#tw. angst

[croigealai]

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲

featuring: michael robinavitch x ex wife!reader

was sort hopin' that you'd stay, baby we both know the that night were mainly made for saying' thing that you can't say tomorrow day

almost 10 years after your divorce, robby sees you in the ED with a child who looks just a little bit too much like him

wc: 25,718

content warning: angst, hurt/comfort, second chance romance, single!mom reader, secret child,medical jargon, medical gore, inaccurate medical details,, age gap [reader is 37 , robby is 50ish], might be slightly OOC robby, reader has hair long enough to be put up in a claw clip, child injury, mentions of broken bones, i play fast and loose with timelines

notes:

you are here -> next part

A dense heavy heat had settled over Pittsburgh, typical for the end of June as summer decides to make its home in the city, the kind that promised summer thunder storms as well as sunburn and heat exhaustion. It was suffocating, lungs having to work over time to just breathe and carry you through the day, and it was sticky. Sweat beading on foreheads and down backs, clothes sticking to skin. 

It was also the kind of heat that lead to recklessness and an increased patient presence in the emergency room - people falling of bikes, burns from barbecue accidents, severe sun burns and heat stroke because people forgot to protect and hydrate themselves, car accidents caused by sun glare on the roads, people messing around in pools or getting distracted and not watching their kids leading to incidents of almost drowning. It was a lot and the Pitt was in chaos. 

Doctors shouting orders over the beeping of heart monitors and the clicking wheels of gurneys as paramedics bring more patients in. Nurses rushing from station to station in a haze of movement and noise, carrying cooling blankets and dishing them out in the waiting room and halls because there simply wasn’t enough space in the trauma bays, while also keeping an eye for disorientation and other side effects. 

Robby had just stepped out of a bike accident, a teenager whose shoulder had dislocated upon impact with the ground and who was suffering from some internal bleeding after being hit in the stomach with the handles as they crested over a hill, he had done what he could. Stabilised him and got him prepped for surgery, the case was no longer in his hands. 

He steps up to the nurses desk, hand running down his face as he takes a deep breath. The clock was just ticking over to 1pm, what would be the half-way point of the shift, but something inside him knew he was going to be here much longer than 7pm. He smiles softly to Dana who offers him a bottle of water, somewhere along the way she had been put in charge of making sure everyone stayed hydrated because lord knows everyone would have forgotten and then they would really be in shit when doctors and nurses started dropping because of heat stroke. 

He offers a soft ‘thanks’ as he takes slow sips of the water, it's ice cold and he’s grateful for the shock it delivers to his system, for the way he can already feel the headache brewing starting to fade. His hand shakes a little as he holds it, but soon settles as Dana hands him a chart after a few seconds.One for the last patient, and he fills it in quickly so he’s ready to jump into action for the next patient that comes through. Which doesn’t take long.

“Male, 9 years old. Took a fall at the park, a potential fractured ankle and a small head contusion.” 

He goes to move, to take a step away from the nurses desk to get the patient, but Dana stops him. A gentle hand on his arm to hold him in place, and he gives her a puzzled look.

“Collins, this one’s yours.”

Robby’s eye brows pinch up in confusion and he goes to argue but then he looks to the child on the stretcher, eyes casting over the face of the paramedics and to the frazzled mother at their side. It takes him a second, his brain racing to catch up with what he’s seeing. He refuses to believe it’s real, that it wasn’t his imagination and heart playing tricks on him like it had a thousand times before. 

He shakes his head, rubs his eyes, then looks again to see if the face has morphed but it hasn’t.  It’s you. It had been nearly ten years, and yet here you stood. Eyes wide with worry and hands clutched in the little boys as he sniffles and rubs away the tears in his eyes. 

Eyes that look strangely like his, a deep hazel with flecks of green and gold that reflect little starbursts when hit with the light. He scans the boy, taking in his face and features. The wild unruly dark hair, the tip and point of his nose, even the way his mouth curves down in a frown are so shockingly similar that Robby has to remember to breathe. 

He stands still for a heartbeat, mind racing with a thousand possibilities and reasonings. It could simply be coincidence, you had met someone new and started a family with them. He could be adopted and just share similarities with Robby and because he hadn’t seen you in so long he was grasping at any form of connection. 

But then your eyes meet Robby's. There’s a flicker of unnamed emotion, then panic, then protectiveness as you step closer to the gurney and position yourself so Robby can no longer see the boy. He goes to take a step towards you, but is gently pulled back by Dana as she whispers, “not now”, just barely heard over the pounding of his heart that matches the rhythm of the monitors around them. 

Then Doctor Collins approaches, a warm smile on her face as she takes the two of you back to the peds bay. You’re gone in a matter of seconds, the door to peds sliding closed and breaking whatever tension had been building in Robby. He stumbles backwards, tailbone hitting the edge of the desk as he reaches his hand behind him to stabilize himself. 

Dizziness now swarmed his head and made the world spin. His whole world had just tilted on its axis and he didn’t know how he was going to go on now, if he could even go on like he was before. There’s a thundering in his ears, the rush of his own blood as his heart pounds so heavily against his ribs he’s surprised it doesn’t just rip out and throw itself on the floor. Nausea wells in his stomach, burns at his throat, and he can’t seem to get a full breath in. 

Then there’s coolness against the back of his neck, like ice pressed against his skin. His hand is lifted to a chest and through muddled sounds he can just make out someone asking him to follow their breathing pattern. He tries, and initially fails, but the icy coldness starts to shock his nervous system back into a normal rhythm and he does it. Deep breaths rattle against his chest and fill his lungs with blessed air, his heart starts to slow down just a little and the rushing in his ears fades. His head still spins a little, but it’s manageable now. 

He’s sitting now, but Robby doesn’t know when that happened, in one of the desk chairs and he’s shielded behind the barriers around the nurses stations where prying eyes can’t watch him seemingly fall apart. Dana is in front of him, his hand still placed on her chest as he mirrors her breathing, eyes full of concern but not scrutiny. As if she expected this to happen the minute you walked through the door. 

There’s silence for a few beats, seconds really, as Robby comes back into his body. He feels the sticky heat of the room, how his scrubs rub uncomfortably against his skin, the creaks and cracks of his joints as he clenches and unclenches his free hand as if he’s trying to hold onto something that exists only in his imagination. Sounds filter back in, the shuffle of feet and the beat of heart monitors suddenly overwhelming and loud and he flinches back at them slightly. 

He removes his hand from Dana’s hold and leans forward with his elbows and his knees as he rubs at his face anxiously. There’s a choked sound from him, like holding back tears, as he looks at her. 

“How old is he?”

Dana lets out a sigh, eyes scanning over this face because they both already know the answer, “9 almost 10.”

“Fuck”

Robby leans back fully into the chair now, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as if they could stop him from crying. It works, for now. 

“You know you can’t go in there.”

Dana’s voice is soft, calming, a mother setting a boundary with an upset child. She knew what he was going to do before he even did, and he just sighs and throws his head back against the rim of the chair. He wants to go in, to see you. To see his son. The word felt like a cinder block in the dead center of his chest. But he can’t. 

“I know”

And he doesn’t, at least not right away. The next three hours are a blur of patients and treatments, instinct over riding choice as he flows through them with head (and heart) half way in peds and with what was happening there. Then he gets a pediatric case, a five year old girl who had slipped on the edge of the pool and hit her head, Dana insists he reassign it but everyone else is busy with their own patients. So, he goes with the young girl and her family through the sliding glass doors and into the pediatric unit. 

He spots you almost immediately, eyes drawn to you like you were his center of gravity. You're sitting on the bed, eyes staring intently at Collins as she goes over treatment, but your hand is in the boys. Clasped tight and rubbing soothing circles into the skin as his other hand plays with a toy plane. Distracted, happy if the smile was anything to go by. Kids always were resilient little things. 

He can finally take you in properly, not much had changed in the 10 years since he had seen you. Your hair was a little different, maybe a little bit shorter and styled in a way he hadn’t seen before. It framed your face beautifully. There were little crinkles at the side of your eyes, the beginning of crows feet starting to form and laugh lines decorated your forehead like a map leading him to treasure. Your eyes were the same. Beautiful, sharp, always observing and watching. A kaleidoscope of colours that he had spent endless nights getting lost in all those years ago. Even under the clean fluorescence of the hospital lights, there was something golden and magnetic about them. 

You were as beautiful as the day you met, and the day he lost you. 

As his patient is transferred to the bed, with the help of Mataeo and Donnie, he offers her a warm smile. Her parents stand at the end of the bed, hands clasped together so tight that Robby worries they’ll cut off each other's circulation, he had never understood a parent's worry before. Not truly. He could empathize with them, but he had never felt that bone-deep panic and fear of wondering if your child would be okay even if it was a simple graze on the knee, but as his eyes snap to the young boy at your side some part of him finally understands. 

The cinderblock presses down against his chest, makes it hard to breath and makes every move he makes disjointed, he has to think about what he’s doing now rather than following routine. He knows he has no right to feel like that, he didn’t even know the boy but as he watched the way he smiled up at you and how he laughed with Collins as she told a silly story, he can’t help the way his heart twists itself into knots. He’s not sure if it's worry about his health, or the grief of never knowing him that causes it. 

As he treats the girl in front of him, who had proudly proclaimed her name as Amelia, he keeps his eyes off you. He patches up the cut on her forehead with some derma-bond, making sure to tell her if wouldn’t leave a scar when it healed because she was sad she wouldn’t be pretty anymore with a scar, and goes through the concussion protocol with practised ease. Though he’s pretty sure she’s cleared of any concussions, he asks Mataeo to put in a CT order just so they can be sure. 

His eyes drift over to you again, only to find you watching him as Collins motions him over. Your shoulders are rigid, tension obvious as you move almost robotically while turning to the boy who had asked you a question. Where there was a harshness in your eyes when you looked at him, there’s now softness and love as you whisper low enough for only him to hear. There’s a giggle that passes his lips, soft and sweet and it sends a sharp spear of grief through Robby's heart. 

“Everything okay Doctor Collins?”

Robby approached slowly, making sure to stay at the foot of the bed by Collin’s side and not up close to you. His eyes stay on the boy, who's smiling up at him warmly and there's another stab to his heart. Collins looks up at him, offering up the tablet with a smile and a nod.

“Yeah, just want a second opinion on the x-ray.” 

As he eyes the x-ray, he takes in the name Isaac. It had been his grandfather's name, one he had told you he wanted to use if you had ever had kids. He has to clear his throat to try and subdue the well of emotion that was rising inside of it. He spends much longer looking at the x-rays than he really should, using it as a distraction so he could avoid looking at you and Isaac. 

He looks away when you clear your throat, eyes slightly downcast so you’re not looking straight at him. He hands the tablet back to Collins, eyes moving to Isaac who busies himself with the multiple planes and cars in his lap. 

“Looks like a Salter-Harris type three”

Collins nods to his words with a soft sigh, “That’s what I thought.”

Both Robby and Collins give Isaac a sympathetic smile as Robby takes a step back from the bed, “I’ll put the call into ortho”

Collins nods as she turns her attention back to you and Isaac, taking time and care to explain what the next steps of treatment would be. Your eyes snap up to Robby’s for just a fraction of a second, not even a full heartbeat, and he can see the panic and worry in them. The need for reassurance that this was the best path, but he can’t give that. Instead he ducks his head down and turns around, slipping out past the sliding glass doors where he takes a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“You alright?”

Dana’s voice stretches over the thrall of beeping machines and hushed conversations from where she stands at the nurses desk, hand propped on her hip as she eyes him up and down. As if she’s taking emotional stock of him in case he collapses again. 

“Yeah I’m good.”

There’s a scratchiness to voice, a husky timber that shows he is not, in fact, good. Dana nods her head unconvincingly, eyes moving to the ambulance bay doors as she tilts her head towards them, “Why don’t you go get some air? We’re good here”

Robby just nods his head, ducking down and keeping his chin close to his chest as he shoves his hands into his pocket and makes his way out to the ambulance bay. It's quiet there, beeping and voices being contained by sliding glass doors, there's no rig with blaring sirens and flashing lights. The heat feels heavy against his chest, but it's a welcome relief compared to the cinder block that had lodged itself between his ribs and right against his heart. 

As he leans against the wall, head gently thudding against the brick as he repeatedly rubs at his face, Robby wishes he was a smoker and could smoke away all the feelings inside of him as he thought back to that final fight. 

_____

It was late December, in that space between Christmas and New Years where time didn’t seem real and people seemed to exist in a vacuum of joy and holiday spirit. In a rare occurrence of meteorological mystery, the sky over Pittsburgh is clear. The moon and stars twinkled and streaked the city in rays of silver, it was almost dream-like. Time frozen still as the world took a much needed breath. 

But inside your apartment, it was a war zone. Robby had come home to lamp lights dim as you rushed around the apartment and picked up clothes and documents. Special, sentimental items, shoving them in different boxes and a suitcase that lay on what was once your shared bed. But neither of you knew the last time you had both slept in it together, it was probably a few weeks before Christmas after one too many drinks at your office holiday party. 

You’re silent as you pack, don’t even acknowledge Robby as he steps into the room. Your eyes are sharp, clinical, narrowed into a glare any time you look at him. When he first walked in, he was shell shocked. Hand hovering over the coat rack where he intended to place his hoodie, but he was frozen in place. His mind whirled and tried to reckon with what was happening.

“Honey…”

His voice was soft as he spoke, footsteps light as he tried to approach you. A predator approaching a wounded animal, trying to convince them they are safe. The cat and the mouse. The cat desperately trying to claim they’ve changed and the mouse refusing to believe it a second time. 

You are having none of it, eyes narrowed into a tight glare that causes Robby to shrink back and if looks could kill he would be dead 50 times over. He puts his hands up, a sign of silent surrender, as you continue to move around the room. He desperately wants to stop you, to change things. To make things better.

“Tell me what's going on”

You freeze, body hunched over the coffee table where some of your favourite books lay, your shoulders were already tight with tension but now they’re even tighter. Coiling up like a cobra ready to strike. You're slow as you rise, deliberately slow, and there’s a look in your eyes that is absolutely deadly. 

“Whats going on?”

There’s an edge to your voice, a dangerous undercurrent of devastation and rage culminating in a deadly strike against Robby’s heart. He looks confused, face scrunched up and eyes wide, and devastated. Body curling in on itself protectively, shoulder slumped and head dipped just enough that he can still maintain eye contact with you. A man bracing for impact just before it comes.

“What's going on is I’m done.” 

Your last word is edged with a finality he hadn’t heard before, not in previous arguments, and one that left no space for argument or for fixing things. You throw your hands up, not dramatically but in resignation.

“I’m done with the empty promises and the waiting and the lies.”

Your voice breaks then, the quiet devastation that had been festering for months crawling to the surface, claws digging into your heart and not letting go. Tears form at your lash line, but they don’t fall. You refuse to let them.

“I am tired of begging you to be here. To be home. To be present. To be my fucking husband.”

His ring feels heavy on his finger now, the metal burning its way through flesh and into bone. A reminder of the promises he had made two years ago, one he knows he’s failed to maintain recently. There’s a weight in his chest, a heavy grief and pain that lodges itself under his ribs. 

His face morphs from confusion to sadness, grief evident in his eyes and in the slope of his mouth as it turns down into a frown. It almost breaks you, the wolf turned into a puppy. But you can’t let it. 

“I…” A half-step forward, a hand reaching out to touch you that falls by his side, a rattling breath as emotion rises inside of him. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, Robby wasn’t one to cry. Not one to break. He was the pinnacle of strength. But this, this was shattering him. 

“I’m trying… please… don’t do this.” 

There’s a crack in his voice, one that pierces the armour you had drawn around yourself. But mentally, you just pull it closer around you. Refusing to let any weaknesses through.

“I booked that trip you wanted, got tickets to the concert you wanted to go to. I’m try -”

You cut him off then, one hand in the air as you rapidly blink away the tears that had formed. There’s a terrifying calmness in your voice now, one that’s more devastating than the silence or shouting. A quiet finality. A confirmation that this was the end.

“Were you trying when you took that overtime shift instead of coming out to dinner for my birthday?” 

A step towards him.

“Were you trying when, instead of being by my side after my grandma got sick, you went out with Jack?” 

Another step.

“Were you trying when you told me a major trauma had come in and you had to stay later, only for my friends to see you out drinking?” 

And another. 

“ You’re never here. I love you but I didn’t marry a ghost.”

Your voice was sharp, clear. Every letter edged with the tip of a blade as you spoke, one that cut deep into Robby’s skin. Leaving him bloody and bruised, scars forming in jagged marks across his heart. Then you were gone, a friend arriving moments later to load your things into their car before you drove off into the night.  Leaving Robby in a half-empty apartment, hollow of all the things that made it a home. 

_____

It’s the sound of your voice that pulls him out of his reverie. Soft, sweet like honey as it dripped down his spine and caused a shiver to rattle his body. He opens his eyes to look at you, tracking you as you pace back and forth in place. Your phone is up to your ear, voice low as you explain to whoever's on the other end that Isaac needs surgery. When you notice him, eyes widening just a fraction, you quickly end the call with a promise to work from home and a goodbye.

Silence stretches over you, a prickly blanket that sticks into your skin. It’s uncomfortable. More suffocating than the heat. You sigh, eyes cast to the ground, then there’s a deep breath. A step, and then another, until you’re leaning back against the wall beside Robby. 

Another beat of silence, the sound of beeping horns and pedestrians filling the space. You close your eyes for half a second, head leaning back against the wall as you take a deep breath. Robby breaks the silence first.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice breaks, cracking right at the end. The emotions he had been so desperately trying to hold onto finally spilling out.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything Michael”

Your voice is softer now, a whisper that’s almost lost in the wind as you look to the ground, foot pushing around an invisible piece of dirt. “You were a ghost, and he needed a father. I…”

You look up at Robby now, the words catching in your throat as you take a gulp and a deep breath, “I didn’t trust that you could be that.” 

Another stretch of silence, the rush of blood and a strong heartbeat filling Robby’s ears. First there's anger. Anger for the fact that you had kept this from him. Anger for the fact that he didn’t see his first steps, his first words, his first tooth falling out. Anger for the fact that he had messed up once and you took something so important away from him. 

Then there’s realisation. That it wasn’t just once. It was time and time and time again where he failed to show up for you. Failed to be there when you needed him. Failed in being a husband. He had thought providing stability and comfort, a hand to hold when things got hard, was enough. But it wasn’t. What you needed was consistency, showing love in the small little things of everyday life and not the grand romantic gestures he always used to try and pacify you (something he had only realised after being told off by Dana when the divorce was finalised). He didn’t give you that.

That then leads to understanding. He understood why you did it, it was self-preservation. He had hurt you before, and he could hurt you again, could have hurt your son, if you had stayed. Another deep breath, this time from Robby, as he crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from you.

There’s a crack of thunder in the sky, then a flash of lightning. Suddenly there’s heavy rain, the pavement slick wet in a matter of seconds. Protected under the shelter of the ambulance bay, only a few small ricochets of water hit you. Suddenly the air isn’t stifling or sticky, it doesn’t suffocate. It’s clear. Clean. Cleansing the world to allow for new beginnings. 

“Can I meet him, properly?”

Robby eyes are on you again, hope lacing every colour and fracture of gold as they reflect the sun rays through the clouds. You take a deep breath, hands clenching in front of you. It’s been ten years, you're a different person than you were at twenty-seven, and maybe (hopefully) Robby is too.

“Yes, you can.”

It’s nearly three hours later, the clock just ticking over to 7.30 pm that Robby comes to see you again. His last patient was treated, handover was completed with Jack who looked at him quizzically when he didn’t head for the locker room. 

“You staying late?” 

Jack's voice is quiet, it's not unusual for day shift to stay late. Especially after such a chaotic shift, but things had mellowed out. The late afternoon thunderstorm slowed things down to a manageable pace, so there was no need for Robby to stay. 

“I’ve got something I need to do before I go.”

Jack raises his eyebrow, a question brewing on his tongue that he swallows down when he sees your maiden name listed next to a peds case. One click and he sees you listed as the mother and emergency contact. A puzzle piece slots into place, something to file away for later. 

Then Robby’s gone from the handover desk, disappearing behind sliding glass doors and colourful walls with painted animals. His heart beats heavy against his chest, the cinder block that had lodged underneath his rips starting to crack just a little, the weight lightning just a fraction. Anxiety roils in his stomach, flipping over and over and causing nausea to rise in his throat. 

Then he sees you and Isaac. His leg propped up in a sling high above the bed, his head pressed into your chest as you lay beside him on the bed. Your voice is quiet, whispered so as not to disturb the other patients, but melodic as you read to him. There is an old, well-worn and obviously loved, copy of The Golden Compass in your hand. 

Robby recognises it immediately, having seen the copy in your shared home once upon a time. He remembered briefly, the sound of your voice as you read it to him one night when you first started dating. The sound of your voice pushing him over the edge to sleep. Sometimes, he still heard it in his dreams.

He stops for a second, just a little bit away from the bed, and takes a deep breath. His heart quietens down, his anxiety dissipates just a little. Then there’s a sensation of peace. A quiet recognition of it was always meant to be this way. He wasn’t ready to be a father back then, hell he probably wasn’t even ready to be a husband, but now the moment seemed right.  

Your eyes glance up, some unnamed but not unknown instinct telling you that Robby was there. You smile at him, quiet. Soft. But still guarded. Still observing. Isaac follows your movement, his head turning slightly to turn to Robby. He’s tired, eyes flickering closed every few seconds as he tries to fight to stay awake, but he still smiles. Warm, bright. Loved. 

“Hi”

Again your voice is quiet, barely carrying over the sound of monitors and machines that fill the room, but Robby smiles at it. Gentle. Soft. A man who recognises how precious this moment is and wants to bottle it up to carry with him forever. 

“Hi”

Robby’s voice is similarly quiet but where there is a quiet confidence in yours, there’s a hint of anxiety and unsure energy mixed in his. You motion your head to the side, towards the visitors chair you had been sitting in earlier that now lay at the side of the bed closest to Isaac. He hesitates for just a moment, your eyebrow raising slightly as your smile widens. You had never seen the man so unsure in the hospital. Then he sits, pulling up close to the bed where he now leans his forearms against the guard rails. 

There’s silence for a moment, the echo of heart beats through monitors surrounding you both. Then Isaac turns to him, hand reaching out gently cupping his jaw as he stares at Robby intently. Then there’s a wide smile on his face, a giggle passing through his lips.

“You have the same eyes as me! Mom likes to call the gold flakes little starbursts.”

Something catches in Robby’s throat at the contact, emotion welling inside him and rising to the surface once again. Under the dimmed down lights, you think you can see tears starting to well in his eyes as his adams apple bobs. His hand reaches up to softly cup Isaac’s, gentle. Feather-light, barely touching him at all. 

“Yeah buddy I do.”

Robby’s voice is softer now, a quiet kind of reverence for the life in front of him leaking through. It's the same voice you had after giving birth and Isaac was set against your chest. A parent, falling in love with their child in a single moment. Robby’s eyes flash to yours, filled with sadness and grief but also love and gratitude for this moment. He is all too aware that you could have told him no, but you didn’t and hope bloomed in his bones. 

“Isaac,” Your voice is soft as you call to your son, and he turns to you with a quizzical look as his hand drops from Robby. There’s unnamed emotions in your voice, a combination of fear and anxiety and hope all merging into one.

“Yeah mom?”

Anxiety fills you, causes your fingers to shake as you dog ear your book and set it to the side, one hand reaches out to gently brush at Isaac’s hair more a comfort for you than him.

“You remember how, when you asked me about your dad, I told you he was a very good doctor that I knew a long time ago? Who had starbursts in his eyes and goodness in his veins?” 

Isaac nods his head, head now laying down against the pillow where he can dart his eyes between you and Robby. You can see the wheels turning in his head, connections starting to form, he was a very intelligent child afterall. 

“Well…” Your voice catches in your throat and you have to clear it gently before you continue, “This is Michael, he’s your dad.”

Isaac’s eyes bulge slightly, realisation settling into place. Then there’s a frown on his face, one that is exactly like Robby’s and you gently trail your hand down from his hair and too Isaac’s cheek where your knuckles rub softly against the skin in soothing motions. There’s silence again, not tense. But anticipatory. A spark not yet meeting a flame. 

Isaac’s eyes move to Robby’s, tears starting to fill in the waterline, his voice shaky and breaking as he talks, and yours and Robby’s heart break at the sound.

“Why weren’t you there?”

You instantly curl around Isaac more, pulling his head into your chest once again as the tears start to fall, one hand threading through his hair to rub gently at his scalp while the other rubs soft soothing circles in his shoulder.

“Oh baby…” 

Concern laces your voice, as soft whimpers leave Isaac. Robby is shell shocked for just a moment, frozen in time as the question settles against his skin and his mind races for an answer. Then instinct takes over, a hand reaching out to Isaacs where he gently threads their fingers together, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. He expects Isaac to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead his small fingers tighten against Robby’s hand. Then there’s a breath, a single heart beat, before Robby speaks.

“Oh buddy…I,” He clears his throat, his own tears now starting to slowly fall and streak his face in lines of salt, the cinder block on his chest cracks again. Debris falling and allowing him to breath fully for the first time all shift “I didn’t know.”

Robby’s eyes snap to your momentarily, not in blame or accusation, but a look of I’m going to try my best to handle this. 

“I wasn’t very nice to your mom before we split up, so she moved away to keep you and her safe.”

Isaac nods into your chest, seemingly happy to accept the answer. The tears have stopped flowing, though the lines still streak his face, and you gently rub them off the skin. Isaac squirms away from the action, pulling the two of you apart and you let out a chuckle, it seems you had run out of your allotted affection time for the day. But he keeps his hand in Robby's. 

“Do you wanna know how I broke my foot?”

There’s joy lacing the words, the kind that only a child could have when telling the story of an injury. To them, they were battle scars. Tales to be told around the playground and friends to show how tough they are. It makes you laugh, full, unrestrained, head thrown back slightly as you sit up and get off the bed. 

You place a kiss on Isaac's forehead, eyes darting to Robby’s for a second, soft smile now a little less guarded than it was before. “I’m gonna go get a coffee, do you want one?”

He looks at you, recognising you’re giving him a moment alone with Isaac, a huge step. One he doesn’t know if he’s ready for, but it will only be for a few moments, so he nods. 

“Can I have a soda?”

You turn to Isaac and scrunch up your nose, squeezing his cheeks playfully as you shake your head, “You’re not allowed one until after your surgery bug, doctors orders”

He grumples, looking to Robby for a bit of back-up but Robby shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, “No buddy, you need to wait.”

Isaac huffs, arms crossing over his chest as you walk out of the room. But it doesn’t last long, you can hear him start the story of how broke his foot as the door slides closed behind you. 

Robby is immediately enamoured with the story, the lilt of Isaac’s voice as he excitedly tells him about the trick he was trying to do on the jungle gym in the park. Something he had seen a gymnast do on TV that was relatively easy in theory, harder in execution. He couldn’t help but smile as Isaac babbled on about how he had gotten this close (fingers pinching together until there was barely any room between them) but slipped at the last minute. 

He promised him he would watch the video you had taken of it before it went wrong to see how well he did. As Isaac speaks, his hand falls away from Robby’s and he mourns the warmth for a moment. The physical connection fizzled against his skin almost like a brand, one he was proud to have. Robby leans a little further forward, elbow now leaning against the guard rail as he uses his palm to support his chin. He smiles at the wide grin on Isaac’s face as he proudly proclaims he's going to try again once his leg is better.

One story turns to another, this time about how he took a dive at the pool and the water went up his nose and made his brain feel fuzzy, and then another and another. Snippets of Isaac’s life slipping out as though it’s as easy as breathing. Grief and sadness wedges itself between Robby’s ribs for having missed the moments, there’s guilt there too. An internal reckoning of how he treated you and that led to this. He promised himself he would do better this time. 

As you watch Robby and Isaac from behind the door, a decent distance away to stop them from opening, with a warm smile on your face you feel a bump against your hip. You already know who it is before even looking and you bump back against him as his chuckle fills your ears.

“It’s good to see you kid”

You turn your head and smile at Jack, warm. Friendly. 

“Good to see you too Jack.”

