, since the drugs and shell casings turned his neurochemistry into a nuclear holocaust. He sees things - the soft curve of Sophia’s flushed cheek, her lips stained purple by juice - in oncoming traffic, the headlights burning his eyes to the point of tears. Strands of hair dancing in the field of his vision against neon signs, soft laughter hidden in the beat of bird wings. Always intangible, always romanticized.

He doesn’t need to tell himself they’re not real. He knows.

He lies in the dark and thinks about women, the mattress springs digging into his bare back, watching the shadows under the crucifix nailed to the wall morph until he’s had enough. He’s not getting to sleep tonight, not anything deeper than a fluttering of his eyelids and the lucid dreams waiting in every corner. Pulls himself out of bed, lights a cigarette and sucks it down like oxygen as he stumbles through the blue light that fogs his hallway.

Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he pauses, but it’s just the small mirror nailed to the wall holding his askew reflection. He stops, leans forward, falls deep into the pit of his own gaze until he can feel the bottom. Good, there’s still a bottom to feel.

Realizing the cigarette between his lips has burned to nothing but a stub, he pulls back for another one, vertigo stretching his nerves to their thinnest as the air around him repressurizes. Fields of wheat sway in his vision, and for a moment he’s back in Texas, Claire’s fingernails tracing shapes in his arm as the truck stumbles down that dirt road-

He whips around. There is something there, not wheat, but a woman, her blonde hair tumbling down her front. A faux modesty, covering her breasts as she stands nude only a few steps from his mattress. The blindfold is still wrapped around her eyes, though he knows they’re an overcast blue, and the thorns and antlers are still tangled up in her scalp. They stand in silence, Rust trying to blink her away, but the murdered woman remains, the stab wounds in her stomach weeping congealed blood that drips to his floor. Her lips part - half smile and half scream - before they move, sounding out three silent syllables.

Rust narrows his eyes, steps closer, can feel the ice of her stare dripping down his spine when he can’t return it. “What?” he wants to ask, to grab hold of a ghost and get her to speak. But she just raises her arm to the side, burned dirt still trapped under her fingernails, her wrists bruised a midnight purple, and points to the wall.

When he turns to follow her gesture, all he finds is the simple wooden crucifix, the only adornment in a plane of impersonality. He knows she’s gone before he even looks, the smell of ozone lingering, but he still drops his gaze to the carpet, tries and fails to find dotted wine stains.

He checks his pulse. Doesn’t like what he feels.

She follows him around, a funeral procession for the living, always in late hours. Fluorescent bulbs at the station catching moths and buzzing at a frequency that makes him taste copper. He washes it away with coffee and another cigarette. She usually doesn’t pass the threshold through the front doors, doesn’t like all the noise or all the cops, Rust isn’t sure. But she enters when people begin to trickle out, keeps him company when Marty leaves to see his secretary. Or maybe it really is Maggie this time.

He knows her name now, Dora Lange, knows how she looked on her prom night, knows the gap-toothed smile she had when she was Sophia’s age. Right now she’s blue, bloated, her blood stuck in her legs when she was made to kneel. Her wounds have turned black, the once calligraphy-thin rivulets of blood staining wide marks down the length of her naked body. Sometimes he feels like a haruspex, studying the gore oozing from her gut as if it holds any answer, or sometimes he watches that strange swirl in between her shoulder blades long enough to make it move. It could hypnotize a lesser man.

Still can’t see her eyes through that blindfold, still doesn’t know what her voice sounds like. And maybe that’s a blessing, an interruption to whatever chains her to his side, something that stops her from haunting him completely. But Rust doesn’t believe in God or ghosts, so he ignores her, focus turned to the statements in front of him. Canvasing photos, her husband, her friend Carla. “Yesterday upon the stair, I met a man who wasn’t there… He wasn’t there again today.”

He can hear her antlers scrape against the window blinds like a bird trapped inside. He has to remind himself that they are an addition, a defilement, not a thing naturally growing out of her skull. She’s a hallucination, an unreality to file away with the rest of the women he knows the names of. Nothing more than neurons misfiring.

“I wish, I wish he’d go away.”

Her father wouldn’t bathe her.

The temperature drops as she nears. She smells like pine and salt, an Alaskan chill fogging his breath, but it’s really just a cloud of cigarette smoke curling lazily in the air. Twists, bends until it's a jagged spiral. A rudimentary shape. Primal. Something a child would draw in crayon. A pictogram etched into a cave wall.

There’s breath on his ear, three short bursts - and then she’s gone.

He knows it’s the right church the moment he steps out from the car.

Even with his back turned towards the structure, his hair catching the breeze off the lakes, he knows. The blackbirds erupt up together, flock, whirl in turn into a spiral that he sees every time he blinks..

It’s Lange’s body sketched in his ledger, her wounds and marks. It’s her history printed out in color and taped up in his apartment where she first appeared. He stares at her and thinks, eyes darting from the two dimensional copies to the decaying corpse a few feet away, a beer in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. Flies buzz and land on her antlers, but she doesn’t bat them away, she just waits.

Sometimes he forgets the shape of Sophia’s nose. He can draw Lange’s lips from memory.

“Devil nets” is what that pastor had called the bundles of sticks they found Lange with. “Bird nets.” Catch the Devil before he gets too close. Trap a girl while she can still sing. Something to tie together to keep the hands busy. A cross. A cage.

She’s in the back of the car, leaking out all over the interior, not that Marty notices as he slams the door closed and strides to the husk of the church’s foundation. It would almost be funny, the way this woman made of smoke and vapor has to stoop to fit her antlers in this physical space, but Rust is too filled with electricity to care. He follows behind Marty, his ledger buzzing underneath his palm, the very fabric of the universe opening to welcome him in.

An owl waits in the charred rafters, watching the men below with half lidded eyes, some sort of angel above the sad mortality of men. Rust can feel Lange’s burning interest in the creature, jealousy maybe, before it spooks and flutters away, utterly silent. Marty doesn’t notice as he toes away at some debris, can’t smell the thunder-crack static in her hair even after she’s been tailing Rust for weeks. Lange pulls her blind but seeing eyes away, her bare feet gliding over splinters and nails, and points. Her jaw works, a fish gasping in oxygen.

She’s not real. They don’t talk; he won’t and she can’t. But there’s a trust there, a knowing in his ancient hindbrain that this is intuition, that this must be the religion that Marty and the other cops yap about. A truth that burns away any darkness.

She can’t talk so Rust does it for her, calls Marty over before he’s even started to move towards the mess of vines. She can’t touch, so he pulls the foliage away, revealing a crude charcoal figure drawn in the exact way she was found in; kneeling, naked, hands bound. But it’s faceless, no mouth given shape on the worn concrete.

Dora Lange’s mouth opens, and Rust cannot tell if she is laughing or screaming.

#true detective #rust cohle #dora lange #my writing #im gonna go apeshit abt dora forever now SHE COULD HAVE BEEN SO NUANCED

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callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Seeing Red | Ch. 48 : We're soldiers ✍️

Warning: mentions of stalker, ICEMAN (should be a warning), poor baby Liam is scared, someone leaves the dagger squad :), and... there's a surprise at the end ❤️

A/N: I can hear you all screaming at me when you finish reading this. :DDDDDDDDDDDDD

Masterlist on pinned!

Jake walks to the elevator, looking for Mav’s number in his phone. He had managed to find three seats on a plane that leaves early in the morning. He and his family won’t have to stay in Hawaii much longer.

Pressing the button and watching the doors close, Jake sighs, clenching his fist and hitting the closed door with it. How has he been so reckless? Why did he think that three years away from you could fix everything? As if his father would magically have forgotten about him, and allowed Jake to be happy for once in his lifetime. Yeah, that would never happen.

Jake wasn’t allowed to be happy.

“Jake? I read the group chat. Look, I’m trying to call Ice so he can help me fix this but-”

“He found us.” Jake mutters, cutting off Mav’s words.

“Gregory?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, Jake. You need to come back immediately.” Jake can hear Mav walking around the house, he can recognize Theo and Milo’s barks in the background.

“I got plane tickets already. Mav, that contact you had in the NCIS… he needs to work faster.”

Mav sighs, sitting down. “I haven't heard from him in a while, I’m actually worried. I’ll go to his house this afternoon.”

“Thanks, pop.” Jake walks out of the elevator once the doors open, having arrived at his destination. “This isn’t like the last time, Mav. We were only two back then. But my son is in danger now. I’ll kill that son of a bitch if he tries to touch Liam.”

“Go with Red. She needs you, and you need her, too. I’ll go to the airport to get you two tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Jake walks down the corridor, checking behind him every two steps to see if anyone is following him. It wouldn’t surprise him that one of his father’s men had a room on the same floor. Once he gets to the door, he calls you, and you pick up right away.

“Are you outside?”

“Yeah, sweets. It’s me.”

You unlock the door with a scared expression on your face. Liam is behind you, gripping your hand with such force that his tiny knuckles are white. Liam is smart, he must have sensed your fear, and he’s now scared, too.

Jake has to take a deep breath to stop himself from kicking every door in this damned hotel until he finds the man who has been taking pictures of his family.

“You got tickets?” You ask him, closing the door once he’s inside.

“Yeah, we’re leaving early in the morning. Mav will be waiting for us at the airport, probably he’ll bring Rooster and Javy with him, just in case.”

You kneel down, kissing Liam’s forehead. "Hey, pretty boy, why don’t you go play with that turtle plushie Dada bought you yesterday?”

“I want to stay with Mama and Dada.” He pouts, grabbing the fabric of your skirt.

“Mama and Dada aren’t going anywhere, okay? Now go play for a bit.” You insist, caressing his cheeks. Liam nods softly, sitting down in front of the TV and hugging his new plushie.

“I hate seeing him like that, fuck.” Jake mutters, walking to the main bedroom. You follow behind him, eyes locked on his neck, fearing that the moment you stop looking at him, he might disappear, just like he did three years ago.

He must have noticed the fear in your eyes, because when he turns, he holds your face between his hands while leaning closer, his forehead pressing against yours. “I’m not going anywhere this time, Red.”

