#all this overthinking and then its over just like that and I think that's horrifying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssinstarz · 1 year ago

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acrophobia.

a mike schmidt x reader story

synopsis - mike and abby come up with a rather interesting plan to help you face your fears and to help mike better confess his love for you (reader is spoken to/about with feminine pronouns) - (fluff <3) - (reader has acrophobia / a fear of heights)

(a/n - this is my first tumblr blog! i hope you enjoy it and i am open to any requests about mike)

"just keep your eyes closed baby." mike said, trying to soothe you. the three of you (mike, abby, and you) were heading home after taking a quick stop at a bakery nearly on the other side of town. abby saw a commercial on the television about it and immediately wanted to try their strawberry cupcakes. however, in order to get back home, you guys had to drive past a long, narrow bridge.

"its hard to, mike. i can't stop imagining the car toppling over and us being shark food." you mumbled the last part, but it was very audible to mike, and definitely abby.

"what?! mike are we going to die!?!" abby said as her smile from looking at the blue sky faded into a horrified expression.

"no abs, (y/n) is just overthinking, we'll be fine." mike said confidently, then he placed a reassuring hand on your thigh and squeezed it gently.

you loved mike. you loved how he cared for abby, how he cares for you, and how he pushed through despite all of the struggles he has faced from his childhood to now. but you definitely hated heights. the thought of dropping from one sent a chill down your spine.

"just breathe, okay baby? we are halfway through this bridge. i trust that you can get through this." said mike, filling in the silence in the car. you also loved how he knew how to comfort someone.

"yeah (y/n)! we are almost home. think about the cupcakes!" abby dragged out the "cupcakes" part, showing her excitement to indulge in the fluffy treat.

you smiled, but deep down you were mortified. you grabbed mike's hand and held it tightly. you also shut your eyes tightly, trying to block out all bad visions that involve dying.

once you guys got home. you decided to go into mike's room to get the bridge off of your mind. before you slipped into the darkness of his room, mike pulled you aside and kissed your forehead and the back of your hand.

"are you okay?" he asked you, looking into your eyes with big brown ones. "i think so." you said, avoiding his gaze. he sighed and was about to step away until you grabbed his wrists. "i'm sorry about my stupid fear getting in the way of things. i really, really, really want to overcome but when i try, i just break down. i guess i just need something to motivate me to keep going, y'know?" you said to him. mike nodded and took your last sentence into deep consideration.

mike turned to walk into the kitchen but he was greeting with a small figure standing at the end of the hallway, grinning at him.

"what's wrong, abby?" mike asked, trying to get his way into the kitchen. abby just stood there, watching him. she clearly had something to say, her lips were parting open but closing again until she finally spewed out a couple of words. well, more than a couple.

"when will you and (y/n) get married? you guys have been together for like, years. and you love her a LOT. i can tell. and you wouldn't even have to buy a ring! we could use the ring mom gave me before she..." abby said, but she didn't finish the last part of her speech, she thought it was a happy moment, not an emotional one.

"but, what if she doesnt want to get married." mike says, trying to lower his voice so you couldn't hear.

"oh well then. i mean, it's clear she really loves you too, so i don't think she would leave you." abby says. mike's heart was beating so hard once he realized the love of his life felt the very same way about him. he could swear abby could hear it pounding in the quiet hallway.

"okay, I'll propose to h--" mike said, but abby interrupted him mid sentence and pulled him into the kitchen.

"great! I have an idea!"

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during the next couple of days, mike and abby have been secretly gathering information on you that aligns with abby's clever idea, as well as sneaking out of the house at night to set up the materials for their plan.

while you were grabbing grapes from the fridge mike came up the behind you and examined what you were doing, maintaining a passionate stare on you.

"uhm, can you get any closer?" you questioned him as you felt his warm breath on your bare neck.

"what? i can't check up on my girlfriend?" mike held out his arms and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you into a backwards bear hug.

"stay focused!" abby whisper-yelled from the corner, looking at mike while holding a small notebook and a pen. mike needs to figure out what you like, not get intimate with you.

"grapes. she likes grapes." mike mumbled rushing over to abby as you walked into the living room and laid down on the couch near the two. she wrote it down in her notebook and gave it to him.

today will be the day the mission will go into action.

"hey baby? can i ask you something?" mike asked as he sat down next to you, resting his head on your chest and sliding the notebook slightly under the couch.

"what's up?"

"can you come with me and abby somewhere? it's really nice."

"sure. why not?"

"okay get dressed." mike ordered, ending the conversation with a quick kiss. he sat up and you slipped into his room to grab any clothes you had over there. mike then grabbed the notebook from under the couch and looked in the fridge to grab anything else he needed. abby following close behind him.

"are you nervous?" abby asked.

"a little, what if she doesn't say yes? or what if she gets mad at me? i dont think she will like this plan." mike says, ranting on until you make your presence known.

"i'm ready!" you said. you were wearing a long-sleeved purple top with a black skirt and your hair in two braids.

even though you were in your early twenties, you dressed and did your hair like a child. that was another thing mike loved about you.

abby gave mike a reassuring look, he then motioned for the two of them to the door. they all put on their shoes and left.

as mike was driving you there, he pulled a scarf from his pocket. "you need to be blindfolded. it's a surprise." he said, handing it towards you. you were reluctant at first but you tied it on, waiting for something to happen.

mike drove to the place and with abby's help they guided you to where you were supposed to be. mike ran off somewhere else in a hurry. abby ran to the other side of where you were and called out "take off the blindfold!" you took it off with a smile but to your horror you were standing in the middle of a high, high bridge over a pretty long lake. the bridge was narrow and you could clearly see the water underneath.