He glances back through the glass doors of peds, eyes carefully watching Robby as he laughs at whatever absurd story Isaac is now telling him. His head is thrown back, his hand clutching his chest. Without even hearing it, you and Jack can both tell it's one of those unrestrained belly laughs that he only lets out when he’s fully relaxed.

There’s a moment of silence as you both stand there watching, the coffee in your hands warming you up and reminding you that you need to go back in. A deep breath, a settling feeling of peace and acceptance lodging itself in between your ribs.  

“He’s gonna be a good dad to that kid.”

You don’t question Jack on how he knows, figure he put the pieces together from Isaac’s birthdate and how he now acted with Robby. He also just had a way of knowing things, maybe it was the veteran in him, always observing and watching. Pattern recognition and things like that kicking in until puzzle pieces fit perfectly into place. 

Then you surprise yourself, the thought almost intrusive as it spills out of you before you can think, “Yeah, he is.”

Then you're slipping away from Jack, heading back into peds with a smile on your face. It’s then that Jack is joined by Ellis, arms crossed against her chest and eyes watching you disappear. “So…”

Jack raises an eyebrow as he turns away from the door and heads towards the nurses desk where his charting awaits him, she walks in step beside him.

“Who was that?”

Then there’s a small, conspiratorial smile on Jack's face. Mischief lacing every feature and his voice drops low, almost teasing.

“Just Robby’s ex-wife.”

Then he walks away to go see a patient, calm. Casual. As if he didn’t just drop a bombshell in the middle of the emergency room that left Ellis with her jaw on the floor. 

The doors of the peds bay slide to a close behind you, and you can’t help but smile at the wide grin stretching across Isaac’s lips. For a boy who was fighting to stay awake only 15 minutes earlier, he’s now full of life and a new found energy. You never ceased to wonder where he found it. 

You try and approach softly, but the heels of your shoes echo softly around the room. You cringe slightly at the sound, eyes scanning the faces of the other sleeping children and parents to make sure you don’t disturb any of them. Instead of going back to sitting on the bed beside Isaac, you stand beside Robby. Just close enough to feel the fabric of his scrubs rub against your jeans and the heat that radiates from his body. 

He looks up at you, eyes mystified and in awe of your son. Full of softness and warmth, guilt bubbled between your ribs. It’s a feeling you’ve felt before, many times, especially at night where your thoughts spiral and you lose yourself in questions of what if? It sits uncomfortably, like clawed hands reaching their way through your chest and holding onto your heart. Not squeezing, but letting you know it’s there. 

A soft ‘thanks’ passes through Robby’s lips, quiet like a whisper into the night, as you hand him the cup of coffee. Your fingers brush his, a micro touch more than anything but it still fizzles against your skin. Heat spreads through them, like you had touched a candle flame. Hot enough to feel and burn, but not enough to leave a permanent mark. 

There’s a hitch in breath, both yours and Robby’s, and his hand is slow to move away. As if he craves the contact but knows it's dangerous to ask for any more. You can see the tightening in his shoulders, the way his pinky twitches against the edge of the cardboard cup as if he’s holding himself back. You clear your throat before going to respond, an attempt to break the small amount of tension now building, but the sound of the door and hushed voices as they approach stop you.

You glance to the door, recognising the orthopedic surgeon as they stop at the bottom of the bed. There’s a brief smile from them, then a look of confusion as they see Robby sitting beside you. He smiles at them. Small, contained. Like he’s holding on to something precious that’s about to be revealed to the world. 

“Doctor Robinavitch, I didn’t realise you were consulting on this case.”

A deep breath from Robby, realisation settling into his bones that this is real. He had obviously known it was real before, you had confirmed it for him. It had settled in his heart and his mind that this was his son, but he hadn’t spoken it aloud to anyone else yet. Another crack in the cinderblock on his chest as he clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’m not…” 

He glances at you, a micro beat, seeking both reassurance and permission which you give with a stiff nod. He notices the hesitation, the way your shoulders tighten just a micro fraction and how your grip now crinkles in the sides of the coffee cup, files it away for later discussion, and accepts the motion. He clears his throat again, eyes casting over to Isaac who’s once again trying to fight sleep. His smile instantly softens, the hand he had on the guard rails reaching for Isaacs where he softly holds it.

“He’s my son.” 

There’s a look of shock on the surgeon, and the nursing team's face (their eyes glancing towards one another in silent conversation) but it quickly passes. A softness spreads across their faces now, bed side manner kicking in as the surgeon clears their throat. 

“Okay. Well, we’re ready to bring Isaac up to surgery now.” 

You nod to her words, drawing your arms tight around you as if they can shield you from the hurt a botched surgery might cause. From the anxiety once again welling in your stomach and forcing its way through your veins. Heavy vines rooted in your heart and spreading until they entangle your feet to the floor. You can’t speak, afraid of the emotion that will spill out. 

Robby notices the way your shoulders tense again. Almost spring loaded and ready to burst through your skin, the rise and fall of your chest as your breath starts to quicken. He wants to reach out to you, hold your hand in his and soothe you. Wants to tell you it will be okay, the surgeon knows what they’re doing. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands next to you. Hand hovering at the middle of your back, not touching but you can still feel the heat. The ghost of his fingers as they brush against your top. 

“We’ll have you in the OR waiting room during the surgery and then when he’s awake a member of the team will take you to his room, it will be in the in-patient pediatric ward.”

Her voice is soft, a small comfort to the anxiety, and her eyes are warm. Confident. This is a routine surgery and it will be okay, but it's hard to quell the anxiety once it’s taken root. You nod again, feet finally ungluing from where they are on the floor as you step pass Robby and up to Isaac.

A soft kiss pressed to his forehead, a hand running through his hair that he scrunches his nose up at. You smile softly at him, “The doctors are gonna take you to fix your foot now bug.”

He nods, eyes barely open as he takes in your words. 

“Will you be there when I wake up?” 

Another kiss, a sacred promise against his skin.

“Of course I will.”

He looks past you now, eyes on Robby as he stands just a bit away from you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Will Michael be there?”

Robby’s heart stutters at the use of his name, not dad. But he supposed he didn’t deserve that title just yet. He takes a step forward, hand replacing yours to card from Isaac’s hair.

“If you want me there buddy.”

Isaac nods, eyes finally losing their battle with sleep and you and Robby take a step back as the nurses move in to prepare Isaac for transport up to the OR floor. You can’t speak again, heart hammering in your throat and stopping any words from forming, so Robby takes over.

“I’ll take her to the waiting room.”

A nod from the surgeon, a gentle pat on your shoulder, and then they were gone. 

Robby goes to touch you again, hand hovering at your elbow so close that you can feel it bump against you when you turn to watch the gurney leave. It sends heat through your close and into your skin, burns in a way that isn’t entirely unwelcome. Then there’s a hesitation, a few seconds where he thinks he might be better leaving it. Then a gentle touch, barely felt at all. Fingers light against your skin, like a whisper among the trees. It’s grounding. Steadying. A hand reaching out in the dark to lead you into the light. You lean into it, just a fraction.

“Come on, we should go to the waiting room.”

Robby’s voice is soft, but it still breaks through the anxiety fog in your mind. A stiff nod. Your body moves robotically as you grab your bag and book from the side of the bed, then you’re standing close to Robby again silently hoping he’ll reach out and guide you. He does. 

His hand’s a little firmer now, arm wrapping around your back gripping your arm, a small bubble of protection if you were to fall. A deep breath, a steadying heart beat, a lean into the touch, Robby's arm tightening just a fraction, and you’re ready to move. Softly, without words, he guides you through the doors and through the ED, stopping only momentarily to have a hushed conversation with Jack. 

You could have heard it, if you were listening, but the blood rushing in your ears made it hard to focus. You could just about hear the pulse of monitors, the rush of paramedics as the wheel in someone new and voices of patients as they shouted across the room. Then you’re moving again, Jack clapping Robby's back and offering you a smile as you walk away. The ride in the elevator up to the peds floor is silent, Robby’s arm is still around you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your bicep and you welcome the pressure. You have to stop yourself from leaning your head against his shoulder. Instead, decide to lean back against the cool metal of the wall behind you. There’s a small ‘thump’ as you do but there’s no pain. Just the sensation of cold pressure sinking into your scalp. It feels nice. 

Quickly, far too quickly for your liking, the doors slide open and Robby is once again leading you through winding halls and corridors. You really should take a mental note of where you’re going so you can get out of here easier once Isaac’s been discharged, but you can’t right now. Then you’re sitting down on a chair in the corner of what you assume is the waiting room. 

It’s in the far corner, with a little coffee table littered with magazines and comic books. There’s a box beside it, filled with toys and colouring books and crayons. You suppose it’s to keep the kids occupied while they wait. There's few others about, which isn’t surprising given it’s after 8pm and visiting hours are over, a few people linger. Talking to nurses and doctors in hushed tones with worried voices and faces. You can’t look at them. 

Robby disappears for a few seconds, telling you he’ll be back in a second, so you sink down into the chair. It’s nicer than the ones in the waiting room in the ER, cushioned and soft with a bit of extra room for you to lean back comfortably or to sit with your legs up. It’s not individual chairs either, but a row of three or four before it divides into a new row. Something in your mind registers that there’s enough room for someone to lie down and sleep if they need to.

Then Robby’s back, his hand brushing yours lightly as he hands you a fresh coffee and for the first time you realise you had both left the other ones downstairs. You offer a soft thanks, adjusting yourself to draw your knees up under you and turning to face Robby as he sits in the second seat down from you. Close enough that he can hear you, far enough away that he’s not intruding in your space.

Silence spreads. Thick. Heavy with unasked and unanswered questions. You can see them brewing behind his eyes, in the way he stares at the ground and scrunches his eyebrows up. In how he’s holding onto the coffee cup so tightly you’re surprised it doesn’t spill over and burn him. 

“Ask them.”

Your voice is soft as you bring the coffee to your lips. It’s hot and bitter and jolts your nerves just a little, replacing anxiety jitters with caffeine instead. He looks at you, eyes softer now but confusion and pain still lingers along the edges. Reflected back to you in the golden specs as the dim fluorescents shine on them. Robby shakes his head, looks back to the floor.

“It’s not the time.”

You snort a little, eyes rolling almost playfully, “It’s the perfect time. Surgery’s gonna be what 2 hours? Then it will take Isaac a while to wake up. Besides, I need a distraction.”

A small smile, then Robby’s leaning back and crossing one arm across his chest. Another sigh as he gathers his thoughts, you’re pretty sure you can see the gears turning in his head, hear them clunk into place. He turns to you then, arms unfolding and instead spreading against the back of the chairs. It’s open. Comfortable. Much more than you expected from him.

“Did you know when it was finalized?"

A loaded question, one that could make or break the foundations you had just started to build. But a simple answer

“No.”

He nods, “When did you find out?”

You take another sip of coffee, another deep breath and you make sure you’re maintaining eye contact. 

“About a week after I settled in Nevada”

Another nod, you can see some of the stress leak out of him at that. His shoulders softened, his grip on the coffee loosening, another deep breath. Robby didn’t think you would have kept it from him if you had known at that point, but some part of him still needed to check.

“Is that where you’ve been the whole time?”

You shake your head and push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Not the whole time, no. We lived there for a few years and then I got a promotion just before covid hit and transferred to the New York office. We lived in Greenwich until moving back here.”

He pauses then, you had only been a train ride or a 6 hour drive away. So close to him, yet so far. A breath rattles out of him, uncontained. Uncontrolled. He didn’t mean it, and he can see the way you cast your eyes down to the ground before meeting his again.

Another silence, prickly. Tension filled. A heavy weight on your chest as he asks another question. A deep breath from Robby, your eyes casting down into the coffee cup in your hands as if it held the answers to the universe. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

A pause, your heart beat picking up once again. You knew the question was coming, had anticipated it in the back of your mind but it still filled you with dread. 

“Yes.”

It’s soft, almost a whisper. Robby barely hears it and has to lean a little closer to make sure he heard it right. There’s a crack in your voice as well, the words having to fight their way up your throat. It wasn’t pain stopping them from coming, but guilt. Another deep breath, a clearing of your throat. You meet his eyes again.

“We only got back into the city a week ago, when we arrived I reached out to Dana and Jack on facebook to get your number because I didn’t have it after changing mine after the divorce. But you know what those two are like, I would either get a reply in a minute or a month and this morning they hadn’t even looked at the messages.”

Another nod from Robby, his free hand reaching up to rub at his face before he takes a sip of his coffee. It's cooled down a little, but the heat of it still melts a little part inside of him. That part that wanted to scream and shout and cast blame. But that melts away, thawing and giving space for recognition that you both fucked up but now was the chance to fix it. 

He looks to you again, the pains still there but the confusions gone. Replaced with the hope of new beginnings, that look starts to crack at the shield you had built around your heart. 

“Where do we go from here?”

Robby’s voice is soft, a whisper. A man quietly begging to be let in, and ready to show he deserves it.

A sigh from you, another glance to the coffee cup, “That depends on you and Isaac.”

You look up at him again, see his finger twitching against the edge of the seat. His eyes darting not only to your eyes but across your face, looking for little micro signs of deception. But there are none, for the first time all night you’re unguarded. Softed. Willing to let him in and work on this.

“As long as Isaac wants to see you, you can.”

Robby nods to that, “Of course.”

“But,” You take a pause, a deep breath, eyes meeting his with the sternness only a mother can have, “I need to see you trying. You need to be there and show up, and I don’t mean for every little thing that’s a lot to put on you with your schedule. But I need to see you making an effort.”

You clear your throat, ready to go to war to get peace, “If we set up times for you to meet, I expect them to be adhered to. If something comes in that is unavoidable and you need to stay, then I need to know. Clear, consistent communication. We go off our schedule, not yours. You can’t just randomly show up and expect access, not at first anyway.”

Robby nods along to your words, cataloging every detail and filing them away.

“All medical and schooling decisions are mine, I’ll ask for your input but the final decision comes from me. At least for the first few months, and then we can re-evaluate. You can be alone with him, take him out and do things with him, but I want to know when and where.” 

Another deep breath from both you and Robby, “And then for at least the first few weeks, especially as he’s healing, you come to my house and I supervise.” 

You clear your throat, words bubbling up before you can catch them, “I don’t want him getting close to you only to have you disappear on him.” 

Robby flinches back at that, just a little, it’s cold. But honest. You had known him as a man who ran away into his work, but he couldn’t do that here. It wasn’t just you he would be letting down, it would be Isaac. And you loved your son too much to let him go through that pain, and maybe some part of you didn’t want to go through it again either. 

Robby clears his throat but nods, stiff but accepting. “Okay, those are reasonable”

He shuffles forward slightly, just a little, his knee bumping into yours slightly as he does, “I’ll make sure you get a copy of every one of my schedules. If there’s no need for me to stay, or come in for overtime, and we have plans then I will stick to those plans. If something does, you’ll be the first person I call. If I’m busy, I’ll get Dana to reach out.”

He stretches his hand out to you now, open and willing. You can see the way his breath catches, how there's a slight tremor in his hands, as you reach out as well. You clasp your hand in his, the heat of it burning like a brand against your skin, and you shake.

“Then we’ll re-evaluate in a few months.”

A nod from Robby, his hand dropping from yours. Then you both take a sip from your coffee. 

After that, numbers are exchanged and schedules are discussed. Obviously with Isaac having to be in a cast for the next 6-8 weeks, and then potentially a boot, it throws your whole summer for a loop. But you let him know he usually plays baseball on the weekends, you were currently looking for a team for him to join because he loved the sport. 

Every Tuesday was taco night, and Robby could join you for the next one when Isaac was out of hospital. You tell Robby how he loves cars and motocross and F1 and how sometimes, when he had been really good or did something well in school, you would let him stay up late to watch the races. Robby tells you he’s been working on restoring an old motorcycle, and maybe Isaac can help. 

You tell him Isaac’s favourite subjects in school, science and history, and how you had once found him trying to collect frogs so he could see their life cycle in person (that made him laugh). How he loved to read, Percy Jackson was his favourite at the minute but he still wanted you to read The Golden Compass to him at bed despite having read the whole series three times that year already. 

You also let him know that while you don’t practise Judaism, you still teach him about it and its history. Every holiday season, you do a joint Christmas and Hanukkah celebration, and how Isaac loved lighting the menorah with you. You think you can see a rattle in his chest at that, despite not being there you had kept parts of him alive in your traditions with Isaac. 

On your phone, you show him videos you had taken. The one from today and the accident being the first, because Isaac had wanted him to see it. Though Robby flinches when he sees Isaac coming down, he comments on how brave he is. 

Then you go further back, baby photos and videos. First steps and first words. You don’t miss the way Robby’s eyes mist up at that, guilt stabs at your heart but you shove it down. There’s no longer any time to wonder about the what-if’s in your mind. 

In the process, Robby has gotten closer. Your legs are now over the chair, feet planted firmly in the ground, Robby is right beside you. Shoulder and tight pressing against yours, the heat searing your skin and causing you to lose focus half-way through sentences. 

Eventually, you move on to conversations about yourselves. About work and family, he asks about your parents and siblings, you tell him you're an aunty now and show him photos of nieces and nephews. You joke about bad habits of Jack and Dana that they still do to this day and you remember just how easy it was to talk to Robby. 

Then the conversation dies off, it's nearing ten pm. The waiting room is empty now, except for you and Robby. But the quiet is comforting now, wrapping around you like a blanket. The world stops for just a moment to breathe with you, to welcome in this new beginning. 

Your name is called, Robby’s called almost immediately after it and you make a mental note to update Isaac’s medical and school records to have Robby on as a parent. 

When you meet the surgeon near the front, they smile at you, and all the anxiety you had felt before burns from your veins. The vines that had constricted your heart down in the ER, burst and melt to the floor leaving relief in its wake. 

“Surgery went really well.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, chest falling as the weight of worry drops from your shoulders. From the corner of your eye, you can see how Robby’s shoulders soften as he takes a deep breath in.

“There are a few things you’ll need to know once he’s discharged, but that can be spoken about in the morning. We’re gonna keep him overnight for observation and to make sure there’s no complications from the sedation, but you should be good to go tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod your head, offering a small ‘thank you’ and shaking the surgeon's hand. Then they’re telling you what room he’s in before disappearing again. Robby’s hand reaches out to you, a slight tremble in his fingers as does, it wraps around your back and pulls you in close to his chest and you let him. Then finally, you fall apart. 

The tears you had been holding back since the accident finally fall. Hard. Heavy. Ugly. Sobs you can’t choke down claw their way out of your throat, echo around the empty room so loud it almost feels like you’re drowning in the sound. There’s a heart beat echoing in your ears, you can’t tell if it's yours or the ghost of the monitor Isaac was on earlier in the day. 

There’s a hand, Robby’s, rubbing soft circles into your back. Gently at first, then harder. The pressure working out the knots that had formed over the hours in the ER, while also bringing comfort. You hear a whisper, barely, but you can’t make out what’s actually being said. Then it’s slightly louder, the familiar deep timber breaking through the echo of tears and heartbeats.

“It’s okay, he’s okay.”

It’s shaky. Soft. A band aid being placed over a wound to stop the bleeding. Someone who is trying to convince themselves as much as they’re trying to convince you. 

A deep breath, though you’re not sure if it's you or Robby that takes it - maybe it was both. Chests rattling together, heart rates slowing down and beating in sync. You stay in Robby’s arm for another minute, letting the tears dry up until all that’s left is lines of salt and red rimmed eyes. Then you step back, hands swiping at your face to try and clear the evidence before going to see Isaac.

Robby doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have too. He had seen it before, parents at their strongest when their kids were around and at their weakest when they found out they were okay. He understood. 

You offer him a ‘thank you’, a whisper beneath your breath and he simply nods and says “Of course.”

Then his hand is reaching out for yours again, tentative. Asking permission. You give it, reaching out and taking it in your own. He gives a small, reassuring squeeze, and then he’s leading you through winding corridors again until you reach Isaac’s room. 

The lights are dim and the moon is now high up in the sky, sending twinkling shards of silver through the blinds. A halo of light dancing around the bed where Isaac now lay. His leg was now in a half-cast, still elevated above the bed. His eyes were open, just barely, blinking languidly as he rubs at them and tries to fight off sleep again. Beside the bed, are two arm chairs and on the other is a travel cot. 

You rush to his side, dropping Robby’s hand and taking Isaac’s instead. 

“Hi bug”

A quick kiss pressed to his forehead, your other hand carding through his hair as he offers a sleepy smile. 

“Hi mamma”

Tears prick your eyes, it had been a few years since he had called you mamma and it tugged at all the right heart strings. His eyes move from you, to Robby who stood at the bottom of the bed and was currently reading through the chart. 

“Hi Michael.”

The soft sound of Isaac’s voice pulls Robby away from the chart, he slots it back into place at the end of the bed and smiles gently at Isaac as he takes steps to stand beside you.

“Hey buddy, how you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

You tilt your head at Isaac’s words as Robby lets a small chuckle pass through his lips, your hand releases Isaac’s and Robby’s takes its place. It was a relief to you both to know he’s not feeling any pain. 

Another kiss to Isaac forehead, a soft look and a gentle smile, “You can go to sleep bug”

A soft nod, Isaac’s eyelashes fluttering against his cheek like the flitting of a butterfly wing as it lands on a flower, “Will you both be here when I wake up?”

You glance to Robby, an eyebrow raised in a tentative question, then there's a small nod from Robby as he gives Isaac’s hand a small squeeze.

“Yeah buddy, we’ll be there.”

Another small nod from Isaac. 

“‘Kay, love you mamma. Goodnight Michael”

Then he was asleep. Eyes fluttering closed as his chest rises and falls, the steady beep of his heart on the monitor an echo of safety and reminder that he’s okay. You take a step back, eyes still on Isaac. On the way his chest rises and falls, the little twitch of his eye and fingers as he sleeps. His eyebrow scrunching up just a little as he drifts into dreamland.

“You should sleep.”

Robby’s voice pulls you back to him, eyes glancing over to find him already looking at you with arms crossed softly over his chest. His eyes are warm and soft, but alert. Years of staying late at work and countless hours of overtime making him more immune to the effects of fatigue. 

You are starting to falter, exhaustion settling into your bones and you blink slowly. Almost cat-like. Eyelids feeling like concrete, making every blink harder and harder. The adrenaline that had fueled your body and kept you awake for the last few hours, finally crashed around you and even lifting your arm to brush at stray hairs was a feat.

“Do you not have to go back down stairs in the morning?”

Your voice is soft, a whisper so as to not wake Isaac. Robby shakes his head, looks to the ground for a second, then back to you.

“Jack’s gonna stay”

Then you remember the whispered conversation, the hushed voices and words you couldn’t quite hear before coming up to the pediatric floor. A promise kept planting a seed of hope in the deep recesses of your ribs. For the first time, since before you got married, Robby was keeping his promise and he was staying. The ghost had become a man once more. 

You nod your head softly, “Wake me in a few hours so you can get some sleep too.” 

Robby nods, but doesn’t promise anything, and as soon as your head hits the pillow of the travel cot you drift off. 

When you wake up, there's a soft morning glow filtering through the window. Pillars of golden light illuminate the room, streak it in a kaleidoscope of colours and warmth that radiates against your back. You can hear the hum of machines, the beeping of a heart monitor. There’s soft, whispered voices that filter in. Soft giggles and warm chuckles fill your ear, warms your soul like melts away fear. You hear the click of the wheels from a toy car as it glides against the guard rails of the bed, the sound of a child imitating a motor as they babble on about the type of car and the details of an F1 race it had been featured in. 

You can smell fresh coffee, bitter and invigorating in the early hours, and the slight stinging scent of antiseptic and hand sanitizer. You scrunch your nose up at the scent, flutter your eye lashes as the soft light filters through your blurry morning gaze. After a few seconds shapes start to form.

The metal siding of the bed. The slope and curve of the bed as the top that’s now propped up. The dark unruly mop of hair belonging to Isaac, he’s facing away from you but his shoulders are relaxed and you can see his shoulders shake with giddiness. You can see his arms moving, one dragging one of his toy ferraris over the bed rail, the other is gesturing close to his chest as he excitedly explains something to Robby. 

You can’t see him fully, just the shape of his legs from the other side of the bed and his hands. You can only assume he’s sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. You take a few moments to come back into your body, feel the scratchyness of your jeans and the stiffness of your joints. The tangled metal of an old chain resting against your chest, the pendant pressing into your cheek from where it moved in your sleep. Then you rise. 

Careful. Slow. Quiet so as to not disturb the moment.  Sitting up in the bed, your legs crossed, you can fully take in the scene before you. As you expected, Robby is sitting leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. There’s a wide, unrestrained smile on his face. His teeth reflecting the soft golden glow of the sun. His shoulders are loose and there’s a calm certainty in the air around him you hadn’t seen the night before. A man ready to accept all the responsibilities that came with becoming a parent. 

There’s a hitch in your breath, a rattling of your lungs and your heart and the little seed of hope that it planted itself beneath your ribs starts to bloom just a little. You smile at the scene, soft. Warm. Some broken part of you knitting itself back together in your soul. 

You watch for a few minutes, Robby completely enraptured as Isaac details the latest F1 race you had let him watch. He nods along as Isaac talks, and laughs along with son when he lets out a giggle, you can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s talking about (but then again you don’t really understand the racing talk either) but he’s still there. Engaged. Present. 

Robby notices you’re awake before Isaac does, the sun glinting off your necklace as you adjust it back into place and reflecting right into his eyes. He zeros in on it almost immediately. It’s a simple chain, a little weathered but still in good condition, and the pendant is a sun with your birthstone sitting in the dead center. It catches him off guard and he has to double check that he’s actually seeing it right. 

It was a necklace he had gotten you, on your second anniversary. When you were together, you rarely took it off and even planned other jewellery and outfits around it. An unknown feeling takes hold of his heart then, a gentle squeeze, not paralysing or damaging but just…there. It doesn’t know what it is, but it feels oddly similar to how he felt when he saw you walking down the aisle. 

“Look buddy, moms awake.”

Isaac’s head whips round so hard you flinch slightly in fear he hurt himself, but he’s smiling. Eyes full of nothing but the type of joy that only children can embody. 

“Mom!”

You laugh lightly at his excitement, the happiness infectious and spreading through your body.

“Good morning bug, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay! My leg was sore but the nice nurse came in and gave me some medicine to make me feel better.”

“That’s good baby.”

You stretch your arms over your head, shoulders and elbows popping as you do and you can feel all your vertebra realign. You look to Robby now, smiling softly at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought I told you to wake me?”

He chuckles slightly, head shaking as he looks to the ground and then back to you.

“You never specified how many hours and I didn’t promise anything”

There’s a roll of your eyes, a huff from your lips as your arms fall back down and you cross them over your chest. Almost childlike and playful.

“That’s not fair, you need to sleep as well.”

Robby laughs now, head thrown back slightly. It makes you feel fuzzy. Warm. The deep timbre of it slipping down your spine like honey, saccharine sweet and delicious. You try and shake the feeling, but it lingers in your spine. 

“I’m fine, it’s not my first time being up 24 hours or longer.”

Another roll of your eyes, a finger pointed towards Robby almost accusingly. 

“Still, you should have woken me up. What time is it anyway?”

You see Isaac look to the clock hanging on the wall opposite the bed, eyes squinting slightly as he goes to read it. You and Robby give him the time and space to do so.

“Six…fourty five”

You glance to clock yourself and smile at Isaac, he had been struggling with reading the clock at his old school and pride swells inside of you. 

“Well done bug.”

Isaac beams at you, prideful and happy that he had gotten it right. You can see how Robby’s smile transforms, pride at the tips and the curve of his lips. 

Then there’s a knock at the door, and you look at it quizzically as does Robby. Both of you recognise it’s too early for the doctor to come and discuss the healing and discharge process.

“Come in”

Your voice is soft, but still loud enough that it can be heard through the wooden door. As it opens, a smile breaks out onto your face as Dana takes a step in. You had seen her the day before in the ER, but hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her. She smiles back at you, eyes warm and welcoming and her arms immediately open as you step up from the bed. When you wrap your arms around her shoulders, she pulls you tight against her chest and squeezes your shoulders gently. 

“Hey kid, you look good.” 

Her voice is low, a whisper right against your ear. But the tone is warm, a lacing of I missed you hidden among the words. You had missed her too. You often joked that she was your favourite in the friend circle, much to Jack and Robby playful resentment. But it was only half-way true. She was your favourite and while you didn’t keep in touch after the divorce, you still kept an eye on her social media and sent her a message every birthday and holiday, even sending gifts for major celebrations. 