“Promise?” You whisper, your hands flying to his wrists. You can feel his pulse under your fingertips, accelerated and erratic.

“I promise you.”

Your phone rings, startling both of you. You look at it—an unknown number appears on the screen. “I don’t recognize this number.”

Jake swallows, closing the door so Liam doesn’t hear anything. “Pick it up.”

You take the call, putting it on speaker, so Jake can hear it too. “Hello?”

“Lieutenant Commander Seresin?” You hear a hoarse voice at the other end of the line, not recognizing it either.

“Yeah, it’s me. Who’s this?”

“Iceman?” Jake asks, relaxing completely next to you.

“Yeah. I heard that Cyclone found out about you two.”

You look at the floor, feeling ashamed that you’re receiving a call from the Admiral itself. “Admiral Kazansky, I know that I’m the one to blame here. We knew that it was risky…”

“Please, call me Ice. And don’t worry about it. Love is love, kid. We can’t stop that. I’m calling you to offer a solution.”

Jake’s face lits up. He needs you two to stay at the base now more than ever. It’s the only place he knows you two will be safe.

“Please, we’re desperate.” You mutter, grabbing Jake’s hand.

“Red, would you like to be a full-time instructor at Top Gun? You won’t be taking unnecessary risks, and you won’t be related to the Dagger Squad in any way, but that’ll make possible that yours and Jake’s relationship can be considered legal.”

“Yes! Absolutely. It’s a perfect position for me.” You reply immediately, Jake’s lips finding your temple.

“It’s a pity that such an amazing leader has to be kicked out of the team, but we’ll think of something so you can come back. For now, this is the best option I could find.”

“Thank you so much, Ice. Maverick called you, right?”

“He practically begged me to keep you two at the same station. Anyway, is there anything else I can help you with?”

You look at Jake, not knowing what to do. He swallows and takes a breath before speaking. “If the NCIS is investigating my case, I’m sure you know by now who I am.”

“Yeah, I know. I honestly don’t care about your surname, Jake. I just care about the pilot, and you’re probably the best pilot of your generation.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jake clenches his jaw, preparing himself for his next words. “My family is in danger, Ice. I can’t let them leave the station under any circumstances.”

“You’re safe at base. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you soon.”

Ice hangs up, and you look at Jake with half a smile on your face. “Well, at least we solved that part of the problem.”

Jake snorts, tilting his head to look at you. “Always look at the bright side, Mrs. Seresin.”

“Someone has to. You’re the negative one here. I have to be positive.”

Jake sits on the bed, taking off his shoes. “I cant see anything positive about you being followed by my father’s men for three years.”

You sit next to him, your hand looking for his. “The worst part is that you had to leave me, and for what? It amounted to nothing.”

“Don’t remind me that. I could have stayed with you during the whole pregnancy, dammit.”

You kiss his shoulder before placing your chin on it. “Let’s not worry about that. We’re gonna go back to the base, and we’ll be safe. Nobody can hurt us there.”

“I’m not even sure he’s trying to hurt me. He just wants to scare me. Torture me psychologically until I give up and go back to him.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. Because you have me, and you have your family. We’re fighting with you. We're soldiers, Jake. We fight.”

Jake’s face softens, his lips pressing together in a thin line. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You won’t have to find out.” You say before kissing him softly.

It’s been a month since Gregory decided to make his presence known, but nothing has happened since then. Not a call or a message. Not a single indication that he’s still around. It’s like he’s gone.

But you and Jake can’t stop worrying that somehow Gregory’s next move will be worse than anything he has ever done before.

Turns out that Mav’s friend, the one who had been trying to prove all the crimes that Jake’s father has committed, has disappeared. Maybe he got too close to the truth, and somehow the St. James patriarch got rid of him. You just hope he's okay, but a little voice inside your head tells you that the man is probably dead.

After the team found out that you had been followed for the past three years, they made a schedule so they could take care of Liam. Penny, Doc, Sarge, Ames, and Mav take turns so that Liam doesn’t have to go to daycare. It’s not a safe place if Cyclone can walk in and take your kid without authorization, just like he did in the past.

Speaking of the devil. You told Ice how Cyclone had admitted to being in possession of a picture that was sent to him in an anonymous email, and instead of reporting it to the authorities, he decided to use that picture to expose yours and Jake’s relationship. He’s being investigated, but you don’t think he has anything to do with this. He called you back to the academy out of sheer chance, and somehow he let himself be carried away by his own feelings, whatever they were. Once he saw the picture, he found the perfect excuse to get rid of Jake once and for all.

He had been trying to do that for the past three years, and you gave it to him on a silver plate.

Other than that, the month has been pretty calm. Ash was deployed, and she had to go back to her base, so it was impossible for you to talk to her. Rooster was pretty down after you told him that the wizzo had some important matters that took up all of her free time and she couldn't start anything with him. Javy and Nat’s relationship is still pretty new, but the way he looks at her tells you that these two will last. Maybe you should start looking for a dress for her wedding, because you know that these two will get married sooner or later.

Doc is in her fifth month of pregnancy, and Bob has been trying to convince her to ask for maternity leave, but she’s determined to work until she can’t walk anymore. Poor Bob calls twice a day to check on her.

Your mom has been trying to come see you now that her favorite person on the planet, and when she says that, she means Jake, is now ‘married’ to her daughter again. But things are already too dangerous for the three of you, and you don’t want to add more people to this game Jake and his father are playing.

You’re now sitting at the Hard Deck after a long day at work, with Jake sitting next to you, his arm around your shoulders as he sips his beer. Rooster is looking out the window, his melancholic aura accompanying him wherever he goes. He can’t stop thinking about Ash, and he still thinks that he knows her from somewhere. You hope that Ash’s life becomes easier soon, because both of them deserve to be happy, even if you don’t know if Ash thinks about Rooster in the same way he does about her.

“Do you guys have plans for the weekend?” Mickey asks, offering you a beer.

“Stay home. I still haven’t recovered from the Fourth of July.” You reply, making Jake chuckle.

“That was three weeks ago.”

“We ate so much I couldn’t eat properly for the next week.” You complain, remembering the amount of meat that Mav and Mickey cooked on the barbeque.

“It wasn’t even that much! You should see my abuelita’s kitchen on Cinco de Mayo.” Mickey looks for a picture on his phone when you see Nat and Ames at the back of the bar, moving their arms to catch your attention.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You whisper in Jake’s ear, his hand squeezing your thigh before you get up.

You follow the two girls into the bathroom and close the door behind you. “You got it?”

Nat takes the two pregnancy tests from the box and hands them to you. “You know what to do, mama.”

You nod, taking them and getting in one of the stalls, taking a deep breath.

“When I said I wanted a new nephew, I didn’t mean that you had to get pregnant the first night you had sex with my brother.” Ames says, unlocking her phone to prepare the timer.

“We don’t know if she’s pregnant, Ames. That’s why she’s taking the tests.” Nat comments, reading the instructions. “You weren't drinking that beer I saw in front of you, right?”

You flush the toilet and get out, leaving the two tests on the counter and washing your hands. “Of course I wasn’t”

The three of you stare at the tests, silence surrounding you. “What are you gonna do if it’s positive?” Ames questions, hugging your arm.

“Take maternity leave.”

“Are you gonna tell Jake?”

“I’ll go to the ob-gyn first, make sure everything is okay. It might be Jake’s first pregnancy.” You lean against the wall, closing your eyes. “How am I supposed to bring another baby into this world when their big brother has to be constantly guarded in case someone tries to take him away from his parents?”

Nat hugs you tightly, caressing your hair. “You’re not alone. You have this big, crazy family that will help you every step of the way.”

You wipe your tears away, chuckling at the idea of being pregnant again. “He’s getting a vasectomy after the third baby.”

“Third?” Ames' eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah, we want three kids. We talked about this a few weeks ago, but I literally didn’t think that we had one bun in the oven already.”

“His aiming skills aren’t legendary only on the air.”

You and Nat both look at Ames, the young girl biting her lower lip so she doesn't laugh. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Amelia’s phone starts beeping, signaling that the three minutes are over.

“It’s time to look, Red.”

You take a deep breath and walk slowly to the counter, looking at the two tests.

Two lines.

Positive.

You’re pregnant.

Tag list: @purplevortexx @shrimping-for-all @caitsymichelle13 @callmemana @abaker74 @starkleila @topgunmenbefinebruh @blue-aconite @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @smells-like-perfect-senses @dempy @djs8891 @indynerdgirl @countryclubswifey @lauenderhaze @avaleineandafryingpan @poppyalice2001 @emorychase @wildxwidow @agentrose17 @khaylin27 @fudosl @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @ducks118 @teacupsandtopgun @marissat1998 @phoenix1388 @potato-girl99981 @sarahjoestewy-blog @phantomxoxo @milestellerwife @dumb-fawkin-bitch @twsssmlmaa @teti-menchon0604 @yanna-banana @multiversalwh0re @hollandorks @averyhotchner @callsign-sunshine @fandom-life-12 @caatheeriinee07 @ravenhood2792 @luvrrish

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #top gun #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin

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dreamersbcll · 6 months

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“I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule”

- whumptober, prompt no. 24

(goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)

—————————————————————————

Dear Mom,

I’ve started this letter so many times that I’m sure permanently smeared ink will be embedded in my skin.

There was an outline, a plan even for this letter. I’ve structured it over and over to get it right. But I suppose there is no right way to say goodbye, is there?

Well, I’ve spoiled it. This is a goodbye letter of sorts. I’m not really sure who I’m saying goodbye to anymore. Which mother will be reading this piece of paper?

Will it be the mother you were before I turned nine? I miss her, you know. You were so sweet in the beginning. I still hold myself at night to remember your presence. I know Sam loves to touch, but you were big on touch, Mom. You taught us how to be gentle and leave gentle markings.

Do you remember the night you first read “Mi Burro enfermo” to us? I remember it—every single second. I remember you holding me tight, letting my chubby fingers touch the crinkled pages. Sam was pressed into my side, and you held us both, kissing our heads as Sam read to me. You would correct her ever so gently and praise her every time she got a word right. I think I was three. Even that young, I remember it all.

