˖ִ⊹˖ִ ˚ want RYLAND GRACE so bad its got me writing again...
picturing him and an ART TEACHER!READER, walk with me
ryland’s been keeping a silent eye on you since you were first hired at grover cleveland middle a year ago, your classroom was two doors down from his, and you both coincidentally taught the same grade. even being an art teacher, there had been the occasional time one of his students mentioned a familiar concept you taught in class. the fibonacci sequence, golden ratio, color theory, sound waves, light spectrum, etc.
he was surprised by how quick you settled in, the students loved you and his colleagues enjoyed making joint projects with your class. he wanted to do the same, badly. he knew there could be an opportunity there to approach you, talk with you, get to know you. but his mouth stayed shut, sticking to his usual lesson plan and definitely not searching up any direction correlations for a science and art class.
thankfully for him, you had bumped into him at the teacher’s lounge before winter break and proposed an adjacent project. apparently, you had noticed the decorations scattered around his classroom — when did you see that? — and explained to him how you were going to introduce chesley bonestell as well as techniques including lightings, shadows, and scale. he would have said yes either way, but the shared interest in cosmos only had him thinking about you more. What else did he have in common with you? Was that finally his opening to be able to approach you more?
if it was, he (un)surprisingly did not take advantage of it. the days he had spent brainstorming the project were only filled with him trying to distract himself from your proximity and trying to get back to the safety of his solidarity the moment it had been over. he never regretted something more.
and that’s why he was here. new year. new classrooms. new students. it had been a little early in the year, school just began three months ago, your project wouldn’t happen again until second semester, but he wanted to get ahead of it, share some new ideas with you, and maybe… finally be able to talk to you. outside of the classroom.
ryland has paced the entirety of the hallway for the fifth time now. his hands were clammy, he was fidgety. constantly rearranging his tie, fixing the way his glasses sat on his nose, or adjusting his hair in the reflection of the small window on his classroom door. it was a silly thing to be stressed about, you. what was he expecting, for you to bite off his head and tell him to leave? his worry was irrational, you weren’t that type of person… he hopes you weren’t.
he told himself this was the day he was going into your classroom to ask you about it. he had tried earlier today during his free period, but he got jittery halfway through and sped past your classroom door to make his way to the bathroom. he tried again a few minutes later, only to do the same thing and head towards the teacher’s lounge instead.
but now, the eight graders were at recess and the second floor was silent, for once. he completed his sixth walk down the hallway now, eyes fleeting towards his watch for the umpteenth time. recess was over in ten minutes, the conversation would last at most five minutes. he swallowed, rubbing his hands over his face before finally making his way to your classroom. “you’re a teacher,” he muttered to himself. “you talk for a living. this is the same thing.”
he stopped at the door, hand hesitant as it moved between wrapping itself around the doorknob and falling back to his side. “…this is not the same thing.” still, he finally decided to let out a breath and open your door with a soft knock. he stepped in and saw how your head perked up at the sound, a small smile on your face as you greeted him. Oh God, you looked like moonlight. Why did you have to look so nice today? Right now?
“hey,” he said sheepishly as he hovered near your desk, unsure what to do with himself. “i, uh..” he cleared his throat, looking at your expecting eyes. did you think he was making a fool of himself? “i was just wondering about the project, y’know, the… thing.”
he mentally berated himself. the thing? seriously? “i wanted to know if you ever wanted to meet up some time, outside of school… just— to talk about the project! nothing else.”
…if you didn’t think he was a fool then, you definitely did now.
if you did, you definitely didn’t show it. you just gave him a small smile and nodded, telling him a “that would be great.” he’s sure he accidentally scheduled a time to meet with you during one of his grading times, but he doesn’t know how he was expected to focus when your eyes glimmered under the schools lights.
you settled on a coffee shop two blocks away from the school after work on friday, and he had to stop himself from grinning until his cheeks hurt. he bid you a small goodbye before walking out your classroom, closing your door with a soft click before punching his fist in the air, practically skipping back to his classroom.
he was more animated during his lectures for the rest of the day, his students had noticed it, and he brushed off their questions, simply telling them that it was a beautiful day while the rain pattered on the windows. whatever, none of it mattered to him as long as he got to see the way your eyes light up with ideas on friday.