“Thanks, you too.”

When you pull back she’s still smiling at you, one hand squeezing your shoulders again and smiles at Isaac on the bed. Robby reaches his own hand up and squeezes back, a sign he’s okay, before dropping it back down.

“Who’s this mom?”

There’s a brief look of confusion on Isaac’s face, you had just embraced a stranger to him after all, but it quickly changes to a look of interest. Dana was also obviously important to you.

“This is Dana, she’s an old friend of mine and your dads.” 

You both move towards the bed, you pushing the cot to the side so you can stand instead while Dana stands beside Robby. She places a hand on his shoulder, gives a gentle squeeze.

“Hi Dana, are you a nurse?”

“I am little man. I’m the one in charge of everything downstairs.”

Isaac’s eyebrows scrunch up a little, confusion taking over his face, “But I thought Michael was in charge?”

You all laugh at the question.

“He just likes to pretend he is.”

You chuckle again at Dana’s voice, eyes darting between Robby and Dana with a look of mischief in your eyes.

“Dana really runs the show and everyone likes her better anyway.”

Dana laughs at that, as does Isaac, and Robby gives a look of faux offense as he pressed his hand into his heart.

“You wound me.”

Then there's laughing again, Isaac joining and as he realises you were just teasing. You meet Robby’s eyes and he glares lightly, but there’s no malice there. Just a quiet friendliness and joy you didn’t realise you had missed. You smile softly and quickly look away to Dana, taking a steadying breath as you do. 

“I just wanted to come see if you guys need anything before I start my shift.”

You eye the bedside cabinet briefly, noticing an empty cup of coffee, before looking back to Dana.

“Some coffee and a soda for Isaac would be great.”

You immediately notice how Isaac perks up, soda was always a treat for him.

“I can have a soda?”

You nod softly, “Once we talk to the doctor again you can have it.”

He looks to Robby now, who nods in agreement with your decision. He beams, smile wide and almost blinding. Excitement bubbles through him, to the point that he’s almost vibrating and you roll your eyes lightly at the energy while Robby chuckles. 

“Coffee and a soda, got it.”

Dana steps away from Robby, and you move with her, pulling her into another hug before she leaves.

“Thank you for checking in.”

Another squeeze of your shoulder before Dana pulls away, and another whisper. 

“It takes a village kid, just know you always got one here.”

Then she’s gone. The sound of clicking hospital bed wheels and the shuffle of feet, voices muffled behind doors and hushed conversations with doctors filter in briefly as the door opens. When it closes, there's silence again. Warm and light with the rays of the sun. The arms of the universe wrapping you in a protective cocoon, if just for a moment. Your eyes meet Robby's again, just for a brief moment, but it’s all you need. 

They’re steady, reassuring. Full of light and love and emotions you would rather not name right now. But they’re there. He stayed and that was all you needed in that moment. 

A few minutes later, a younger nurse that Robby introduces to you as Mataeo arrives with the coffee and soda, letting you know that Dana got called in with a patient as soon as she arrived on the ER floor. You both thank him, and Isaac smiles wide at him as Mataeo tells him his cars are cool and then he’s gone again.

The smell of fresh coffee as the steam rises from the cups finally cuts through the smell of antiseptic and sterility that came with hospital rooms and the heat spreads from your hands and up your arms, settling into your chest. You take a seat next to Robby, smiling softly as Isaac starts asking him about his job. 

He explains it in child friendly terms and you can see Isaac’s eyes light up. He was a lover of science and asked so many questions that you giggled lightly at the overwhelmed look that over takes Robby. You choke a little on your coffee when you go to take a sip of it only for Isaac to turn round and ask, “have you seen a dead body?”

The question was out of left-field and was asked with such sweetness and innocent curiosity that it catches you both off guard. Robby goes to answer, but then the door opens and the surgeon walks into the room with a smile on their face. 

You’re still choking when they walk in, hand hitting your chest a little to dry and dislodge the feeling and they give you a look of concern. As does Robby as he reaches over and gives a small hit to your back. Finally, it clears and the only evidence is the watering of your tear line. 

“I’m okay.”

You smile now, fully turning to greet the surgeon now. Their face changes again, a ghost of a smile tugging at the sides of their lips as they stand at the bottom of the bed. Pleasantries are explained, Isaac’s asked how he’s feeling and the surgeon listens closely and the ghost of a smile turns into a full smile when he lets them know that he’s doing good. 

Quickly, the conversation changes to discharge and healing and the surgeon explains that they usually like to monitor for 24-48 hours to make sure swellings going down properly but Isaac’s swelling was reducing pretty quickly and if the pattern continues you would be out by the afternoon. 

As the surgeon talks, you flit your eyes between them and Isaac, who’s busied himself with the toys on the bed again. Robby has reached a hand out over the back of your chair as he leans back, eyes kept on them while his fingers gently trailed against your shoulder. It’s not a deliberate movement, more an unconscious one. You lean further back into the chair, allowing his fingers to fully settle against your shoulder. 

They explain that the half-cast will be on for 4-8 weeks, depending on how well it healed and they would want you back in at the 4 week mark for more x-rays. Then would come the boot, which would be on for another few weeks. Your heart sank a little at hearing that at least it would be 6 weeks before Isaac could be fully weight bearing again, at most 10. Nevermind that he couldn’t do sports for 3-6 after the boot came off. 

But a gentle squeeze on your shoulder from Robby grounds you and stops you spiraling, you were just going to have to come up with creative ways to keep Isaac entertained over summer. As the surgeon asks if you have any questions, Isaac who didn’t seem like he was paying attention pipes up, voice slightly saddened and gaze downcast at the cars in his laps. Somewhere along the way he had stopped playing with them. 

“Can I have a soda?”

The surgeon chuckles lightly, smiling at him with gentle eyes, “Yes sweetheart, you can have a soda?”

His eyes light up again, a small smile stretching across his lips as Robby opens and hands him the can of the soda. You roll your eyes affectionately as he lets out a small hum of satisfaction and a giggle at the carbonation as he takes a drink, turning back to the surgeon with a smile and a ‘thank you’ before they leave again. 

A deep breath,another steady squeeze from Robby, your heart leaping into your throat as tears dot your water line. A single second of weakness. Then you're blinking the tears away, clearing your throat and taking another sip of coffee before turning to Isaac with a smile. 

There’s a small, content smile on his face. Though his eyes reflect sadness and you can see tears in the corner, he doesn’t let them fall. You know he doesn’t want you to worry, so you lean forward and reach out to take his hand. Threading your fingers through his and rubbing soft circles into the skin with your thumb.

“It’s okay to be sad bug, you’re allowed to cry.”

A stiff nod from Isaac, his nose scrunching up as he sniffles and tries to stop the tears from falling. He rubs at his eyes with his free hand to try and dry the tears, but more form, and finally after a few minutes the fall. His hand tightens in yours, squeezing gently. 

You hear Robby’s breath hitch beside you, can feel his hoodie brush against your arms as he leans forward again and his hand reaches out to lay gently against Isaac’s arm. He gives a soft squeeze, fingers gently wrapping around the crook of his elbow and thumb resting against the bone where he also rubs soft circles into the skin. Isaac doesn’t pull away, instead he lets his arm fall heavy into the touch. 

You don’t talk for a few minutes, you just hold Isaac in your hands. Letting him cry and process and grieve his first summer in a new city.  The tears continue to fall, streaking salt rivers down Isaac’s cheek, the sniffles and soft sobs he lets out tugs at your heart and cracks it right down the middle. Slowly, the tears stop but the sniffling remains as snot falls from Isaac’s nose. 

You let go of his hand, stand and grab a tissue before rubbing gently at his cupid's bow and nose to clean it away. You cup his cheeks gently, placing a kiss against Isaac’s forehead as you rub gently under his eyes to clear the streaks that had been left behind. Isaac shakes gently, and his head falls against your shoulder as you hug him gently. 

You can feel Robby’s hand pressing into your ribs as you lean over, just barely, a moment of realisation striking through you like a lightning bolt under your skin. The room now holds three heart beats, learning and working together, another hand has joined your own and is learning the shape of fatherhood one soft circle after another.  Another kiss against the side of Isaac’s head and he pulls away softly. 

There’s a small smile on his face, soft. Reassuring. Sadness lingers in the edges of his eyes, but it's not as prominent now. Instead, there’s lingering hope and determination and you smile back at him. 

“Okay, let’s make a plan and see what things we can still do this summer.”

You sit back beside Robby, who’s already pulled his phone out and is scrolling through a list of places and activities on his phone. You can see the same look of determination in the golden specks of his irises as the sun hits them just right, it pierces through your ribs. Feeds the small bloom of hope that lives there, causes it to expand even further. A seed fully turning into a sprout, but not yet a blooming flower. You pull a notebook out of your bag, ready to write down ideas and potential dates. 

The next few hours are spent planning, interspersed with visits from nurses offering kind smiles and warm eyes. Taking vitals and monitoring swelling, bringing both breakfast and lunch for Isaac which was devoured in seconds, you even get another visit from Dana. It’s only for a few minutes, but she brought fresh coffee and sandwiches for you and Robby and even offers a few ideas for what to do as well, mentioning that there’s a motocross event happening only 30 minutes from the city. Isaac’s eyes absolutely lit up with that, he was practically vibrating with excitement again as he begged you to go. You wrote it down and promised to look into it. 

By the time the surgeon came in again, the sun was now sitting high in the sky and lit the room up in its warmth and golden light, and you had multiple pages of ideas and things to do. From museum trips and science events held at Carnegie Science Center to a trip to the national avery or aquarium, to art events being held at local comic books stores, to motocross events and races, and to baseball games (minor and major). 

By the end, there’s a wide smile on Isaac’s face as well as yours and Robby’s. Isaac requests to see the book and a pen and you let out a small chuckle as he reads over the pages and puts stars next to his favourite ones before handing it back with a proud smile on his face. To no one’s surprise, he starred the motocross and science events. 

At that moment, the room began to feel less like a hospital and more like a sanctuary where a family builds itself brick by brick, pen put to paper and a future you never imagined suddenly coming to life and as Robby looks at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in a long time, you can map the future in his eyes. 

The last step was just to book everything, but your phone was dead and you were without a charger. Robby had offered you his phone, but just as you went to decline the door opened again and the surgeon and a nurse walks in with a wheelchair. The wheels click gently as they move across the linoleum floor and there’s a squeak of brakes as the surgeon places it at the bottom of the bed. 

There’s a warm smile on their face, and a clipboard in their hands. You catch a glimpse of a title saying ‘discharge’ as they pull it close to your chest, and then there’s a breath of relief that rattles its way out of your chest. 

“Good news, the swelling has gone down much faster than anticipated and we are happy to let Isaac go home.”

There’s smiles all around and sighs of relief, weights dropping from chests and shoulders and melting into the ground. Robby’s hand reaches out, sits gently against your shoulder blade, thumb moving just ever so slightly against the fabric of your shirt. You lean back into the touch slightly, an unconscious movement. 

“Thank you doctor” 

Your voice is soft, relief dripping off every word. You look to Isaac again, whose hands are now fiddling with the edge of the gown, fingers dipping under the hem slightly to scratch at his skin. There’s a smile on his face and relief in his eyes, the little starbursts shining like a galaxy in the sun as he thinks about getting home. 

“If you two want to follow me to get the discharge paperwork signed, the nurses can help get Isaac changed and all ready to go”

You give a smile, a nod, and gather your things into your bag. Robby stands with you, and you both give Isaac’s hand a quick squeeze, before you walk out of the room. Once again, you’re led down winding corridors and passed rooms, but this time you take in the painted animals and flowers on the walls. The colours shifting in a recognisable pattern of something comforting to children, there’s little decompression and play rooms for patients staying longer. There’s a rush of hushed conversations behind doors, of laughter and lightness as families try and find the good in a bad situation. 

The waiting room is busier now than it was last night. It’s not as scary, not as clinical. There’s families sitting around and children playing with the toys. Nurses and doctors bustle about, tablets and clipboards in hand, there’s kind smiles on their faces as you pass them. As you step up to the desk, Robby presses in close beside you. His arm is wrapped protectively around your shoulders, part of his chest pressing in against your back as he moves you gently out of the way of a bustling nurse going by with a medical cart. 

The surgeon hands the discharge paperwork to you, explains every detail as you fill it in and reminds you of the expected healing time as well as things you can do to make it a little easier. If there’s some residual pain, some tylenol of ibuprofen every four hours should help, if there itchiness (as there usually is in a cast) use a low setting on a hair dryer and do not, under any circumstance, stick anything into the half-cast to ease the itch. Take the first few days easy and come back if there’s any issues. 

You hand over the paperwork, smiling and thanking her once again. Then there’s a click of wheels, the screech of worn tires against linoleum, and Isaac is beside you again with two nurses. One pushing the chair, the other with a pair of crutches. They explain the crutches can be used at home, but they would recommend getting in contact with a wheelchair rental service for venturing outside. You offer them a kind smile, hand reaching out to shake theirs and give thanks. 

Then you turn to Isaac again, smile softening. Almost reverent as you scan his body, hand reaching out to his which he happily takes. 

“Ready to go home bug?”

A hearty nod and a chuckle from you and Robby, who leans in close to your ear.

“You need a ride?”

You glance him from the side, completely forgetting you had arrived in an ambulance and your phone was dead so you couldn’t order an uber. There’s a deep breath from you, and from Robby. You can feel his chest expand against your back, the press of his ribs into your skin.

“If you don’t mind.” 

Soft. Hesitant. You had been doing this alone for so long, that help seemed foreign even if it wasn’t unwelcome. 

Robby shakes his head, lips turning up in a soft smile. He wasn’t going to verbalise it, but he didn’t want this to end. Because, finally, after so many years apart he had you again. Like there was some part of his soul that had left with you and was just now finally slotting back into place. Where he was previously lost and alone, wandering the desert under a starless sky there’s now a guiding light showing him the way to the one thing he didn’t know he needed. Family.

“Of course not, I just gotta stop by The Pitt first and grab my things.”

You nod, smile at the nurses as you take over behind the wheelchair while Robby takes the crutches and then step out of the waiting room. Glass doors slide closed behind you, quietly as you take one step after another into a shared future. Sunlight streams in through wide windows, a golden warmth blanketing you. Isaac’s voice is soft, some tiredness seeping into the edges as he talks about how excited he is to go home. 

Unnamed hope fills you, flows through your blood like liquid honey. You had stepped into the hospital, a single parent, and now you were stepping out a family. The man beside you transformed from a ghost to flesh and bone, a beating heart and a warm touch, you could only hope he stayed that way. 

And Robby, he’s warm beside you, arms brushing against you as you walk. He talks, voice warm and deep, a gentle cadence you remember in the very fibre of your being. There’s a gentleness to him now, eyes crinkled around the edges and laugh lines visible as he smiles. 

His eyes very rarely leave you, muscle memory kicking in and carrying him through the hospital. Emotions you can’t, or refuse, to name dancing on the surface. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to at that moment, but he’s changed. There’s something deeply soul shattering in his gaze, the quiet kind of reverence you had experienced all those years ago when you first fell in love. A quiet promise of forever that he intends to keep.

And to your surprise, he does.

___

It's late Tuesday evening, three days after you left the hospital, the sun is just starting to dip in the sky. Golden rays of light transform into something ethereal as they’re replaced by stretches of coral and lavender, streaks of deep indigos and violets poking through as it dips lower and lower. It's a clear night, the moon already fully visible and keeping watch over your home with the gaze of a lover and protector. A keeper of secrets and harbinger of new beginnings. 

There’s still a lingering heat in the air, still a humidity that seeps into your bones but it’s not as heavy. It’s languid, slow. Forces you to move with intention, not just instinct. But the falling sun had brought with it a cool breeze, one that blows through the open windows and ruffles the curtains. Makes the house feel alive, the thrum of a heartbeat under skin. The air conditioning also helps, keeps the sweat from dripping down your neck and avoids the sticky sensation that comes with such high humidity.

Especially as you flit about the kitchen, pulling plates and cups out of cupboards. Setting up side dishes of guac and salsa and sour cream, all placed on a lazy susan in the center of the table. Tortillas are warming on the grill, the barbacoa bubbles away idly in the slow cooker, and Isaac sits at the table. Switch in hand, mind distracted momentarily from the heavy weight of his casted leg that rests gently on a chair in front of him. 

Though you can tell he’s getting impatient, the little grunts of frustration you sometimes hear become more noticeable. The shaking of his un-injured leg, picking up speed and making the dining chair shake and rattle against both the table and the ground. You had told him Robby was running a little late, a bad accident coming into the ERjust minutes before he was supposed to leave. Isaac said he understood, but he couldn’t help the impatience as the clock ticked over to 8:15pm. 

Then, as you’re placing the tortillas on the table, there’s a knock at the door. Three in quick succession, barely heard over the soft music you have playing. They’re tentative, almost nervous. Isaac immediately perks up, switch dropped to the table as he reaches for his crutches, a wide smile spreading on his face. 

“I’ll get it!”

The excitement in his voice kills any protest you had building, hands settling onto the edge of the table with a quiet sigh. You know he hated being cooped up like this, he was an active kid and liked to be on the move and the resting period was always going to be the hardest. You still worried, of course you did, but you recognised his needs for independence and his need to be involved in this. So, you let him go. Following just a few steps behind in case he stumbled, especially as there were still boxes lining the hallway because you didn’t have the time to fully unpack everything just yet. 

He struggles to unlatch the door, so you reach out and do it for him, taking a step back when he opens it to Robby. There’s a sheepish look on Robby's face, his hand gripping tightly on to his back pack while the other rubs nervously at his neck. You can see the apology already loaded on his tongue, his mouth opens but immediately closes as Isaac all but tackles him into a hug. 

“Michael!” 

An ‘oof’ leaves Robby and a chuckle passes your lips, Isaac’s arms are wrapped tight around his body as he balances on one leg. Both crutches are now dangling in the air and hitting Robby in the shins, but he doesn’t mind. 

A smile splits across Robby’s face half a second later, the shock of the impact and affection quickly passing as he wraps his free hand around Isaac. His hand landing on his head where he ruffles his hair affectionately. 

“Hey buddy”

Robby's voice is soft, weary. Carrying the kind of tiredness only those in the medical profession understood, the weight of a long shift, a bad shift, sitting heavy in their bones and on their chest. It’s in his eyes too, the dark circles forming under them and the sadness that permeates even through the joy of seeing his son. But he still smiles, still looks up at you as you lean against one of the clear walls of the small hallway with a warm smile on your face.

The silver light of the moon shines down on you through the door, halos you in its glow and with the warm light of a home behind you Robby freezes for a second. His mind buffers, his breathing hitches and he can think of a thousand ways to describe you and yet they simply wouldn’t be enough. These were the moments he missed the most, he thinks. The quiet, messy ones where there’s a stain on your shirt from the dinner, hair messy and untamed as it came undone throughout the day. The golden glow of your skin even after a day's work and cooking. 

“Hi.”

Robby’s voice is somehow even softer now, a whisper that’s almost lost in the wind. You duck your head a second, suddenly shy under his gaze. You had forgotten just how intense it could be. How it had made you feel like a teenager discovering romance when you meet for the first time. And here he was, looking at you like it was the first time all over again. Your cheeks heat, the rush of blood an involuntary thing, but you look up again. Smile softly at him, motion your head to the side a little and chuckle.

“Hi, are you gonna come in?”

Isaac lets Robby go, wobbling a little as he does but Robby steadies him as he gets his crutches on the ground. You can both see Isaac’s hand open and close before he places it on the handle, like he wants to reach out and grab Robby’s hand but he can’t because of the crutches. You look at Robby, see the gears turning in his head before he swoops his free hand down under Isaac and lifts him into his arms, being careful not to jostle the injured leg in the process. 

There’s a look of shock on Isaac's face as he’s momentarily displaced then a laugh bubbles out of him as he throws his head back in joy. Your hand had flown to your chest, placed gently over your now hammering heart as visions of either of them being hurt flooded your mind, but now it drops. There’s a deep breath, a sigh, a playful glare towards Robby who just gives a cheeky grin and a wink back.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack Robinavitch”

You push yourself off the wall, finger pointing accusingly at Robby who joins Isaac in his laughter. You affectionately roll your eyes and turn away from the two, leading the way to the kitchen. 

Robby follows, hand a little looser around the strap of his back pack as he kicks the front door closed behind him. Steps a little lighter than when he had walked up your path. Eyes brighter, more alive. The cinderblock that had lodged itself in his chest only a few days earlier cracks again, crumbles around the edges as dust falls through his bones and into the floor. It’s still there, just a little smaller now. A little more delicate, one powerful hit and it would be gone.

Robby, very gently, sets Isaac down by the table and helps him into the chair making sure to take extra care when placing the injured leg opposite him. His bag is placed under the table, close enough so he can grab it but far enough that neither you or he would trip over the straps. He moves to help you get everything ready, muscle memory from a time before and a desire to simply exist in your orbit leading the way, but Isaac grabs his hand and smiles up at him.

“Do you wanna see my minecraft village?”

Robby’s eyes soften, the crows feet at the side dissipating as he smiles gently at Isaac. He had no idea what minecraft was, he had heard a few of the kids in the ER and Harrison talk about it but he still didn’t know what it was. He had filled it away with things like Fortnight and Roblox and slang terms he didn’t understand, something he didn’t need to know or care about unless a patient was talking to him about it. But, now he cares.

“Yeah buddy.”

You watch the two from the counter, head tilted to the side and eyes cautious yet tender. You didn’t know what to expect letting Robby back into your life and into Isaac’s, there was a cautious optimism that lived deep in your bones. Buried under layers and layers of doubt and fear. Fear he would disappoint. Fear he wouldn’t show up. Fear he would disappear again. It was a dark shroud hanging over your shoulders, and yet, as you watch Isaac ramble on excitedly about minecraft and Robby (though looking very confused) smile and follow along with enthusiasm the golden light of hope and that cautious optimism started to shine through. 

For the first time, you think things might just work out. 

“Okay, time to put it away.”

Isaac pouts, his free foot almost stomping on the ground like a disgruntled rabbit, and he turns to you with pleading eyes. “But mommmm,” He drags it out in childish impatience, looking at you with puppy dog eyes that he knows never really works, “I was just gonna show Michael my farm.”

Robby chuckles beside him, eyes darting up to yours for a moment to see how you handle this. He had a lot to learn after all, and your word was law. A deep sigh and you push yourself off the counter, to instead lean down on the table with crossed arms so you could look Isaac in the eyes.

“You know the rules, no devices at dinner. But…”

A glimmer of hope and Isaac’s pout starts to dissolve.

“I can give you 30 extra minutes of play time before bed, you can use it to show Michael your farm or anything else. How does that sound?”

A wide smile breaks onto Isaac’s face and he quickly saves his game before handing the switch over to you. You offer him a wink as you take it and stand up again. When you look to Robby, there's a shadow of devotion one you had seen years before under a half moon arch of peonies and dahlias. Your heart stutters, breath catching in your throat and you have to clear it to regain a semblance of composure. Your heart betraying your brain as it remembers what being loved by him was like. 

A warm, familiar blanket settles over you. Threadbare and torn at the edges, but still comfortable. The kind of blanket you reach for on a stormy night as lightning flashes outside and rain batters the windows, promising shelter and safety. An unspoken vow of forever weaved into the fabric. 

You mentally throw it off your shoulders. 

Of course, Robby notices the shift. The way your shoulders tense for half a second, the sharp inhale of breath as you turn away from them and the subtle shake of your head as if you’re trying to clear away something unpleasant. The walls you had built around you heart coming up once again. He sighs softly, eyes going back to Isaac who’s now talking about the cool new science book you had gotten him that talks about animal biology. It hurts, your reaction, a knife blade slipping right between his rips and poking at the soft flesh of his heart. 

The only reason it doesn’t pierce it and devastate him is because he knows it’s warranted, he had hurt you and now he had to deal with those consequences. He knew forgiveness, and even true acceptance of him being back in your life, would take time. 

Dinner passes by uneventfully, but it’s filled with laughter and smiles as Isaac tells stories and asks Robby questions about himself and his work. Robby’s favourite colour turns into a story about the reflection of the sunset in the water as he walks through the park one summer evening. What he doesn’t tell Isaac is that it was also the colour of your dress on your first date and the night he proposed. When you hear it, you can’t help but look down at your plate and take a deep breath to steady your rapidly beating heart. You didn’t think he would remember that, didn’t think it would still be his favourite colour all these years later.

It’s destabilizing, rattling you from the inside and though you try to keep yourself and walls stable, little micro fractures start to appear. Unnoticeable, little webs of golden light leaking through the walls like the starbursts in Robby's and Isaac’s eyes. You excuse yourself from the table, lifting empty plates and glasses and placing them in the sink. If you stayed any longer, you were sure to fracture completely. 

As you work on cleaning the dishes, you keep an ear out on the conversation. Smiling softly to yourself as stories are swapped and laughter fills the now quiet evening air. You had turned the music off before dinner, and the streets were almost silent. Only a few cars passed by as time ticked over, if you strained you could hear the sound of wildlife and a soft wind rustling trees. The clatter of trash bins opening and closing, soft footsteps as people did late night walks. It wasn’t silent, but it was peaceful. A sacred kind of feeling that felt like the world leaning in and breathing for the first time in centuries. 

As you place the last cup on the drying rack, the slow cooker a problem for tomorrow, you glance towards the clock on the microwave where it reads 22:00. You turn around, arms crossed over your chest. Robby and Isaac are huddled close now, conspiratorial smiles on their faces as they whisper amongst themselves. You wish you could put the moment in a bottle and keep it forever. 

 But unfortunately, it's past bed time. 

“Isaac,” your voice is quiet, a kind of gentle that only comes from a mother looking at their greatest love. It absolutely wrecks Robby internally, sends his mind and heart into a tailspin as it thuds against his chest. It was a tone he had never heard before, it made him think of all the things he missed and all the things he had yet to learn and relearn about you. The possibility of it all excited him, made his pulse skitter under his skin as he took a calm, steadying breath. 

“Yeah mom?”

Isaac looks up with tired eyes, something you were sure he wouldn’t admit to, but he blinks slowly and has to maintain concentration to open them fully again. You smile soft, love written into every line on your forehead and crinkle beside your eyes. Robby has to take another deep breath as his heart skips a beat.

“It’s time for bed bug,”

Another pout, a but loading on his tongue that's quickly dispelled with a shake of your head.

“It’s 10 o’clock bug, you’ve had more time than we agreed."

He looks to Robby as if he could save him, he wants to spend more time with him after all, but Robby just shakes his own head.

“You heard your mom, buddy, it’s time for bed.”

His pout deepens, but when he reaches up to rub the sleep out of his eyes you know he isn’t going to argue. 

“Can Michael stay?”

A sharp breath, a shared look between you and Robby, a question you weren’t prepared for. Your chest rattles, eyes scanning over Robby’s features. He had brightened up over the near two hours he had been in your home, but you can still see the lingering tiredness. The stiffness in his shoulders as he struggles to hold himself up, the dark circles under his eyes and the slow blinking that is so much like Isaacs another crack appears in your walls. You almost give in, almost. 

“Not tonight bug.”

You go to Isaac’s side, hand gently running through his hair as you look between him and Robby. “I’m sure Michael’s up early tomorrow for work, so he needs to go home and get some sleep too.”

A slow, sleepy nod from Isaac. His hands reaching out as he leans over as best he can to wrap his arms around Robby who instantly melts into the touch. His own arms wrapping around Isaac as he rubs at his back, he goes to place a soft kiss against the side of his head, but stops himself. Not yet echoing in the back of his mind. 

“Goodnight Michael.”

“Goodnight Isaac.”

Robby’s voice is hushed, melting into the skin around Isaac's neck as he gives a gentle squeeze, you barely hear it but there’s a crack. A break of quiet adoration finally spoken into the universe. When Isaac pulls away, you take a step back and allow him to calibrate himself in his crutches before he waddles away slowly towards the next room. 

“Where’s he going?”

You turn to Robby, soft smile on your lips, “The playroom, because we’re still unpacking it was easier to set his bed up down here for the time being. He has everything he needs and can maintain some of his independence.”