What happened there? When did you stop reading to us? Where did the mother with the kind hands and the sweet smile go? Why did you stop making our lunches and taking us to the bus stop?

Why did you start drinking?

I mean, we were not enough anymore? Mom, I was six. Six years old and helping Sam drag you inside so you didn’t freeze out on the front lawn. I remember learning how to make you throw up, just in case you stopped responding. Sam had to teach me to call 911 and check for your pulse. I was six, Mom. Six!

Did you ever think of us, what this would do to us? God, I know having a child born from a serial killer is terrible, but isn’t child neglect worse? I don’t know why you did this to us. I wonder every single day if I deserved that. You were my mami. I love you. Why couldn’t you love us?

Why couldn’t you love me

I know I cried a lot. I know I was noisy. I know I was too much. But I was a child—a baby. I didn’t know better. I just wanted my mami to love me again.

But your jealousy, god, I can still see it now. You always talked down to me as if I would always be around and be your little pawn. All I wanted was to love you. I wanted to love you and be loved back. But you pushed my love away like it was a loaded gun- and pushed me down time and time again. All you did was hold me underwater, breaking my resolve until I was a shell of myself.

Dad leaving was tough. I know. I saw. But I lived that too- I was there. I was eight years old, mom eight! I know he left, and I know he hurt you, even if you didn’t love him like you loved Billy. But why couldn’t you ever think about us?

First, you left me, then Dad, then Sam. You had to know that Sam going was the final straw. You had to hear me cry and scream, and break things. I know you saw me, red-eyes and shaking, begging for someone to stay. I remember those nights when I begged you to love me again. I was thirteen. God, was I stupid.

It really was no surprise that I would run. I’m just surprised that it took me so long. I mean, it's clear that I’m a masochist, constantly begging for love from empty people. I just can’t believe it took me this long to buck up.

But it was because of Sam. Never you. Don’t ever get that twisted. I never would’ve left if it wasn’t for her coming back. I was invested, Mom; I was going to stay in that stupid little town and take care of your sorry ass. God. I’m so glad I’m writing this now to tell you goodbye.

That’s right. Yeah. I’m leaving with Sam. We’re going to be far away from this hellhole of a town. I will never step foot in this town again, and I will never walk back into this house.

I don’t care what you think. If I wrote this a year ago, maybe I would feel guilty. But all I have left for you is rage. I can’t give you my sorrow or hurt anymore. It’s just red-hot rage.

The questions I have for you won’t get answered. I know that you were never keen on tying up loose ends. But don’t worry, your questions will never be answered either. I’m done with you.

Fuck you, Mom. Fuck you for all you’ve done to me.

Yet, I still love you. You’re my mom. I have a big sister who means more to me than you’ll ever know- but you’re still my mom. You’ll still be a part of me.

But you will never touch me again. Ever. Sam will make sure of that.

Goodbye, mom. Good luck.

Don’t forget to stick your fingers down your throat.

Love

From, Tara.

Putting the pencil down, Tara sighed deeply, her eyes closing. She roughly rubbed her face, trying to push the worry out of her skin. There was no reason to carry it around anymore.

Down the hall, she could hear Sam shuffling about, collecting the last of Tara’s bags.

“Are you ready to go, baby?” Sam called, lightly knocking on the door.

Flashing a smile at her big sister, Tara nodded.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Tara calls back, hastily shoving the letter into an envelope.

Staring at the blank envelope, she pondered what to write. Christina felt too formal, but mom didn’t feel right. Taking the pen out, she scribbled a quick word on it and stuck the pen behind her ear.

Mami

As she left the room, she stared at the propped up envelope, wondering if it would ever be read.

Maybe. Maybe not. She wouldn't worry about it anymore. It was time to move forward.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #whumptober2023 #AU: i’ve got blood on my hands #goodbye note #neglect #wouldn’t be my birthday without some angst

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and-claudia · 1 year

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Against All Odds (Joel Miller x reader) Prologue pt.2

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE!!!

Word Count: 1244

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that's not your jam, I'm sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won't actually be in it for a bit

Taglist Sign-Up

Yn sat in the gym of the Knoxville Middle School. It was September 23rd, 2005, two years since the outbreak. So it was a huge deal. They spent the day remembering those they lost. Yn didn’t like talking about the outbreak. Not after she saw an infected person up close. The thought of her Ma, and brothers becoming one of those was too much for her mind to comprehend. So she stayed silent.

“Yn, did you lose anyone that day?” The teacher asked.

It was a dumb question. She had never heard someone actually answer no. Even those who didn’t wouldn’t say so. Everyone lost something or someone that day.

Yn looked up at her blankly. Then she turned her attention to her hands.

Luckily the teacher got the hint and moved one. Yn ended up tuning out the rest of the assembly. When it was time to go home she walked out and waited for Chris just as she did every day. Zeak was in a different building since he was older. Usually, he would make it home before the two of them would. Scott and their father worked together. Yn wasn’t too sure what they did, it seemed to always be changing.

“How was the assembly?” Zeak asked the younger girl.

“Stupid.” She replied.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked gently. He knew she didn’t like talking about it, especially to others.

Yn shook her head and continued walking. When they made it to the apartment building they had been living in for the past 6 months.

“Go on upstairs, I’m going to wait for Chris.” Zeak said.

Yn nodded and began walking up to the third floor. She walked in and went to get a glass of water but stopped when movement caught her eye. She turned to the bedroom Chris and Zeak shared and saw the door was slightly open. Now she may have only been 7 but she had seen some shit at this point and knew that if someone… or something was in there she’d need something to at least attempt to protect herself. So she went into her dad’s and Scott’s room and grabbed Scott’s pocket knife he leaves in there just in case. She grabbed it and then slowly walked back to the other door. She opened it slowly and froze at the sight before her.

Chris was hanging by a noose around his neck. He wasn’t dead yet though. He was gasping for breath as the rope cut off his airways. It took her a moment to realize what was going on. She looked at the knife in her hand and sprung into action. She tried to climb up on the bed but she wasn’t tall enough. It felt like she was going as fast as she could. But by the time she got the dresser pushed over to him, got up, and sawed through the rope with her knife, he was already gone. His body fell to the ground with a thump. She hopped down and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She stood and ran out screaming at the top of her lungs for Zeak.

Her brother heard her screams of terror and came running up to see what was going on.

“Chris is dead.” She said.

“What?”

“He just died.” She couldn’t elaborate.

“Is he in the apartment?”

She nodded.

“Shit. Go get Pa or Scott. Go get them. They are at the burning pits today. On main. Go. Run.” He said firmly.

Yn nodded and ran down the last flight of stairs and then out onto the street. She didn’t stop running until she made it there. She saw Scott first.

“Yn. What are you doing here?”

“Go get Pa, something happened to Chris.” Was all she said and she breathed heavily from running.

Scott’s face fell, “Wait here.” He said before walking away to get their father.

When they did, Scott scooped her up and opted to carry her. Even at 7 years old, he had no issues carrying her. When they made it to their apartment, Zeak was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs holding a piece of paper.

“He said he’s sorry. He didn’t know what else to do.” He said, handing the letter to their father.

He took it and scanned over it before folding it and putting it into his shirt pocket.

“I’ll go get him. I’ll take care of it. Scott, take Yn over to the Johnsons and ask if she can spend the afternoon with them so we can take care of this.”

“I don’t want to.” She said.

“Sweetie, you don’t need to see this.”

“She already did. She’s the one who found him… not me.” Zeak said.

Their dad turned to look at his little girl.

“Is that true?”

She nodded, “I’m sorry. I tried to save him. He was gasping for breath. I wasn’t tall enough. I had to move the dresser but I wasn’t fast enough… I’m sorry. I tried. I really did. I know I argued with him but I didn’t want him to die. I’m sorry.” She cried.

Scott hugged her to him as she cried and rubbed her back.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. You did everything you could. You did everything just right.” He whispered.

That night, no one really spoke after Pa carried Chris out. Dinner was eaten in silence. No one knew what to say.

The months passed and Yn continued to blame herself for Chris's death. Every time she saw something that reminded her of him, she felt guilty. If only she had been taller. If only she was stronger and could have moved the dresser quicker. If only she had been faster cutting through the rope. Then maybe Chris would still be here.

Yn also became much more attached to Scott and drifted apart from her father. Scott comforted her when she had nightmares now, no matter if they were about what happened during the initial outbreak or if they were about Chris or just general little kid nightmares. He never once blamed her for Chris’s death. He knew it was his choice to end his life. He knew that even if Yn had managed to cut him down in time there still could have been something wrong with Chris and he still might not have made it. He knew that there really wasn’t anything she could have done.

Their father on the other hand, deep down he blamed her. If only she had been taller. If only she was stronger and could have moved the dresser quicker. If only she had been faster cutting through the rope. Then maybe Chris would still be here. The same thoughts she had about herself, he too had. He didn’t realize what he was doing but he felt like there was something more she could have done and Chris would still be here.

Time only made it worse. They spent the next two years in the Knoxville, Tennessee QZ that they had begun to call home. But as more and more reports of infected getting into the QZ, they knew it was only a matter of time before they called for an evacuation. And sure enough, on August 14th, they got the notice that in three days the QZ would be abandoned. All residences that were confirmed to not be infected would be moved to Baltimore.

taglist:

@sexyvixen7@joelmillerslays@elliaze@strawbaby@little-lovely-darling@swimmjacket@watercolorskyy@mserynlarsen@sebby-staan@beelanie@fan-g0rl @paige96 @pedropascalfanclub @ameliadraws @mavs101 @azerty29 @rileyferg @belliedellie @rhaenyrasgf @imcreepininyourheartbabe @nani-kenobi @lunas-sstuff @holb32 @reidsgubbler @katmae1997 @dizzywinterdaydream @mrswidowjohansson @abzidabzy @givemeth

#joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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crispinablr · 1 year

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Dancing with an angel

It's the raven night and Kent is super excited and nervous, he is checking how he looks in the nearest mirror every 2 seconds while you are slowly going downstairs, he sees you by the mirror and turns around like he is seeing an angel walking towards him because that's what your are for him, his little angel.