"mike? mike! mike please i don't like this! m-mike...." you called out his name over and over, you felt your heart sink to your chest, your breathing pattern was non-existent, beads of sweat started to form on your forehead and you felt the hot sting of tears in the corner of your eyes. you looked around, your boyfriend wasnt there, only his little sister.

"i'm sorry (y/n)! mike isnt here right now. just me. but you need to pull along and come across this bridge! mike has something for you!" she yelled from the other side.

you felt sick to your stomach. you tried to move but you just couldn't. you feel down onto your knees and sobbed. abby felt horrible but she knew what mike had waiting for you.

"abby! i don't think i can do this! you know im terrified of heights!" you called out to her. abby did say anything, but after a while she finally spoke up.

"if mike was here he would tell you to keep going! (y/n), i'm telling you if you just come across this bridge, you will get the best surprise of your life! just face your fears."

abby's words hit harder than they were supposed to. you really wanted to see what mike had in store for you, but you didn't know how to get past without flipping the fuck out. even though the bridge looked terrifying, you believed it wouldn't be likely for you to fall off.

you shut your eyes tightly and crawled across the bridge on all fours. you could hear abby cheering for you as you made it to the end of the bridge.

"yay! you did it! now c'mon, mike has been waiting." abby said. she didnt even give you a moment to catch your breathe before she pulled you along a pathway near the bridge.

it felt like you two were walking for hours, for some reason your eyes were still shut, taking in the world around you slowly but surely. abby suddenly stopped and you hesitantly fluttered open your eyes.

you were met with mike, on one knee with a toothy smile. behind him was a picnic with all of your favorite fruit and favorite flowers and small details that tied into your interests.

mike cleared his throat and pulled a box out of his pocket. before he opened it he looked into your eyes and said "(y/n), i love you so much and I am very proud of you. i remember you told me you needed something to motivate you to get rid of your phobia so abby came up with this idea." he paused for a second, watching you start to tear up, but he kept speaking.

"you are a great person. all of these years you cared for abby and me and we deeply appreciate that. my point is.." he paused, "(y/n), will you marry me?" mike said as he opened up the black box in his hands, revealing a shiny ring.

you nodded and then he walked up to you and put the ring on your finger. abby couldn't stop cheering and clapping. she jumped onto the both of you and hugged you two tightly, nearly pushing the three of you over.

mike gave you a kiss on your forehead and the three of you stood in each other's embrace.

#mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt fluff

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foxounderscorecube · 2 years ago

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The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks

4¼ ⭐

I first read this book when I was a teenager and a really big edgelord. I think my mum told me about it because the storyline really stuck with her for its weirdness, and who'd have thought it, it stuck with me, too.

Re-reading it, though, it's a very funny book - funnier than I remembered. I think the contrast of Frank's weird sort of innocence and his sadism is part of it, but the times that he gets this close to self-awareness are great, too. He knows he's awful (albeit not anything close to as awful as he really is) and he just chooses to be that way. It's everyone else's problem to deal with it. In that sense, the story reminds me of Nekojiru Gekijou, a dark comedy anime about two kittens with terrible parents that deals with very similar themes (and definitely something I'd recommend if you like that sort of thing). Frank would get on great with Nyako and Nyatta if it weren't for the fact he'd probably put them on the Sacrifice Poles.

Frank's witchcraft (although he'd probably hate it being called that) is really interesting to me as someone who also has a tendency to look for patterns in things and read some sort of meaning in the patterns. I just do tarot readings as opposed to torturing wasps, but there's a lot of… hmm, you can't really call it sense, but there's a structure to his beliefs. I think that's really worth noting, because it's one thing having a character be an amateur diviner, but it's another to have him do his own made-up rituals that have a sense of logic to them, you know?

The book contains almost no likeable characters of any importance, unless you count Jamie, who deserves a better friend than Frank. He's just a fella hanging out and seems to really care about Frank, inexplicably. I do really enjoy how Frank seems to see his dad as an entirely different creature, but they are remarkably similar people: very emotionally detached, very manipulative, very focused on their weird pursuits, and very certain of their intellectual superiority over others. I think their parallels are drawn really well.

Eric is sort of an outlier and sort of not. It's kind of like he had some sort of layer of kindness and humanity that cloaked an inner core that matched his father and brother that was only revealed after his mental break triggered in part by the incident with the smiling baby (still the only scene I've read that has ever made me physically gag! Not as bad when I knew what to expect but still absolutely fucking horrifying stuff. Thanks, Iain Banks.). That the story ends before we ever really know what was going on with Eric's escape is kind of disappointing, but it does seem like a good place for it to end. The anticipation of Eric was the point - it's what Frank has been imagining and focusing on for however long, what so much of his divination asks after, all of that.