A nod from Robby as he grabs his bag from under the table. There’s something different about him now, not physically but you can still see it. Something had shifted in the very marrow of his bones and the fabric of his soul, there’s a lightness around his eyes you hadn’t seen since you had first started dating. A softness to the hard exterior of a man. A permanence in the way he looked at you, and Isaac, and the life you had built like this was now his forever and he had simply spent the last ten years looking for a way home. 

Another shared look, softer this time. A shared acknowledgement of the new lives you were now building around you, brick by brick. Story by story. Dinner by dinner. It would take time, but maybe you could learn to love again. 

You walk Robby to the door, that familiar blanket of warmth drawing closer around you but not yet fully settling around your skin as he turns to wish you good night. There’s a moment of hesitation with you both, silence stretching into the night and being lifted on a summer breeze. Neither of you make a move, just look. 

Robby wants to reach out, to feel you in his arms and hold you there once again. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to push. To make you uncomfortable. Even if you looked devastatingly beautiful in the moonlight. 

You want to reach out too, even if just to feel the warmth of his skin or the scratch of his beard against your palm as you cup his cheek. But you hold back, arms instead wrapping protectively around your chest. Protecting your heart from the now more noticeable crack in its walls. 

“Goodnight Michael.”

Quiet, a whisper almost lost to the hoot of an owl and the crunch of gravel as tires drag across a driveway. But still there, more veneration than you had intended. 

“Goodnight.”

Soft, sweet, reverent. Almost a solemn prayer and a promise wrapped into one. It wasn’t a goodbye, it was an I’ll see you tomorrow.

And as the door closed, more golden light poked through your armored walls.

___

The next few weeks are filled with evening visits and dinners, weekends spent as a family unit. Your living room turned from an area of rest and relaxation to a graveyard of pillow and blankets, forts made and burned to the ground in imaginary war zones. Instead of silence or music, a random tv show in the background or the sounds of video games, there squeals of laughter. What once was dead space, is now alive. A thrumming pulse of activity, a lifeline you didn’t know you desperately needed.

Isaac adjusts to his crutches, moving more fluidly and with less fear, and Michael shows up. Every night, even if it’s late and all I can do is a quick hello and a goodnight. Days off where he would lock himself up with medical journals and spiraling thoughts are now spent at your home, under a mountain of blankets and pillows you had deliberately pulled out of storage or with toy cars and race tracks in his hands. Stories are swapped, laughter spilled like wine and whiskey that warms him from the inside. 

Then there's the closeness with you, hesitant touches as you brush against each other shifting into something more deliberate. Your shoulder pressed into his as he helps you in the kitchen, hand lingering just a moment too long as you hand him something, thighs pressed close together as you sit on the sofa and watch Isaac present a magic trick he had learned on youtube. 

Then there’s the first night he stays. It's July 5th and despite an exhausting day before in the ER, Robby takes Isaac out to the Carnegie Science Center during the day to not only spend time with his son but to give you space to work, unpack and breathe. Despite insisting you were fine, Michael could see the way you wobbled on the tightrope between exhaustion and burnout, one wrong step and you would collapse. 

Isaac, of course, had an incredible time and was basically humming with barely contained excitement as Michael pushed him through the door on the temporary wheelchair you had rented. His voice loud and boisterous as he rattled off all the things they had seen, everything he had got to do and try. His eyes were alight with life and passion and you couldn’t help but smile at him. 

Behind him, the sun is just starting to set the brilliant gold of the day transforming into something softer as yellows and orange streak across the cloudless sky and if you look closely enough you can see some hues of indigo and violet mixing in. They frame Michael in a halo of colour, edges soft and shadow blurred behind him, as he steps through the front door. 

There was always an air of permanent exhaustion around Michael, he supposed it went with the territory of being caked in the scent of anti-sceptic and blood and illness that he carried with him from being in the ER, yet he felt lighter than he had in years. Being with Isaac did more than bring him joy, it was actively reviving him. He had long ago accepted that his life would be short flings and one-night stands, loneliness displaced by the sound of voices on the tv as he tried to sleep. But now? 

Now he saw what his life could be, full of life. Full of love. Full of hope. Hope for a future he had no idea existed only a month ago. 

“You coming in?”

Your voice is soft, teasing as you lean against the wall at the end of the hallway with your arms crossed and head tilted to the side. Michael had been standing there for a few moments too long, just watching Isaac as he transferred from the wheelchair to his crutches and settled into the sofa. 

The boxes that had lingered around the door for the past few weeks are gone and as Michael moves inside he sees the living room is decorated with trinkets and books and candles. Photos line the walls and the bookshelf is impeccably ordered, the first one that catches Michael’s eyes is one he had gotten you. Limited edition copies of The Lord of the Rings series, still perfect as if they hadn’t been touched. Then he spots the photo next to it. 

It’s a recent one. Of him and Isaac surrounded by pillows and cars and books on the living room floor (where the coffee table now is) both with smiles on their faces. He never even noticed you taking the picture.

“You’ve had a busy day.”

A snort from you as you run your fingers through your hair and push yourself off the wall, “Yeah, I uh… I couldn’t keep still.”

Michael looks at you, a smirk on his face that crinkles his crows feet and sends a flutter through your heart. 

“You could have asked for help, you know.”

A soft sigh, a gentle look from the corner of your eyes as you rock back on your feet. 

“I know, I’m still getting used to this whole not doing it alone thing.”

Michael nods, then notices the two used and empty wine glasses on the dining table and shakes his head with a small laugh as you follow his gaze with a shrug.

“I also had Dana over to help.”

You nudge his shoulder playfully before stepping back, “Go sit down, Isaac’s requested a movie night and the popcorns just finished.” 

As you pass Isaac on the couch, you ruffle his hair and press a kiss against the top of his head and laugh softly when he scrunches up his nose.

“What do you want to drink bug?”

“A sprite please”

A nod from you, eyes moving over to Michael with a soft smile, “You want a beer?”

Michael moves the sofa, covered in soft throw blankets and pillows, kicking his shoes off and placing them under the coffee table as he does, and gives a small nod before sitting at the end of the sofa. Isaac is in the middle of the three-seater, sitting closer to the other end than he is to Michael but despite their growing relationship he doesn’t want to push any further than he’s allowed. But then Isaac’s tugging on his hand, pulling him closer to him to show off the features of the toy they had picked up at the bookshop. 

He leans in close, arm wrapping around the back of the sofa to allow him as close as Isaac wants, to look it over. There’s buttons and lights and a remote that Isaac hands him with an excited smile, at the look a pleasant crack ricochets through his body right down the middle of the cinderblock that had been slowly eroding over the past few weeks. 

It's no bigger than a brick now, sitting tucked tight underneath his ribs instead of the domineering pressure on his chest it had once been. Still there, lingering, but buried under layers of soft cotton and the butterfly wings of Isaac eyelashes as they blink up at him. Grief now replaced with learning and light and love. 

You join them a few seconds later, popcorn bowl placed in Isaac’s lap and Michael notices the peanut m&m’s and candied almonds and can’t help but tuck his chin to try and hide his smile. He knew that was your influence, and of course you catch it as you hand him an open beer.

“What are you smiling at?”

There’s a small spark of electricity up your arm as your fingers brushed, and you stop, for just a moment. Fingers pressed softly against one another as Michael wraps his hand around yours. There’s mischief and teasing in the starbursts of his eyes, the golden hour light making them shine even brighter than normal. His eyes dart to the popcorn bowl, then back to you, fingers tightening just a little.

“Some things just don’t change.”

There’s a playful roll of your eyes, an unconscious smile stretching across your face as you finally pull your hand back and let him take the beer from you. Then you’re gone again, just for a moment, then you’re handing Isaac his sprite in a non-spill cup that he can keep beside him and placing a glass of wine on the coffee table for yourself before throwing a bag of candy at Michael with a playful glare. 

It hits his chest, bounces to his knees and he laughs. Full, unrestrained. But his eyes never leave yours as you settle in next to Isaac on the other side, he brings his free hand up to his face and attempts to hide the smile between his fingers but he fails and you’re laughing alongside him. Another crack, this time in your walls, spider webs turning into full fractures that allow pieces to crumble around you. Golden light penetrates and fills you with a warmth you’re still too scared to admit you not only missed, but craved in the deepest parts of your soul. 

It’s still early-ish, the soft yellows and oranges transforming into deep indigos and violets as the sun slowly dips lower in the sky, your phone reading as 8:45. You agreed to let Isaac stay up a bit later than usual, the energy from the day not yet fully leaving his system, and agree that each of you will pick one movie. Isaac picks Wall-E, it’s one of his favourites and you’re just grateful he hasn’t chosen Meet the Robinsons again. 

There’s laughter shared throughout the movie, jokes and comments about certain scenes. If there was one thing you could say about Michael coming back into your life, it’s that it’s never truly quiet and you appreciate it. He, and Isaac, reminded you every day that there was more to life than just surviving and trying your best and that you needed space to simply be and live too. 

By the end of the first movie, night had fully set in and the stars give little sprinkles of silver light through your blinds. It’s the only light, but it’s all you need against the backdrop of the TV. You’ve all shifted on the sofa. You with your legs up to your side as you lean in close to Isaac with one arm supporting your head on the sofa. Isaac is leaning in close against Michael, head resting softly against his shoulder as best he can with his leg propped on the coffee table and Michael is closer to him. Hand wrapped around the back now laying gently against Isaac’s shoulder. And somewhere along the way, all three of you had ended up wrapped up in your giant throw blanket and the pillows were thrown to the floor. 

You can see the tiredness finally settle in Isaac, in how his eyes are starting to close over just a bit and he has to force them awake. In the limpness of his hand as you hold it in your free one. He still asks for another movie. 

You let Michael choose this one, content to just exist in space with the two. Honestly, they could have chosen the most boring movie in existence and you would have been happy. He chooses Matilda. You give him a curious glance when he clicks on the movie, it was unexpected and he simply shrugs but there’s lightness in his eyes. A memory flashing between them and you wonder if he’s also remembering the first night you stayed at his place when you started dating. 

The mountain of blankets you had formed on his bed, brought from your own home, curling up in his arms as you waxed poetic about the how it was one of your favourites telling stories of lazy sundays spent at your grandparents with the movie on the background. How you, in your young mind, had convinced yourself you were like Matilda and tried to move things with your mind. The smile on his face and the small chuckle he lets out tell you he is. 

You can feel your cheeks heat at the look and quickly look away, glancing down at Isaac to see him perk up a little bit as the movie starts. You place a quick kiss to his head and lean further into him, head leaning against his as you readjust on the sofa. As you move, so does Michael. His hand and arm now leaning against the back, his fingers trailing gently against the skin of your neck and your clothed shoulder. Heat blooms wherever he touches, spreads out and trickles down your spine. 

It’s quieter now, laughter now hushed. Conversation abandoned as you both let Isaac drift off to sleep but you can feel Michael’s eyes on you almost the whole time. He’s watching the way you mouth along to the script, the way your head bobs slightly to the music, a warm smile on his face the entire time.

Then the movie ends, screen turning black as the credit’s roll. Michael pauses it, a comfortable silence stretches over you. That old tattered blanket settles closer to you, wrapping around your ribs but not yet settling on your shoulders but it doesn’t restrict. It is comforting. It's warm, familiar. An old friend coming home. 

There’s a shared breath, deep, grounding. Both of you look at Isaac who snores gently at your side, then Michael looks at you with a soft smile on your face. He wants to take his phone out and take a photo, commit this image to memory forever so he can look back on it on the long days. He realises then, he doesn’t want to leave. Could spend the rest of his days just locked in this moment.

“You want me to lift him into bed?”

It’s a whisper, soft. Gentle. And just like that the world comes back into focus, the sound of cicadas filtering in through the open window, a radio from a small party down the street playing soft music as it winds down. The twinkling stars and moonlight as they shine in the sky, reflecting off the glass of the coffee table and sending a kaleidoscope spreading across the floor. It’s something delicate, breakable. You don’t want to move, slow your breathing so as not to disturb the movement. 

Then there’s a startling thought, you don’t want him to go. You could get used to this, to Michael being not only in your life but in your space. Potentially in your heart once again.  It scares you, but you don’t let it stop you. Your conversation with Dana ringing in the back of your mind, don’t let fear stop you from living.

“Yeah, I’ll get everything cleaned up”

A nod, then you’re both slowly moving off the sofa so as not to disturb Isaac. As you gather the dishes and empty bags into the near empty popcorn bowl, Michael gently hoists Isaac into his arm being very careful so as not to bang his broken leg. You watch his back as he disappears down the hallway and into the playroom before making your way to the kitchen.

When he returns, you're leaning against the counter and responding to a text. Michael doesn’t clear his throat, barely makes a sound as he pads into the kitchen and yet your body knows he’s there and you look up instinctively. He’s only a few steps away

“I should go”

Soft, whispered into the night. A heart beat slams in your ears, you can’t tell if it’s yours.

“You should stay.”

A look of shock, a skipped heart beat. Elation blooming in Michael’s veins, yet trepidation leaks from his tongue.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

You roll your eyes, softly. Affectionately.

“I still have a pair of your old sweats, I can put your clothes in the washer and dryer before we go to bed.”

A moment of stillness, a shared recognition of I don’t want this to end. A step closer, you can’t tell who takes it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Then you’re taking a step back, leading Michael up the stairs to your bedroom where you riffle through drawers before pulling out an old worn pair of sweats. Their college branded, Michaels alma mater, a little tattered and worn but still perfectly wearable. As Michael takes them, they are soft and obviously still well cared for. 

“Thank you.”

You nod, gentle, eyes soft as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Bathroom is just there,” You point to the door at the top of the stairs, “The guest bedroom is beside it.” 

Another soft ‘thanks’ passed from Michael's lips, and you nod before turning back down the stairs. When you reach the kitchen, there’s silence. Cicada’s no longer chirp, the dimmed down radio is now quiet and the gentle summer breeze no longer ruffles the trees. The air feels heavy, tense. Full of anticipation and longing and maybe something a little more dangerous. It’s the time before a storm, before the world around you is thrown into chaos. Where most people seek shelter.

And yet, there’s peace. You are not outside of the storm watching it destroy the world, but in it. Cradled gently in its arms at the center. You were safe. Warm. Protected. A feeling of whatever happens here, now, it would not destroy you. 

There’s a deep breath as you steady yourself against the kitchen counter, eyes closing for just a moment. A thousand what if’s playing in your mind, a thousand reasons this won’t work and then a thousand more of what if it does? You try not to swell on them too long and quickly regain your composure. Another deep breath, rattling against your ribs and you open your eyes. 

You busy yourself with pouring another glass of wine and grabbing a cold beer for Michael and he joins you only a minute later. His clothes bundled up in his hands, the sweatpant riding low on his hips and he’s shirtless. You try to stop yourself from trailing your eyes up his body, admiring the pudge of his belly and the happy trail that leads up to his chest hair. When you meet Michael’s eyes and see the small flush dusting his cheeks, you realise you failed. 

Heat rises up your neck and to your cheeks, you hope it isn’t as obvious as it feels. The burn of skin, like touching a hot stove top, spreading like a wildfire. You don’t address it, just clear you throat and take the clothes from him.

“I’ll be uh… back in a second. There’s a beer there for you if you wanna um…wait on the couch. The button for the lamps on the base.”

You don’t wait for him to reply, instead make your way around him with a hitched breath and a hammering heart. It had been years since you had felt like this, it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen a naked man since you had divorced Michael but there was something that was just so uniquely him that it got under your skin. Made you feel crazy and young and totally inexperienced, as if it was your first time seeing him like that. 

You curse to yourself as you load his clothes into the washer, in a small alcove outside the playroom, desperately begging your heart to calm down and remember you’re a grown adult and you can handle this. 

As you do, Michael struggles in the kitchen. As soon as he noticed you looking, more like oggling, his body froze. His heart started hammering against his ribs and his stomach twisted itself in knots over and over again, like some little school boy who had just discovered what feelings were. He wanted to say something a little teasing and maybe just a tad egotistical, but the words got caught on his tongue and his brain completely melted. And just as he finally regained his bearings, you were talking and then you were gone. Disappearing into a little nook just outside the playroom where he assumed the washer and dryer were. 

Michael has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself,  to calm his pounding heart. He clenches and unclenches his hands, his jaw, anything to try and release the roiling tension inside of him that mirrored the tension in the air. Then he takes a step, unsteady. Unsure. Walking a tightrope he knew he was destined to fall off, the only question was when? 

Then another, steadier yet still soft. Bare feet barely making a sound against the wood grain floor. The coldness of the beer and the condensation dripping onto his hand is welcome, a shock to his system that reminds him to take it easy. This is fine. You’re two adults, who just happen to share a kid, spending time together. Once he has the beer and wine in hand, he moves to the sofa and uses his foot to press the button on the lamp. 

The light is gentle, warm, the same yellow as peonies in early summer filtered through the shade. It spotlights the sofa in its glow, fizzling out at the edges and scaring away the creeping shadows in the corners. He takes a seat, one leg folded over the other as he placed both drinks on the coffee table. 

You join him a few minutes later, changed out of your day clothes and into a pair of baggy sweatpants with your own alma mater embroidered into the side and an oversize t-shirt. It’s a band shirt, one that has certainly seen better days with the faded graphics and pain stains dotting the bottom. But it’s still unmistakable, it is was his. He still remembers the day it got the navy blue stain just under the neckline. 

You had just moved in together, about a year before the wedding, and were decorating the bedroom on one of his few days off. He had rubbed at his face not realising there was paint on his fingers and when you had laughed, he had rubbed his face over your shirt in retaliation as you giggled and half-heartedly attempted to push him away. You had both ended the night with paint in places it should not have been. 

He clears his throat, shakes his head lightly as he realises he was staring before re-adjusting on the sofa. You sit at the other end, where you had been before, and drape the blanket over your legs as you pull your knees up to your chest. It makes you look small, fragile. Shoulders curling in as you place your chin atop your knees and wrap your arms around your legs. 

There’s silence, not the dramatic kind where words are left unspoken but the intimate kind of two people learning how to navigate life together again. Your eyes are soft, crinkling at the edges slightly, but still bright under the lamplight. He can see your mind racing behind them in the way your lips twitch and your fingers drum against the blanket as you search for something to say despite the fact the silence doesn’t necessarily need to be filled. 

He scans you, just for a moment. You were still you, the same beautiful woman he had loved all those years ago. But you were different, time and life and motherhood had changed you so fundamentally that were parts of your soul that he didn’t recognise, parts he desperately wanted to meet and map out and learn. He had already started re-painting the tapestry of you in his mind, detailing every grey hair and wrinkle and laugh line, every new freckle on your skin and small scars he had discovered over the last few weeks. The image of you warping from wife to something more reverent and holy, mother and woman and friend transforming the image into something spectacular. 

He also mapped out the hidden hurt in your eyes, the little flickering of pain that had danced across your irises for the last few weeks. How you had tried to keep them hidden, protecting not just your heart but Isaacs. He, of course, knew Michael had hurt you in the past, but you protected him from how it still hurt now. The unspoken words of why wasn’t I enough passing your face for just a fraction of a second every time he comes by. But he saw it. And he knew he needed to apologise for it. 

Michael shifts, both feet now on the floor as he brings his elbows to his knees and clasps his hands together. There’s stillness, a deep breath. A calibration in his mind of what he needs to say. His heart hammers in his chest, as does your as you brace for what was to come. 

There’s a crack of thunder outside, a bright flash of light that illuminates you both. A bright white that streaks across the room, it’s dazzling. Almost a moment frozen in time, a man hunched over as if he was in prayer, hands clasped together so tightly the tips started to turn white, and a woman, his god, holding vigil over his form as finally spoke of his sins. 

“I-” 

There’s a crack in his voice, you can’t tell if it’s a moment of hesitation or an emotional overwhelm that causes it. But there’s a shake to his shoulders, a trembling of his hands, and you can see the way his chest stutters with uneven breaths as he tries to collect himself.

Vulnerability was not something Michael was good at. It scared him. Talks of feelings and fears and hopes and dreams, laying his heart and soul bare to another person was absolutely terrifying. Because once it was all out there, out of his control, they could do anything with it. Hurt him. Punish him. Ruin him. But then they could also support him. Guide him. Love him despite all of the aches and pains and flaws. He had always been so terrified of showing someone the damaged parts of his souls because they might run away and it was so overwhelming that he had never considered the fact that they could also stay. 

He hoped you would stay.

You soften as he gathers himself, legs crossing underneath you and hands falling limp in the gap between them. Your shoulders are still hunched, not with harshness or as a protective instinct but as a gentle spot for him to lay his head if things got too much. You wanted him to know he was safe. You weren’t going to run and hide, you were going to catch him when he falls. No longer holding vigil for a man confessing sin, but offering sanctuary and grace to drowning man.

“I’m sorry for…everything. I was not the man you deserved back then. You were too good for me. Too kind. Too patient. Too loving. You carried everything alone when I should have been by your side carrying the weight alongside you.”

Another deep breath, you can’t tell from who, another tremble in his voice. Your lashline starts to water.

“I was scared… of loving you and being loved by you. I hid inside the hospital and work when things got hard and I refused to let you in because I was scared of what it might do to you, to me, to us.”

His hand lifts, moving slowly and casually between the two of you at the words.

“I…thought I was protecting you, protecting us by separating work and home life but all it did was push you away and I…I should have let you in. Should have told you about things at work, how they made me feel. I should have just tried harder. You were always enough and I loved you,”

He doesn’t let the words I still do out of his mouth, though they rest heavy on his tongue. 

“I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for pushing you away and hiding. For keeping secrets and breaking promises. For making you carry not just our relationship but everything by yourself.” 

A tear streaks down your cheek, leaving a layer of salt in your skin and burning like acid through your walls. It’s a crack right down the middle, rubble falling to your feet as they crumble around you. The dark shroud you had held close to your chest vanishes, chased out by a bright golden starburst of colour that instead envelops you like an old friend. It settles right against your ribs, pushes through your hearts and into your blood stream. The old comfortable blanket now wraps fully around your shoulders, warm and comforting and feeling a little bit too much like home to ignore. 

Your eyes soften and you shift closer to Michael, your knees pressing into his thigh and sides as you reach out and take his hands in yours. He lets you pry them apart and as you lace your hands together he looks at you. Face soft, lips turned up in a soft forgiving smile. Warm, welcoming. Home. 

“I forgive you.”

A whisper into the night, another crack of thunder and a deep breath from you both.

“It hurt, sometimes it still does but that old pain is my issue to deal with now, not yours.”

Soft circles rubbed into skin, trembling fingers and shoulders becoming still. Tears streaking both your faces as emotions settle.

“I forgave you that first taco night because I could see the person you’re turning into. In the dad you’re becoming. We’re different people than we were ten years ago Michael. The man I married and the woman you married are gone, not dead. Just…different. We just need to learn who we are again.”

Another minute of silence, a shared breath. A wound closing over, healing. Then there’s rain. A pounding against the glass, a brief summer storm that lasts only a few minutes. It’s cleansing. Like a river washing away the sins of the past. Of course, evidence of them lingers, marred deep into the bones of the earth. Indents and crevices left behind, but forgotten but ready to be filled again with something new. Something potentially beautiful. 

There’s a few moments of silence between you, the rain a metronome to match your beating hearts. A few shared breaths. Then hands reach out to wipe at the others tears. A moment of stillness where you hold each other's face, fingers splayed across jaws and fingers pressing lightly into necks where you can feel pulses jump underneath skin. You breathe together, 4 in, hold, 4 out. Slowly, almost hesitantly you both pull your hands back. 

Then you readjust, your legs uncross but fold under you and too the side as you lean an elbow into the back of the sofa and Michael leans back, shoulder just millimeters away from your elbow, and places a foot on his knee. Tension has leached from you both, there’s softness there now instead.

The rain stops as you reach for your wine and take a drink and Michael reaches for his beer. More silence, soft. Sweet. A clear sky after the storm has passed. Then Michael looks at you, a question brewing on his tongue and you realise it’s the first time since the hospital where you’ve been alone. Where you’ve talked about something other than Isaac or without him around.

He reaches a hand out, picks an invisible bit of lint of the navy paint stain on your shirt and chuckles lightly. You raise an eyebrow at him and smile.

“You know I hunted for this shirt for two weeks after you left the apartment.”

You huff out a small laugh, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Yeah?”

He nods, slow almost melodramatically and something warms inside you.

“Yeah…”

He doesn’t elaborate on why he was looking for it, doesn’t have too. The words are there, dancing in the air. It was because he missed you. Neither of you comment on it. But it opens up the conversation, the first real adult one you’ve had since your dramatic reunion and it’s nothing like you expected.

It’s soft words and almost whispers, questions and answers, stories spilled like whiskey and honey. You’re relearning each other, almost like it’s the first time again. 

You talk about your favourite colours and books and movies, warmth bubbling inside of both of you as memories are swapped from a time before. No venom in the words, but joy and happiness of what was and what could be. You tell him you now strongly dislike, not hate (you were very specific about that) the colour purple because someone in Nevada had ruined it for you, he tells you how he had fallen out of love with one of his old comfort shows after a patient had told him an unsettling fact about the production.

Michael comments on the pristine special editions of Lord of the Rings and you tell him they're simply too precious to ever touch, but he could read them to Isaac if he wanted. He laughed at that and agreed. He comments on the decor, how your tastes have changed and you laugh saying it’s simply more child friendly but you want to get more art and pictures for the walls, especially of Michael and Isaac and even the three of you.

Then you talk about work. Michael telling stories of some wild cases he’s had in the ER, making sure to not mention names or identifying information, one he told was a man who had called his girlfriend after an accident but the nurse had also called his emergency contact who was his wife and the explosive fight that had happened in the trauma bay. How Ahmed and the security team had to force them out and threaten to call the cops, how the divorce papers arrived that same day as well as a break up text from the girlfriend. The girlfriend had come in five months later with the wife by her side and they were thick as thieves. Your eyes bulged at the story and the giggles were pouring out of you along with a ‘good for them’ at the end. 

You tell Michael stories of how you got to where you are now, how a crazy coworker got fired after stalking one of the young interns. The drama and gossip from inter-departmental arguments and affairs, stupid executive decisions and idiot clients. When you told him about how you, very politely, chewed out a client for sexist comments about you and your co-worker he laughed a full belly laugh, hand clutching his stomach as his whole body shook with the force.

“You always were a little spitfire.”

A light shove to his shoulder and an affectionate eye roll from you and then you were both giggling. Then there was silence, the cicadas were brought back to life outside chirping a symphony that seemed almost recognisable. There was a moment, accented by the hoot of an owl, where you both realised you didn’t want the night to end but then the washer played its soft song and you looked at the clock. It was just past midnight and you knew Isaac would be up in only a few hours. 

A deep breath, then a whisper. A delicate thing, soft enough to be heard but not break the atmosphere that had settled.

“We should head to bed.”

As Michael looked at the clock, you realised just how close you had gotten. Your knees now rested on top of Michael’s thigh and you were tucked in close to his chest and his arm was thrown behind you. Lazy, unassuming, but you could still feel his fingers twitch against your shoulder. 

“Yeah, we should.”

But you both make no immediate move to stand up, instead linger together for a few more seconds. Your heart thumps, his breath rattles. You both look at each other's lips, then away again. You want to kiss him, he wants to kiss you but neither of you move. 

A horn blares outside, someone chasing away an animal on the road before a collision you think, and the moment shatters. You clear your throat, standing quickly and moving away from the sofa. There’s another look, somewhere between longing and regret and dangerous emotions you aren’t ready to face yet.

“Goodnight Mikey.”

Michael stands, makes his way to where you stand at the bottom of the stairs just before the alcove for the washer and dryer. His lips quirk and his heart quickens at the old nickname.

“Goodnight spitfire”

You look down, away from him. The intensity of his gaze makes you shy. Then he’s up the stairs as you move his clothes to the dryer. Once they’re in, you stand there for a moment, your mind no longer swirling with a thousand what ifs and questions and fears. Instead there’s a lingering hope, and only one question, what if this works?