i think it's important as well that buck went to chimney as his Captain. not his friend or his brother-in-law. as his Captain. which i think is because buck didn't know HOW to go to someone about this in a personal capacity. it's so clear that he Wanted to open up to eddie in the ambulance. he was desperate for eddie to look at him and see him and when eddie didn't immediately look at him he quickly swerved to Trucks. and then when eddie DID look at him and see him and notice that something was very wrong (again) buck couldn't do it. he couldn't tell him. even though he Wanted to tell him. because buck is afraid that if people See Him they'll see a screw up. they'll see someone who isn't good enough. so he Can't do it. which says nothing about eddie or anyone else but about how He views himself in his worst moments. so he goes to chimney. significantly as his Captain. says You should fire me as a way to start the conversation because he doesn't know how to do this otherwise. and chimney meets him in the middle. as his Captain. yes he's going to go through the proper channels about this. but also as his friend and as his brother-in-law who knows him and Loves him and who this changes nothing for. and that's really what buck needed. to know that the people he loves don't love him any less or think any less of him. and they didn't.
that moment in the montage when everything around him starts going faster as buck stays zoned out in the middle except for a good chunk of that portion eddie is also still because he's just been sitting next to buck comforting him with his presence while everyone else does the work around the house. Yeah. Yeah.
Summary: You’ve been experiencing symptoms of diabetes for the last few months, but you played it off. You’ve been busy with work and school, and you had no money for blood tests… that was until you were alone one night, and it all caught up to you. You call 9-1-1 on the brink of exhaustion, luckily, they send the one man who can help you the most
Warnings/tags: Fluff, medical emergency, slowish burn, strangers to lovers, comfort, SFW, developing relationship, diabetes, medical inaccuracies, no use of Y/N
Notes: After binge watching all of 9-1-1 Nashville in one day, I was severely disappointed by the lack of blue x reader fics! Allow me to fill the gap. This is both the first fic I’ve ever written for tumblr and my first x reader fic, but I am by no means new to the world of fanfiction, so I’m hoping this averages out. I also do not have diabetes, and my knowledge of diabetes is limited to what Google tells me. I apologize sincerely if I get anything wrong.
I hope y’all enjoy! <3
You already knew what was wrong with you. You didn’t need fancy blood tests and three specialists on speed dial to realize that you were sick. But on a part-time college student's budget with the most useless health insurance plan in the lower 48? There was nothing you could do.
You were constantly thirsty, constantly hungry, constantly tired, and constantly uncomfortable. You did the best you could do… drinking soda and apple juice when your blood sugar was low, and eating plain oatmeal when it was high.
It kept you alive, but you weren’t living. You were losing weight rapidly, you were tired and spacey, and it was starting to affect your grades and your career. It was like you were watching your life fall apart in front of your very eyes and just letting it go. You decided you had no problem with it. You were too tired to fight.
That was what you told yourself, anyway. Truth be told, you were scared. Scared you were right… scared you were wrong… scared of the bill you would have to foot either way. So you ignored it. Ignored the way your vision blurred around the edges when you went too long without eating. Ignored the way your hands shook whenever you tried to keep them steady.
But the thing about illness is that you can’t just ignore it. It gets worse. It got so much worse.
Nights and mornings were always the hardest for you. You had a midterm exam on Friday for your accounting class… and you hadn’t done a lick of studying. You could barely remember the last three weeks of class, either, so half of it felt brand new to you. That explained why you were here, still sitting on the couch staring down at your laptop, at close to midnight.
Luckily for you, your roommate was out partying. She made you feel better about your academic missteps as of late… because at least you weren’t hooking up with strangers instead of studying.
That being said, you couldn’t focus. The laptop was useless to you. The words were so small, and the screen was so bright, and it was boring into your eyes and…
You squeezed them shut. You realized your head was spinning. You felt too light and too heavy all at once. You focused on trying to move, but it took so much more effort than anticipated. When had you eaten last? You couldn’t remember.
You needed food, then. You forced your eyes open. There was leftover pizza in the fridge… that would tide you over until you could grab your water bottle, right? You pushed up from off the couch, your body protesting the whole way through.
You couldn’t make it very far. You could feel your body swaying, the corners of your vision going fuzzy as you stood. Three steps were all your body could muster before you found yourself dropping to your knees. The shock ran through your body, but you were too dizzy to care about the pain. This wasn’t right. You couldn’t make it to the food. You had always been able to handle this before… why couldn’t you move?