The whole thing about Frank's assigned sex is… bizarre? I mean, okay, when I'm reading it then there's suspension of disbelief here, but I like to overthink things and then ramble about them, so you know. It seems that Frank probably is a guy - his masculinity is VERY important to him and his misogyny is based on what he thinks are very logical beliefs (dumbass. He'd love modern incel culture). That's probably a good thing because the real-life experiments of raising a child as the opposite sex without their knowledge have resulted (to my knowledge) in the poor thing growing up with gender dysphoria and all the shit that comes with that. But he seems surprisingly okay with the fact that his dad hid his sex from him this entire time. Pissed off, which you would be. But, in the end, just kind of like "huh. alright I guess?". If Frank had shown any indication of feeling that he was truly a girl, it'd have made sense (although I suppose the hypermasculinity could have been cope), but for someone who shows real devastation and sadness and - dare I say it - bottom dysphoria over their lack of dick and balls (which is the case for most guys, regardless of whether they've had a freak accident castration or unsatisfactory genital assignment), you'd expect him to be a bit more confused, right, if nothing else?

Then again, his brother did also just try to blow up the entire house with him and their dad still in it, so I guess he's got more pressing things to consider, all in all. And it does make for quite the plot twist. It adds a nice layer of irony to the fact that Women are one of Frank's worst enemies, and that's ultimately the point - I don't think it's especially included because of anything to do with gender identity in that sense.

It could also be argued that surely, at the age of 16, he'd have investigated his anatomy enough to find that he had a vulva, although given that he was also medicated to keep his libido minimal and is shown to avoid ever looking at or interacting with his crotch any more than scratching an itch from time to time, eh, I don't really know. His curiosity is rather more directed towards the outside world than himself and he seems to prefer not to think too hard about his physical form because it doesn't match his view of himself as the big buff manly man he thinks he should be.

Overall, I had fun reading this book, even now I'm out of my phase of reading edgy shit for the sake of it. It's a bit silly and gratuitous in its violence and if that's not for you, then that's totally fair enough. I like its horridness, though, and it manages to be a very interesting exploration of innocence and ignorance and - dare I say it - a decent (and heavily-barbed) critique of toxic masculinity in various forms.

#read 2023 #reviewed 2023 #reread #fiction #horror fiction #book review #reading

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herriblog · 1 year ago

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The clock struck 12am. As i heard the grab rider leaving the ordered item on the house gate. I came out to collect the chocolate cake and cheese cake (coffeebean). I placed the candle on the chocolate cake as he loves chocolate cake (i couldnt get chocolate indulgence cake as secret recipe was closed). I went to the room to surprise him. As i walked into the room, i could feel my late brother in law with me as i surprised him with the cake. Minder was surprised that he received a cake like this. The last time we had celebrated his birthday was in BSS with me and Metay (when it was after midnight). I remember seeing him smile and being all bashful. I wanted him to remember all the good things despite the issues that we had been facing the past few months. Thankful i had recorded his expressions bcus what would happen in the morning changed our lives entirely.

It was about 10/11-ish when i received the most dreaded phone call from the Paediatrician from SGH. She told me that there was some abnormality found in Mannat’s blood test (our second born who was 7 days old) and that she does not know what was abnormal. She informed me that the immunology nurse from KKH will call me. I took her words literally like she doesn’t know. But tbh, how can a healthcare professional not know what abnormality it was and calling the parent to say about the test had abnormality but do not know what it was.

After i hung up the call, I called out to Minder to share it with him. I held my chest n told him the news. I said that I was scared. He reassured me and said maybe its nothing serious and not to overthink. But a post partum brain overthinks alot. The phone rang again and it was the KKH nurse. After probing more, she shared the results from the newborn metabolic screen. It stated that the Severe Compromised Immunodeficiency Disease was out of range and he had to come to KKH to repeat the test the next day. We agreed to come over the next day at 8:30am.

Meanwhile the entire afternoon, i was googling about his condition and crying. Minder was being very optimistic and said, “dont worry. Maybe its a false reading. Or maybe his immunity hasn’t kicked in and when they repeat it, it will be normal.” I cried, “ i hope that’s the case.”

I texted my work best friend who also googled and helped me ask her oncology friends about what is it about etc. she informed me that Mannat has no immunity and required bone marrow transplant to get his immunity. Transplant can happen if either parents, or siblings is a match or they will take it from the cord blood (which we didnt store, so we have to take it from someone else else). She also told me that Mannat has to be in isolation for months to a year. I was horrified. I told Minder about it. He didn’t want to look or sound panic. He just said it’s ok. Dont cry. I couldnt stop crying. Did I cause my son to inherit this gene from me? Is it my fault? Till date, this thoughts still linger in my mind. At one point, Minder came out of the toilet sharing more information about this condition to me. He told me not to worry. And that treatment is a success if Mannat doesn’t catch any infection. Hearing that made me feel better but to think that Mannat has to undergo so many blood tests and the poking, the line insertion. Waheguru. I cried again. I started to have these thoughts, why did i wanted a second child? I should have been happy with Akaal. Why am I subjecting him to all this pain? It’s all my fault. Will Minder hate me for giving Mannat this? What if he starts to despise me just like the Savour365 tiktok video. (It was an article about a young mom who has a sickly child and left her job to look after the child. After few years later, the child got very sick and had to be hospitalised. The husband started to get distant. The wife kept overeating due to stress. When the wife wanted intimacy from the husband, he refused to hold her hand, touch her or even kiss her. He then shared that he despised her and think that she couldnt even do a good job in looking after her son (even though she was a SAHM). He blamed her for it)). I was so scared that this will happen. Minder and I have been distant since the last trimester. He did share his concerns with me. And i agree that i have not been the best partner, not best in listening. I have always reacted when he made a statement. So he feels like it is best not to share with me. But lately, we have been a little better than before. Even though, he feels that i will always scold him or make comments. For instance, helping me change my spectacle frame, he said dont scold me if u don’t like it. I said i wont scold. I just need a new frame cus my glasses is falling off. He constantly said that twice to thrice which hurt me. Tbh, i couldnt care if the glasses was nice or pretty. My vision to look after my son was more important. He got the glasses and i held myself from making any comment that i used to make easily. I was giddy from the new glasses cus i need time to get used to it. So i dealt with it on my own bcus if i made the comment, he would respond with ‘i told you already. U wont like it. See lah.’ Frankly I am thankful that he got the glasses and they wont fall off so easily when i change Mannat’s pampers.