He has the biggest and sweetest smile he could ever make, he felt the luckiest guy in the whole world. He was gonna dance with his partner , you were so beautiful that made him feel like he was dreaming if that was the case he didn't want to wake up ever.

You both stared gawking like two lovers without being able to look away, but you didn't need to say anything because only with your eyes you could know what you were thinking, before heading to the dance floor along with the rest of the students, Kent pulls out from one of his pockets a box with a small corsage inside, the corsage looked like a small explosion of flowers that contained your favorite flowers and the colors were consistent with your outfits.

Kent looks at you asking for your permission to put the corsage and you nod with great enthusiasm, you reach out one of your shaking hands with emotion and Kent gently places the corsage while he gently holds your hand.

Once the corsage is on, you thank him and give him a light kiss on the cheek, on your lips you can feel how a small silly smile forms, in the end you decide to head to the dance floor so as not to keep the rest waiting of people.

When you finally arrive you can feel all eyes on you, it was impossible not to meet the sweetest couple in the entire academy, you were almost always together as if you were glued together with super glue. You talked to your friends and to Divina and her girlfriend Yoko, they were proud that Kent had finally found someone who would be with him through everything and who would accept him as he is, meaning that he accepts that he is a dummy, but that was one of the reasons why he made you fall in love with him, after talking to everyone you go to the last free space that was left in the whole room and just when you position yourself to dance, slow music starts playing, you laugh at the coincidence and you get closer to be able to dance correctly and not accidentally step on your feet even though you knew that this would never happen so much rehearsal should be useful for something.

You slowly slide your left hand over his shoulder and your other hand over his outstretched hand as you look into his eyes with one of those smiles that made his pulse race, only he could make you feel as if time stood still and that both of you were the only ones in the place.

Kent looked at you and felt how he was melting inside, you knew perfectly how to make him feel like a custard, trembling and soft, he just wanted to hug you and give you a lot of kisses, he wanted to show you how happy you made him feel as if he were the greatest treasure you had ever found and he wanted to make you feel the same because to him when you came into his life you seemed like an angel brought from heaven.

The two of you danced to the rhythm of the music while you put your head on his chest without stopping to dance and he delicately put his chin on your head while you both closed your eyes following the music and thinking about how lucky you were to have found each other.

#kent x reader #kent wednesday #kent fisher x reader #kent the siren #kentthesiren #kent fisher #fanfic #fanficiton

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thebookreader12345 · 2 years

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Admirer Central Pt. 2

Pairing: Intelligence Unit x Member! reader & Mystery Man x reader

Summary: The team has been dying to find out who Y/n's fiance is, but when it comes time for everyone to meet, things don't go according to plan

Requested: Yes, by multiple anonymous

Warnings: mentions of crimes, guns, and injuries

Word Count: 746 Words

Pt. 1

"So," Hailey started and took a seat on the edge of my desk. "You've been with this unit for a couple of months now, but we still don't know who your fiance is. When do we get to meet him?"

"Yeah," Jay agreed. "When do we finally get to know who it is?"

"When the time is right," I reply.

Adam groaned. "Come on. You've been saying that for months now."

"I'm not doing it on purpose," I claim. "He's just like us. Always busy with work at the firehouse. Plus, he's just taken on a side job, so I don't get to see him too often either. I'll talk to him when I get the chance and let you all know when we can meet up. How's that sound?"

"We'll allow it," Kim declared. "But we're still gonna keep pushing."

"Yes we will," Kevin concurred.

"All right. Now, I need to finish this paperwork, so if you'll excuse me," I say and turn my attention back to my work.

...............................................

The team and I had been following a gun dealer case for the past few days. A bunch of illegal automatics had been sold throughout Chicago, and we were trying to stop the dealer from selling anymore. We had set up a meet, and everything was going great. Well, until things took a turn.

"Y/n get down!" Jay shouted. I dove to the floor, hitting it with a thud as a spray of bullets flew over my head. When I pushed myself up though, a throbbing pain started pulsing from my calf, and when I looked down, I saw that a bullet had managed to graze my leg, leaving behind a pretty deep cut.

"I've got him!" Adam called out from across the warehouse. "Everybody good?"

"I may need some help," I tell my co-workers.

"Ooh," Kim cringed when she saw the cut. "That doesn't look too good."

"It doesn't look too bad. It should just need stitches," I guess. "Could someone take me to Med real quick?"

"I've got you," Kevin spoke and bent down to help me up. At Chicago Med, all I needed were a few stitches, like I had guessed earlier. And once that was taken care of, Kevin and I headed back to the district. Up in the bullpen, all of Intelligence was sitting at their desks filling out some paperwork.

"Hey. You okay?" Hailey asked.

"I'm fine," I assure her. "I mean, it hurts like hell when I walk, but other than that, I'm okay." Just then, my fiance came bounding up the stairs that led into the bullpen, and Trudy was right behind him.

"Sorry for the interruption. He insisted he come up," Trudy disclosed.

I waved Trudy up. "It's fine. Thank you for brining him up."

"What the hell, Y/n? I was stopping by the hospital to check on a victim I saved earlier and Will told me you had just been there and needed stitches. Why didn't you call me?" Kelly quizzed.

"Because I didn't want you to worry," I respond.

"I'm your fiance. I have every right to worry," Kelly countered.

"Hold on a second," Jay interrupted. "Severide is your fiance?"

"Wait. You guys know each other other?" I question.

"I know everyone up here. We've worked with each other a lot over the last few years," Kelly confessed.

"This whole time we thought we didn't know who Y/n's fiance was. She never gave us your name," Adam shared.

"A lot of cops like to keep their personal lives private. I am one of those cops," I state. "But now, since you've all met my fiance, you can stop bothering me about it."

"Aw. But that was fun," Kim muttered.

"I'm off shift in like two hours, and it looks like you guys are almost finished with work, so would you want to meet up at Molly's after shift?" Kelly posed.

"Only if we get to hear all kinds of embarrassing stories about Y/n," Kevin put forth.

Kelly smiled. "I'm down to share some things."

"This is why I didn't want to introduce any of you. Because I knew this would happen," I admit.

"Shut up. You love us," Hailey teased.

"Yeah yeah yeah," I murmur. "Lets just get back to work. That means you too, Kel."

"All right. I'll see you guys later. Bye Y/n," Kelly said and leaned over to press a quick kiss to my lips.

____________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @ncostin2001 @evangeline91 @just-arather-veryconfused-being @generalfarmmuffinagle @kaitlyn-marie-a @shywritermoon @jbbarnes212 @multifandom-loser @wanniiieeee @pinkbay-love @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone

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cariantha · 2 years

Text

Allergic to You

Book: Open Heart, Book 1

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)

Word count: 2.3K

Rating: Teen

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Warning: A couple curse words

Prompt/Summary: Does your MC have any severe allergies? Do you have any headcanons for their LI's?

A/N 1: THANK YOU to the anon who sent the ask that inspired me to write my first hurt/comfort fic. It’s my most favorite trope and I’ve been wanting to take a stab at it. I hope you like it!

A/N 2: This is set a few weeks after Miami. Also, I’m not a medical expert. If it’s not medically accurate, just go with it.

“It’s definitely an ear infection. I’ll write you a script for some Bactrim.”

“Thank you, Ines,” Sawyer said as she stepped down from the exam table.

“We still have some time before rounds this morning. Why don’t you run this down to the pharmacy right now? The sooner you start the antibiotics, the sooner you’ll start to feel better.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

“Dr. Emery, your treatment plan?” asked Dr. Ramsey.

“Pain relievers and a muscle relaxant to promote sleep. We’ll also recommend physical therapy.”

An “ahem” could be heard from the back of the room.

Ethan’s eyes continued to scan the chart in his hands. “Something to add Dr. Brooks?” He didn’t have to look up to know it came from her.

“Sorry, no, I apologize. I was just clearing my throat,” she said with an unexpected hoarseness in her voice.

Aurora rolled her eyes as Ethan suggested they move on to the next patient.

The group proceeded to the next room. As Landry presented the case, Sawyer felt a coughing fit coming on. She tried hard to suppress it but it had become too difficult to contain. She coughed repeatedly into her elbow but found no relief. Not wanting to cause further disruption, she gestured to Ines that she was going to step out.

With every step down the hall Sawyer felt her heart pound a little harder. The relentless coughing made her lightheaded. She reached the abandoned nurses' station and with trembling hands she clumsily dispensed water into a paper cup. As she attempted to take a sip she choked, her throat so tight she was unable to swallow.

Panic started to set in as each inhalation grew more difficult. She looked both directions down the hall for help as she felt increasingly faint.

<><><><><><><><><><>

After answering a last-minute question from the patient’s nurse, Ethan exited the room to catch up with the interns. As he stepped into the hall something odd caught his attention. Several yards away, a foot with a familiar shoe haphazardly stuck out from behind the nurses' desk.

Immediately sensing something amiss, he rushed over.

“Sawyer!” he called as he threw the chart he held to the ground and rushed to her side. She was slumped on the floor, head and shoulders barely propped up against a cabinet door. She was gasping for breath, skin clammy, lips turning blue.

“Sawyer? What’s wrong?” he implored, checking her pulse and yanking the stethoscope from his neck.

She couldn’t speak, but terror-filled eyes met his with a desperate plea for help.

Ethan listened to her chest. Her breaths were fast and shallow. Her breathing severely restricted.

“CODE BLUE!” He scooped her weakened body into his arms, “Hold on, Rookie,” he pleaded before calling for help again. “CODE BLUE!”

Danny, who had been preparing a patient room for a new admit, heard the cry for help and hurried into the hallway. “Dr. Ramsey?”

Ethan stood and turned toward Danny’s voice clutching Sawyer in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder, arms limp and dangling toward the floor.

“Oh my god! Is that Sawyer?”

“Her airway is restricted. She’s barely breathing,” Ethan stated, trying to control the panic in his voice.

“Here! This room is empty.”

As Ethan hurried into the room, Sawyer fell unconscious, her unsupported head falling backward.

“Shit! Danny, get an intubation kit!”