Your eyes scanned the room, the best they could. You spotted your glass of apple juice from earlier in the day. Desperately, you reached over the table to grab it. It didn’t help. If anything, it just made your stomach churn more. Defeated, you fell back against the couch, completely void of energy.
Swallowing hard, you fumbled for your phone, draping yourself halfway over the couch cushions until you found it. Clumsily, you typed in the numbers. 9… 1… 2…
The phone slipped from your fingers. You cussed under your breath. Through blurred vision, you grappled for it again, typing in the right number this time.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The sweet voice called from the other end of the line.
“I’m, uh… I’m gonna pass out.” You mumbled, your words slurred as they came out. You wondered if they thought you were drunk.
“Okay, honey, can you tell me your address?” The operator responded. I could hear her keyboard keys clacking on the other end.
“Uh, it’s 740 Fremont… road.” You hummed, your forehead pressed against the rough couch cushions as you willed yourself to stay awake.
“Help is on the way. Stay with me. What’s your name?”
“It’s…”
────•✦•────
“Nashville Fire Department!”
The loud voices cut through the haze in your head almost immediately. You still couldn’t feel anything. Your eyes were still shut. Your head was still spinning. But you could hear them.
“Ma’am, ma’am. Can you hear me?” The voice repeated. You could feel a hand on your chest, rubbing your sternum. You stirred. You tried to respond, but the words were trapped in your head.
They noticed. You were being rolled onto your side. They were waving something in front of your face. Smelling salts. Like you had simply fainted. You wanted so badly to tell them that something else… something worse was wrong. But your body hadn’t quite caught up with your brain.
Your eyes fluttered open. You squinted through your lashes at the scene. Two women chatting hurriedly, with an open bag in between them. Men stomping through the house. You thought you heard them say something about drugs. Were they searching for pills? Did they think you were an addict?
The room was suddenly too loud. You tried to close your eyes, but someone shook you.
“No, no, stay with me.” A smooth voice said. You opened your eyes again. A brunette man kneeled beside your head, keeping you steady on your side. “Can you hear me?”
You nodded… if only slightly. The man nodded back, smiling softly. “That’s good. What’s your name?”
You blinked long and hard. You could hardly remember. You finally answered a moment later, croaking out your name through a hoarse, tired voice.
“Alright. I’m Blue. We’re here to help you.” He assured, patting your shoulder softly as one of the other firefighters called for his attention.
Blue. You remembered that.
“Can you tell me what happened? Why you passed out?” He asked softly.
You looked up at him, mind foggy. “I… I didn’t eat.” You said simply… because that was the only fact you knew for sure.
But he furrowed his eyebrows in response. He’d smelled that before. Sickly sweet breath.
“You diabetic?” Blue asked suddenly, his voice suddenly more urgent.
Your heart started pounding at the mere mention of the word. “I… I don’t know?” You told him, eyes widening.
He looked away from you, his gaze turning to one of the women by your feet. “You need to test her blood sugar.” He said, his voice firm in a way it hadn’t been before. Not panicking, by all means, but a change of tune for sure.
You felt gloved hands against your skin. A prick of a needle against your finger. Pressure on your neck as they checked your pulse again.
“The glucometer just says HI. It doesn’t even give a number.” One of the paramedics urged. “We need to get a line in.”
You heard Blue sigh in response. You heard bags unzipping. They were moving fast now. Was it really that bad?
“Your blood sugar is high. Dangerously high.” Blue told you. You barely understood him. High? That didn’t make sense.
“I didn’t eat.” You repeated. “I thought… it was low. Drank juice.”
Blue patted your shoulder again. His eyes weren’t on you. “Small pinch.” He warned softly. You winced as they hooked you up.
“You did what you thought was right.” He finally said, his voice soft as he watched the paramedics. He finally glanced down at you. “Your body has sugar. It just can’t use it. So it’s building up instead.”
You nodded, your gaze distant.
“But we’re gonna help you. We’ll fix ya up.”
You barely heard him. Your eyes fluttered. You felt warm. Fuzzy. The room tilted. You wanted nothing more than to just close your eyes and…
“Hey, no, no. Stay with me. Stay with me.” He urged, eyes flickering between you and his team. They were starting fluids. “You’ll feel better in a moment, okay? We’ll get you to the hospital.”
Your heart could have stopped at the mention of the hospital. If the diabetes didn’t kill you, the bill might. You could have told him that, but your heart just wasn’t in it.