Married life is hard. It is not a bed of roses everyday. Intimacy doesn’t always been sexually or lovey dovey. It can be getting your spouse the spectacles that she needed, managing your other children while she manage the other one (i understand that i dont say it often but i do appreciate him looking after Akaal. But i get frustrated cus i am the only one managing the lil one the whole day with no breaks). This is a test of our patience, marriage, love. But it will be for the better.

To infinity and beyond.

#Relationship #SCIDbaby #parentoftwo #strugglesofmarriage

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whimzl · 2 years ago

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His name is Lane Equinox (Through the Tides if you will) AND HE IS A 26 YEAR OLD MAN WHO JUST NEEDS A HUG MORE THAN ANYTHING!!! He is so interesting and I need to know what's going on inside his brain (I made him... I know)

On the surface he is just a sad and very pathetic man, not to say those things aren't true about him, they're just even more true than you originally expected. He lives alone in a house he used to share with his girlfriend of 7+ years who left him when he was in a coma after getting struck by lightning (the second time), and he only ever leaves it to go get groceries. He lost connection not only with all of his friends, but his family as well, and he spends each moment of his day working on something he prays will make his situation just a bit better. It won't, by the way.

I want to pick apart each aspect of his character I find important or... fun! And honestly I think it starts with just how. upset. he is. Hes constantly on the verge of tears because hes just scared of everything all the time. Hes afraid to leave his house because he knows people will stare at the scars on his face, hes scared to be judged, hes scared of loud noises, hes scared of heights, hes scared of cloudy days or sunny, hes scared of love, hes scared of death. If it exists his mind will find a reason to be scared of it.

He also... his self worth and stuff is rock bottom. He knows he looks different, and be knows his body is practically in constant pain due to all these things hes done. His hair is unkempt and in his face all the time as an attempt to cover up his lichtenberg figure scar that branches up his face and points directly to his fucked up eye that's constantly irritated and he can't see well out of. He's partially deaf too, and god does he hate it. It's mainly the scar though, its a constant reminder of the worst incident(s) of his life! And he just can't seem to move past that because he won't accept that this is him now. He still sees himself as the person he was before all the terrible things fucked him over, and it's... well bad for him! In the current little game hes in, he is working towards coming to terms with how he looks, but I dont think hes going to get very far before he dies. Not to mention the fact that his nose was cut off, he didn't take that very well. When someone he trusted was helping with, well, the wound, one of the things he said was "dont look at me", not because it would be gore-y or anything, but because he was just so. horrified? He could only imagine what he looked like now and he hated the thought of it.

Other than his appearance, he doesn't really think he has much to offer. In his mind he's useless, despite the fact that he is... real close to being considered a genius. He knows he's terrible with social situations, and that hea terrible under pressure. He faints if hes too scared, and hes scared all the time. He's constantly overthinking and just... so much more. He really does undervalue himself, I think.

I think overall the just.. amount of emotion he has to him (good or bad) is just... so important. Like every emotion he experiences is turned up to 11, and I think that's fun to play with.

I am allowed to call my own oc my babygirl because he IS my babygirl

#oc #hes my babygirl

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cambria-writes · 2 years ago

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ETA 27 Nov 2022: it has taken me literally weeks to realize that this is chapter thirteen, that i posted as chapter twelve, and that there’s a whole almost 4K words missing between this and the chapter i posted before it. i cannot express how much of an utter fucking buffoon i feel like please forgive me oh my god

hello! i think i proofread this, but as i mentioned before I wrote all of this in a trance after a really shit day so. honestly who knows.

i actually. i'm super insecure about this and i really don't. i don't know man. i'm trying not to make reader a mary-sue but i'm also fighting tooth and nail with myself about the fact that it wouldn't matter even if she was. my inner demons are bitches fr. send help

if i'm totally real i might. i might rewrite this and shove a few things into the next chapter. i don't know. i don't know!!

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader rating: M, each chapter rated individually warnings: swearing, bleading, minor injuries, author was dissociated while writing basically, pacing is off the charts word count: 4,481

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 ℜ𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩

The silence in the RV is practically deafening. Your skin feels too tight and your head feels full of cotton. It’s hard to think past the anxiety of it. For years, now, you’ve had to deal with nightmares, visions and horrifying knowledge that wouldn’t be believed. Years of being made to feel like Cassandra; bringer of prophecy and never believed. You’ve had to watch people die over and over again, without any ability to do anything about it.

You haven’t had much time to stop and think about why you have powers now in the first place. It’s connected to Eleven opening the gate in ‘83, that much you know. Well, you assume. The timing is a little bit too convenient for these things not to be connected.

What you’re not sure about is why all of a sudden you can do things now, instead of just having to spectate. You’re filtering through the events that you remember seeing, but nothing matches up with the timing. Nothing happened right before the night you first plane shifted. Even Chrissy was… even that was after.