[kissingraine]

sum Blackarachnia lovee<3 eventual poly with Optimus(?) 18+

I Know The End — TFA Blackarachnia x f!Reader

This wasn't her, but it was the only version of her she still knew. Every day, she looked into the mirror and Blackarachnia was reminded of the things that haunted her. Relentless and tenacious like the silk that spilled through the unfamiliar ports on her body. Once covered in chrome and gold, now a horrific amalgamation of metal and faux organic. Each day it played out a little differently in her head: maybe she could have gotten out of there quicker, maybe she never used her abilities, maybe help had come sooner and the associates she trusted never gave up on her like she was something dispensable. There was pressure behind her multi-lens optics in a way she wasn't able to describe before. She still hadn't found a name to call it. How many cycles had passed since she tried curing herself of this disease? Of trying to separate without making it feel like she was being torn in two? Like cutting out a part of her?

It was a buzzing Blackarachnia couldn't ever get rid of. Thin strings of unfamiliar organic material clawed through pathways that once served as her energon lines. Every pulse of her spinnerets felt like treachery once—now she was numb to them. Used to, she supposed. It was a traitorous reminder that she would no longer be known as the spirited Autobot she once was. She had cast her old name into the Pit once she molted into a cruel imitation, a pseudo-spider. Not quite metal, not quite organic either. She belonged nowhere, not even to herself. And when she came online to spot her reflection, she was still surprised to see that the monster staring back at her... was still irrevocably her. But it wasn't. Because she wasn't supposed to look like that.

• Sirens still blared in the darkness when you slept, behind closed eyelids that flashed with blue and red. All you could taste on your tongue now was asphalt, coarse as it scraped your taste buds raw. Gasoline-scented smoke that only got stronger with each breath you took. Nothing helped wash it off. Not toothpaste, mouthwash, or alcohol. You considered bleach once. But the self-destruction wasn't worth it. Or so you thought when you went out one night to drown in liquid amber. You had kept yourself so well. So well up until the one-year anniversary, and when you saw that steel pole in the middle of nowhere—everything just went to shit.

• You think, sometimes, you deserve it. Detroit had nothing left for you anymore. So even if it meant losing sight, it was still yours to keep. A lasting impression. A farewell gift. Because if you couldn't keep an eye on your brother, you didn't deserve to see at all. Technically, you're their problem now. Because your new alien friends mentioned that energon wasn't volatile unless tampered with. You honestly thought it was just a flash bang that went off. So now you're getting weekly check-ins from this guy named Optimus. And his pit crew. Well, he isn't a guy and they aren't just his dysfunctional friend group. They're robots from outer space. You've always been the type to go ‘seeing is believing,’ but unfortunately, the quota changed the moment their food made you go blind.

She knows she shouldn't be watching you, especially this up close. You never notice her. Can't even see her, but she sees you. From the high beams of a hollow building, construction stopped a long time ago and left to rot, Blackarachnia crouched in the quiet stillness. A predator waiting for prey to gently brisk by her webs. Her multi-lensed sight followed your shape like a phantom as you haunted the hallways of your tiny living space. No Autobot escort or pit crew in sight. Just you, arms outstretched, as you attempted to feel out your home for the nth time this month. Pain had a scent and, like a shark scenting blood through water, it called to her own while you left it to bleed across the concrete and into it. She hated the way it called to her. Hated that it felt familiar.

The bots treat you like charity. A liability, in a way, you are—but not because it's deliberate. Your weakness was designed by nature, something inherent that described your species as a whole. She knew what they saw you as even if no one said it out loud: a human footnote scorched by energon and buried in Prime's guilt. But that's not all you are. You? You're the kind to just keep going. Even as your circumstances evidently try to make your life miserable. And for reasons she doesn't want to dig up, Blackarachnia wants to watch. Curiosity, maybe. Or cruelty. The lines have blurred over the years she's spent on this rock trying to fix herself. Maybe she just wanted to know what made you so different — what made you survive the same hell that turned her into a monster.

She doesn't get the way it bothers her on some level when you fumble for the kitchen counter. Why the sound of your foot catching on a chair leg makes her flinch like it's happening to her. When you curse under your breath as you stub your toe and it echoes louder in her mind than anything Optimus ever said. Why does she care again? It's half because the Prime insists on looking over you, the other being just a passing wonder. Because you're human. Fragile. You shouldn't have made it this far, let alone gotten tangled into Autobot business. But you did.

And you're still here.

Still moving forward with a kind of stubbornness she thought only existed in machines built for war. And a part of her wants to test it. To push you and see if you're really that strong or if you'll break like everything else she's touched. But she doesn't move. Arachnia just stays in the shadows, pedipalp twitching and staring through broken glass at someone who doesn't even know they're being watched. Maybe it's recon, maybe it's spite.

Anything but hope—because for someone like her—a techno-organic beast, hope meant that someone would have arrived and no one on Cybertron gave up on her.

[maddyguru]

Tw. Incest, dark content, non con, The Sadness! AU, loss of virginity, MINORS DNI

The Sadness!Au (minus the gore shit bc i couldn't handle it) where suguru and kenjaku are twins and got infected by the virus and starts to r*pe their little sister.

When the virus started infecting them, they tried to fight back from hurting you, their precious baby. Seeing you cry and plead for your older brothers to stop hurting you make their heart break inside, but the virus was so powerful that even tho they were crying a little, they secretly enjoyed inflicting pain on you.

With suguru holding you down and kenjaku ripping your clothes, you cried out when the older twin between the two starts groping your tits without a care in the world.

"I've always want to rape you, y/n." Kenjaku, your sweet, gentle older brother confessed, and hearing you cry excites him and his twin. You wished that your life would've ended now, but here you are being raped by your own family member.

"oniichan..." You whispered, hoping for them to stop hurting you.

Kenjaku and suguru took your first that evening. That evening when it was all quiet, they forced their dicks into you with Kenjaku being the first to impale you, making you bleed which gets them off even more. The stinging pain you felt when they raped you and betrayal you carried made you scream.

[crikeygatormate]

I Will Always Return (Pt. 6)

Summary: You are the eldest daughter to the mayor of Wrywood back when the wild west was more than just a movie genre. Your father is a sly politician who managed to find himself stuck between a rock and a hard place with a large crime group that resided in the city and the west’s most notorious group of outlaws. Somehow you find yourself stuck in the middle.

Warnings: MDNI (that should be known but especially now!) gun violence, gore, gen violence, major character death x2, animal death, angst, death of a family member(s) described ish, virgin!Reader, reader has afab anatomy, corruption kink (i think don't come at me if I'm wrong lmao), oral m & f receiving, dacryphylla if you squint, I think that's it, lmk if I left anything out this one is long af

Hello friends, this is the last part of this series. I'm sad to see it go, but it's been so fun to write. I think this is the first time i've ever finished a series lol so yay :-) But thank you guys for the support! I've loved reading everyone's thoughts, makes me smile :-)

None of y'all better come at me w/ this smut, it's not my strong suit LMAO this is like the second time I've written it so hopefully, it's not too bad idk part of me was like phew you rushed it lol also idk if I the like ending but oh well :,)

Sorry in advance for the typos :) I have the attention span of a fly when it comes to proofreading

Word count: 20.5k

The next morning you woke up late. The sun was bright, making you squint as you pushed the last remnants of sleep from your mind. For a brief moment, after realizing that you were in your room, you thought everything that had happened was just a dream, until someone knocked on your open door.

You rubbed your eyes looking over your shoulder to see Bakugou leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. He looked well rested for the first time in a long time.

“Why’d you let me sleep in so late?” you asked, stifling a yawn with the back of your hand.

Bakugou shrugged, watching you try to smooth down your messy hair. There was a touch of fondness that crossed his features as he continued to watch you move. “Thought you needed the sleep, and it’s gonna be a while till we have a break again.”

You furrowed your brows as you stood up and slipped on your boots, “thanks.” You narrowed your eyes at him, making him scoff.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” Bakugou asked, shaking his head a bit.

“Did you make plans without me? Is that why you let me sleep in?” you questioned coming to a stop in front of him.

Bakugou snorted, tilting his head down to look at your serious face, “no I didn’t, think I learned my lesson about doin’ things without you.”

You lifted a brow as a small smile grew across your features, “oh you did? I’m shocked that you’re even admitting that.” You supposed he was referring to when you made him explain his reasoning about why he was using you as bait back in Izuku’s stable.

Bakugou snorted again, and he took one hand and wrapped it around the back of your neck, making you jolt in surprise. “It’s still too early for your attitude, princess,” he said, glancing down at you with a small smile.

Your face warmed as he led you towards the stairs and slipped his hand down from the back of your neck before walking down towards the first floor. Maybe the talk you had with him last night finally tore down his walls, and all of them. He seemed more relaxed around you like he was letting you in, and this time for good.

The smile on your face grew larger as you began to follow him down the stairs where you saw the others lounging by the kitchen.

“Well look who's finally up,” Sero commented, his gaze cutting towards Bakugou who sent him a gnarly glare, and then back to you.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t realize I slept in so late,” you said sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of your shirt.

“We all slept in dumbass,” Mina said as she smacked Sero on the back of the head, making him yelp.

The mood suddenly seemed to turn rather sour at the thought of what was going to happen next. You all were about to figure out how to confront Keigo and Kaminari. Not to mention, Bakugou still needed his money to buy Keigo’s estate so he could prove that Keigo was a killer.

You took a seat next to Kirishima who was sipping some coffee he must have found back in your kitchen from an old mug. He glanced down at you as he blew on the coffee trying to cool it off.

“So how’s this gonna go down?” Sero asked, breaking the silence, “we’re down two men.”

Bakugou nodded, choosing to stay silent a few moments before his gaze cut to you. He was thinking and it looked like whatever he was thinking about was something he didn’t like. “Yeah,” he drawled, looking away from you and back to Sero. “I’m thinkin’ we may need to ask for some help.”

“Don’t you even think about it,” Kirishima suddenly said, his voice thick with anger. “Don’t be fuckin’ dumb Katsuki.”

You were almost in shock with how angry Kirishima sounded. He was practically bristling next to you. In the time you’ve known him, he’s been what you would describe a gentle giant? Obviously, you knew he wasn’t actually gentle, but he seemed to like to make sure you were okay.

“The four of us can’t go up against both of them,” Bakugou said, “and Y/n’s only actually hit a target once, and that was a bottle. We need them.”

You frowned at him, but you knew Bakugou was right. You didn’t have the experience to go headfirst into a gunfight. You sure could keep up on horseback, but shooting was something totally different.

“Well,” Mina began, “I sure as hell ain’t going with y’all if you’re gonna get them. Y/n won’t want to either.”

“I don’t want to see those assholes too,” Kirishima added, his voice low with disgust.

You glanced between everyone, utterly lost and confused. “Who are we talking about?”

“Shigaraki and Dabi,” Kirishima answered, holding his heated gaze with Bakugou, “I mentioned them to you before, those two are trouble. Got no respect, and are the biggest snakes I’ve ever met.”

“But we need them,” Bakugou argued, growing frustrated, “they fight dirty, and we all know Keigo and Kaminari do too. They’re just bodies at the end of the day, and they don’t seem to care as long as they get paid.”

“I ain’t goin’ then,” Mina hissed, narrowing her eyes.

You frowned, was Bakugou truly that desperate to get help from people he has no respect for? This plan so far seemed to be emotionally charged again, like the last one he made. Even though your plan had gone badly, only one person had gotten hurt. If everyone had shown up that day, who knows what would have happened.

“Don’t you still need money?” you asked, “why would you want to hire people then?”

Bakugou clenched his jaw, probably frustrated that you were right again. “I do need money-”

“Then it seems smart to get your money first, no?” you questioned, “In case you forgot, I still have a bounty on my head.”

“I’m not fuckin’ turnin’ you in again,” Bakugou said quickly, “that’s not an option. If you’re gonna come up with a plan, then think of somethin’ else.”

Kirishima let out an amused huff from next to you as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Why not?” Sero asked, “it’s easy, Y/n can turn herself in, we know Keigo isn’t there this time. Sounds good to me.”

“I said no,” Bakugou snapped as he narrowed his eyes.

Sero held up his hands, fighting off a smile.

You glanced down at the floor, lost in thought as you tried to think of something better than turning yourself in. Honestly, there didn’t seem to be any other option. You could go talk to your sister and mother? Shindo had three grand, surely, he owns one the largest cattle ranches in your town.

Although, they probably all believed the post about you. There was a good chance they didn’t, but you didn’t want to risk getting caught. You sighed, running your forefinger along the grain of the wood floor, wincing when a small piece would bend up and splinter your finger.

You hated these floors. They were so uselessly expensive. The money that your father poured into this house was laughable, and now it belonged to no one. Taken back by the bank and it would probably be used to build a couple more houses down the line.

It was hard to imagine that you were here just a little less than a month ago getting ready for that stupid ball to be married off to Monoma.

Then you froze. Monoma. Neito Monoma who was the son of Vlad Monoma, one of the wealthiest men in the city down south. “I have an idea,” you began, still loosely forming it in your mind, “what if we go get your money from Monoma?”

“That blonde asshole?” Bakugou asked, rubbing the side off his face in frustration.

You nodded, “yeah, him. His family is so rich, they wouldn’t even notice three grand was missin’.”

“That’s right, you brought that up the first night you were with us,” Kirishima said while setting down his empty mug. “That might work.”

“What about Keigo and Kaminari? We can’t let that trail get cold. The tracks might be gone from the rain last night, and if another storm comes through we’ll never find them,” Bakugou said.

“Then we gotta split up,” Sero said, “some of us track Keigo and Kaminari, the others go down south to get the money.”

Bakugou looked conflicted, his gaze was bouncing between the entire group before landing on you. He knew your plan was good, and he really did need that money. Without it he was just chasing a ghost. “Alright, then where's everyone goin’?”

“You’re our best tracker, Katsuki,” Kirishima said, “you should follow Keigo and Kaminari’s trail. Sero can go with you, he’s the quietest out of all of us too.”

“So that leaves us three to go down south,” Mina said, “that’s good that Y/n is with us, she’ll help us blend in, and she knows more about the Monoma’s than any of us.”

You shared a glance with Bakugou who nodded, he looked upset, but there was nothing he could do. This was the best plan moving forward.

“How long do you think it’ll take to get that money?” Bakugou asked, his voice was almost solemn.

You shrugged, “depends. The city always holds a huge rodeo around the middle of summer, should be in a few days I’d bet. So no longer than a couple of days at most.”

“Fine,” Bakugou concluded, “make a plan then.”

—-------

You spent the rest of the day creating a plan. You had three days to execute it.

You knew that the Monoma’s always donated a large sum of money towards the summer rodeo. It helped promote their business and reminded everyone who ran the city. You planned that Kirishima, Mina, and you would sneak into the rodeo and steal the prize money. Although you didn’t know where the prize money would be held, you knew a certain blonde would, and he most certainly would be there.

Once you had the money, you’d ride back to Kirishima and Bakugou’s hometown where Kirishima would buy Keigo’s estate. Then you’d wait for Bakugou and Sero to meet you back at Keigo’s estate.

From there four of you would ride out and lure Kaminari and Keigo back to the estate where Baukugou and Kirishima will finally prove that Keigo was the one who had killed their families.

It wasn’t a very fleshed-out plan, and you knew it could fall through at any moment, but it was the only one you had. So it had to work, you would make it work.

The rest of the morning you packed for the trip. You had to find outfits that made Kirishima and Mina fit in with normal citizens and cover their identities. Thankfully, not everything had been taken from your house and you were able to find Mina and you some day dresses that would help you both blend in. Kirishima however, there was no way you could find any clothes that would fit him besides an old cowboy hat and an oversized jean jacket.

You frowned, holding up the pale pink dress you found in your sister’s room, it was dotted with little flowers and spots. It looked like it could fit Mina, well you hoped it would cause there wasn’t another dress except for the one you found for yourself.

“That’s fuckin’ ugly,” Bakugou’s gruff voice filled the room.

You turned around to see him walking towards you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He came to a stop next to you, eyeing the small bag you had stuffed with clothes. “It was my sisters,” you answered, “and it always looked good on her.”

“Whatever, it’s still ugly,” Bakugou said as pulled his hands out of his pockets and sat down next to you.

You snorted, as you went to put the dress in your bag, but he was already pulling out the dress you had just put in there. “Hey, I just folded that.”

Bakugou snorted, yanking the pale yellow dress out. “You wearin’ this one?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm as he hummed. “Why ya askin’?”

Bakugou shrugged as he put the dress back in your bag before leaning back on his hands. “I like yellow.”

Your eyes widened and your face immediately felt like it was on fire as you put the pink dress in and tied the bag shut.

Bakugou’s gaze slid over to you and you noticed that his cheeks were dusted with pink. He was embarrassed too.

The air between you both seemed to shift a bit as you fiddled with the string on your bag. You sighed, finally looking back at him to see he was still watching you. “Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay aren’t you?” you asked as you sat back on your heels.

Bakugou tilted his head, “course I am, I’ll be fuckin’ fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

You gave him a crooked smile, “I’ll be okay, Monoma’s about as dangerous as a fly. I mean you saw how he was.”

Bakugou smirked, “yeah, I know. I just,” he trailed off, turning his gaze away from you and to the window. He squinted, obviously not able to find his words.

“What?” you asked, leaning in closer to him.

“I dunno,” he sighed, now looking back at you. He sighed heavily again, “you’re gonna come back to me right?”

You froze, unsure if you heard him right. After last night, you knew how he felt about you now, but his words now held a heavy weight to them. It was something you weren’t expecting to hear, and while it was almost frightening to hear him ask you that question, you were relieved that he did at the same time.

After a beat, you answered, “I’ll always come back to you, Katsuki.”

Bakugou nodded, looking like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He then stood up, knowing that it was time to go, and he stuck out his hand for you to grab.

You slipped your hand into his, trying to calm your racing heart as he pulled you up and to your surprise tugged you into his embrace. Slowly you felt him wrap his arms around you, squeezing tight as he placed his chin on the top of your head.

“Stay close to Eijirou,” Bakugou said quietly.

“I will,” you replied, pressing your cheek against his chest. He was always so warm, and you loved how safe you felt with Bakugou.

After a few more moments, Bakugou pulled away from you, letting his arms slip down from your sides. You moved away too, already missing being so close to him. It was weird how easy it was to be close to him. You had never imagined that you would willing let a man into your bubble, your space, and now you wanted Bakugou to be in yours constantly.

“Better get goin’,” Bakugou said, his deep voice laced with sorrow.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you replied, giving him a melancholy smile. But you would see him in a few days, you promised that You grabbed your bag and followed Bakugou down the stairs and out of the house to see that everyone else was already ready to go.

Mina snickered at you as she glanced between you and Bakugou with a knowing smile. “Don’t have all day, Kats.”

“Shut your trap, raccoon eyes,” Bakugou snapped as he got up on his horse. “You three better not do anything stupid, we’re countin’ on y’all.”

“Nothing to worry about, Katsuki,” Kirishima answered with an open grin. “It’ll be fun, I’ve never been to a rodeo.”

“Eijirou, you better not mess this up,” Bakugou warned, and then he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned his horse around, “just get out of here, gettin’ on my nerves.”

Kirishima laughed and tapped his horse's flanks with his boots, urging his horse into a slow trot.

You got up on your horse and you adjusted your bag on your back as you shared one last smile with Bakugou before following Kirishima down into town and towards the city. You reckoned that the three of you would reach the city by sunset, giving you time to scope out the area and plan for the rodeo tomorrow.

Hopefully, everything will work out in the end. You sighed, glancing back over your shoulder to see that Bakugou was already watching you. It seemed you were always leaving him when things were starting to get better between the two of you. You smiled to yourself and turned back around only to see that Mina was practically right in front of your face.

“You know,” she began, “I always knew he’d go after ya. Never once saw Bakugou gawk at a woman until you came into camp that night.”

Your face warmed, “oh, I don’t know. He seemed pretty fed up with me, and honestly, I was too.”

“Yeah, but that man has never once shown interest in anyone, and I really mean that, until you came along,” Mina explained with a laugh. “Probably is a shit lover, he knows nothin’ about nothin’”

Your eyes widened in shock as Kirishima glanced at you over his shoulder snickering at Mina’s comment. “I,” your voice caught, “nothin’ like that happened at all. I mean, he kissed me and then ran away-”

“He ran away?” Kirishima hooted, “are you kiddin’?”

You shook your head feeling extremely embarrassed that they were talking about your barely budding relationship with Bakugou.

“Knew somethin’ was up with him that week, I told you!” Mina shouted at Kirishima, “I made a bet with Sero too, damn, wish he was here so I could get my money.” She then turned to you, “no wonder you were so sad, poor thing.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, wincing a bit, “ah you know, it’s not really that interesting to talk about-”

“Oh I think so,” Mina interrupted with a heavy nod, “I’m sure Eijirou thinks so too, right?”

Kirishima nodded, slowing his horse down so he could ride on the other side of you, “course I do, he must be pretty serious about ya, Y/n, I reckon.”

You gulped, the sun beating down on your back felt like it was a thousand degrees and you wiped your forehead with the back of your sleeve. Why were you so nervous? You figured everyone already had an idea about you and Bakugou, he was subtle but it wasn’t that hard to figure out you both liked each other.

“You gotta tell us all about your time in the mountains, it’ll help kill the time anyway,” Mina said as she slipped her boots out of her stirrups to stretch her legs.

“It’s not very interesting,” you paused, glancing at their eager faces. It made you wonder briefly why they were so interested in Bakugou’s love life. Was it really so much of a spectacle? If it was, it did make you feel a small twinge of pride.

“Well go on, we wanna hear it anyway,” Kirishima said with a wide grin.

So you began talking, explaining what it was like to travel with Bakugou. How he tended to your wound on the first night, and how he got breakfast for you both the next morning. Then you went on to explain how you left him during the fight with the military so he could escape, and how you came back to him asking to join his group. You explained how you also helped him with his wound and then Mina stopped you.

“He let you do that? She asked.

You nodded, “well he didn’t have any other choice, he had a fever.”

She hummed, sharing a glance with Kirishima before telling you to continue.

So you did, you went on explaining your fight with Keigo and how you hit your head, and Tokoyami. You begrudgingly told them how you slept on him by accident and how he started acting weird around you. However, you did not tell them about seeing him naked by the river. Something told you that they’d never let him or you live that down.

“-and then we rode down the mountain,” you explained wrapping up your story, “he then dropped me off at Izuku’s and y’all know the rest.”

Kirishima shook his head, chucking, “Katsuki, poor guy, maybe Sero will give ‘em some pointers, yeah? Sounds like he’s gonna need em’ soon.”

Mina snorted, “I hope so, it’s more like poor Y/n,” she shook her head, spurring her horse forward and past yours.

You furrowed your brows, unsure of what they were referring to.

—-----------

By the time you got to the city, it was beginning to grow dark. The sunset was a dark orange streaked with brilliant shades of red that reminded you of a pair of eyes you were already missing. It was sort of strange to feel so strongly about someone that you’ve only known for about a month, but you considered that you must be lucky to even feel so strongly about someone.

Once you passed the entrance of the city you were shocked to see how busy it was around this time of night. A massive train rumbled to a stop at the edge of the city and a large group of people got off, crowding the already busy streets.

Around you there were plenty of buildings, a good deal of them were bars and brothels. In fact, a gunshot caught your attention and you watched as a man came tumbling out of the bar, obviously, he was on the losing side of a bar fight.

“We better find somewhere to stay,” Kirishima said from next to you, “you think we could stay somewhere without getting noticed?”

You furrowed your brows, moving your horse around a couple of drunk men stumbling into the street, scuffing up dirt with their boots, “I’m not sure. You two are pretty well known-”

You paused answering your own question as you passed the sheriff’s office. It was probably the largest one you’ve ever seen and there right on the front of the door were six wanted posters that had your faces and bounties plastered on them. You sighed, “probably not.”

“Damn, where are we gonna stay then?” Kirishima asked, glancing around as the people around you became rowdier.

“Outside of town, just a little bit away?” you offered, not feeling confident in your answer.

“I say we just try to stay somewhere here,” Mina countered, “look how drunk everyone is, and it’s barely nightfall. I’m sure we can sneak on by.”

You shrugged, looking around for an inn, there was plenty to choose from. You ended up spotting one near the edge of town, and it looked to be rather empty despite its large size. Just like all of the other buildings by it, it was made of light wood and was two stories tall. It was clear that there was a lot of money in the city.

The three of you stopped your horses and tied them to the post out front before coming to a stop by the front door.

“I hope this works,” Kirishima said as he nudged a flower pot full of daisies with his boot. “Maybe an old lady lives here and won’t be able to recognize us.”

“We can hope,” you said with a meek smile as you opened the door. The inside of the inn was cozy. It was decorated with plenty of pink and there were at least a dozen candles lit around the main area. “Hello?” you called out.

There was a shuffle off to your left paired with a grumble, then out of the shadows a woman appeared. She was short with chin-length brown hair. It seemed that you caught her off guard since her cheeks were bright pink when she stopped in front of you.

“”M sorry, I didn't hear y’all come in,” she said with a small chuckle, eyeing the three of you briefly.

“It’s okay,” you replied with a smile, “do you have three rooms open?”

“I do!” she said quickly, rushing over to her tea table to grab some parchment paper and a feathered pen, “got three right upstairs.”

“Great, we’ll take them for one night,” you told her, hoping to keep her attention off Kirishima who was probably the most recognizable one out of your group. There weren’t many men who were so tall that sported bright red hair past their shoulders.

“Wonderful,” she answered, “just let me know your names and then I’ll give you your total,” she began, her pink gaze cutting towards Kirishima again.

“You can just put us under Midoriya,” Mina quickly said.

“Alright,” the innkeeper answered, slowly writing down the name on her paper. She glanced towards the three of you again and to your utter shock, she yanked out a pistol from beneath her table.

“Whoa!” Kirishima said, holding his hands up as the inn keep pointed the pistol right at his chest, “the hell are you doin’ lady?”

“I know who you are,” she hissed, walking out from behind the desk to herd Kirishima towards the door, “you’re that outlaw, the one who runs with Bakugou. ‘M not stupid.”

“Okay, fine,” Kirishima answered, dropping his act. It took him all but two seconds to yank the pistol out of the inn keeps hand and stuff it into his waistband, “you caught us, but we’re stayin’ either way. You can either forget this all happened or Mina here will tie you till mornin’.”

The innkeeper glanced at you and Mina, looking scared now, “I guess I can let you stay, but I’m goin’ to the sheriff if you lot aren’t out of here by dawn.”

“Done,” Kirishima said as he gave her a wry smile.

You let your shoulders relax as the three of you made your way past the innkeeper and up the stairs. It was sort of a miracle that she didn’t end up running to the sheriff’s office anyway. Then you really would have been in a tough place.

“That was close,” Mina said, voicing your thoughts.

“It was,” Kirishima added, “we’ll leave at dawn. You think we can find Monoma so early?” he asked you.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking. It would be hard, the rodeo really didn’t start till later in the day so you had plenty of time to kill. “We’ll probably have to wait it out a little bit, till the rodeo is set to start.”

“Fine by me,” Kirishima said as he stopped outside his door, “I’ll see y’all in the morning.”

You nodded, walking to your own room and shutting the door behind you. As you got into bed for the night, you looked towards the yellow dress you had set out for tomorrow. It made you briefly wonder how Bakugou and Sero were doing. Have they found Keigo and Kaminari yet? If so, you hoped they stayed safe.

—----

The next morning you were up before dawn, getting ready for the day as you exchanged your riding clothes for a pretty summer dress. You sort of hated the dress you had on, always have, but after Bakugou told you he liked yellow, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

A short moment later you met Kirishima and Mina down in the front entryway, where the innkeeper was already waiting. She had her hands on her hips, looking rather tired as she kept her eyes trained on Kirishima.

“Sorry for troubling you,” you said quickly to the innkeeper as you passed her, offering a smile as she scoffed.

“Just don’t stop by again, can’t be interacting with the likes of y’all,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

Kirishima snorted, “don’t worry we won’t ever be back.”

“Good, now get goin’,” she said as she turned on her heel and headed back into what you presumed was the kitchen.

The three of you quickly left the inn and made your way towards the main part of downtown. Even though it was early in the morning there were already people beginning to set up little stands for the rodeo later in the day.

You could see where they had a small cakewalk as well as a booth where a local farmer was selling his honey. At the thought of that your tummy rumbled, it’s been a while since you have last eaten, and there were so many baked goods in sight.

“We can’t stop,” Kirishima’s voice cut into your thoughts.

You sighed heavily and nodded, you were here to get the money that was all. It would have been nice to come to the rodeo under different circumstances. However, if things had gone like your father planned so long ago you would have been here and married to Monona. The thought of that made you lose your appetite.