Next thing you knew, hands were under your body, lifting you up. They must have warned you… You didn’t hear it. You weren’t sure what exactly was going on anymore. The ambulance ride wasn’t much more than a blur of medical mumbo jumbo, radio static, and Blue’s assurances. Those were what stuck with you the most. If not the words he was saying, then it was the conviction in his voice.
His hand lingered near your arm the entire time. Grounding, like he was holding you down to Earth. He made sure you kept your eyes open… your eyes on him.
“Am I gonna be okay?” You asked suddenly, shakily.
He looked down at you. He studied your face for a moment, hesitated just long enough to make you wonder, but not long enough to make you worry.
“Yeah. You will. We got you in time.”
────•✦•────
Sharp beeping pierced your skull. Bright fluorescent lights filtered through your eyelids. A pounding filled your head.
Disoriented and groggy, you forced your eyes open at least halfway. You were in a hospital bed. You tried to sit up, but something resisted. You glanced down at the hand on your shoulder, then to the face that sat by your bed.
“Easy…” A familiar voice soothed. You blinked up at him. Blue. The same brunette who kept you steady and awake on the floor of your apartment. Still here, still waiting.
You shut your eyes, then opened them again, as if you didn’t believe what you saw. “What are you doing here still…?” You asked, your throat dry and rough as sandpaper.
He smiled softly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Thanks.” You mumbled groggily. You lifted a hand to rub your face and noticed the IV drip in your hand. You glanced up at the bag. “Do you know what happened to me?”
Blue hesitated for a moment, recalling the events of the night. “Your blood sugar was really, really high. You went into something called diabetic ketoacidosis. You were out for a while, but they got it down, gave you fluids. You’re okay now.” He told you, his eyes flickering to the monitor by your bed.
You listened, your eyes flickering around the room as you adjusted to your environment. Your brain caught on to one word in particular. “So, I am diabetic, aren’t I.” You said softly. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. You had known for weeks… You tried your best to manage it, but you hadn’t done enough.
Another moment of hesitation. He looked down at you, eyes hard and steely and warm and calm all at the same time. “You are. They’re running tests to be sure, but that’s what it’s looking like.”
You groaned softly and ran a hand down your face. “That’s what I was afraid of. This is gonna make my life a living hell.” You lamented, your voice thin. “I can barely afford college, and now this…”
Blue hummed, squeezing your shoulder softly before moving his hand away from you. Both of you fell silent for a good moment before he spoke.
“I’m diabetic, too.” He said softly, looking up at the insulin in the IV pump. “Type 1. It’s hard. And… yeah, it’s expensive, that’s for sure.”
You just looked up at him. You focused on the warmth in his eyes, the soft tone of his voice.
“But it makes you stronger. You get used to it.” He finished, glancing down at you. “You’ll be okay.”
You smiled softly at his admission. “Is that why you stayed?”
He nodded, a smile of his own coming onto his face. He looked away, almost bashfully. “Might be. I remember how scary it was when I found out. Didn’t want you to be alone.”
You looked up at him, then down at his hands in his lap. Broad, strong, steady… familiar somehow. You didn’t think too hard about it; you just put out a hand, a silent offering. It caught his attention, and his eyes flickered between you and your hand.
“Thank you.” You murmured, meeting his gaze as his hand took yours.
“My pleasure.” He responded, his smile only widening.
The two of you shared a moment, staring at each other with a soft understanding. He understood. He was here for you.
But all good things must end. An alarm on his phone went off, and he reached for it hastily, groaning under his breath.
“Look, my next shift starts soon,” Blue said, squeezing your hand. “I could swing by after, if you want. Maybe bring you somethin’ to eat. Your family ain’t in town, are they? I wanna give you some company.”
Your heart dropped as he told you he had to leave. You’d managed to become attached to him in such a short amount of time. Getting your life saved by someone had a way of doing that to you.
“They’re not… they live in St. Louis.” You hummed. “I would… I would love some company.”
He nodded, looking at you intently. “Gotcha. Why don’t I… Let me give you my number. I’ll text you when I get off.”
Your face brightened, then dimmed when you realized you didn’t have your phone. It was at home with everything else you owned. “I don’t have it.” You frowned. “But I’ll give you my number and have the nurses call my roommate.”
“Sounds good.” He smiled softly, pulling his phone out again. You took it, dropping his hand to type in your number. You saved your name in his phone with a smiley face beside it.
“See you later?” You asked with a smile as you handed it back.