A part of you wants to believe it’s just a reactionary thing; maybe some part of you is connected to the Upside Down, maybe it’s just nature providing its new predator with a foil. When you sigh, a hand comes down on your shoulder. You’re sat on the ground between Eddie’s legs; you don’t need to look up to know he’s wanting to ask what’s wrong. You shake your head and wave him off.

You’re overthinking things again.

When Steve hits the brakes on the RV, you slowly get up and follow Lucas, Erica and Sam to the door. You stop on the last step and look out at the house in front of you.

“Well that’s… that looks safe.”

Lucas snorts and Max turns around to look at you.

“Welcome to Creel Manor,” Max says, extending an arm out towards the run down building.

“Wait,” you say, when the three are about to walk off into the house. You reach out to grab Lucas’ hand and put your handgun, grip first, into it. “The safety’s already off, so be careful. Just…” You look from Lucas’ shocked face to the house, behind you to the RV, and back to the boy in front of you. “Anyone show up, aim for the legs, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees, quietly, looking from the gun back to you. “Enough people dead already, right?”

When you give him a pat on the shoulder, the thought comes to you. You run back in to tell Steve to wait for you for just a second, grab one of the soda’s from your designated pack by Eddie’s feet, and run back out, past the kids, straight to the front door.

“Hey, what are you—” Erica starts, but you hiss at the lot of them.

“Shut up, I need to focus.”

You use the corroded knob on the front door to pop open the soda and chug it as fast as you can. It burns the entire way down, and when the bottle is empty you feel like you’re five seconds away from regurgitating it all back up. You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, and place your hand on the panels covering what you know is a stained glass window underneath.

You have no idea if this is going to work. You know this is at least an eighth level spell, and you have no way of knowing what can or can’t work with you. You’ve used different schools so far—alteration, divination, necromantic—so there’s no real way to know for sure.

Nevertheless, you close your eyes, try your best to develop a mental image of the front porch you’re standing on, and take one last deep breath.

On the exhale, you whisper something low enough that you know that no one else could've possibly heard you.

Immediately, the wooden panel under your hand splits, and you can hear the bushes around the porch rustle. You can hear the three kids calling after you behind you, mostly panicked. When you pull you hand away from the door and look at your palm, there’s a small gash where the splintered wood cut the skin open.

You ball your hand into a fist and wipe the blood from your nose before turning around. You toss the empty bottle into the bushes and ignore Lucas and Erica in favour of walking up to Max.

“Remember what I said at the lake,” you say, sternly, clenching your jaw against the headache pounding behind your eyes. “You’re not responsible for this. It’s not your job to fix this alone.”

“Yeah,” Max breathe, nodding shortly.

You bite your lips and nod once before running back up and in to the RV. Steve speeds off before the door even shuts behind you, and Eddie is right there, grabbing you by the shoulders with a force that startles.

“What the hell was that?”

“Contingency,” you say quietly, slowly reaching up to pull his hands off your shoulders. “I don’t have to think about or do everything, but I can at least give myself a plan B.”

“And what’s your plan B, exactly?” You hear Robin ask. You turn your head to look over your shoulder at Nancy before looking back up at Eddie. You let him reach up to swipe a thumb over your upper lip.

“Evac.”

“Okay,” Nancy starts, pushing herself away from the front seats to look back at the rest of you. “I wanna run through it one more time. Phase one.”

“We meet Erica at the playground,” Robin says, voice calm and low. “She’ll signal Max and Lucas when we’re ready.”

“Phase two.”

“Max baits Vecna,”Steve says, hands on his hips. “He’ll go after her, which’ll put him in his trance.”

Nancy nods. “Phase three?”

“Me and Eddie draw the bats away.”

“And if anything goes wrong?” Nancy prompts, and you raise your hand from behind Eddie.

“I plane shift them back, we take the bikes and meet up with Erica.”

“Four.”

“We head into Vecna’s hopefully newly bat-free lair and… flambé.” Robin says, holding up one of the Molotovs.

“Nobody moves onto the phase phase until we’ve all copied,” Nancy starts, before looking pointedly at you. “Nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what. Got it?”

You just nod while the rest voice their confirmation and swallow thickly. It’s obvious she knows you’ve got a plan no one else is involved in, and she seems adamant in letting you know not to resort to it.

And you can’t make promise like that. Not for this.

When everyone moves for their gear, after you’ve picked up your bag from the floor, you grab Eddie by the arm and hold him back.

“Hey, you trust me, right?” You ask, letting your hand slide down to his once he’s stopped to turn around to face you. He frowns but nods once.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, sounding unsure. “Yeah, of course. Why…”

You take a second to bite your lip. “Word of Recall,” you whisper, tightening your fingers around his hand. “That’s what I used. Just… just in case.”

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Steve calls out, poking his head in through the door. “We’re on a time crunch here guys.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize quickly, dropping Eddie’s hand and bolting before he can say anything. You pull your bag around to your front and rummage through the contents to grab a switch knife and tuck it into your right front pocket.

Inside the trailer, you move past the gate and head straight for the bathroom.

“Hey, I get that this is really stressful and we probably won’t be able to use the bathroom in a while but,” Robin starts, following you and pausing in the doorway.

Your hand is deep under the sink’s cabinet, reaching for the two cans of hairspray you know are tucked in there.

“Okay now I’m even more confused.”

While you stuff the cans into your bag, you pull out a zippo with your free hand.

“They hate fire,” you explain shortly, tugging harshly on the bag’s ties before getting up on the floor. “I know it’s not part of the Grand Plan or whatever but honestly I’d rather be safe.”