You continued to move forward trying to focus on spotting Monoma or Vlad in the morning crowd. Now that the sun was rising, more and more people started to show up, making it rather crowded, which made it hard to maneuver your horse through the swarm of people.

“We should get off, we’re drawin’ too much attention,” Mina said as a small child reached up to pet her bay horse.

“Yeah, where do we put ‘em though?” you asked, looking around. There were plenty of places to tie a horse off to, but none were good enough, safe enough. If you needed to get away quickly you would have to have the horses close by.

“Can we tie them by the rodeo?” Kirishima asked, ducking his head down as he flipped the collar of his jean jacket up. He was starting to get some attention from a few people walking by.

“That’ll have to do then,” you concluded as you led them towards the outdoor arena where the rodeo was bein’ held. “We’ll stick there for the rest of the day too, till the rodeo starts. Make sure we can see them set everything up.”

“Good plan, I always knew you were smart,” Mina said with a chuckle as she followed behind you.

—----------

The day dragged on slowly, so slowly that you were sure that this day would last forever. At least around noon, some people started to set up the fencing around the arena, and that’s when you caught sight of your former suitor.

Just like on the night you saw him he was dressed all up in white. White hat, white chaps, white shirt. He looked rather ridiculous as you watched him practice his roping on a horse that was probably worth more than your whole house.

After a few painful minutes of watching Monoma poorly ride, he got off and made his way towards Vlad and the mayor of the town. The mayor was a small man, he looked rather young despite his white hair. The mayor actually looked rather mousy to you, but that didn’t matter.

All you cared about was the money that was being exchanged between Vlad and the mayor. Your eyes narrowed, it seemed that Vlad has a pattern for working with political figures.

The three men talked briefly before going their separate ways. That’s when you spotted that Monoama had the envelope of money in his hands.

“Look,” you pointed out, keeping your voice low, “looks like Monoma has the prize money.”

“Well let’s go get it,” Kirishima said as he stood up, but you yanked him back down shaking your head.

“Not yet, we need him to be alone, I don’t know much about these people, but I know they’re dangerous. Practically run this city if they’ve got the mayor in their pocket,” you explained. “Let's wait for him after he shows his horse, then we’ll get him on the way back.”

Both Kirishima and Mina nodded, agreeing with your plan. The three of you made your way to the stables, keeping out of sight until the rodeo started. To be honest, the rodeo was probably the grandest thing you’ve ever seen. Never in your life have you seen so many horses, cows, and cowboys all under one roof.

Which also made keeping hidden a little more dangerous. But you didn’t have to wait for much longer, not when you saw Monoma get on his horse a few feet down from you. It was his turn to ride and a few cowboys close by snickered at him when his horse spooked from the gunshot signaling him to start his run.

Then he was off, barely holding onto the horn of the saddle.

“Okay, Kirishima, you get his horse and lead him back here when he finishes his run,” you quickly explained, hearing the crowd cheer from outside.

“Mina and I will tie ‘em up and then we’ll get the prize money. Let’s hope he kept it on him,” you said, feeling your heart rate pick up. This was the first time you have ever planned something so important, granted, you’ve never been an outlaw before, but it was still nerve-wracking.

However, you were pleasantly surprised that Kirishima and Mina were so intent on listening to you. They never turned their nose up to your ideas and instead followed through. Maybe you were more a part of this group than you thought.

“Here he comes,” Kirishima said, standing up as he placed his hat on his head to help cover his face.

You held your breath as Kirishima promptly got up and weaved his way through the crowd of cowboys. He was easily a head taller than everyone in the room, but thankfully it seemed everyone was preoccupied with the next rider entering the arena.

Kirishima came to a stop next to Monoma’s horse and grabbed the reins by the bit, and began leading Monoma back to you and Mina.

“And who are you?” Monoma’s shrill voice echoed through the holding stalls, “where are you taking me?”

“Back to where you came from,” Kirishima said lowly as he moved Monoma through the crowd and back to you and Mina.

“My stall is back that way,” Monoma snapped, pointing back towards the stalls opposite to you.

Kirishima shrugged, “it moved, you’re over here now.”

You let out a breath as Monoma came to a stop in front of you and it was then you realized that he had his boots tied to the stirrups with some twine. It was almost comical to see how bad of rider Monoma was. You probably didn’t even need to tie him up anymore, he was practically stuck in the saddle until someone cut him out.

“Hold on, I know you,” Monoma said, his gaze dancing between Kirihisma and Mina. Then his eyes landed on you. “You! That girl, that bitch,” he snarled.

“Now that’s not very nice,” Kirishima drawled as he promptly yanked Monoma from the saddle by the back of his shirt, making the blond yelp as he fell to the floor. One of his boots was still stuck in his stirrup.

Monoma was starting to panic. He was flat on his back with a foot stuck in his stirrup and his horse was starting to grow antsy. “The hell do you want?” he said, his voice wavering as he locked eyes with Kirishima. It was hard to forget the guy who had a pistol in his face not too long ago.

“Wanna know where that money is,” you said, looking around briefly to make sure no one was watching what was happening.

“Money?” Monoma said, shaking his head, “I don’t know where any money is.”

“We think you do, saw you take a big wad of cash from your daddy, right?” Mina leered as he placed her boot on his chest, “better speak up or Kirishima will swat your horse and make ‘em run back into the arena, don’t think that’d feel too good, huh?”

Monoma gulped as he looked up at his boot again. Being dragged by his horse was not ideal. “You’ll let me go if I tell you?”

“Of course,” Kirishima said with an empty smile.

Monoma nodded, “okay alright, I got it on me, the old man gave it to me so I could prove myself,” he muttered as he pulled out a wad of cash stuffed into some parchment paper, “it’s three grand. Is that enough, I don’t have anything else,” he said, his voice was heavy with fear.

Kirishima took the money from Monoma and stuffed it into his back pocket, “that’s perfect.” He glanced at you and Mina, flicking his head towards the back of the holding pens where y’all had your horses tied.

“Okay now let me go,” Monoma said, his gaze jumping between the three of you.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Kirishima chuckled darkly as he smacked Monoma’s horse on its back, making it squeal as it took off down the gravel, dragging Monoma along with him.

Monoma’s screams gathered everyone’s attention and before you knew it, multiple guys were racing past you to Monoma who was now outside, screaming and shouting about how three outlaws were in the barn.

That was your cue to leave.

In a hurried rush, you ran back to your horse and pulled yourself up into the saddle before kicking him into a gallop.

“Gotta ride fast we’ve got company,” Kirishima shouted over the wind as he weaved in front of you.

You glanced behind you to see some of the cowboys you saw in the barn earlier hot on your tail. They had their ropes out, probably hoping to nab one of y’all, but it was clear they weren’t going to catch up.

You smiled, glancing back over your shoulder again to see that they had slowed down to a stop just as you and the others passed through the far end of the city and back into the open land.

Mina laughed from next to you as she held her cowboy hat so it wouldn’t fly off in the wind. “Those suckers never knew what hit ‘em! Your plan worked Y/n!”

Pride filled your chest as you looked out towards the dark prairie. Your plan did work. No one had gotten hurt, aside from Monoma, but that didn’t matter. You were proud of yourself. It felt like you had finally proved yourself to the others, not that they were ever asking for it, but you felt like it needed to happen.

The horses tore across the plains, kicking up dirt and grass in their wake as you followed Kirishima to his hometown. Your feelings of euphoric adrenaline only seemed to grow as you raced next to Kirishima and Mina.

There’s no better feeling in the world than sitting on top of a horse and letting him run to his heart's content. The night around you blurred as Kirishima let out a yip and right now you felt like you were on top of the world.

After a good while of running, you slowed to a walk, catching your breath as Kirishima led you towards a more barren part of the plains. The dirt started to turn more to dusty sand and a few mesquite trees started to appear around you.

“There’s not much out here,” Mina commented as she squinted into the distance.

Kirishima nodded, “it’s pretty empty, not a lot of people can live out here. It gets better once we get closer to town. There’s a huge lake by our town and an equally large forest. It’s nice there, but here,” he paused, “a lot of people didn’t make it to our town trying to get past these wastelands.”

And they were wastelands. You shivered as you passed the skull of what looked like a bull or a buffalo. It was sun-bleached and was probably home to a smaller animal now.

You rode through the night until dawn. By then you were exhausted and starving, and the sight of the small run-down town up ahead gave you a little more hope to push through. As you got closer to the town, feral dogs raced by you snapping at your horse's legs while you shooed them off.

Some small children dressed in rags, peeked out from behind broken windows as they watched you pass. It seemed like they knew who Kirishima was as a look of awe crossed their features.

The town itself was poorly built, and extremely small. The wood was aged, and splintering from years of being cooked in the hot sun. There were a few markets that had only a few items to offer. Then there was the sheriff’s office, it was just as small and likely didn’t even have a jail cell.

Kirishima stopped his horse, “wait out here, I’ll be back, you two can get us some breakfast. If Koda’s around he’ll give us some biscuits.”

You stayed silent, following Mina towards a small stand where a bald man around your age was whittling a bear out of some wood with a pocket knife.

Upon seeing Mina he set down his knife and gave her a big smile and then his gaze turned to you, he tilted his head, looking confused.

“Oh that’s Y/n, she rides with us now,” Mina explained as she pulled out a few crinkled bills and got off her horse, “you got any of those biscuits?”

Koda nodded, removing his gaze from you as he reached down to grab a small burlap sack and handed it to Mina.

“You’re a doll,” she said as she gave him the money, “we’ll see ya around, kay?”

Koda nodded and returned to whittling his bear, seeming rather happy that he had made a sale.

“Koda’s mute,” Mina explained as you followed her back to the sheriff’s office. “Bakugou says the whole time he’s known him, he’s never talked. No one knows why, but he’s as sweet as they come. Plus, his ma’s a pretty good baker, these biscuits are gold,” she said as she dug her hand into the bag and tossed you one.

You just barely caught it, fumbling the pastry for a moment before you held it steady. It did look good, probably the best biscuit you’ve ever seen, nice and flaky and baked to perfection. While you waited for Kirishima, both you and Mina had a couple of biscuits each, chatting about nothing to pass the time.

Soon Kirishima came back out, waving goodbye to the sheriff who only stuck his hand out of the door to wave goodbye. He got back on his horse, sighing as Mina handed him a biscuit, “got it done.”

As you rode towards Keigo’s estate you were beginning to wonder how in the world Kirishima was able to talk to the sheriff of this town? He was a well known outlaw, so it would make sense that he’d get arrested even if he did grow up here.

“Why did that sheriff let you go, and give you the keys to Keigo’s estate?” you asked, riding up next to Kirishima.

Kirishima lifted a brow as he took a bite of his biscuit, “well,” he began, harshly swallowing his bite, “we give a lot of our money back to this town, the people here need it.” He shrugged, “so the sheriff lets us walk free. Tamaki is a good guy too, despite bein’ a recluse, but he’s good. He knows deep down we’re good too.”

“Well mostly,” Mina added with a small laugh.

Kirishima nodded, looking a little amused, “but he’s always suspected something was wrong with Keigo and all the deaths that surrounded him, so he’s been on board with us catchin’ Keigo. Not like Tamaki was gonna go out after the bastard with guns blazin’.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” you said. You were still a little confused on how they got so lucky avoiding the law with both Izuku and Tamaki, but you supposed that’s probably why they have never gotten caught.

You furrowed your brows, falling back into your thoughts as you continued your ride to Keigo’s estate. The ride there was more than depressing. There were plenty of small shacks and shanties on the road to Keigo’s house, and most of them were abandoned. It made you wonder more about Bakugou’s and Kirishima’s lives when they lived here as kids. It must have been tough, and that made you sad.

Maybe the outlaws you were with weren’t as black and white as you had once thought. After getting to know them better, you’d describe them as gray. They did bad things, but they would do good things in return, like give money back to a poor town that needed money desperately.

Your horse stopped, pulling you out of your thoughts as you looked up. In front of you was a large house, much larger than the one you grew up in. It was painted white with huge double doors and at least twenty windows just on the front of the house.

The house could have been beautiful once in the past, but now it looked worn down and tired. The landscaping in the front was all dead and the weeds had taken over completely, weaving up the wood and past the peeling paint.

To the right of the estate were two smaller houses, obviously hand built, but quaint. Well loved when they were lived in. You assumed these houses belonged to Bakugou’s and Kirishima’s families.

“Kinda spooky,” Mina commented, looking at the many windows that adorned Keigo’s estate.

You nodded in agreement, while Bakugou’s and Kirishima’s houses had a sense of sadness around them, Keigo's house seemed to be full of anger. It made your stomach flip with unease as you looked into one of the dark windows.

“We better start lookin’ for evidence, I know damn well it’s in there,” Kirishima said as he dismounted his horse and tied him to the railing of the stairs leading up to the front door.

You got off two, tying your horse next to Kirishima as you followed him up the stairs. Mina was close behind, muttering under her breath about how she didn’t like the house.

Kirishima pulled out a singular key, it was rusted and barely fit into the keyhole. After a few moments of struggling, he finally got the door open. The hinges creaked in protest as he pulled the double doors wide open.

You wrinkled your nose as the scent of mildew and dust practically slapped you in the face. It was more than obvious that it had been years since anyone has been inside of the house. Still feeling uneasy you followed Kirishima in and then you split up.

Not that you wanted to split up, you felt extremely uneasy being inside of Keigo’s childhood home. You could almost feel the anguish and darkness this house held in its bones as you climbed up the steps.

After some snooping, you came across Keigo’s room. The door was already ajar, and with bated breath you kicked the door open, expecting Keigo to leap out at you, but it was empty.

The room was painted a deep red there was a large bed in the middle of the room. It was broken though, the bedframe the mattress was sitting on was cracked in half, pushing into the wall, leaving a sizable hole in its place.

There were plenty of cobwebs too, many of them hanging from the ceiling and the shelves that held some knick-knacks and toys. You were so caught up in the utter chilling features of Keigo’s room that you missed a large chest in front of you.

You let out a yelp as your shins collided with the wooden chest making you double over. You caught yourself before you face planted into the plush rug that was probably teeming with bugs. With a sigh, you stood back up examining the chest.

It wasn’t covered in much dust, not nearly as much as everything was. Which was odd. Why did this chest not have as much dust on it? You frowned, did that mean Keigo had been back here, did he pull this chest out hoping Bakugou or someone would find it?

There was only one way to find out, and that was to open it. So you did, the chest opened with a groan, and inside was a single journal, bound in black leather.

With a shaky hand, you reached inside and opened it. It belonged to Keigo. It was filled with little notes and some drawings. The pages were stiff and discolored, a few had questionable dark stains on them, you didn’t think about it too much.

You frowned, as you continued to flip through the beginning pages. It was clear that Keigo was a troubled child. Someone who hated his father immensely, and to be honest it sounded like you.

The way that younger Keigo wished he could escape from his home and live with someone else, someone he loved was disheartening. You continued to read that he wished his father would listen to him, how he wanted to go outside and play with the kids in town, but he was stuck inside learning all day.

Which as an adult you were thankful you were given an education, but your mother always made sure you could play, and if she didn’t you made sure you could.

Keigo’s entries got more desperate as he explains how he would watch the hawks outside, swoop and dive in the sky and how he dreamed about being like them so he could fly away from home. There were a few scribbled drawings of some birds on the bottom corners of the page with a hand reaching towards them.

You almost felt sorry for him, no, you did feel sorry for him. His younger life seemed so confining and suffocating. As you read on, something changed. He had written about Bakugou and Kirishima.

At first, he writes wonderful things about them, praising them for being his friends, and for showing him what it was like to be outside, but slowly they turned bitter. He writes how his father favored Bakugou and Kirishima over him.

Your eyes widened as you read about how Keigo tried to get Bakugou and Kirishima in trouble after that so his father would hate them. He killed Kirishima’s dog, poisoned the cows. But nothing worked.

Even though he hated his father he vied for his attention, craved it. The jealousy continued to grow all the way up till Keigo was eighteen. A man now, but his hatred for Bakugou and Kirishima was so intense that he wanted them to rot, to pay for how they took his father away from him, how they were the reason he was locked away as a child. Everything was their fault and he was going to make them pay.

Then on the last page, hastily scribbled down, Keigo admits that he killed his father, did it in the middle of the night while he was sleeping.

“Hey, been lookin’ for ya,” Bakugou’s voice suddenly appeared from behind you.

You screamed, throwing the journal straight up as you turned around to see him staring at you with a shocked expression, “damn you,” you hissed through heavy breaths as you picked the journal up, “scared the shit out of me.”

Bakugou snorted, glancing down at the journal in your hands, “what’s that?”

“Keigo’s journal,” you answered, looking down towards the chest, “I think he was here not too long ago, wanted someone to find it.”

Bakugou hummed and outstretched his hand so he could look at the journal which you gave him.

But at that moment, you realized that Bakugou was in fact in front of you now after almost three days of not seeing him. “You made it back,” you said, your voice small.

“Obviously,” he answered while rolling his eyes as he thumbed through the pages. He stopped, glancing at you to see you standing in front of him with wide eyes.

Without a second thought, you moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him, making him grunt in surprise. You really did miss him more than you thought. “Missed you,” you muttered, a little embarrassed at being vulnerable.

Bakugou chuckled as he returned the hug. He missed you too, a lot. Camping with Sero was not as ideal as camping with you. “Missed ya too, had to put up with Sero for far too long, fuckin’ asshole,” he muttered, thankful that you couldn’t see his pink cheeks.

You hummed, smiling as you pressed yourself closer to him. “Did you find Keigo?” you asked, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Bakugou frowned, “we did, Kaminari and him are camped out about an hour from here.”

You pulled back from him, “sounds like he figured you’d eventually end up here?”

Bakugou nodded, looking back at the journal, “that’s what we thought too.” He paused, reading a bit before looking back at you, “looks like your plan worked though, ‘m proud of you.”

He was proud of you? Your stomach flipped as a large grin grew on your face. “Thank you.”

Bakugou huffed, giving you a crooked smile before returning to the journal. His carefree expression grew more bitter as he read on.

You stood silent watching him read for a bit before he got to the end of the journal. He sighed heavily as he shut the journal and looked at you, he looked sad. You decided to not say anything, and let him speak first.

However, Bakugou, true to his nature, kept silent too. He instead looked around the room, eyeing some old wooden toys and a few literature books that sat untouched on one of the many bookshelves in the room.

“Hey!” Kirishima's voice echoed through the old house, “Sero and Mina found a basement, think y’all should come see it.”

You shared a look with Bakugou, knowing this very well may be the actual evidence he needed to prove that Keigo had killed his and Kirishima’s family once and for all. Keeping quiet again, you followed Bakugou out of the room and down the stairs.

His shoulders were squared and up to his ears again. He must be uncomfortable, and you didn’t blame him. As much as you wanted to go and comfort him, you could tell that he wanted to be alone in his own space.

When you got downstairs you saw Sero standing by a broken door that had stairs leading down to what you could assume was the basement. A basement around these parts was pretty rare, not many buildings had them. You remember asking why the bank had a basement and not your house growing up and your mother told you that the soil was too thin and was full of clay.

Which meant that Keigo’s family really did have a lot of money, more than you probably could even imagine. Your nose wrinkled as you walked down the rotting stairs into the basement. The air felt damp against your skin, and the smell of mildew grew much stronger.

Mina sniffled behind you, suppressing a sneeze as she grabbed your arm. Which you were glad for, it was more than creepy down there. As you reached the bottom of the basement the floorboards moaned and creaked under your steps, sounding like anguished spirits who had been trapped inside of the basement for years.

You wouldn’t have been surprised to find that this place was haunted.

“Let’s go over there,” Mina whispered, giving Bakugou and Kirishima a wide berth as they started to sift through the crates and barrels by a desk.

You nodded, following Mina to the side of the basement where there were two groups of floor to ceiling shelves. There on the shelves were multiple glass jars. They were dusty and Mina wiped one off only to recoil in disgust at a bird carcass stuffed inside and partially preserved in ethanol.

“You think Keigo did that?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet.

You nodded, counting the remaining jars on the shelves. There were about fifty jars, all varying in size. While you did feel sorry for Keigo after reading his journal, your resentment outgrew your pity.

“I think they’re all birds,” Mina added, wiping off another jar with her sleeve to reveal a hawk. “I wonder why he was so obsessed with birds?”

“I think he envied them,” you answered, “he wrote about it in his journal.”

Mina hummed, turning you both away from the shelves as you ventured further into the basement. You stopped at one corner, growing a little more disturbed at the pile of clothes that were shoved into an open hole. They looked like boys' clothes.

“Hey,” Sero’s voice came from behind you. He had practically come out of nowhere.

“Damn,” Mina hissed, holding her hand over her heart, “quiet bastard, what?”

“Bakugou found somethin’,” he said, his voice solemn.

Your heart flipped in your chest as you followed Sero towards the other end of the basement. There you were able to see Bakugou and Kirishima holding onto some clothes.

“This is my ma’s,” Kirishima said, his voice cracking as he ran his hand over the worn dress, it was stained with blood.

Bakugou huffed, throwing the article of clothing he was holding down on the ground, and stormed out of the basement, looking livid. You watched him go, feeling heartsick that someone you cared so much for was hurting.

“Best to let him cool off,” Sero said, following your gaze.

You nodded in agreement, he probably needed some time to himself to mourn. You then turned your attention back to Kirishima who was wiping his eyes as he pulled out a small plaid shirt. It looked like it had belonged to a toddler. It was splattered with blood too.

“Found his weapon also,” Sero said quietly, pointing to a weapon that looked a bit like a broad sword. It was most likely a family heirloom, passed down from generations back.

“Keigo admitted to killing his father in his journal too,” you said quietly, feeling your heart break as you watched Kirishima continue to dig through the clothes of his dead relatives.

Mina left your side, moving towards Kirishima to comfort him.

“Think we should go,” Sero said, as Kirishima let out a quiet cry.

You nodded, following Sero back up the stairs and then out of the house. The two of you remained silent as you built a small campfire in a pasture a good distance away from the house. After a while, Kirishima and Mina came to join you. The four of you sat in silence, trying to process what you had just seen.

It was overwhelming trying to sort through your thoughts. So many things have happened in such a short amount of time, you haven’t really had time to process any of it. You were kidnapped, shot at, fought against soldiers, fought with Bakugou, saw someone die, saw your father die. You gulped not even wanting to try and process all of that at the moment. It was too much to handle.

Time seemed to move fast as you sat and watched the fire flicker in front of you, and before you knew it, the sun was setting again. You blinked, pulling yourself from your thoughts as you looked up. Mina and Sero were quietly chatting to each other as Sero tossed some more firewood into the flames.

Kirishima was sitting against his saddle, staring into the flames with a faraway expression. It then made you realize that Bakugou still hasn’t come back.

You looked over your shoulder to see that his horse was gone which made you wonder he went. Surely he wasn’t far.

“You should go look for him,” Kirishima said, his voice scratchy as he looked up at you from the fire. “He’s been alone for too long.”

You nodded, “any idea where he is?” you asked.

“Probably by the lake,” Kirishima answered and then turned his gaze back to the flames.

The lake? You stood up, walking towards your horse as you tried to figure out where the lake was. Surely close by? You weren’t that good at tracking. With a sigh, you pulled yourself up into the saddle and urged your horse forward.

Despite all of the sadness today had brought, it was a beautiful evening. The sky was big out here, stretching miles and miles and it was decorated with soft pastel clouds. The air was sweet from the summer grasses and fireflies were starting to come out.

You inhaled, rubbing your eyes as your horse trotted up a steep hill, and there in the distance was a silhouette of a man and his horse. He was looking out over the lake, watching the water shimmer as the sun set.

Your horse nickered at his horse when you came to a stop. You dismounted your horse, putting his reins back over the horn of the saddle while he began to graze. If Bakugou heard you, he didn’t turn his head to acknowledge your presence.

The grass was tall here, reaching up to your knees as you waded through, a little frustrated that you were still in your dress from earlier. So much had happened so fast that you didn’t find the time to get changed.

When you finally reached him you sat down, tucking the dress beneath your legs as you stretched out. The view was nice from up here. You could see how large the lake was. After a beat you looked towards him, his eyes were rimmed red, and you knew he had been crying.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft.

Bakugou nodded, “I think so.”

You nodded, looking away from him and back to the lake, “do you want to talk about it? Sometimes that helps,” you offered gently.

Bakugou didn’t answer your question for a while, but then he took a deep breath. “It’s strange after all this time to finally have closure, ya know?” he began, tearing at some of the grass next to him. “For years I thought about this moment, the moment I finally had proof of what Keigo did and I thought I would be prepared. I wasn’t. And I guess you can’t really be prepared for somethin’ like this,” he finished.

“I’m sure, and I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you and Kirishima,” you said truthfully.

Bakugou snorted, “yeah, me too, but I’m sorry for you too, and Mina, Sero, and Izuku. All of us have been put through hell and back because of Keigo.”

You gave him a melancholy smile as you leaned against him, not really sure what to say.

He sighed heavily, as his shoulders relaxed. Bakugou glanced down at you pressed against him and he ran his gaze down your form, just admiring you and how someone who was previously his bounty became someone so close to him. Someone he cared about immensely.

You smiled a bit watching as a few blue herons flew across the surface of the lake, you’ve always thought they were interesting birds. You were about to say something about the lanky birds until you noticed Bakugou's hand was moving towards yours and then he grabbed it gently, intertwining your fingers together.

Your heart practically leaped into your throat as he squeezed your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You were practically stupid with joy as he looked towards you with a soft expression.

“My family would have liked you,” he began as he kept his gaze focused on your hand in his. “Despite you bein’ stubborn as hell.”

You laughed, “you think so?”

He nodded as he stood up, taking you with him, “I do.” He began leading you back towards the horses and then he dropped your hand to get up on his horse, “I wanna show you somethin’.”

You held back another smile as you got up on your horse, following him down the hill and towards the small houses near Keigo’s estate. In the distance, you could see the fire where the others were camped out.

After a few short moments, you came to a stop outside of a small cabin. It was probably only one room and was definitely made by hand. The logs were sturdy though, made out of hardwood. Bakugou held out his hand again and you took it as he brought you towards his house.

You kept quiet as he opened the door. The inside was how you expected, it was one big room. There was one wood burning stove in the back of the room, and a cast iron pot still sat on the burner. In the middle of the room was the kitchen table, a large slab of wood that had been sanded down and polished.

Four chairs were seated around the table, they were pushed out and it almost seemed like people were still living in the house. You could see an apron folded neatly on one of the chairs and there were a few bowls out.

In the far corner of the house were two beds both around the same size, and probably the most expensive item in the house.

“I know it’s not much,” Bakugou began, his voice catching a bit as he cleared his throat, “but it’s the best home I’ve ever known.”

“I think it’s great,” you said with a small smile.

Bakugou snorted, “hah, don’t need to lie princess, your home could hold five of mine.”

You shook your head, “I know, but I can tell this home was well loved and the people in it were too, which is worth more than any large house.”

Bakugou nodded, mulling over your comment as he looked around his old home for one last time. He could still see flashes of memories here and there, but it’s been so long it was hard to remember his old life sometimes. It was time to go though, and he needed to put the memories to rest. He nodded, mostly to himself as he opened the door again, not looking back as he shut the door behind him.

“Where are we going?” you asked as he pulled you behind him, rather harshly making you stumble as he muttered an apology.

“Back to camp,” he said as he let go of your hand and got back on his horse, watching you get back on to yours rather awkwardly.

You frowned, yanking at the dress as you straddled the saddle. It wasn’t very practical to ride in a dress really. You watched as Bakugou moved in front of you leading you past his house and up the hill again. The sun had now set leaving the sky a deep purple.

After a short moment, you realize he’s leading you away from camp and towards the woods. “Where are we going? Camps back that way,” you said looking over your shoulder to see the fire where the camp was growing smaller in the distance.

“Goin’ somewhere else,” Bakugou said as he ducked under a branch.

You ducked too, barely missing the thick branch of the oak tree you just passed. The woods were thick here, and as the light faded you had to rely on your horse to follow Bakugou. After a good while of riding, you stopped by a cove that was tucked away from the lake. There was a small waterfall at the base of the creek, bubbling softly as water trickled over the rocks.

You noticed where he had stopped was a small clearing, the trees had been cut just leaving a bit of grass along with an old stack of firewood that had probably been there for years.