He nodded. “See you later.”
He didn’t move right away.
But duty called, so he stood up. His thumb grazed over your knuckles as he pulled his hand from yours. He hummed out another quiet goodbye as he grabbed his coat and ducked out of the room.
The second he was out of sight, you let out a small, giddy squeal, your head falling back against the pillows.
────•✦•────
Your roommate arrived in the next few hours, armed with a change of clothes and your phone. She didn’t stay long. You weren’t surprised. You needed a new roommate.
You spent the next 12 hours mostly alone, rotting away on your phone. Hours blurred into one, all the time spent mindlessly scrolling through social media, hardly processing anything you saw.
Nurses came and went. Your doctor dropped in once or twice. They came supplied with answers, questions, concerns… but most of it slipped right past you. All you cared about was the verdict. Adult-onset type 1 diabetes. The words sat heavy in your chest.
They were keeping you overnight to monitor you. To let your body adjust to the insulin where it was safest. To make sure you didn’t crash again.
You were half asleep when the notification popped up at the top of your screen, jolting you from the fog. Your heart jumped as you read the message from the unknown number.
“Hi! It’s Blue. Just got off of work, heading your way now.”
You sat upright a little too quickly, wincing as your head protested the sudden movement. You stared down at the phone, typing and retyping a response. You didn’t want to seem too eager.
“great! see you soon!” You responded, holding your breath as you pressed send. That was too formal, wasn’t it?
You immediately opened your camera app, a sudden anticipation replacing the despair in your chest. You looked a mess. Hospital air wasn’t kind to you. You hoped Blue wouldn’t care, but you took your hair out of its loose ponytail and braided it anyway.
Blue arrived quicker than expected. A short rap on your door was followed by him cracking it open and peering in. When he saw you, he visibly relaxed, smiling softly.
“Hey. How you feelin’?” He asked, grabbing the chair by the door and dragging it over to your bed.
You smile. His hair was a little messy, like he’d tried to smooth it down after a long day of wearing his helmet. He was in his Nashville fire hoodie. He looked tired. But he was still here. And he was smiling. Your heart swelled.
“Better.” You smiled softly. “Been bored all day. Glad you came.” You added, your words just short of an admission. You missed him. All day, you just counted down the hours until he returned.
“You didn’t have to, though.” You lied, your eyes drifting down to the bag he still held.
He shrugged, lifting up the bag and setting it on the bedside table. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I did.” He hummed as he pulled two to-go boxes from the plastic. He set one on your lap, grabbing a fork and passing it your way.
“I brought you food. It was hard to find something that you could eat without your nurses killing me, so I kept it simple.” He smiled softly, rubbing at the back of neck as if he was nervous. Was he nervous?
You opened the box. Rice, chicken, and some vegetables. Simple, but it looked good. Really good.
“I figured it wouldn’t raise our blood sugar too much.” He added, looking up at you.
You glanced at him, then back down at the food. No one had thought this carefully about what you actually needed in a long time.
“Blue…” You murmured, your voice softer than before. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Anything for you.” He shrugged, as if those words didn’t make your head spin. He grabbed his own fork, opening his box. “Now dig in. I’m starving.” He added, nudging your arm with his.
The night slowly dissolved into something soft and quiet after that. Conversation with Blue was easy. He told you about his mom, his dad, his brother, his job… Everything. You told him about your life back home, your roommate, school, your job. You danced carefully around the topic of diabetes with him, though he made it clear that if you ever needed help, you had his number.
It was easy. Too easy.
Easy in a way that made your heart race and your mind run wild. You reveled in the way he smiled at you when you said something remotely funny and in the way he gazed through his eyelashes when he was eating but wanted you to know he was listening.
The food was good, but you didn’t care about what you were eating. All that mattered was that he had brought it for you, and that he was sharing this moment with you. All of a sudden, waiting all day for him was worth it.
When you finished, he took the box from you without a word. You thanked him, shifting in bed and pulling the thin hospital blanket tighter around yourself.
“You cold?” He asked, voice muffled as he spoke through a bite of food, his concern winning out over his manners.
You shook your head instinctively. “Nope. I’m fine.”
He raised an eyebrow.
You sighed, cocking your head to the side. “Maybe a little. Nothing I can’t handle-”
But before you could even finish, he set his food on your lap, reaching for the hem of his hoodie.
“Blue.” You protested, watching as he tugged the hoodie over his head in one smooth motion.