Robin just stands there and looks at you for a second before shrugging her shoulders. “Suit yourself, as long as you don’t blow yourself up.”

Thankfully, going through the gate doesn’t bring or induce anything awful this time. When Nancy and Robin pull you up to your feet after dropping in, you stand to the side just to listen. Your head stays blissfully free of any lich telepathy. You glance quickly over at Nancy, who’s grabbing the weapons Eddie’s throwing up through the gate, and can’t help but wonder.

You shake the thoughts out of your head and, once everyone and everything is through safely, you head out the door, behind Dustin. Eddie’s just put his hand at your lower back when Steve turns around.

“Hey, guys, listen” he calls out, making his way back over to the three of you. He points at you. “If things here start to go south—”

“Abort, take them back,” you finish for him, heaving your back higher up on your shoulder. “We’ve been through that, I know.”

“Right. Just, draw the attention of the bats, keep ‘em busy for a minute or two, and we’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be cute, or, be a hero or something.” You notice how Steve seems to be looking more intently at Dustin, now. “You guys are just—”

“Decoys,” Dustin interrupts. “Don’t worry, you can be the hero, Steve.” You can’T help but snort.

‘Absolutely, I mean,” Eddie continues, and vaguely gestures at the three of you. “Look at us. We are not heroes.”

Steve looks pointedly at you again and you put your hands up.

“Hey, I’m not a hero either man, I’m just the party cleric.”

Steve looks entirely unconvinced, though that might just be the nerves showing. He nods, and moves to walk away, but Eddie takes a step forward and calls out to him. He looks back at Dustin, then over his other shoulder to you, before saying, “Make him pay.”

Red lightning strikes immediately followed by a clap of thunder. You flinch at the sound, immediately followed by yelp when you feel something at your elbow.

“Hey, sorry,” Dustin says, leaning away and putting his hand up. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Come on,” you say a little louder, tapping Dustin’s arms and moving towards one of the other trailers. “Time to set up.”

While Eddie and Dustin go through the Munson trailer to get the amp, wires and his beloved Warlock, you busy yourself with getting the ladder. You prop it up against the side of the trailer as best you can so it won’t be too wobbly, and make your way onto the roof. You let your bag drop and give a few thumps with your feet. When you hear Dustin shouting, you smirk and move to grab the length of rope you’d stashed in your bag. You work to loop part of it around your waist and tie it as tightly as you can manage, sit just beyond the ladder, and toss the rest of the rope down.

The front door makes you jump when it slams open, and you sigh when you hear Dustin whooping.

“You ready for the most metal concert ever?!”

“I would’ve rather be at the Hideout to hear Eddie play for the first time but I guess this fuckin’ works,” you return, leaning back on your hands. “Hurry up losers, we’re wasting daylight.”

“Yeah, calm your tits, woman,” Eddie grumbles, hitching the amp higher in his arms. “Isn’t even any daylight in this place anyways.”

When they’re up next to the ladder, Dustin carefully ties the handle of the amp before making his way up the ladder. Slowly, the two of you pull the amp up along the ladder. You scoot back as much as you can while Dustin grabs the thing and heaves it up onto the roof. The larger amps nearly make you slide off the edge of the roof, but after the second one, the other two don’t feel as heavy.

“You’re good!” You call out to Eddie, quickly untying the rope from your waist. You’re about to just toss it to the side, but quickly ball it up and toss it back into your bag.

Eddie tosses the aux cords up first, then the spears. He goes back down to get the makeshift shield and, when he’s high enough up on the ladder, pulls the guitar from his back and passes it over into your waiting hands.

“You find the generator?” You ask, passing the guitar off the Dusting, who carey gingerly leans it up against the amp.

“Yeah, just gimme a minute to get it running,” Eddie says, strained, before letting himself slide back down the ladder. You cross you arms and worry at your lower lip while you start to pace.

“So,” Dustin starts, and when you look over at him he’s got his hands behind his back and is rocking back and forth on his feet. “How long have you and Eddie been a thing?”

Though you do your best impression of a blank stare, you feel your stomach drop and your heart leap into your throat.

“What?” He whines, easing his back and forth swaying and brings his arms in front of his to gesture at you. “Have you seen the two of you?”

“Bullshit,” you spit, leaning down to grab your bag. “He’s like that with everyone. Besides, I haven’t even seen him in like, three years. We barely know each other.”

“Uh huh,” Dustin nods, and you groan when he looks entirely unconvinced and very much like a little shit. “Look, I’m just saying! He doesn’t look at us that way!”

“Look at you in what way, dude? He looks at me with eyes and a face like a normal human.”

“He looks at you,” Dustin starts again, lowering his voice and walking up to you. “Like you’re a ghost he never thought he’d see again.”

You scoff and turn your head away. “Yeah well, he’s not wrong.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means we’re different, kid,” you say quietly, pulling out a hand to inspect your suddenly very interesting nails. “A lot has happened since ‘83. Maybe he’s the same, but I’m not.”

“No, you’re right.” And the shock of his agreement has you looking back at Dusting. “I mean, a lot has happened in three years, sure. And yeah, I mean look at you, you’ve got legit superpowers now.”

“And massive trauma from seeing people die all the time.”

“And massive trauma fr—wait. You saw people die?”

You turn away again and run a hand down your face.