“I used to come here with Kirishima to catch frogs,” Bakugou said, sounding a little embarrassed, “I wanted you to see it too,” he added as he got off his horse.

Even though it was dark you could tell it was a beautiful area, especially with all the native wildflowers that were growing near the edge of the clearing. “I used to catch frogs too, nothin’ to be embarrassed about,'' you teased, making him snort as he collected firewood.

“Bet you were shit at it,” he said as he grabbed his saddlebag and pulled out some flint and steel.

You narrowed your eyes as you dismounted your horse, hauling your bedroll off too. You had finally gotten yourself your own blanket. It was a quilt that you found stuffed away in your closet, and you couldn’t leave it behind. “I was really good at it,” you countered as you rolled out your quilt and grabbed your riding clothes you were planning on changing into.

“Whatever,” Bakugou grumbled, flashing you a quick smile as blew on the budding fire. He sat down after the fire grew to a reasonable size and looked up at you, “c’mere,” he said, looking at the empty space next to him.

Your eyes widened slightly as you set down your clothes and made your way over to him. For some odd reason, you were rather nervous to sit next to him, it was a good kind of nervous though.

Bakugou leaned back watching as you sat next to him and stretched out, the dress you were wearing bunched up past your knees. He pulled his gaze back up to the fire.

You fell into a comfortable silence, but you felt like something was going on that you were not aware of. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel Bakugou staring at you every once and awhile. Somethin’ was up with him, and you weren’t sure what to think about it. “You’re actin’ weird,” you finally said, looking at him at last only to see that his cheeks were pink.

He cleared his throat, “the hell you talkin’ about?”

You furrowed your brows, “you’re embarrassed, your cheeks are all pink,” you said, bringing a hand up to poke one of his cheeks, making him grumble as he swatted your hand away.

“‘M not embarrassed,” he argued, “I just-” he sighed, cursing under his breath.

You listened for a moment, hearing him curse out Sero for bad advice, and it made you remember what Mina and Kirishima laughed about on your way to the rodeo.

“-Can I kiss you?” Bakugou finally said, refusing to look you in the eyes.

You froze, he wanted to kiss you? The last time he did that he ran away. You knew now was different, but you couldn’t help but feel more nervous than before. After a moment you nodded and felt your heart leap into your throat when moved into your space.

You watched with bated breath as his vermillion gaze flickered down to your lips and then back to your eyes. He placed a hand on the side of your face, cradling your cheek as he tilted his head and pressed his lips against yours.

This time he kissed you differently than the first time, he was gentle and meaningful. Like he was trying to let you know how he felt through the kiss.

You shut your eyes, bringing your hands up around his neck, branching your fingers up into his soft hair. He let out a groan, making you freeze up which gave him the opportunity to tug you closer to him with his free hand.

You broke away panting as he practically planted you on his lap and nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. This was all so new to you, and taboo at that. All your life you’ve been told to wait till marriage, it was sinful and such. Yet here you were, straddling Bakugou as he pressed kisses onto the side of your neck.

You felt nervous suddenly, as you placed your hands on his chest, making him pull back. He looked at you through lidded eyes, there was a heavy blush painted across his cheeks. “Katsuki,” you whispered, your eyes searching his, “I’m scared, I’ve never done anything like this before,” you explained, keeping your voice quiet as you looked away from him.

Bakugou hummed, it was a deep rumble that resonated from his chest, and he grabbed your chin turning your head back towards him, “you don’t have to be scared with me, I’ll take good care of ya,” he said, his voice low.

You shivered, making his lips twitch up a bit. “But Mina said you nothin’ about nothin’,” you said, looking away from him.

Bakugou huffed, clearly annoyed, “of course she did.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling even more nervous now or were you embarrassed? You weren’t sure.

“Hey,” he said softly, loosening his grip on your chin to run his knuckles down the side of your cheek gently. “We don’t have to do anythin’, princess if you’re uncomfortable. I’m not gonna be mad if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You blinked, mulling over his words. Your nerves were frayed but you wanted to be with him, you weren’t too sure what that meant for you, but you trusted him with your life. You could trust him with this. “I do though, I wanna be with you,” you said quietly, looking back at him shyly.

Bakugou hummed looking up at you, part of his face was illuminated by the fire light as he nodded, “okay, just relax, pretty girl,” he said quietly, as he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

You curled your fingers into his hair, tugging a little as he ran his hand down your side before stopping at your lower back. He then pressed on your lower back lightly urging you to grind down on his lap.

You huffed placing your face into the crook of his neck, as you started to rock your hips against the front of his jeans, and a soft whine escaped your lips.

“There ya go,” he murmured, starting to breathe heavily.

You gripped the back of his jacket, as he bucked his hips up. Bakugou let out a groan from beneath you making a tingle of electricity zap down your spine at the sound of his voice.

And it made you realize you wanted to hear him again, hear him moan and writhe above you. Your heartbeat quickened as you sucked in a breath when he gently moved you both down on his blanket.

You looked up at him through lidded eyes as he hovered above you. His pupils were blown as he leaned down to kiss you again, more roughly this time. You let out a whimper when he nipped at your lip, which gave him the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

Everything was starting to become overwhelming as you squirmed beneath him. His hands were all over your sides, yanking at your dress, pushing it above your hips. You involuntarily arched up into him, letting out a moan when he cupped your clothed pussy in one hand, nudging your clit through the fabric with his middle finger.

You broke away from the kiss again, panting as you grabbed onto his shoulders, “Kats,” you breathed out, your breath hitching as he lightly rubbed small circles over your clit.

Bakugou grinned, “feelin’ good?”

You nodded, now grabbing at his forearm when he ran his finger down over your clothed slit. “What’re you doing?” you slurred, watching him hook his fingers into the side of your panties and tug them down over your thighs.

“Relax,” he repeated, now running his finger between your folds, and watching your arousal coat his finger as he looked back at you. Your chest was heaving with each breath you took, and he didn’t miss the way your legs would shake every time he would run his finger through your slit.

“Katsuki,” you said aloud as he moved down, pressing kisses against your collar bone, your stomach, and then the top of your thighs. You bit the inside of your cheek as he blew warm air on your pussy, making you squirm.

“Said I was gonna take care of ya, didn’t I?” he finally said, suppressing a groan when he spread your legs more, watching strings of arousal coat your thighs.

You nearly lost it watching him lay down on his stomach and wrap his arms around your thighs, yanking you towards his face. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh, lightly biting down on the soft skin there before turning his attention back to your pussy.

“Oh,” you whimpered out as he ran the flat of his tongue up against your slit, making you immediately lock your legs around his head as a strange sensation settled in the pit of your tummy.

Bakugou chuckled as he squeezed your thighs tightly, leaving small crescents in your skin from his nails. He loved seeing you come undone when he’s barely touched you. He wanted to ruin you in the best way possible, make you his over and over again.

You unknowingly placed your arm over your eyes as your hips rolled up into his mouth. He’s barely moved his tongue and you were already a mess, babbling out nonsense. Especially when he moved his attention up to your clit, licking at it and sucking it into his mouth.

“Good girl,” he muttered against your pussy as you rolled your hips again, “so good for me.”

You nodded, unable to form words as a funny feeling started to build in your tummy. It had all your muscles tensing and releasing as he continued to suck on your clit.

Bakugou looked up from your pussy to watch you throw your head back and moan. “Fuck, you look so good,” he groaned before sucking your clit again.

You keened arching your back at his praise as another wave of pleasure rolled over. “Feel strange,” you panted out, as the rhythm of your grinding hips began to stutter.

Bakugou hummed, tugging you closer to him if that was even possible.

“Katsuki, I,” you tried to begin but the coil that was twisting inside of your tummy finally burst. The feeling that washed over you couldn’t even be described with words. But it made you shake against him, a cry escaping your lips as he continued to lick and suck through your high.

He kissed your clit before pulling away and moving back up so he could kiss you again. You were still writhing against him, yanking at his jacket as he slipped out of it, tossing it to the side. A warbled whine escaped your lips when he pulled back away from you to yank off his shirt.

“Fuckin’ needy,” he said, shaking his head as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, still tasting your release on his lips.

“Wanna make you feel good too,” you said shyly, as you watched the fire light dance against the outline of his muscles.

Bakugou smirked, as he easily yanked your dress over your head, his eyes trailing down your body, stopping at the love bites he left on your skin. With a shaky sigh, he moved over you again, holding himself above you with one arm as he ran his other hand up your side. “You sure?” he asked, he wanted tonight to be about you, but how could he say no to you now, when you were looking so sweet under him.

“‘M sure,” you said, sighing softly as he rolled one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He hummed, moving his hand away from your chest and up your neck before stopping by your mouth, “gonna have to teach you then,” he said slowly as he grabbed your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You nodded, getting the idea that he wanted you to open your mouth, so you parted your lips as he placed the pad of his thumb on your tongue.

Bakugou's pupils were blown wide as he watched you close your lips around his thumb. “That’s it,” he muttered as he let out a soft sigh when you wrapped your legs around his hips. “Go ahead and use your tongue,” he said.

You swirled your tongue around his thumb, whimpering when he rolled his hips against yours.

“Good girl,” he muttered, as he pushed another finger into your mouth. “Keep doin’ that, and no teeth,” he said, watching you closely as he pressed another finger in your mouth and moved them back towards your throat.

You whimpered, trying to not gag on his fingers, looking up at him with a concerned expression. Were you doing this right? You must be because he was grinding against you even more now.

When he grinned at you, you nearly fell apart again. “Think you’re ready,” he muttered, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

You watched with wide eyes as he quickly got rid of the rest of his clothes. You were in awe seeing him up close this time, he was beautiful. And he was yours now. A slight tap on your cheek gathered your attention and you realized you were staring off again.

“You and that fuckin’ starin’ problem,” Bakugou snorted as he ran his hand covered in your spit over his dick.

Then you really realized what you were looking at now and you let out a whimper, there was no way he would fit. Especially not in your mouth, but you still moved forward sitting in front of him and running your hands up his thighs.

You held your breath as your fingers branched up his lower stomach and you grabbed his dick in your hand, pumping it slowly like you saw him doing, “Is this good Katsuki?” you ask, staring up at him.

He was breathing hard through his nose with his teeth bared as he nodded, “yeah baby, you’re doin’ good.”

He was hot in your hand, and so wet, the noise that your palm would make against his skin was obscene. With a soft sigh, you tore your eyes away from him and back to his dick, watching pre leak from the top. You hovered your lips above the tip, trying to decide the best way to start.

“Spit on it,” Bakugou growled out, placing a large hand on your head, and driving his fingers into your hair.

You looked up at him again as you dropped a glob of spit on the top, and then ran your tongue up the side of his dick.

“Shit,” Bakugou grumbled, his voice deepening to a low rumble. Not like you knew it, but you were teasing the hell out of him, and it was taking everything in him not to fuck your face.

You squirmed at his voice, feeling your body tingle with need again. After a moment you parted your lips and let him push into your mouth. He was big and it didn’t take long for the head of his dick to press against the back of your throat, making your eyes water.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, gripping your hair tighter between his fingers.

You blinked, tears streaming down your face as you pressed the flat of your tongue against the underside of his dick, and began sucking hard. Your nails dug into his thighs, as he started to buck his hips into your mouth.

“There ya go, just like that, doin’ so good,” Bakugou praised, using his free hand to wipe some of your tears away.

You sniffled trying your best to keep going, you wanted to see him come undone above you. There was nothing more in the world that you wanted right now.

Bakugou tipped his head back, letting out another grunt as he picked up the pace. He didn’t want to cum yet, but you felt so good it was hard not to.

He thrusted into your mouth hard, making your eyes screw shut as he pushed the rest of his length into your mouth. Your nose was pressed against his pelvis as you tried to control your breathing while he shook above you.

“Shit,” he snarled, “gonna fuckin’ cum.”

Bakugou’s hips stuttered and you almost choked when he came in your mouth.

“Swallow it,” he hissed, watching you as he rode out his high.

You did, pulling off of him with a pant as you ran your tongue over your bottom lip. “Did I do a good job?” you asked as he moved back down in front of you.

He grinned, “fuckin’ perfect.”

Bakugou then kissed you long and hard, swirling his tongue with yours as you tasted yourself on his tongue and he and on yours. At this point, you were almost completely fucked out.

“Holdin’ up okay, baby?” He muttered against your lips, smiling when you nodded and ran your hands down his built chest.

“Want you Katsuki,” you said your voice tapering off into a whine

“Think you can handle it?” He asked reaching down to run the head of his dick between your folds.

You nodded, biting your lip hard as he continued to rut against you. “Please,” you begged quietly as your hole clamped down on nothing.

“Sweet thing, so good for me, always so good,” he muttered as he pushed into you slowly, and let out a grunt when he bottomed out, “fuck, you’re fuckin’ tight, princess.”

You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes as you squirmed against him trying to escape the sudden pain from him stretching you, “hurts,” you muttered through quick pants.

“I know,” he cooed, “it’ll feel good soon,” he let out a broken moan, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stayed still for a moment letting you adjust to his size before he started to move. Bakugou thrusted forward, fucking you with deep slow strokes which made you whimper and whine against his form.

Every time he pulled his hips back and then pushed back into you, you would mutter something incoherent in his ear, how good you felt, how big he was, and then you let something slip, you weren’t even aware you did, but he heard it.

“Shit, princess,” Bakugou groaned, as he held your face in his hands, watching you come undone beneath him. “Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered as he picked up his pace, now slamming his hips into yours.

You clawed at his back, your nails leaving raised red trails down his honey-tanned skin as he rolled his hips again. He kept hitting a spot inside of you that had you nearly blackout every time the head of his dick would press into it.

“‘M gonna cum,” you hissed, your eyes rolling back as he brought one hand down to start circling your clit with his fingers.

“Yeah? Go on baby,” Bakugou muttered, kissing your lips before moving down to your jaw, “cum for me.”

Your vision blacked out as you shook beneath him crying out as you clung to his form. His thrusts were growing sloppy now, he could barely hold himself back as he helped you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck,” he growled, now biting at the skin on your neck roughly as he neared his climax, “gonna fill you up, make you mine,” he hissed as he ground his hips against yours. “Fuckin’ love you too,” he grunted before stilling.

You both let out a groan at the feeling of him cumming inside of you.

You opened your eyes after a moment of coming down from your high to see Bakugou panting above you, and you realized at that moment what he had just said to you.

He said he loved you too.

“You love me?” You whispered, your voice hoarse as he let more of his weight rest on you.

Bakugou nodded, wiping some more tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, “I do.”

Your face warmed and you couldn’t help but smile at him, “I love you too.”

“I know, you told me first,” he said, rolling his eyes as he pulled out with a soft sigh.

You hummed, looking up at the night sky. It was true though, you did feel that strongly about him, “I meant it,” you said suddenly.

Bakugou snorted, “I know, I did too.” He wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him.

You smiled, looking up into his eyes as he ran his fingers down your side. It was warm out tonight, or maybe you just felt warm being with him. Your smile slipped from your face as you thought about tomorrow. Tomorrow you would be luring Keigo back to his estate to have him arrested.

So many things could go wrong, and you looked away from Bakugou, focusing on his hand on your side. He pulled you close to him again, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. He sighed, his breath puffing against your skin.

He had fallen asleep. You sighed, grabbing his hand to intertwine your fingers together as you shut your eyes letting sleep wash over you too.

—--------

The next morning you both were up early, getting ready to plan for the day. Plan for Keigo. You finished up washing yourself in the lake and then tugged your jeans and shirt on. You could see Bakugou in the distance already getting ready to ride off.

You wiped your face once more as you pulled your boots on before walking over to Bakugou. He was tacking his horse up. “Do you know what you’re gonna do? With Keigo I mean?” you asked, as you put your saddle on your horse.

Bakugou looked over at you, “I’m thinkin’ you and I will confront Kaminari and Keigo, draw them back because they hate us the most,” he said with a forced smile. “Then Mina and Sero would follow up behind, make sure they don’t run away.”

You grimaced, hating that you would have to see Keigo again as well as Kaminari. You were so close to the end now too, and so many things could go wrong.

“Don’t worry princess,” Bakugou said softly as he came to your side, drawing you close, “this is the last time you’ll ever be seein’ either of them.”

You smiled, it was small, but at least you felt a little more hopeful.

“Let’s get goin’,” Bakugou said, shaking the last of the water from his hair as he put his hat on.

You nodded, keeping to yourself as you got on your horse, riding behind Bakugou. He was confident, more so than usual. Or maybe he was happy. You rode up next to him as you both trotted up the hill you found him on last night.

You glanced at him again, he was happy. There was a smile gracing his features when there used to be a scowl. But that made you happy, You smiled as you continued to watch him.

It didn’t take much longer for you to reach the camp the others were staying at. They were already ready too it seemed. All three of them were already on their horses.

“Morning,” Sero said languidly, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he looked between you and Bakugou.

Your face warmed as you saw Mina and Kirishima snicker to each other. It seemed that they were well aware of what happened between you and Bakugou last night.

“Keep your fuckin’ traps shut,” Bakugou quickly snapped as Mina and Kirishima started to move towards you to ask questions.

You gave him a thankful smile which he returned before looking back at his group, “Kirishima, you’re goin’ to the sheriff’s office to get Tamaki right?”

Kirishima nodded, “yeah that’s the plan.”

Bakugou nodded, “give Y/n your pistol then, she’ll probably need it.”

Kirishima handed you his pistol, and you carefully placed it in your waistband, hoping that you wouldn’t have to use it. “You don’t think I’ll need this right?” you asked, looking towards Bakugou.

He shook his head, “No, we’ll stay far enough ahead of Keigo and Kaminari that you won’t need it. It’s just a precaution.”

You nodded, glancing down at the pistol again, you had that same bad feeling settling deep in your tummy. But you pushed it away, maybe this time you were wrong. Everything would work out fine.

“We’ll follow up behind them right?” Mina asked, pushing some hair out of her eyes as she adjusted her hat.

Bakugou nodded, glancing at everyone before he spoke again, “alright, let’s head out then.”

You waved bye to Kirishima as you fell into line behind Bakugou. The ride was about an hour away at a walk and probably thirty minutes back at a run. Which meant this could be over in an hour and a half.

Bakugou was a good deal ahead of you and Mina, chatting with Sero about plans you presumed. Which was fine, you didn’t think you could even talk at the moment, you were so nervous.

The ride itself to where Keigo and Kaminari were camped out was starting to stress you out too. The terrain was quickly changing from grasslands to rocky hills with tight curves. Which meant riding fast around the bends could be dangerous. It could be fatal.

You gulped glancing down at the ravine you were passing. Small stones tumbled down the side, splashing into the river below. Above you vultures started to circle in the distance and an ominous feeling seemed to creep through the air the closer you got.

The hour seemed to pass rather quickly and before you knew it you came to a stop outside of Keigo and Kaminari’s camp. They were camped on the edge of a large cliff. You could see them talking, occasionally laughing as they cleaned their pistols.

Seeing Keigo now after reading his journal and seeing what he had done to Kirishima and Bakugou’s family, what he did to Tokoyami and your father was strange. You were so angry knowing he got away with it for so long, but at the same time, you also felt sorry for him.

He was only a few years older than you and Bakugou, around his late twenties you guess, but as you watched him laugh you saw him as a boy.

“Why are you lookin’ at him like that?” Bakugou said quietly, glancing between you and Keigo.

You shrugged, deciding not to tell Bakugou your thoughts. You figured it would make him upset and rightfully so. You were upset for even allowing yourself to feel the smallest bit sorry for him.

Bakugou huffed, tearing his gaze away from you. He knew you weren’t going to tell him, but he figured you had your reasons. “Sero, Mina, go around back, fire a shot when you’re ready,” he said.

Sero nodded moving forward and down the cliffside with Mina following behind.

You watched them disappear around the corner, chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for a gunshot.

“Hey,” Bakugou began, watching you fiddle with your reins, “stop worrin’ so much, it’ll be fine.”

You nodded, “I know, he just scares me,” you said looking at Keigo again. You sighed, “and I was lookin’ at him like that because he kind of reminds me of a lost kid.”

“A lost kid? You fuckin’ joking?” Bakugou said, his voice holding a twinge of anger to it.

You winced, “I know it sounds bad, really, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop thinkin’ about what he wrote about in his journal when he was a kid. He just wanted to be loved and be free, and it reminded me of myself,” you said, hoping Bakugou would understand.

Bakugou huffed, settling his temper. He’s always been known to be quick to anger. But he understood where you were coming from. “I know,” he said, “he had a pretty shit life in that house. No one even knew about it, I didn’t until reading that journal.”

You nodded, “I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizin’ you can’t help the way you feel,” Bakugou said, “nothing’s ever as black and white as we make it out to be.”

You blinked, finding it interesting that he said what you thought about him and the others. “Yeah, I know.”

Bakugou moved his horse over next to yours and surprisingly held out his hand for you to take. “Just get out of your head, yeah?” he said, his voice softening a bit.

You nodded, slipping your hand into his, feeling some of your nerves settle. However, at the sound of a gunshot, your heart rate skyrocketed, and you looked towards Bakugou with wide eyes. He gave our hand a squeeze before he let go, grabbing his pistol as he moved forward. “Go ahead, want you to have a head start-”

“No way!” you snapped, “I’m stayin’ by you.”

“Fine,” Bakugou said through gritted teeth as he moved his horse forward so Keigo could see him.

You scowled watching Keigo and Kaminari quickly get up on their horses and start to ride towards you. Keigo was fast, yanking out his pistol with a wicked smile crossing his features.

“C’mon,” Bakugou said hurriedly as he turned his horse around, waiting for you to go so he could follow.

You gulped, bringing your horse to a trot as you made your way through the cliff, not daring to look down. Keigo yelled something behind you, which made you realize he wasn’t too far away.

“Gotta be a little faster, Y/n,” Bakugou said, growing worried, “Red’s got ya, he’s a sturdy horse,” he said, trying to urge you to ride faster.

“Okay,” you choked out, pressing your heels to your horse's sides as he quickened his trot. You could see the grass just a little bit away, you were so close, and when you reached the prairie you let out a sigh, uring your horse into a gallop.

Bakugou rode next to you, glancing over his shoulder to see Keigo and Kaminari hot on your tails, “shit,” he hissed as he yanked out his pistol and pointed it towards Kaminari.

You winced watching as Bakugou just barely missed Kaminari who laughed. “Where are Sero and Mina, shouldn’t they be close by?”

Bakugou shook his head, “dunno, they should be right behind them.” He scowled, kicking his horses' sides as Keigo began to catch up to you. Keigo was the fastest rider he’s ever met, besides you, and for a moment he didn’t think his plan would work.

A bullet flew past your face making you yelp while you flinched hard. “They’re getting close,” you said, shouting over the wind.

“I know,” Bakugou replied, trying to think of something.

There in the distance, you could see Sero and Mina riding back towards you, but they were only one horse, Sero’s horse. Something must have happened to Mina’s horse. And to your horror you saw Kaminari look over his shoulder and then turn around, racing back towards Sero and Mina.

It was obvious what he was planning on doing. Sero and Mina even though they both were armed, but they were slow, extremely slow now that they were sharing a horse. Kaminari probably figured he could take two birds out with one stone.

“Y/n,” Bakugou warned, turning his head to watch you look back at the other, “don’t do it, they’re fine-”

A loud squeal and a gunshot had your eyes wide with fear as Kaminari shot down Sero’s horse, causing both him and Mina to tumble to the ground.

“Ride fast, don’t let Keigo catch up to you,” you said quickly before Bakugou could yell at you as you turned around racing back towards your friends.

Time seemed to slow down as you passed by Keigo. You both locked eyes and he grinned, laughing as you raced past him. You turned your head, seeing that Bakugou was still riding back towards the estate which was good.

You turned your attention back to Kaminari watching him yank on his horse's mouth, getting her to slide to a stop. He pulled out his pistol, saying a few words as he pointed it at Sero who was standing in front of Mina. She was hurt, cradling her arm to her chest.

You pulled out Kirishima’s pistol letting your reins drop as you held it with two hands, aiming at Kaminari, and then you pulled the trigger. In the time that you took to blink your bullet found its way into Kaminari’s side, throwing him off the top of his horse.

With one hand you grabbed your reins moving your horse towards Kaminari and you hoped that he wouldn’t get back up. Sero quickly grabbed Kaminari’s horse by the reins and got on before helping Mina up.

They wasted no time riding up to you.

“Always said you were a good shot,” Mina said hoarsely, giving you a weak smile.

You grinned, trying to not shake in your saddle from nerves. “I did have a good teacher.”

Sero scoffed, wiping some blood away from his face, “thank you, we would have been done for if you didn’t turn back around. Mina’s horse got bit by a snake and threw her, lost her pistol and everything.”

You frowned about to tell Mina you were so sorry, but then something strange happened. You weren’t too sure why it took you so long to register what was going on, but Sero shouted something and turned around firing his pistol off again.

You turned, seeing Kaminari crumple to the ground this time gone for good. You looked back at Sero and then a searing pain bloomed at the side of your arm, and you looked down to see that it was limp beside you.

“Y/n!” Sero shouted, grabbing your reins in his hands, “shit, Mina can you tell me how bad it is, I can’t keep lookin’ at her.”

Your leg smashed up against Sero’s and Mina’s as your horses ran directly next to each other and you winched when Mina grabbed your arm.

“Went through clean,” she said, her voice sounding muffled, “you’ll be okay, just hold on.”

You looked down seeing scarlet red blood soak into your shirt and drip down your arm at a steady rate. A feeling of dread washed over you, “Mina,” you hissed, as the gunshot wound thumped in time with your heartbeat.

“You’ll be okay,” she reassured you, holding your hand the best she could.

You nodded, if Bakugou and Izuku survived a gunshot you could too. It would be fine, you’d be fine. However, as someone who has never had to deal with such severe wounds ever, the sight of so much blood, your blood had you slumping forward.

“Don’t fall off,” Sero growled, reaching over to roughly shake you.

You blinked, trying to push the black spots out of your vision as your stomach flopped. “I won’t,” you slurred, gripping onto the horn of the saddle as you tried to stay awake.

Up in the distance, you could see Keigo’s estate, it looked small now but you’d be there soon if you could just hold on.

You swallowed harshly, feeling yourself tip forward again, which was not good. You knew this would make you unbalanced in your saddle, and then you’d fall off, probably hurting yourself more.

Sero reached over again, yanking the back of your shirt to pull you back again. “Fuckin’ Kaminari,” he muttered glancing behind him to see Mina barely holding it together too. The tumble she took off her horse and then his horse was enough to put anyone under.

You managed to hold on though, just in time too, because when your horse and Sero’s came to a stop in front of the house both you and Mina fell off. You hit the ground harshly, groaning a bit. You did feel better on the ground now though. It was steady and soothed your growing nausea.

You heard shouting and then someone was dragging you across the grass as best they could.

“I-I’m sorry,” a voice stuttered above you, “I didn’t know where you were shot, didn’t want to pick you up.”

“S’kay,” you slurred blinked as the person above you came into focus. It was a man. He was looking down at you with wide eyes as he began to put pressure on your wound.

“Katsuki?” you asked, not bothering to look around.

“Kirishima and him just took Keigo right when you came back,” he explained as he tore some gauze off with his teeth, “he’s being put in a holdin’ cell back at the office.”

The office? You blinked, “are you, Tamaki?”

Tamaki nodded, his face was bright red, “Y-yeah, um, you’ll be okay, the bullet went clean through. Uh, stay here, I have to check on Mina.”

You snorted, it’s not like you were going anywhere any time soon. The sun was bright above you, making you squint as you realized it was over. Everyone was still alive. You were still alive.

You sighed, grabbing at the grass with your good hand as your adrenaline started to slow, allowing you to feel the pain of your wound more. It hurt like hell, stinging like a thousand wasps had stuck their stingers into your arm.

Hoofbeats vibrated the ground next to you and you turned your head to see Bakugou’s horse stop in front of you. A moment later he was hovering above you, eyes wide as he stared at all the blood soaking into your shirt.

You smiled at him, still delirious from the pain, “you got him.”

Bakugou nodded, swallowing thickly as he inspected your arm. His words were stuck in his throat like glue. He had heard three gunshots while he was leading Keigo back to the estate and he had hoped nothing had happened to you. Yet here you were, the person he cared about most, hurt.