<><><><><><><><><><>

Meanwhile, Ines poked her head into the hall to see where Dr. Ramsey had disappeared too. She caught Baz running up the hall.

“Baz, what’s going on?”

“Ramsey just called a code blue,” he yelled behind him as he rushed past.

Concerned the code had been called for one of the patients the team visited earlier, she followed after Baz.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Ethan laid Sawyer on the bed and put an oxygen mask over her mouth. As he prepared the laryngoscope, Danny set up an IV and quickly administered the anesthesia. Ethan tilted her head back and inserted the breathing tube through her mouth. "I'm in."

Baz stopped short in his tracks and Ines gasped when they entered the room and assessed the situation.

As Danny attached the oxygen machine, Ethan noticed the rash that crept up Sawyer’s neck. He quickly pushed up the sleeves of her lab coat to check her arms and then gently lifted her blouse revealing the blistering rash covering her abdomen.

“Get some epinephrine. It’s anaphylaxis. She’s had a reaction to something.”

Realization dawned on Ines. “Bactrim.”

“She was taking Bactrim?” Ethan questioned with a furrowed brow. He felt bad that he hadn't noticed she was unwell, especially since they had spent every night that week working together on Naveen's case.

“Yes. She has an ear infection. I treated her in the clinic earlier this morning. I wrote her a prescription for Bactrim and encouraged her to take some before we started rounds.”

“Sulfa allergy,” Baz confirmed. “This is one of the most severe sulfonamide reactions that I've ever seen.”

Ines took Sawyer’s hand in her own. Eyes glistening with the threat of tears, “I feel horrible.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Ines,” Ethan consoled her. “She obviously didn’t know she was allergic. Otherwise, she would have mentioned it.”

The attending rattled off a few instructions to Danny for blood work and medication dosages.

Ethan wanted to do everything for her himself, but there were a few caretaking tasks that would be more appropriate left to the others. “Ines, could you help Danny get her changed into a gown and hooked up to the monitors?"

As much as he dreamt of seeing all of her, it definitely would not be under these circumstances.

“Of course, Dr. Ramsey.”

"I have another patient I need to check on but I will be back shortly.” Ethan and Danny shared a quick and knowing look. “Page me immediately if there is any change.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

“You’re not the pretty little ray of sunshine I had expected to see this morning,” Naveen jabbed as Ethan entered the room and set a tray of food on the overbed table. “Where’s the lovely Dr. Brooks? I was looking forward to resuming our Scrabble game.”

Instead of pushing the table over Naveen’s bed, Ethan gripped the edges for support, hung his head low and exhaled deeply.

“What’s wrong, son?”

It was a rare sight to see Ethan in this “human” state. When he lifted his head, Naveen swore he saw a slight sheen of unshed tears in his eyes.

Raking a hand down his face, Ethan cleared his throat and responded. “I almost,” he paused for correction, "...we almost lost her.”

“Lost who? What happened?”

“Sawyer. I found her in anaphylactic shock. She was barely breathing.”

Naveen sat up straighter in his bed, concern written all over his face. “And how is she now?”

“She’s intubated,” the reality of the situation finally catching up with him, “I had to intubate her.” He sighed, “She has a blistering rash all over her torso and extremities. I just left Danny and Ines to get her situated.”

Naveen took in his mentee’s appearance. Ethan’s hands shook slightly, color drawn from his face. “Ethan, sit,” he insisted, pointing to the bedside chair. “Take a minute to gather yourself.”

Ethan did as instructed, letting out another exhausted breath as the adrenaline rush wore off.

“Any idea what caused the reaction?” Naveen inquired.

“Sulfa allergy.”

Ethan let his head fall back against the headrest. He closed his eyes for a long moment, willing his emotions to stay at bay.

“Oh, my boy,” Naveen empathized. “She’ll be fine. If this preposterous intern competition has proved anything, it’s that she’s a fighter. And what's more, if she can survive you on a daily basis, she can survive anything.”

That got Ethan to lift his head with a small side smile.

“I should get back and see how she’s doing,” Ethan said, getting to his feet. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“I’m fine, go,” Naveen encouraged. And knowing exactly what he meant to say, he added, “Go check on your girl… sorry, I mean our girl. I can page Danny if I need anything.”

Ethan gave him an exasperated look, to which Naveen innocently shrugged his shoulders and shooed him away.

<><><><><><><><><><>

A couple hours later, Sawyer woke to an unfamiliar and frightening feeling in her throat. Through foggy eyes she frantically scanned her surroundings and found Ethan with his back to her.

He was reading printouts from the heart monitor when the beeping rhythm suddenly picked up pace.

With no voice to aid her, she stretched her weak arm out and scratched at his back.

He turned in an instant, taking in the fearful look in her eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, taking her hand. “I know it’s scary, but you are okay.” He placed his other hand on her head and rubbed soothing circles on her forehead with his thumb. “You had a severe reaction to the Bactrim and we had to intubate. We’ll take the tube out when the swelling comes down and your pulse ox improves.”

She clutched his hand with what little strength she had left in her tired body, her glossy green eyes begging him to stay by her side.

He wiped away the stray tear that escaped down her cheek, then reached behind him to pull the chair closer, taking a seat. “I’m not going anywhere, Rookie,” as he brought her hand to his lips.

Assured by the one person in this hospital that she trusted most, she let the medications pull her back to sleep.

<><><><><><><><><><>

She awoke a few times throughout the day, and each time she opened her eyes she found Ethan was still near. He either sat beside her holding her hand, or stood at the window gazing outside, or checked her IV fluids and monitors, or stretched out in the chair catching a nap.

When she roused later that night, Ethan had his stethoscope in his ears listening to her breath sounds.

“Hi. I don’t hear any more wheezing and your pulse ox has improved. I think it’s safe to extubate.”

He pressed the call button for the nurse, and after putting on a pair of gloves, he started to loosen the strap holding the tube in place. Maureen, who had relieved Danny, entered the room a minute later and helped Dr. Ramsey prepare for the extubation.

After raising the bed so she was sitting more upright, he looked into her nervous eyes and prepped her. “We’re ready, Sawyer. You know what to do. Take a deep breath.”

Sawyer breathed in deeply and when she exhaled, Ethan slid the tube out of her mouth, the sensation causing her to gag.

“You did great,” he told her, placing his hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Maureen helped him clean things up before asking if either of them needed anything else.

Sawyer shook her head, while Ethan replied, “Thank you, Maureen. I think we’re good for now.”

Once she exited the room, Ethan came near and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“My throat is really sore,” she coughed. “And I’m really itchy on my stomach.”

He gestured to the affected area, “Can I check?”

She nodded.

He pulled the blanket up around her waist to make sure her bottom half stayed covered, then pulled her gown up just enough to reveal her stomach. He tenderly skimmed his fingers across her navel wishing his touch would erase the offending red blotches.

“It’s looking better than it did this morning,” he said, rolling her gown back down. “We can give you another dose of antihistamines in a little while and that should help with the itching. I’ll go grab some antiseptic spray for your throat.”

As he started to stand, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him back down.

“Wait, come here,” she rasped, pulling him into her embrace. “Thank you,” voice cracking with overwhelming emotion.

Reciprocating he wrapped his arms around her tightly. He placed a prolonged kiss to the side of her head and murmured into her ear. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” as she choked back tears and tried to crack a joke, “I’m really not trying to be a colossal pain in the ass.”

He chuckled as they slowly released one another.

Caressing the side of her face, he stared into her eyes. “Why didn’t you mention anything to me about your ear?”

“It was just an ear infection. I didn’t want to burden you. You’ve already got so much on your plate.”

He just simply nodded accepting her explanation. Her thoughtfulness always amazed him.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she let out a quiet but gravelly laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“Wait until Annie hears about this.”

“Annie?”

“My very first patient. Remember? The one with decompression sickness. She was allergic to the antibiotics I prescribed.”

“Yes, I remember. Speaking of… any other allergies we should know about?”

“Adhesives. Bandages and medical tape. They make my skin burn and blister, well, like this...” she showed him the area around her IV.

She watched as he examined her hand, “What about you? Do you have any allergies?”

He answered keeping his eyes on her hand. “I think I'm allergic to you.”

Before she could roll her eyes and tell him to "shut up" for teasing, he continued. “When I get too close, it's sometimes hard to breathe and my heart starts to race…” he trailed off.

There was also the occasional swelling, but he kept that 'symptom' to himself.

Sawyer was almost at a loss for words upon hearing the sincerity in his voice. “Wow. That sounds kind of serious.”

As he delicately removed the offending tape that held her IV in place, he went on. “Yes, managing it has been quite difficult. Even harder since the exposure a few weeks ago that almost killed me."

Memories of Miami flooded her mind as he gently squeezed her hand and stood up.

“Ethan…” she breathed, her heart monitor again beeping just a bit faster.

He bent down and placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “Let’s figure out another way to secure this IV.”

A/N 3: I feel like I need to go back and update Sawyer's profile page with her medical alerts now.😋

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passivenovember · 7 months

Text

Billy tugs his phone out of his pocket, clumsy fingers swiping notifications from the home page.

He’s got four emails from Cosmo, a missed call from Maxine, and a message from Joyce that lights up his screen with the same sprawling, letter-esque type that all people born before 1983 seem to use.

Billy, Joyce says, and Billy imagines her index finger tapping furiously, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, Hop ate some bad seafood. Won’t make the party. I’m sorry, kid. Love you so much. Breathe in, have fun, breathe out. Love, Joyce Byers.

Billy hadn’t noticed the time.

“This is fun,” Eddie says, suddenly.

Billy looks up, startled out of his swirling little daydream. “Sure,” he says distantly. Things have settled in the dust. Soft, intimate conversations flutter around the room like butterfly wings, brushing Billy’s skin and sticking to the sweat on his brow.

He’s relieved to be out of the spotlight. A good meal can take the edge off of things, sending people into a heady, comfortable space where nothing matters as much as it did before.

Scarecrow is asleep on the couch. Everyone else is gone.

Billy considers the clock on his home screen and the prickly meaning of 10:23 shining over the last picture he took with his mom before boarding the plane last Christmas. His feet hurt, his throat’s dry, and really what would it matter if he took off?