“Yeah. Yeah I did. I saw Nancy’s friend get caught by a demogorgon. Some scientist at the lab. Bob, all the people that got turned into—into goop. Fucking, Billy.” You take in a stuttering breath. Somewhere not too far away you hear Eddie swearing before the sound of a generator starting drowns him out. “Any time someone died because of the Upside Down, I was there. I saw it.”

“Shit,” Dustin whispers.

“Yeah. Shit.”

The sound of the generator cuts out, and Eddie’s is audible again. You exhale sharply through your nose and turn back to face Dustin.

“Can you promise me something?”

“Uh,” Dustin takes a step back and frowns. “That depends entirely on what the promise is.”

You lick your lips and point at him. “No matter what happens, okay,” you start, pointing down at your bag. “And I don’t give a flying but about Wheeler’s plan. No matter what happens, once we get out of here, I need you to distract Eddie for me.”

“What, why would you—”

“I’m expecting an answer, Henderson, not an interrogation. Will you or won’t you?”

The frown stays on his face a second longer before realization takes over his features. Not a good kind of realization.

“When you were talking about evac,” he starts slowly, first turning to walk away before turning back to point at you. “You were talking about Max.”

“Dustin,” you warn, voice low.

“You were. You’re actually thinking about trying to be a hero.”

“I’m not! I’m just, this is stupid!”

“What’s stupid now?” Eddie calls from the ground, and no sooner you turn around to face the ladder does an extension cord come flying over the edge. You and Dustin both stand by and watch it slowly slide back over the edge. “Seriously guys, hello?”

Dustin moves first to kneel at and look over the edge. You huff and make yourself useful and start plugging up the amps and the guitar. Once Dustin manages to grab the extension cord—after several almost-hilarious failures—it’s a quick fix to get the amps plugged in.

You barely have a second to breathe before the walking crackles to life.

“She’s in, move on to phase three.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, turning to Eddie while Dustin confirms. “Remember, no funny business. THe bats show up, we go in, and we get the fuck out of here.”

“And if shit hits the fan, we’ve got you,” Eddie confirms, surprising you by pulling you to him with a hand behind your neck, and knocking your foreheads together. “Get ready to have your mind blown.”

You almost laugh and slowly take a few steps back when he lets you go. Dustin walks up next to you after turning the amps up as far as they’ll go, and nudges you with an elbow. You smack him upside the head with a scowl in return. Eddie whispers something you don’t quite catch when he rips the guitar pick from around his neck, and starts to play.

Your whispered ‘what the fuck’ is lost in the opening bars of Master of Puppets. Next to you, Dustin seems to appreciate Eddie’s performance, but you can’t help the slack-jawed, shocked look you know is on your face. That song came out barely three weeks ago.

Dustin smacks you in the arm, looking absolutely delighted while bobbing his head to the song. You frown and nod—yeah this is. For a once man show in hell surrounded by murderous everything, this really… this really isn’t that bad.

It’s not too long after, once Dustin’s taken a look through his binoculars, that the countdown starts. You throw your bag over your shoulder and run for the edge of the roof where you know a truck is parked and hop down. You can barely hear Dustin calling out for ten seconds by the time you’ve opened the door beyond the fence. You hear the clatter of the guitar against the roof and usher the two of them in through the fence. By the time you slam the door shut behind you and the three of you are in the trailer, you’re lightheaded from holding your breath.

Slumped against the door, you can help but chuckle when both Dustin and Eddie start jumping up and down like excited kids. Though you’re glad they’re capable of having a good time about this, you really wish adrenaline could have the same effect on you.

You really just feel like vomiting, and the sound of a swarm of shrieking bats outside isn’t making things any easier.

When you hear the tell-tale thump of bats landing on the roof, while Eddie and Dustin move to stand back to back just underneath the gate, you once again move past them to the bathroom. Reach under the sink, and pull… three? Alright, cool, three more cans of hairspray. You drop them onto the mattress when you walk back out, and grab the two from your bag to throw them down too. You pause from where you’re sitting on the mattress, looking up and Eddie and Dustin. Eddie shrugs, just as confused when the trailer goes silent.

“Hey dipshits!” Dustin screams, and you’re shocked at how guttural it sounds. “Give up that easy huh?!”

“Dude shut up!” You whisper harshly, fishing for the lighter in your jacket

“Is that really necessary?” Eddie asks, but before Dustin can say anything else there’s a thump on the roof,

And another. And the thumps are headed in… a specific direction?

Spray in one and and lighter in the other, you slowly follow Eddie and Dustin as they make their ways toward—

“Tell me that’s not a fucking vent,” you whisper, nudging Eddie.

“They can’t come in through there, can they?” Dustin asks. And you’re about to berate him for saying possibly the worst thing he could say in this situation when the plastic cover comes flying off.

You shove post Eddie and Dustin out of the way, flick your lighter and start spraying.

The fire and heat shock you, but clearly not more than it shocked the bat who stuck it’s stupid little head inside.

“Get out of the way!” Eddie shouts behind you, and though you back up a little, you keep the fire going until you realize what he’s.

Eddie hops on the chair he slides over, hops on and jams the shield right into the ceiling. When it’s been quiet for a second, you let out a breathy laugh.

“Would you look at that, the nails didn’t pop out.” You turn when the two high five each other, but frown and wave them down. “Wait hold up.”

“Are there any other vents?” Dustin asks, and Eddie doesn’t even say a word before he takes off for the other end of the trailer.