If Kaminari wasn’t already dead, Bakugou would have vowed to make him hurt.

“You’re crying,” you whispered, watching his bottom lip wobble as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Don’t do that again,” Bakugou harshly whispered, gently pulling you up against him.

The world spun at your sudden change of position, but you pushed through at the feeling of Bakugou pressing his face into your shoulder. He shuddered against you. “It’s okay,” you said as you leaned your cheek against the side of his head, “gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he muttered, sniffling as he ran his hand up and down your back. “I thought I had lost you, all I saw was you lyin’ in the grass and covered in blood.”

You figured some of his tears were because things were finally over. At last, after years of chasing after Keigo, he had finally got him. “I already told you before that I’ll always come back to you,” you said, letting your eyes close.

“And you always do,” he replied softly, feeling you slump against him. With a shaky hand, he pressed his fingers to your pulse point, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt the steady beat of your heart beneath the pads of his fingers.

——-

You woke up the next morning still feeling pretty bad, but you were glad to be alive really. Even though everyone said you’d be fine, it was still nerve-wracking to look down and see your arm so badly injured.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you followed Bakugou and Kirishima to the sheriff's office. Apparently, while you were out Tamaki had ridden down to your town to bring Izuku back as another witness to Keigo's crimes.

You are also surprised to find out that Keigo’s Lieutenant, Endeavor, was headed your way too. Izuku had written to him before leaving the hospital that Keigo was going to be sentenced for his crimes.

You were still missing some details on how everything fell together so neatly at the end, but you weren’t complaining.

Bakugou stopped in front of you, hesitating at the door. He looked nervous. “He’s in there,” Bakugou began, glancing back at you, “he’s gonna try like hell to lie his way out of it.”

“Well he can’t,” you told Bakugou, moving to stand next to him, “there’s so much evidence stacked up against him, Katsuki.”

He nodded, taking a quick breath before walking into the office.

Tamaki’s office was small. Incredibly small. There was one single desk with a looming stack of papers, and then the holding cell was right off to the side. It was dark, only a few slots of light illuminated the corner of the office.

It was quiet, except for Keigo’s harsh breathing. It was ragged and slow, and it sounded like he was in pain.

You stayed mostly behind Bakugou as he walked over to the cell, not wishing to see Keigo at all.

“Came to have a look, huh?” Keigo rasped, pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Shut up,” Bakugou hissed, dropping his hand to his holster around his waist. It was clearly taking everything in him not to end Keigo right there and then.

Keigo laughed, it was wet and turned into a gasping cough, “not so nice, I guess.” He peered around Bakugou and Kirishima, and locked eyes with you. A smile grew on his face, exposing his blood-stained teeth. “I’m surprised to see you here,” Keigo commented.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at her,” Bakugou said sharply, as he rattled the iron bars making Keigo flinch back, “I want you to look at Eijirou and I, and tell us why you killed them.”

Kirishima nodded, barely keeping himself under control as he watched Keigo in the cell.

Keigo narrowed his eyes, choosing to keep his mouth shut as he looked away from Bakugou and to the ceiling.

“Fuck you,” Bakugou growled, “I should just put a bullet in your head and be done with it.”

You quickly grabbed his arm, shaking your head, “it’s not worth it, he’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him.”

Bakugou flashed a glare at you before sighing. He opened his mouth to say something but the door opened.

You turned your gaze to see Izuku and Tamaki duck through the front door, followed by Endeavor. A jolt of panic coursed up your spine at the sight of the Lieutenant, and you tugged on Bakugou’s sleeve.

“Where is he?” Endeavor’s deep voice echoed in the small office.

“In the cell,” Izuku said and came to a stop next to you and Bakugou, “I’m asking you to let these three go after this, and I’m sure you’ll find that Y/n has been innocent this whole time.”

Endeavor’s turquoise gaze cut between you and Bakugou and his upper lip lifted up into a sneer at the sight of the outlaws in front of him, “the girl I can let go if she proves to be innocent, but Bakugou and Kirishima, I’ll give you both a thirty minute head start and if I find y’all again, I’m putting a bullet between both of your eyes.”

Bakugou snorted, rolling his eyes, “you can try, old man.”

Kirishima stayed silent, not even sparing Endeavor a glance.

Soon all six of you were standing in front of Keigo’s cell. He was laughing again, wiping his mouth occasionally. “You even called Endeavor down? We know that’s a waste of time.”

Endeavor folded his arms over his chest, looking down at his soldier, “You’ve been accused of some pretty serious crimes, Keigo. It’s not the time to joke.”

“It isn’t?” Keigo laughed again, “this is one big joke isn’t it, I mean come on! You’re believin’ these outlaws over me? I never betrayed you, Enji. They never ran away on you.”

“I ran away after findin’ the teeth you hid under your fuckin’ bed,” Bakugou hissed.

“Enough,” Endeavor grunted, glancing down at Tamaki, “where’s that journal Kirishima gave you?”

“Right here,” Tamaki said as he pulled Keigo’s journal off his desk and he handed it to Endeavor.

You pulled your gaze from Endeavor who had begun reading down to Keigo. He had fallen silent, watching his superior read. He looked calm, in fact, he almost looked relieved. You flinched when his gaze snapped to you and he watched you for a moment, keeping silent still.

It made you wonder what he was thinking about. Was he regretting his actions? Or was he envious of you, someone who he planned to put in a cell now free?

“You killed your father?” Endeavor asked, breaking the silence.

“No,” Keigo answered, his voice even now, no hint of amusement at all. He was still watching you.

“No? This is your handwriting, Keigo. Izuku told me about what happened back in the other town. There were several eyewitnesses who saw you shoot Izuku in the street as well.”

Keigo turned his gaze away from you, now looking at the wall.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Bakugou barked, curling his hands into a fist, “can’t even fuckin’ bear to look at you anymore.”

You were surprised to see Bakugou actually storm out of the office and slam it shut behind him. You then shared a look with Izuku and Kirishima and they sighed, leaving the office to follow Bakugou.

“S”not lookin’ too good for you,” Endeavor said, “look son, just tell the truth and your sentence might not be as bad.”

“My sentence is death, either way, you cut it,” Keigo said, which was enough of a confession for Endeavor to hand the journal back to Tamaki.

“You know, Tokoyami had a lot of potential, it’s a shame,” Endeavor said, shaking his head as Keigo scoffed. He then turned to you. “Miss, you’re free to go now, we’ll send out a post to take down your bounty. I’m truly sorry.”

You nodded, shocked that he let you go so easily. You weren’t exactly crime free now, but you weren’t going to say anything. “Thanks.”

Endeavor tipped his hat at you and turned to Tamaki, “keep ‘em here for another night, and then I’ll take him back to base so he'll be dealt with there.” And then he left, slamming the door behind him so roughly the old building seemed to shake.

Tamaki ran a hand over his face, setting the journal back down on the desk and following Endeavor outside.

Which meant you were alone now with Keigo. You turned towards him, looking at him curled up against the wall, holding his hand on the gunshot wound on his side. He looked nothing like the villain he was before.

He just looked like a normal man to you now.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” Keigo hissed, flashing a glare at you.

You held his gaze a moment longer, and then you left. Not sparing him a second glance as you walked out the door.

Bakugou was already on his horse, getting ready to leave as well. He looked antsy, cracking his knuckles. You got on your horse, waving to Izuku who was heading off with Tamaki. Probably going to help Endeavor, you assumed.

The ride back to the pasture was tense. Bakugou was stiff, muttering under his breath and glancing back at you occasionally, to make sure you were keeping up. Once you reached camp he briefly told you in passing that he was going to go by the lake again, something about how he wanted to be alone again. Which you respected. In the past twenty-four hours you have never seen Bakugou show so much emotion, it must have been overwhelming.

Kirishima stopped his horse next to yours, sighing, “I’ll follow him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

You nodded, watching as Kirisima took off after Bakugou, riding fast to catch up.

It was a relief to see the others after the morning you had. Mina gave you a meek smile as you dismounted your horse and came to sit next to her. “How’s your arm?” you asked, looking at the makeshift splint and cast Sero had made for her.

“Hurts,” she shrugged, “and yours?”

“Hurts too,” you replied, smiling a little.

“Did they let you go?” Sero asked, looking up at you from where he was cleaning his pistol.

You nodded, “yeah, they cleared my bounty.”

“Hah, must be nice,” Sero snorted, leaning back as he put his hands behind his head, “well, what are you gonna do now with your newly acquired freedom?”

You snorted, “like there’s much to do with it,” You paused, glancing at Sero and Mina in front of you, “I would like to stay with y’all. If you’ll still have me.”

Mina laughed, “that’s gotta be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, Y/n. You’re one of us, you know that.”

You smiled, grimacing when Mina rubbed her knuckles into the top of your head. Even after everything that’s happened between you and this group of outlaws, you now finally felt like you belonged with them. They were your people, your family now.

—---

Later that night when the sun had been long gone, Bakugou and Kirishima came back. He was quiet returning to camp. Stealthily stepping over Sero’s sleeping form as he made his way to you. Kirishima tripped over Mina, barely catching himself as she rolled over on her other side.

You were barely awake, grumbling under your breath as you tried to get comfortable. Your arm still hurt like hell so it was hard to even fall asleep. You rolled over, holding your arm as you lay on your stomach.

A hand at your side had you suddenly rolling over and your eyes snapped open in surprise. You looked over your shoulder to see that it was only Bakugou behind you. He gave you a tired smile as he tugged you into his chest.

You attempted to flip in his embrace so you could face him, and with a little bit of struggling, you finally did. “Where did you go?” you whispered as he ran his hand up and down your side.

“Somewhere,” he murmured, not looking you in the eyes.

In the back of your mind, you knew where Kirishima and him went, and you think he knew it too. You brought your good hand up to his face, smoothing out his furrowed brow with your thumb, “do you feel better knowing he’s gone?”

Bakugou grabbed your hand in his and placed it on his chest. He nodded, “yeah, I do, I think.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say to him. “Well, that’s all that matters then.” You sighed, shutting your eyes as you pressed your forehead into his shoulder.

Bakugou hummed, settling down as he continued to hold your hand. Everything that he’s worked towards for so many years has finally come to a close. It felt weird not knowing what to do next. He knew at least he didn’t want to be on the run forever, and he knew the others didn’t as well. He exhaled softly as he looked around at the others, watching them for a moment before looking back at you.

At least he had you, and he figured that was something to put all his time into now, and he’d happily do it.

—---------

The summer days were growing short and the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn from cool green to brilliant reds and oranges. The air was cool, rattling the drying grass as you squinted your eyes.

You brought your arm up to shield the sun from your eyes, gritting your teeth as some pain rattled up your arm, but it was so much better than before. “There,” you said, now pointing towards a large boulder in the distance.

Bakugou snorted as he shook his head, “princess, we’ve raced at least a hundred times now, and every time I’ve told you that you’re a faster rider than me.”

“Well I wanna hear it again,” you said with a wide grin, “C’mon, Katsuki, maybe you’ll beat me this time?”

Bakugou glanced at you, fighting off a smile, “okay fine, you count down then.”

You grinned, starting to count down, and once you reached zero, and you both took off racing towards the boulder up ahead. You glanced over at Bakugou who was barely behind you and gaining speed.

“Think you’re gonna lose this time,” Bakugou shouted from next to you, trying to grab at his hat before it flew off.

You frowned, kicking your horse's sides as you gripped his mane. Your horse huffed and then sped up, easily passing Bakugou’s and flying past the boulder. As you came to a stop you glanced back to see Bakugou slowing down right behind you, shaking his head as you turned around to greet him with a smug grin.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, smiling at you. “You’re a faster rider than me,” he said while he shook some hair from his eyes.

“I am aren’t I,” you replied grinning.

[friday-night-unknown]

Updike : Angel with a shotgun ?

Actually, it’s a revolver

tw. whoops very heavy angst and some lore

fallen is canon woo

[riotmade]

@resolutepath​​ sent something in from this meme !

“please don’t go” 

     IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. that’s all it had to be, right ? an accident, a nightmare. a dream. a purgatory. what was it everyone said ? wrong time, wrong place ? ( WRONG PLACE to get hit at, idiot ). even with the self - defense that his brother and his friends had taught him, kaito had not been quick enough. to be fair, it was obvious that no one knew that would happen. the villain had simply MISCALCULATED - - that was the wrong kirishima twin to hit. for a multitude of reasons. 

     IT WAS IRONIC ! his brain struggles to put two and two together. walking with both the bakugou twins and his own brother ( mirror ! ), the attack had seemingly come out of NOWHERE. and took aim right at him. ironic that it would hit him. the quarter of the group that was simply NOT trained in combat. and now -- where was he ? 

    HE KNEW WHAT HAD happened to the one that had managed to get one hit in. somewhere in a pile of rubble, burned to basically a CRISP by the blond twins, a duo to be reckoned with. kaito breathes in ( PAIN, there and never - ending ), dilated eyes struggling to focus on anything around him. dust and debris and screams and -- 

   WARMTH. hands around him, and kaito is helpless to move in response. hand twitches to try to bring some LIFE back into his limbs, but he was slow in answering the way his brother -- he knows that it’s eijirou now, of course -- tugs at him. he’s TELLING him something, but kaito’s ears were ringing from the explosions. ( he no longer wonders why both bakugous INSISTED on hearing protection as part of their hero costumes ). 

     KAITO GROANS a bit as he feels hands hold at his stomach, his ribs. he struggles to move, to look over to where his brother is pressing down, but instead, he feels it. that STICKY substance that pours out on the concrete and soaks into everything. ground, clothes, hair, hands. it stains and marks and is impossible to wash out. of memory or of objects. “ IT’S --. ” 

     HIS HEAD was pounding, pain shooting through every avenue as eijirou continues trying to stop the blood from flowing, but something in him manages to somewhat speak -- “ ei, please. stop, it -- ”  inhale, more FIRE in his lungs. the older brother reaches down to where eijirou was still moving ( still fighting a LOSING battle ). 

    FINALLY, though, there is sound. and kaito immediately wishes there wasn’t. his brother’s sobs wrack and tear at him, desperate to FIX him. as if something that eijirou could do that would alleviate the pain, stop the blood from continually staining his hands. it was futile, and the LOGIC part of kaito’s brain knew this. ( eijirou’s emotional side, however ? ) he grasps at eijirou’s hand, and that seems to stop the hero in training, and instead of screaming or begging for help -- the bakugou twins had already ran to get some, of course -- he falls oddly silent, as if holding his breath. 

     EVERYTHING WAS COLD, then. as if a winter blast had arrived in the middle of the summer. kaito coughs ( he tries to ignore the red he knows splatters across his lips and cheek at the action ), and SPEAKS instead. voice hushed and broken : “ listen to me, eijirou. you’re --. ” he blinks ( WHY was it so hard to open his eyes again ? ) “ you’re gonna be FINE. i know it. ” 

     “ please don’t go. ”

     HE’S NOT SURE he’s ever heard his brother sound like that. the popular twin, the friend to everyone, the ever - confident and reaching RED RIOT ( here to save the day ! ), was collapsing. he tries to answer, and fails. kaito wonders if this what was death was like. he’s heard the ideas of it. falling asleep, comfort, darkness. the pain was fading away, sure. almost like a DISTANT MEMORY. 

     THERE’S MORE sounds now. echoing and blurred and all - too - far - away. somewhere, vaguely, he recognizes them as SIRENS. kaito once again hears his brother begging, remotely, to just hang on a little longer, but his eyes gaze UPWARDS, just past the silhouette of his younger twin. 

     he can see the sun, the clouds, a lazy bird flying overhead. for a moment, kaito swears he can see the stars. beautiful, bright. and suddenly, they’re gone.

     somewhere, in the distance, a mirror SHATTERS. 

[a-m-archived]

So guess which dunm ass was thinking about fate and the solomon ark and the prelude to the lost belts again.

Guess whos thinking about the theo yelling how she wants to live and fist fighting a demon god and no one but said demon heard her and how low-key romantic it sounded when he called her his destiny ?

Guess who's thinking about theo finding out shes not human during the fall of her home. While she's being talked down to and belittled by a tammano looking ass bitch.

Guess who's thinking about theo's slow and unnoticeable fall back into apathy after the first lost belt and the fact that she truly will have to act like a mage and be cold with her mission once it dawns on her that she needs to end worlds and innocent people will die to have a possibility to save her own world.

Guess who's thinking about how theo will still want to be kind and good to other people and care even if it hurts her to be the one to end so many lives. How she will believe she's horrible for just wanting to live and be good to other people.

[croigealai]

Flower shop!! Can I order a bouquet (?) of gardenias and yellow hyacinths with Michael Robinavitch? 🩷

- @science-hoes 🫶🏼

featuring: michael robinavitch x reader

wc: 2,640

warnings: oblivious reader, robby is a yearner, reader is a doctor but it's undiclosed if she's a resident or attending but is robby's subordinate, workplace romance, robbys a little mean to reader but he makes up for it, hurt comfort, a little bit of angst

tags: @science-hoes

you can find the 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 here

Robby had always thought love was like a lightning strike. Electricity coursing through your veins until it felt like your entire being was on fire. That it was something wild and alive, coursing through veins like adrenaline. It was how his grandmother described love and when he was younger, freer, that’s what it felt like.  For years he chased that feeling, the rush of hormones and fire because if love didn’t leave him breathless, was it even real?

But this. You, were different. You were all peace and softness, a warm blanket or hug after walking through an endless storm. The world around him could be falling apart, the very seams of reality being ripped apart, and yet if he had you beside him he knew it would be okay. He still felt breathless with you, soft eyes looking up at him like he held the answers to the universe in his hands, he could always feel his breath catch in his throat whenever that happened. Or when your steady hands reached for his over the counter, a fresh cup of coffee and a charming wink being passed like a secret between you and the universe. 

It made him feel steadier, more human. The dark thoughts and demons that lingered at the edges of his mind shrinking away and leaving space for something brighter, the golden hue of your smile echoing in his mind for  the rest of the day.

It was a feeling he kept close, wrapped in a neat little box and buried under his ribs right against his heart. In a place like the Pitt, which feeds on gossip and rumours, a feeling like this was dangerous. Not for him, he had power. A name. Tenure. If something were to get out, it wouldn’t be his reputation and a career that would be ruined, it would be yours. So, he chose to stay silent. 

And maybe it was also because he was selfish. The way he hoarded the feeling as if it was something delicate that he refused to let the world bruise. He lives for the soft moments with you, quiet things tucked into the micro seconds between patients and the chaos of the Pitt. The private smiles passed across the room, the soft brush of your hand as it lingered a little longer than necessary, long enough to steady him. 

There were the small things too. The lingering scent of your perfume as it clung to his hoodie after he’d handed it over because you were cold, he noticed it at the end of a shift. Light and sweet, and just for him. Something he didn’t have to, or want to share. It gave him a reason to come back the next shift, a different hoodie wrapped around his shoulders in the quiet hope you’d ask for it again. 

The quiet conversations, whispered over coffee at the hub or sandwiches in the lounge, voices low and almost conspiratorial even though you were just discussing a movie you both enjoyed. It was soft, sacred. The rest of the world disappears for just a few seconds or minutes. 

All of it was tucked away, buried in a box labelled ‘love’  because the moment someone else saw. Where it turns into something real and tangible and breakable, it would no longer belong to just the two of you. There would be quiet eyes and ears always watching, always listening, every moment and interaction picked apart into bare bones until conspiracies were made and secrets were shared. He wasn’t ready for any of that. He couldn’t lose something so precious.

So, he continues on like normal. Eyes finding yours first in every room, softening at the edges as he watches you work, his hand lingering close to yours or hovering over your lower back as patient care is discussed, the sharp edge of his voice turning into something gentler and more patient. His smile, soft and patient 

Then came the conversation with Dana. It wasn’t something he was meant to hear, he had just happened to walk into the lounge for a fresh cup of coffee when it happened and he tried not to listen, truly he did. Mind turning over patient reports and statistics for his meeting with Gloria in the next half-hour, but then he heard the word ‘date’ and ‘Tanner’ leave your mouth and his mind instinctively tuned in. 

He kicked himself for tuning in when he did, Tanner was some finance bro who was more interested in his Lexus and obviously fake Rolex than he had been in the date. Almost as if it was meant to be a time to show off rather than get to know the other person. 

The jealousy hits Robby unexpectedly.  It’s sharp and warm, something dangerous flaring beneath his skin as it travels through his veins. It was almost a physical sensation the way it stung, something gnarled and ugly digging claws into the soft flesh of his body. He tries to push it away, to ignore it and not let it show on his face. 

But he fails, the flush is obviously noticeable and as he storms away not wanting to hear another word about a man who barely deserved oxygen never mind a date with you, the heavy wooden door slamming behind him, you jump. 

You watch his back as he leaves, see the faint redness in his neck and scrunch up your eyebrows in confusion as you turn to Dana.

“What was that about?”

She huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes, hand gently reaching for yours as if shes about to drop something earth shattering directly into your lap.

“Oh honey, you are brilliant but so clueless.”

You scoff, eyes widening in mock offense but you can’t even defend yourself as she continues.

“That man looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.”

Another scoff leaves you, eyes rolling all the way to the back of your head,disbelieving her words and you gently push at her shoulder in mock annoyance. 

“Okay, whatever you say,” your voice is dripping with sarcasm and annoyance but she just gives a squeeze of your hand and forces you to look at her again.

“I’m serious kid, you don’t see it? He’s soft for you. Remember how he covered your shift when you were sick? Or how he remembers the very precise way you take your coffee from that one indie cafe that’s 5 blocks away? Or how he always saves the birthday cake protein bars just for you because they’re your favourite?”

You shrug your shoulders, pull your hand back and cross your arms over your chest. Almost defensive in the way you’re trying to make yourself look smaller.

“That’s just… that’s just Robby”

An exasperated sigh leaves Dana as she stands, her hand coming down to squeeze at your shoulders.

“He’s not like that with anyone else.”

Then she’s gone, a wink thrown over her shoulder as if she hadn’t just upended everything you thought you had known. And suddenly you think back on it, every interaction with Robby and how he was with the others. There’s a feeling in your chest, light and airy and new, the edges of the truth blurring in your mind as pieces of a puzzle slot into place. But there’s no time to mull it over as another patient is brought in and you’re rushed back out onto the floor. 

For the rest of the day, despite his best efforts, Robby couldn’t hide the storm in his mind. He snapped at Gloria in the meeting, tongue sharp and unrelenting as he once again brought up bed shortages and ER wait times being caused by lodgers waiting for beds upstairs. He snaps at Santos and Whittaker and Langdon, less sharp this time but just as scathing as they debate the course of action for a patient. Then, he snaps at you. It’s quieter, less public. Pulled into a corner of a trauma room where you had just battled to get an airway and won, but according to Robby you were slow and a little sloppy and should have just gone for a crike. He know he’s fucked up when your face drops and your shoulders stiffen, voice rough and hard when you say ‘thank you for the feedback Doctor Robinavitch’. You never used his full name, he was always Robby or Michael when he was in trouble. 

As soon as he leaves the trauma room, your body disappearing behind the hub and into the locker room to gather your stuff for the end of shift, he’s pulled aside. Rough hands grab his arm and pull him into the lounge, when he finally looks at who’s doing it he’s met with the concerned gaze of Jack and Dana. 

“What the fuck was that Robinavitch?”

Dana’s voice is calm, steady, but he can feel the undercurrent of anger coming from her in waves. He flinches back, hands flying up to his neck as he looks up the ceiling to avoid her gaze. 

“I-I…”

Before he can even get the words ‘I don’t know out of his mouth’ Jack is calling him out.

“Bullshit, now why don’t you put on your big boy pants and tell the truth?”

It’s harsh, but needed, Jack was very rarely one to coddle. A sigh leaves Robby's mouth and finally he looks down and meets the eyes of his two closest friends.

“I got frustrated and I took it out on them.” 

Dana rolls her eyes, crosses her arms and huffs out a humourless laugh.

“You don’t fucking say.” 

Jack steps forward, for fear that Dana might actually reach out and slap Robby across the face.

“So what are you gonna do to fix it?” 

He knows he should fix it, that he should grovel at your feet and beg for forgiveness. But ego stops him, if he does that then he has to admit he was jealous. He would have to admit he was in love with you, and that was a terrifying thought. 

Dana steps forward then fingers pointed into his chest and her gaze stern.

“You love her?”

“I-I,” he hesitates, the box buried in his chest slowly starting to unravel as he realised he wasn’t as discreet as he thought.

“It’s a yes or no question Robby”

“Yes”

It doesn’t come out as confident as he would like, but maybe that was just the fear he was feeling from Dana’s murderous look.

“But-”

Dana shakes her head, already anticipating what was coming.

“It was one date, he was an asshole. Go fix this.”

The tone left no room for argument and the raging jealousy simmered into something quieter, but just as dangerous. Regret. 

“Go, I got handover.”

He nods at Jack, turns out of the lounge and heads towards the lockers with the pace of man on a mission.  He was going to fix this, he had to. 

An hour later, he’s at your door with a bag of takeout, that expensive wine knows you like and a special edition of a book you had been gushing about wanting to read only a few days earlier. Hand trembling as he knocks and for a moment he’s worried you’re not going to answer. It takes a few minutes, the stars and the moon the silent companions of his fear as his heart stutters against his chest, but then the door opens. 

You look tired, sleep tucked into the corner of your eyes as if he had woken you up and suddenly guilt makes a home beside regret in his mind. 

“What do you want?”

It’s almost callous the way the words trip out, and he knows he deserves it.He takes a deep breath, gulps down the fear that had risen in his throat and gently raises the bags in his hands, “Can I come in?”

A part of you doesn’t want to let him, wants to slam the door in his face and wait until you’ve simmered down a bit before talking to him. But there’s the other part, the love-sick fool that wants to listen to their heart and let him. Ultimately, that’s the side that wins as you open the door wider and step to the side. 

He’s quiet as he moves into your space, almost deliberately so as if he doesn’t want to disturb the peace of your sanctuary. He places the bags on the table, takes the book out and presents it to you as a flush rises to his cheeks. It’s almost endearing how bashful he looks as he hands it to you. 

“I know you’ve been wanting it and it was sold out online but I found this indie place a few blocks from the hospital that happened to have a few copies online.”

You try and fight the smile that rises on your face, fingers trailing delicately over the sprayed edges, but you can’t. It rises, slowly at first, the edges of your mouth tipping upwards at how thoughtful it was. You place it down on the counter before turning to him with a finger against his chest.

“I’m still mad at you.”

An affectionate chuckle passes his lips, one he can’t help, as he starts to pull the food out of the bags as you gather plates and cutlery. 

“But you’re smiling, that's a win in my book.” 

You roll your eyes and place them down in front of him, hands coming down onto the table as you lean on them with a raised eyebrow, expectant. He sighs, gentle as he starts to dish out the food.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I was…frustrated and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have.”

You nod, hand moving up and turning in a playful manner as encouragement for him to continue.

“I…I heard you talk about your date and I-”, he hesitates, the words catching in his throat before he clears them. His eyes roam over you and he knows he can’t do this with this much distance between you. So, he moves around the table and you turn to face him as he places he basically crowds you against it, hands either side of your body. 

“I lost my cool. Thinking of that guy Tyler or whatever his name was,” you huff out a laugh at that, “and how he didn’t deserve your time, to even breath the same air as you.”

You shift then, shoulders softening as your hands place themselves against his chest, moving slowly up until they were on his shoulders. Your eyes are gentler now, understanding settling against your heart and ribs like a weight and you can’t help the teasing tone that leaks out of you.

“You were jealous.” 

He looks away for half a second, clicks his tongue against his teeth before he turns to you with a soft smile.

“Yes sweetheart, I was jealous.” 

You see it then, his eyes. Filled with love and care and admiration, like you had hung the moon, just like Dana had said.  You thread your fingers around his neck, pull him just that tiny bit closer until his forehead is pressed against yours. Robby finally feels like he can breathe again when you do that, his heart slows and something settles deep and low in his chest. A realisation blooming across his ribs, love cannot bloom in secret. It thrives in spaces where it’s seen, where it’s known and nurtured. 

“I love you.”

It's a whisper almost lost against the hum of your washing machine and the steady ticking of the clock, but a whisper is still a declaration and this one was a sacred thing. You pull him closer, lips ghosting over his for just a second.

“I love you too.”

Then your lips are on his and he melts.