It’s not like Steve would toss a rock through his living room window. He might send someone after him, like. Chrissy or Eddie or Dustin, who Billy learned spent every summer at a camp not far from Mammoth Lakes. He’s been gathering information all evening, building his arsenal. No matter the case or the friend or the scenario, Billy could take them–

“Should we go check on Steve?”

Billy looks up from the empty pit of his cell phone screen. It’s gone dark. The room has cleared out, with art majors and registered nurses running back to whatever warehouse Steve keeps them in, and it’s down the the bare bones.

Billy. Scarecrow, asleep on the couch. Robin and Chris, probably, sitting on a bathroom floor somewhere misty-eyed like El and Max are when they’ve had too much to drink, doing each other’s hair and throwing compliments at each other like confetti. And Munson.

Always Munson.

Eddie wags an eyebrow, patting at his shirt pocket for a packet of cigarettes. “Want?”

“No,” Billy says, wrinkling his nose at the bright orange package, “Thanks.”

Apparently, people still smoke Dosal’s.

Apparently, this is 1982.

“Suit yourself, Blondie,” Eddie fishes a pale slim between two fingers and pinches the butt with his teeth, patting around all over again for a lighter. Billy wants to play the Hypocrite, insisting that smoking real cigarettes is bad, even though his lips are lightning pricks of jealousy.

“They’re having a moment,” Billy says finally.

“Who?”

“Nancy and Steve.”

“Awful long moment, if you ask me.”

“Nobody did.”

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie quips back. He gets a flame started. Smoke pouring from his nose like a dragon, “You should go up there,” Eddie says, eyes bright with mischief.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t just go up there–”

“Don’t wanna cause a scene?” Eddie blows smoke through his nose, the flat, sweaty face of his palm lining circles through the air, “Dude. Party’s dead. It’s not like anyone’s around to see and even if they did, they won’t remember or care once the hangover kicks in.”

“Oh, and you don’t count?”

“‘Course not, Blondie, I’m just stirring the shit. Besides,” Eddie smirks, “You go up there and find out what’s keeping him, and I swear I’ll punt the Wheeler kid over my shoulder and we’ll be gone in time for Nancy to storm, broomstick flying, out the front door.”

The edge of Billy’s cell cuts into his palm, its corner pressing deep enough that Billy feels his pulse thumping through centimeters of metal and plastic. “Where’s Chris?”

“Went for a sleepover with Robin and the baby. Chrissy loves kids.”

Billy doesn’t remember that. He doesn’t remember much of anything–

“Are you serious?” Eddie rolls his eyes, “That’s what you get for staring at your phone for twenty minutes, Hargrove.”

Billy starts. “Twenty minutes?”

“It’s true what they say about radio signals and microwaves and cell phones frying your frontal lobe, you know–”

The ceiling starts thumping overhead. “Wait,” Eddie says to himself. To Billy. He holds his palm upward, cigarette smoke curling up through his fingers like fog from a sewer grate.

Someone slams a door.

And then someone else comes thundering down the stairs, their footfall so heavy that Billy glances at the knick-knack shelf with mirth.

He holds his breath, terrified and suddenly, heart-wrenchingly sober–

And then Nancy rounds on him.

She’s crying.

Eddie says, “Wheeler,” like he knows something they don’t know.

Nancy ignores him. Her eyes somehow catch and tear open on Billy’s smooth, concerned gaze. He wants to say something to her. He wants to apologize and scrub the thundering sound of her footsteps from the stairwell.

She stalks to the foyer, snatching her purse off the now bare antique table that had bags and jackets piled high not even twenty minutes ago. “Mike,” Nancy says, her eyes glued to the floor as she digs around for her keys.

Scarecrow doesn’t rouse from his spot on the sofa. He’s drooling, a little.

Billy clears his throat, “Is everything–”

“Michael Wheeler,” Nancy says, with all the pissed-off, righteous terror of a girl who spent too long at her mother’s knee.

Mike sits with a startled sound, “What, what happened? Is everything–”

“Get up so I can drive you home.”

Mike stares wildly around the room, dimly lit like all rooms are at the end of a monumental evening. “Where is everybody?” Mike’s wide, nervous eyes land on Billy. “Hey, do you have any more of that tater-tot casserole?”

“I–”

Nancy grabs her brother by the scruff of his neck, “You don’t need more casserole, I can get you McDonald's on the way home.”

“Home,” Mike repeats, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, “What happened to you and Steve–”

Nancy hauls Mike to the front door, shoves him through, and slams it shut behind them.

The house falls silent like someone hit the mute button. Like Nancy ripped the button out of the wall and they’re stuck in this weird, floating space between alive and. Something else. Radio silent.

Eddie clears his throat, “Anyway–”

“Mike told me he doesn’t like tater-tot casserole,” Billy says thickly. Feeling. A little bit like a tiny ceramic figurine in the center of a snow globe, full of wonder as emotions swirl brightly all around him.

Maybe he’s just drunk. “He said he wouldn’t eat it.”

“Right.”

“But he did,” Billy tries heavily. “Mike was the first person I met when I got here and he made me feel like shit, but then. He ate the casserole.”

Eddie nods, taking a languid drag from his still-lit cigarette. Billy thinks that Steve is going to throw a fit when he comes down here and finds his vintage, 1970s furniture smelling exactly like the decade they were manufactured in.

Billy shakes his head, willing it to clear. “It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I just mean that. Why would Mike eat the casserole if he hates it?”

Eddie shrugs, “Maybe he was lying?”

“But why would he eat my casserole if he hates me?”

“Maybe he was lying,” Eddie says again, flatter this time. He puffs on his cigarette, studying the drunken flush on Billy’s cheeks. It goes on forever and forever and then he ashes his cigarette in the tray Steve uses to keep loose change in, leaning forward on his elbows.

Eddie’s head gets huge and wobbly like a bobbledummy. “Can I be honest with you, Billiam?”

“--Billiam–”

“Can I, though?”

“Sure?”

“You’re a great guy,” Eddie says lightly, full of feeling, and Billy starts to shake. “I’m being serious. You’re the best guy Steve’s been with in longer than I can remember, you just. I think you judge people too harshly.”

“Me?”

“You.” Eddie determines. He leans back, cool as a frizzy-haired cucumber. “I just think, like. You’re getting all misty-eyed over the drunken realization that maybe Mike didn’t hate you as much as you thought he did, and earlier you seemed surprised that Nancy didn’t try to kill you with a paring knife, and you’re attributing it all to some garlic bread and a fucking tater-tot casserole.”

Billy’s ears feel hot. Red hot and sunburned, under the weight of Eddie’s scrutiny. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong– “What should I attribute it to, then?”

“You,” Eddie says, lighting another cigarette. “I’ve known you for half a day, Hargrove, and I can tell. You’re cool. Way cooler than you give yourself credit for.”

–

Eddie makes up some bullshit lie about needing to go home. I work in the morning, he says, so Billy lets him go.

And then he climbs the stairs, two at a time while flickering memories of the party-set-up dance just out of reach. He’s never actually been anywhere beyond the landing on the second level of Steve’s house. The attic drawstring dangles in a lazy, barely-there breeze, and Billy’s surprised to find more doors than he anticipated, stamped along the hallway in calm, quiet darkness.

He imagines them leading to spare bathrooms. Closets that span the entire floor. Libraries and knicks that lead to the unpolished servant’s quarters.

It’s magical like the Brothers Grimm stories his mom used to read to him, and Billy has the foreign, intense urge to open every single door and peer into the darkness like Nancy Drew.

Nancy Wheeler.

But the door on the farthest end of the hallway spills gold onto the carpet from a tiny, amber sliver, and Billy’s heart thumps wildly, battering against his ribs at the thought that Steve’s in there, Steve’s just down the hall–

Billy knocks twice with the hardest part of his knuckle. Just like his mother used to before Neil went missing and before Susan made her laugh at the grocery store, back when Billy had huge feelings but couldn’t put a name to them. Back when his bedroom was a fortress.

“Steve?” Billy says. Someone shuffles behind the door, their shadow casting long enough to reach like phantom fingers into the hallway. “I think I’m gonna head out–”

The door swings open.

Steve’s been crying.

Right away, Billy’s heart skips a beat and starts thumping backward, eager to turn back time and retrace every step until things start to make sense again. “Oh, you didn’t have to open the door,” Billy says, shyly, “Sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Steve shrugs. He won’t meet Billy’s eyes when he says, “Is everyone else gone?” Like he hopes they’ll come thundering up the stairs, one right after the other, to save him from this.

Billy tries to push the thought away and fails. “No, they’re all gone.”

“Did you have an alright time?”

“Yeah,” Billy says softly, surprised to feel his heart opening like a flower in the light of that truth. “Your friends are really great, Steve. Chrissy was a doll and Robins–”

“Robin.”

“Yeah. Dustin actually knew where Mammoth Lakes is on a map, like. I was so surprised. And he’s been hiking near the mountains at that nerdy little summer camp–”

“--Camp Knowhere–”

“Right. Science camp,” Billy smiles, feeling hot all over from the booze, “And Eddie was great, too, y’know. For a nosy piece of shit.”

Steve starts at that, his spine going ramrod straight like maybe Billy’s words electrocuted him. “You. You spent most of the night with Eddie?”

“Yeah, he’s cool,” Billy chuckles, and. Steve makes a face, like. A trademark, Big-eyed-terrified-jealous-asshole kind of face. It’s adorable. “Steve. Are you jealous?” Billy asks, amused.

Steve turns beet-red. “No.”

“Oh my god, you are.”

“I’m not jealous of Eddie Munson,” Steve spits, rolling his eyes so far back Billy thinks they may never be brown again, “He’s a nice guy, I just. Can’t believe you found anything he said so interesting that it took you an hour and a half to come up here.”

Billy falters. “I thought he was one of your friends.”

“He’s a work friend,” Steve says sharply, “That’s not the same thing. Nancy said he was making eyes at you all night.”

And.