“Take it.” He said casually, swapping the food on your lap for his hoodie.
“You’ll be cold.”
“Nothin’ I can’t handle.”
You frowned slightly, looking at him almost apologetically. But you took it anyway. You couldn’t say you didn’t want it. You pulled it over yourself, settling in. It was a little too big, but it was warm, and that was what counted.
“Better?” He asked.
You nodded. “Better.”
He smiled at that. That was all he needed to hear.
────•✦•────
It took some time to adjust to your new normal. To learn what the different alerts your phone sent you meant. To make sure you had enough insulin. Life was the same on the outside, but it was an internal battle every day.
You felt as though you almost had the hang of it, but there was one thing you dreaded most.
Changing your Dexcom.
You’d spent the better part of 20 minutes staring at the small package on your desk. They’d shown you everything at the hospital. Walked you through every step, guided your hands, kept their voices calm, and practiced like it was the most normal thing in the world. You supposed it was now.
You picked the box up and turned it over in your hands to read the instructions again. Three simple steps that shouldn’t have to be as daunting as they were.
Clean the site, press firmly, and insert.
Your stomach churned at the thought. You set the box down and stepped away.
You couldn’t do this.
Your mind floated to Blue. You needed someone capable. He was capable. He knew how this felt. He could help you.
Your eyes drifted to your phone. Before you could overthink it, you grabbed it from off the counter.
“hey blue. are u busy rn?” You typed, cringing at the casual nature of the question. You didn’t know how to behave over text.
“Not at all. Whats up?” He responded.
“i have to change my dexcom and i am freaking out.” You typed, biting your bottom lip, before asking, “can u come help please?”
The reply was quicker this time. “I got you. Leaving now.”
When he arrived, you were still staring at the stupid box. You eyed it suspiciously as you walked toward the door, opening it to his stupidly beautiful face.
“Hey, Blue.” You said softly, opening the door for him and stepping to the side immediately.
“Hey.” He hummed, kicking his boots off as he stepped inside. “Where is it?” He asked, glancing back. His eyes roved over your face, scanning for stress, fear… anything.
You frowned. “Kitchen.” You responded, leading the way in. He followed close behind, picking it up when you got close.
“They show you how to do it?” He asked, turning the box over in his hands just as you had been doing all morning.
You nodded. “Yeah. I’m just… scared. I don’t wanna mess it up.” You admitted.
He glanced up at you, Dexcom momentarily forgotten. You were scared. If that didn’t make him feel some type of way… protective, almost.
“I’ll help you.” He nodded softly, taking a step forward. “Let’s go sit down.”
He guided you through it just like the nurses at the hospital had. The only difference being that he didn’t do it for you… He instructed you.
“Tear off the old one.” He said, holding your sleeve up for you. You winced.
“It’s stuck, Blue.” You whined.
“Tear it off like a Band-Aid.” He responded, voice even and calm.
You obliged, tearing it off and setting it on the table. He nodded and dug around for the next thing.
“Clean the spot, next.” He hummed, handing you the cotton pad. He turned away to unpackage the new device, but when he turned back, he paused. He grabbed your wrist gently, meeting your eyes. “Wipe a new spot. You don’t wanna do the same spot twice in a row.” He instructed.
“Where else could it go?” You asked, trying not to get frustrated.
He kept his voice calm. “I usually alternate between my arm and belly, sometimes .” He said, lifting the hem of his shirt to show you his own device. “Nowhere bony.”
You tried to ignore the way the sight of his abs made your chest tight. “Okay…” You nodded. “Can we do my other arm?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Go ‘head and clean it.”
After a moment, you tossed the cotton pad down. He grabbed the injector off the table. “Alright. Ready?” He asked, handing it to you.
You frowned again. You really weren’t. But you had no choice. You nodded anyway.
You brought it up to your arm, pressing it firmly against the skin. You watched the way your skin gave way beneath the plastic. He nodded. “On three.” He smiled softly, his hand on your shoulder. “One… two… three…”
You froze. You dropped your arm into your lap.
“Blue. I can’t! I’ve been trying to-”
He cut you off, his hand closing lightly over yours, his touch warm and steady.
“Just look at me.” He said firmly. “You trust me, yeah?”
You hesitated, squeezing your eyes shut as you took a deep breath. When you opened them, you were met with his wide, warm brown eyes. All you saw was certainty, trust, calm.