For the first time since Steve started turning Billy’s heart on its head with the sound of a shovel on his driveway, Billy wants to knock Steve’s teeth in. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Steve looks bashful, staring at the floor. “I don’t know. Nancy said that–”

“Fucking Nancy,” Billy spits. His arms burn, and his muscles pull tense. “She has no right to run up here and tell you that anything was going on, Steve, because she’s full of shit. Eddie’s a cool person. He was just being nice.”

“Like how he’s been ‘nice,’ to every other guy I’ve–”

Billy tries to put a lid on the fire that sentiment starts, burning through his stomach. That Billy’s not special. He’s just like every other guy Steve’s ever brought home. “Eddie loves his girlfriend,” Billy reasons, “Chrissy, remember her?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Billy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does it matter who I spent the night with, anyway.”

“Billy–”

“I still had a good time. I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It is what I wanted.”

“Then why are you acting so weird?” Billy's jaw aches. He wants to hinge it shut. Yearns to fold himself into Steve’s arms and forget everything. Nancy and the kitchen, Nancy and the Hallway–

But.

He’s drunk. And when Billy’s drunk, his mouth runs away with him. Steve’s hurt him, whether or not he meant to is inconsequential, and Billy’s suddenly pissed off. Furious. He bares his teeth. “It’s not like I could’ve spent any time with you.”

Steve picks up on it immediately, his eyes blowing wide with regret. “Bill–”

“When you weren’t saddled up in the next room, smoking until your eyes dried out and ditching me so I could bake bread in the kitchen like your little kept boy, you were locked up in here with Nancy.”

Steve’s baby browns flash red with anger. “Like you were, with Munson?”

“What are we talking about?” Billy snaps. “Where is this coming from?”

“Nancy just said–”

“You’re throwing a fucking fit because I was spending time with one of your friends?”

“To be fair,” Stee quips, smiling softly, “Eddie’s pretty cute.”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” Billy shakes his head, driven crazy with sorrow, “That’s bullshit, Steve. You don’t get to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you, baby.”

“Don’t call me that,” Billy says, “I’m pissed at you.”

“Alright, Jesus–”

Billy feels his fuze stop, ready to detonate. “Why are you rolling your eyes and acting like this isn’t a big deal? It is.”

“I know.”

“I come up here and you start bitching at me about Eddie Munson. I’m not the bad guy, here. I wasn’t the one who disappeared for an hour to talk to a girl I once called ‘baby,’ on the phone.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

His mouth opens and closes, working around a comeback, but Billy isn’t in the mood to give him that chance.

“For months, Nancy’s been this huge thing hanging over my head. Ever since we got snowed in that last time, and. Steve, I didn’t ask to be a bigger part of your life. I didn’t ask you to scrape my driveway, or bring me ice melt, or grow flowers to decorate my classroom with. I didn’t want any of it. I don’t deserve–”

What Nancy said to me. Robin’s kindness.

This.

Love.

You.

Billy takes a deep, steadying breath. “I’m sorry,” He says, tugging a hand through his hair. When their eyes meet, Steve’s are warm. Sad. Billy wets his lips, “I don’t want to bitch back and forth. Tonight was really fun. Really. I loved it.”

I love you.

Billy turns, grateful that the world is less of a dreamscape, now. He’s ready to go home, ready to disappear, But then–

“Nancy said she overstepped, tonight.”

Billy stops. His hand clutches the banister.

“She told me she opened her mouth and ruined what we had, and. To be honest, I’m not really surprised. I should’ve expected that she would say something fucked to you because she does that. Always has. It’s one of the reasons we broke up in High School and never got back together again, even though–”

“--Steve–”

“I just. We’ve never really stopped caring about each other, and it’s unhealthy. I was living in denial because it’s always been platonic on my end. But I think in some weird, step-ford wives kinda way, maybe Nance–”

Billy whirls, his body catching on fire, “I don’t want to hear that she’s in love with you, Steve.”

Steve watches him like a bear caught in a trap.

Billy’s voice cracks right down the middle. He hates it. He’s going to drown. “I swear to god. If you tell me that she’s in love with you and after all this time, all this shit you’ve done to make me like you. Steve, if you stand there and say you love her–”

“I’m not in love with Nancy Wheeler, Billy, I’m in love with you.”

Billy blinks, shocked when tears cling to his lashes.

He’s grateful that Steve isn’t close enough to see them, poised and ready to break like waves over his freckles. “No,” Billy says, not. Believing it. He can’t. He won’t. Billy shakes his head, “No–”

“Look–”

“--This is insane,” Billy says, “We’re fighting. We’re having our first fight.”

“Yeah,” Steve says sheepishly, “It sucks, but. It’s kinda nice, too. Refreshing to have it all out there.”

“Stop,” Billy says, breathless. “This isn’t right. I’m supposed to call you an asshole, and you’re supposed to kick me out and I’m supposed to not sleep, and. Cry to my sister on the phone. I’m supposed to realize I fucked up big time, and come back tomorrow with flowers and apologize for getting so drunk and ruining our lives–”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Steve says. He tucks his hands into his pockets, gaze steady on what he wants. “What’s happening is my fault.”

“It’s not,” Billy says thickly. He wants to stand on the stairway banister and say it’s his fault. All of it. His insecurity, his depression, his brain bullshit, making everything difficult since that first January day–

“It is, though,” Steve says, taking one step closer. “I shouldn’t have invited Nancy tonight. I should’ve done more to make you comfortable, and even though I knew all the shit with her was tearing you up inside, I didn’t do anything to stop it. I should have.”

“It’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, Billy, you’re supposed to throw shit and call me an asshole because I deserve it,” Steve says. “We’re having our first fight, remember?”

He’s on the verge of smiling, but.

Billy can feel heartache like an incoming rainstorm, emotions like clouds gathering somewhere neither of them can see but when the rains come and wash away everything that was there before, they can start over, bathed in the light of the dawn.

“I don’t know what she said, exactly, but Bill,” Steve looms closer, his eyes swamped with emotion, “You’ve gotta believe me. It’s not true.” When his hands cup Billy’s neck, they’re warm. His thumbs brush lightly over Billy’s jaw. “I’m so in love with you, Billy.”

Billy presses into them, like a cat, “Okay.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier. I’m sorry–”

“That’s the thing about a first fight,” Billy says, grinning softly, “I think we get to have makeup sex, now.”

Steve holds terrifyingly, shockingly still, and then.

He moves.

Billy kisses him. He presses all his weight into Steve, pushing and pulling until their bodies meld into something new.

Steve sucks on his tongue, hands scrambling to touch every part of Billy he can find. They stumble, unsure on love-drunk legs, knees knocking along the hallway and into the bedroom.

Billy hums low in his throat. Steve’s tugging on his shirt, pulling the starched fabric downdown down until the blood stops pulsing up through his brain.

“Off,” Steve says, panting into his mouth, “Off, baby, please–”

“Buttons,” Billy grunts, and they go flying, a handful of tiny stars that leave scratch marks on the wallpaper.

This is the shirt Steve picked out for him. So they could match. They’re matching right now, two halves of a whole, and Steve gets him on his back, says, “Let me eat you out, baby. Please–”

“Yes.” Billy’s mouth chokes around a half-baked thought, that. Good boy. Steve, Billy, both of them.

“Thank you,” Steve says, like a prayer, and it’s ridiculous.

Billy wonders if it’s the start of something. Of love. Fifty more years draped button-downs and pressed khakis and Steve, salt-and-pepper gray around the temples and everywhere else.

He gets Billy’s pants off.

Billy moans because he wants to see it. The room is cold, and Steve is warm, and Billy tucks into it like an animal fending off the winter, and then he’s hot.

On fire.

Steve gets his mouth on Billy. Licks up his balls and swallows his cock down to the root, nose buried in the curly blond husk that pillows him. Steve gives head like someone’s told him he’s got ten minutes left to live. It’s break-neck. Harsh. The world is drowning and the sky has been torn open, and this is Steve’s dying wish.

“Shit,” Billy says to the ceiling, “Shit, Steve, I’m gonna–”

Steve pulls off with a wet, satisfying pop. “I’ve got lube in the drawer,” He says, voice hoarse through the fog of pleasure surrounding them.

He doesn’t ask.

He licks a stripe from Billy’s balls to his swollen, pink head, and says, “Open it for me.”

Billy doesn’t have the wherewithal to think so he gets on his knees and crawls, starving, to the beside table.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says. He follows Billy up the mattress. Steve’s cupping his ass, petting it, spreading it open.

He spits on Billy’s pucker, and.

There are fingers, pressing lightly at his rim. Steve says, “I’ve wanted this for years,”

Billy drops the lube, says, “Years?” But then he’s being split open. Fucked open on Steve’s tongue, strong and sure and slick, in all his most tender places.

His face hits the mattress. He’s suffocating, and death smells like cedarwood and vanilla. Billy’s dripping a puddle onto it, ruining the duvet and the sheets too, probably, but.

It feels amazing. It’s amazing–

Billy’s radioactive. Steve’s got him by the kneecaps, keeping him open and receptive, and Billy’s cock hangs heavy and swollen when Steve pressed two fingers in alongside his tongue.

Billy’s makes a noise, like.

His lungs are giving out. His heart has grown lips to speak, after all these years, and–

“Is it okay if I–”

“Want you,” Billy gasps, tasting cotton on his tongue. He can’t manage more than that.

Steve pulls away, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the base of Billy’s spine. “Lay on your back, okay?”

Bily does as he’s told.

His shirt is tangled frustratingly around his elbows. Billy twists onto his back, anyway, watching as Steve tugs his own pants down just far enough for his cock to bounce free.

It’s perfect.

It’s long and thick, pink at the tip next to a pretty brown freckle, and Billy wants to get his mouth on it. He tries to sit, obeying when Steve keeps him pinned to the mattress with a strong, gentle arm across his chest.

His pupils are blown wide, eating up all the honey-brown Billy loves so much. “I want,” Steve starts, gasping when Billy’s fingers tug at his length. “Fuck–”

“Where’s the lube?” Billy demands.

Steve fumbles for it. When his fingers close around the bottle, he squirts a generous amount onto Billy’s waiting palm and sits back, watching through eyes half-lidded as Billy’s fingers tease and play with him.

“You’re big,” Billy says softly.

“Jesus, you’re gonna give me a complex.”

“It’s a fact,” Billy twists his fingers and Steve lights up like Times Square. He wants to do it again, “You’re gonna feel so good, Stevie.”

Steve drops his forehead to Billy’s chest, tongue laving hot over his collarbone. “You talk way too much,”

Billy tugs on his cock a little harder, relishing the little ah ah ah’s Steve can’t hold back. He’s got Steve where he wants him, that pretty pink head bumping softly against his hole, and Billy needs this.

Steve’s heart and body and love, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

It’s terrifying.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Steve slides home. Kisses all over Billy’s face and says, “I love you,” like he’s a virgin who’s just seen God for the first time.

Then he moves, sliding out and back in, out and back in.

Thrusting and then pounding, folding Billy in half until Steve is all he can feel inside of himself, all he can see staring down from above.

“I love you,” Steve says. Keeps saying, when Billy whimpers that he’s going to come. Steve quickens his thrusts, “You’re gorgeous. You’re so tight, baby, so perfect. Come for me, alright? C’mon, let me see you–”

It’s all the gentle reverence Billy could never, ever deserve.

He has no choice but to lie there and take it.

–

“I like your ears.”

It’s hot, under the duvet cover. Billy’s covered in sticky, warm sweat. It’s Steve’s and it’s his and it’s theirs, making it difficult to stay put but impossible to pull away.

Steve’s got a leg thrown over Billy’s waist.

He’s propped on his elbow, gazing down at the soft, rounded shell of Billy's ear, fingertips tracing up and around until he tugs on the lobe.

“Ow,” Billy swats his hand away. “Dick.”

“You’ve got Dumbo ears.”

“Is this the best you can come up with in terms of pillow talk?”

“Freckles and pink cheeks and perfect lips. Long eyelashes and wonderful hair and now the ears, took?” Steve ignores him, leaning down to ghost the shell with his lips, “You’re like a cartoon character. It’s like God wanted to make everyone else feel bad about themselves because of how detailed you are.”

His breath tickles.

Billy laughs, high and bright, “God, you’re insane.”

“What do you expect? You’re the main character and I’m just a supporting role–”

“--shit, what time is it–”

“--I’m not even a supporting role, I’m a cameo. An NPC–”

Billy pats around under the covers for his phone, realizing that it’s probably still lying face-down on the coffee table.

“--It’s really only a matter of time before you find some other person who’s as perfect and detailed as you are, and then you can have perfectly detailed babies and live in your perfectly detailed house–”

Billy sits, drooping his legs over the side of the mattress, “I live in an IKEA showroom, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Steve demands. “I thought we were gonna have a sleepover?”

Billy’s stomach swoops.

His brain kickstarts, trying to think of a reason he can’t sleep over tonight, but his synapses fumble the ball and he sits there, starched button down dangling between two fingers.

Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

The walls are closing in, and Steve says, “Billy, what’s wrong?” And Billy thinks no one should ever want anything from him. No one should ever get this far–

“Hey, why are you breathing like that?” Steve sits, palms spreading warmly over Billy’s stomach where he slots in behind him. “Where’d you go?”

Billy’s mouth dries up. Outside the window, the sky is starting to gray, a little, dawn slowly and softly approaching. Billy has no idea how long they’ve been here, lying like this together, but he knows he never wants to leave.

Won’t survive it ever ending.

But it will.

It will–

Steve presses a kiss to the back of Billy’s neck. “Talk to me, Billy. Please.”

Billy shakes his head.

“Let’s lay down,” Steve tells him, and before Billy knows it he’s tucked under the covers again, folded in and around the soft, supple places Steve has made for him.

Billy counts to one hundred, then.

Listens to Steve’s breathing for as long as it takes his own to go calm. Finally, he sits with his back to the headboard. Steve watches him, patient.

Always patient.

Billy takes a deep breath. “When you were up here with Nance–”

“--Billy–”

“What did she tell you?”

Steve’s fingers play with the knobs of thread on his duvet. Like the rest of his house, it’s old. Quilted. Probably a hand me down from his mother, and her mother, and hers before that. “She told me you were afraid of me.”

Billy waits. Listens.

“You know you don’t have to be, right?” Steve looks up at him, eyes thick with worry, “You know I would never do anything–”

“It’s more than that,” Billy says. “My mom. She wasn’t always gay. Or, maybe she was, but she wasn’t always married to Susan.” His knuckles turn white on the lip of the duvet cover. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. “Before our family was like it is now, there was. My dad.”

Steve nods. Waits.

“He was an angry man,” Billy swallows and his throat clicks. “He liked. Blood.”

“Baby, if it’s hurting you, we don’t have to talk about this.”

“I have a lot of problems, Steve,” Billy says. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Steve shakes his head, “You struggle with mental illness. That doesn’t mean something is wrong with you, Billy.”

And.

Steve’s shaking. His jaw is set, strong and resolute, ready to argue Billy’s case for him. Ready to lay these things to rest because they’re in love.

Steve says he loves Billy. He really believes it, and.

Billy toes the edge of a cliff. “I’m gonna tell you something I never say out loud,” He whispers, “Is that alright?”

“Of course, you can tell me anything.”

“I know, but,” Billy sits up straighter, tugging a hand through his hair, “I need to say it because. Look, Steve, I.”

Billy’s going to throw up.

He closes his eyes. “I love you, okay? I fucking love you, too, and I can’t. Goddamn do this, if you don’t know the whole story–”

“Alright.” Steve sits, taking Billy’s hands in his own. “Tell me. Go slow.”

Billy opens his eyes, and all he can see is Steve.

Beauty.

Kindness.

He realizes, then, that he’s shaking. That he would do anything to keep this.

It makes him brave.

“Okay,” Billy starts, staring down at their hands because that’s easier. “I moved out here because I knew there were kids that needed someone to care about them, but I miss my family. I haven’t unpacked my house because I can’t see myself fitting in here, but. I never really fit anywhere, except for with my sister.” He stares out, to the foot of the bed. He counts the shadows, seeing his father’s face in every single one. “Steve, I. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”

Steve laughs, “Same, you’re way too cool for me.”

“No, I’m serious. I didn’t expect to fall in love. Not with anyone,” Billy says, “Ever.”

Steve’s smile falls away. “That’s not possible,” He says valiantly, “Someone would’ve come along and loved you. You’re a beacon for it.”

Billy gasps, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Steve, I used to be a piece of shit–”

“--So did I–”

“--I have panic attacks,” Billy admits in a rush, like he’s ever been good at hiding them. “I overthink things, and I spiral–”

“--I love you, Billy–”

“--I have to go to therapy two times a week. My favorite color is gray. Well, blue and gray, but–”

“--I love you, Billy,” Steve says, again. He rubs his thumb across the back of Billy’s hand, smiling softly. “We were neighbors before this. I know you.”

Billy watches Steve’s thumb, timing his breaths to its careful, loving swipe. “There was something else Nancy said,”

“What?”

“That I can’t keep stringing you along if fear is what I feel.”

Billy realizes, half a second too late, that he’s dropped a bomb. Steve pulls away from him, brow furrowing. “Stringing me along?”

“No, not, like, in the literal sense–”

Steve gets out of bed. He’s naked, and it feels wrong to look when the roof is caving in, but Billy can’t help it.

“Nancy said that? I can’t believe Nancy said that, that’s so–” Steve’s eyes close like doors. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me.”

“Not you,” Billy says sharply. “She got that part wrong.”

“Then what? Tell me what I can do–”

“You can’t do anything!” Billy snaps. The room is silent. Outside, there are crickets. Night birds. Billy’s chest aches, pain springing fresh in his voice. “The fear is mine. It’s inside me. Ever since I was a kid, and. With my dad, I just.”

Steve watches him.

Billy shakes his head. “I feel like I have a lot of work to do before I can love somebody.”

A dam breaks.

Billy doesn’t realize he’s crying until Steve crosses to him, pulling Billy to his chest. “Love isn’t something you have to work for, alright? You don’t have to spend years working on yourself until you think you’re perfect enough to love someone, you’re perfect now.”

Billy hiccups, his throat closing just a little.

“Billy, please believe me,” Steve says.

Billy wants to. More than anything, but.

He pulls away, scrubbing at his face with the back of one hand. It takes everything in him to say it, but he has to. He owes it to himself and to Steve and to this brand new, perfect, fragile thing growing between them.

“I love you,” Billy says gently, “I do. I’ve loved you so much for so long but I feel like I don’t know who I am. I haven’t known since the second I moved to Hawkins, and I just. Need to see my mom. And my sister. I need to go home and be with my family before I can–”

“When does your spring break start?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says, “What day is it?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you,” Steve smiles in spite of himself, thumb lifting to wipe the tear tracks from Billy’s face. “I could’ve guessed, you know? You’ve never really been happy, here. I thought I was helping.”

“You are.”

Steve nods, threading their fingers together. He watches their hands for a moment, and then sighs, his neck rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “I think you should go home early.”

Billy frowns. “But–”

“If you need space, I can give it to you,” Steve looks at him, smiling small and sad, “It hurts that you don’t see yourself here and I’ll miss you like hell for those two weeks, but. If that’s what you need to feel sure about this–”

“--I’m sure about you, Steve–”

“--Then yourself. Take care of you first,” Steve grows serious, eyes tracking the curves of Billy’s face, “I want you to feel okay. That’s the most important thing.”

Steve presses a kiss to their hands, and Billy loves him. It rumbles down through his bones, spreading like wildfire until his skin catches aflame.

It hurts.

It hurts, and it really, really doesn’t when Billy lets out a deep, trapped breath. “Okay. I’ll miss you,”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“You won’t run away from me when I get back?”

Steve leans forward, his breath ghosting the shell of Billy’s ear. “Where else am I gonna go?”

–

Billy sleeps in Steve’s bed that night.

When he wakes and the room is empty, his phone charging on the nightstand, he opens his Southwest App and buys a ticket.

One way, home.

from the new chapter of if snow loves the trees and fields

#harringrove #it took half a year for me to get this fic updated #but i finally did it!#hope you enjoy

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