“...Yeah.” You nodded slowly, glancing back down at the machine. You positioned your finger over the button before looking back up at him.
“On three. One… two… three.”
You pressed the button. You flinched. It was over just like that. What had you been so scared about? You felt stupid.
“That was easy.” You remarked softly, a small smile overtaking your face as you looked down at the device.
He squeezed your hand, holding on longer than necessary. “Told you.” He smiled.
You looked down at the device on your arm, wiggling it gently. “Yeah, well, I still needed you here.” You said softly, refusing to look at him.
But when you finally did, you noticed he changed. The smile that had previously been full of pride looked a little more serious, a little more adoring. He brushed his back and forth over your knuckles slowly, softly.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” He shrugged.
You nodded, almost bashful. The look in his eyes was intense, and you weren’t sure if he knew he looked so stupidly lovesick right now.
“You helped a ton. This whole thing is… a lot.” You told him, still meeting his gaze. “I didn’t think it would be this scary.”
He nodded in understanding, leaning back against the couch. “The first few times, for sure. It’s a mental battle.”
You hummed in agreement, fiddling with the sensor absentmindedly. “What if I mess it up next time?” You asked, your voice unintentionally vulnerable.
Blue held your gaze. “You call me.” He shrugged,
“Every time?”
He nodded, cracking another smile. “Every time.”
You shook your head, smiling softly as you looked down at your hands in your lap. The room fell silent for a moment, but not for long.
“Y’know,” Blue started, sitting up straighter. “I say we celebrate your first sensor change.” He proposed, flashing you a grin.
You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his movement. “How do you suggest we do that?”
His grin widened into something wider, something boyish. “What do you say to heading out for a few drinks?” He asked, standing up. He put a hand out toward you to help you up. “A little dancing, even?”
You took his hand without question, and he tugged you up with ease. “Sounds great.” You laughed.
He made way for the door, you ran to your room. As you came out, he was leaned against the wall, tugging his boots on as you slipped on a jacket.
“Blue,” You started, voice quiet. “Are you sure I should be drinking with… this?” You asked, gesturing to the sensor. You immediately felt a little stupid. Of course he was sure. He had the same damn condition. “I just… I don’t really know how any of this works, yet.”
His gaze softened from something playful to something patient. “Of course.” He nodded, realizing he had forgotten just how new everything still was to you. He took a step closer to you. “Alcohol can mess with your blood sugar, but it’s not off limits.” He hummed, gesturing toward his own glucose sensor. “Just gotta keep track of your levels.”
You nodded slowly, still unsure. You were so scared to do everything these last few days. He seemed to notice, and he took a step forward.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” He added, reaching out for your hand. “But we don’t have to get drinks tonight, if you don’t want to. How’s food sound?”
You paused, smiling up at him. At his care. At the choices he gave you. “Let’s start small.” You answered, honestly surprised that you felt this comfortable with a man that you could give your true opinion. “But I’ll take you up on drinks and dancing another night.”
He grinned, squeezing your hand. “That works for me, darlin’.”
Just like that, he opened the door before you could respond, leading the way out. You laughed, locking the door behind the two of you.
“Where are you taking me, Blue?!” You asked, chasing after him.
He glanced back. “Just wait and see.”
You rolled your eyes at him, but you weren’t annoyed. You were nothing but grateful. Even when your world had turned upside down, you had something- no- someone to rely on. And somehow, you had a feeling this was only the beginning.
────•✦•────
when dustin finds jane again in their twenties, she has pretty much mastered grammar, turn of phrases, sarcasm, the english language in general. And he is so happy for her. But deep down there is a pang of wistful pain, because he wishes he could have been the one to teach it all to her
So in Mike’s vision of the future he stays home all the time writing stories but Dustin is going on adventures. Knowing this we can determine that Dustin is the most likely to accidentally come across Jane in hiding. Thus Henderhop endgame is the most likely outcome. In this essay—
“What does Dustin get out of henderhop all I see is how it’s better for Jane” well have you considered Jane is hot and badass and he loves her and that’s enough?
He also gets to lord over Mike how much better he is as a boyfriend which is very important to him.
ok hear me out. dustin becomes a prominent microbiologist and heads out on field research to a remote icelandic (?) village near three waterfalls to study endangered salamanders. but instead, he finds el… this is how henderhop can still win
baratheonpilled
discoholicmusic
origamiaround
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
jacobvanloon