You stay stock still under the gate, fingers gripping the can and lighter with sore fingers. You give yourself a moment to close your eyes in resignation when you hear a swarm of bats burst in through Eddie’s bedroom.

“Come on!” You scream, motioning wildly at Dustin to get up and through the gate. “Get up there!” He swears the entire way to you, through the gate, and when he finally stands up on the other side, relatively safe and sound. You quickly grab your bag and scoop the hairspray back into it.

“Leave that shit here!” Eddie yells, spear and second shield aimed at the slowly splintering door. “Get up there!”

Tie the bag firmly shut and bring it to your front, pocket your lighter and jump up as high as you can to grip the rope. Just as unpleasant the third time around. You’re rolling off the mattress, clutching your bag for dear life and briefly wondering what the tipping point is for a glass bottle of soda to explode, when you notice Dustin’s shouting getting desperate.

You scramble to your feet and trip over the mattress. When you look up,Eddie’s barely made it halfway up.

And he’s just hanging there.

“Eddie, please,” Dustin pleads, and the look on Eddie’s face makes your blood run cold.

“Eddie,” you whine, grabbing the rope with one hand. “Edward Munson, I swear—”

“On your dad’s Elvis vinyl collection, I know,” he says quietly. But nevertheless, he lets himself drop back down and while Dustin is shrieking, Eddie.

Eddie cuts the god damn fucking rope.

“No,” you growl. “No, no no no, no that lying piece of fuckign shit. Dustin, stop,” you call out, walking over and pulling him away from the table.

“What are you talking about, Eddie’s—”

“Eddie’s lucky he has a fucking plane shifting friend is what he is!” You shout, shoving Dustin toward the trailer door. “Go meet up with Erica, and don’t get caught. I’ll get us both back in one piece.”

“But—”

“Go!”

You’re fuming. Absolutely raging. You let yourself pace for a second before closing your eyes.

Your stomach drops. Your breath gets caught.

And for a wonderful fraction of a second, there’s no sound.

And then it’s right back into the shrieking swarm of bats. And though you’re almost loathe to recognize it, you were right.

None of them come even close to touching you as the few stragglers left in the trailer fly out the door. You run out the door after them just in time to see Eddie pull a bike up off the ground.

“Eddie, you son of a bitch!” You scream, barrelling into him to knock you both down to the ground.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Saving your stupid fucking idiotic traitor ass!” You shout back, awkwardly shimmying the bag off. “They can’t get me but they can get you, god, fuck, why did you do that,” you grind out between grit teeth, looming over Eddie with both hands braced on either side of his head to keep you up.

You feel the brush of sharp wings and serrated tails on your back as the bats swarm around you, until you don’t. A quick glance to either side of you confirms that the bats are, in fact, trying to get to Eddie by crawling on the ground. You don’t even have time to question why the hell they’re so intent on him.

Eddie shoves you off as gently as you figure someone can manage in this kind of situation, and immediately reaches into your bag to grab a can of hairspray. You lunge for the bag on the ground and dump everything. Pull the switchblade out and cut a few inches of rope and unravel it.

Pull out your lighter.

Flick it on. Carefully tie the rope around to keep the switch depressed and release.

Put the lighter down on the ground in front of you and reach for the hairspray.

Tie the rest of the rope down the length of the can to make sure the nozzle keeps spraying.

When you put it next to the lighter, it’s close enough to catch fire.

You stumble back up on your feet and snatch the bottle of soda. By the time you have your free on Eddie’s shoulder to pull him back, he’s got the bats flying back up in the air, a column of fire keeping most of them away.

“Count down to one for me,” you say, popping open the bottle of soda with your teeth. There’s a quick shot of pain before you take another swig, and you know you’ve chipped a tooth. “From five!”

“What the hell am I counting down to?” Eddie asks over his shoulder at you.

“Do you trust me or not?”

You can see Eddie twisting his tongue.

“Five.”

You close your eyes and take another swig of the soda.

“Four.”

Dry bushes, rotten wood, covered stained glass.

“Three, and this better be good cause I’m running out!”

You take a deep breath and think about derelict manors..

“Two!”

“Cut the fire.”

“What?!”

“You were supposed to say one,” you whisper. “Ravenloft.”

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@storiesbyrhi @anothermunsonsimp @doratheignora @alovesongshewrote

#eddie munson #reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #ravenloft #im shaking at this point i swear #im 100% convinced this is garbage #and i'm not even fishing here im just fucking insecure lmao #glitch #glitch warning #gif warning

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sturchling · 3 years ago

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could do a fan fiction where Lila and marinette were actually best friends but were faking to see who were good friends or not. If you do , do it pls take your time I don’t want to rush you

Also look at the taco I made

Sorry this took so long! I know you said not to rush, but still! Thanks for being patient! Hope you like it, and that is a interesting looking taco. Definitely different from my family's style of taco! Hope you enjoy the story!

Marinette had been attending a creative arts summer program for several years. The program was based out of London and kids from all over Europe would attend for different styles of creative arts. Marinette's grandmother would always make sure to be in London during the month of this program and Marinette would stay with her while the program was happening. Marinette often found herself excited for this one month away from Paris. Sure she loved being with her parents and friends, but it was nice to get away to a place nobody knew you for a while. She never even told her class where she went for that one month out of the summer. It was great.

---------------------

Marinette made a lot of friends at the program, but she loved to hang out with Lila. She was studying theater at the program while Marinette studied fashion design. Lila was always so fun to hang out with, and they would spend hours just working on their different projects. Marinette working on her newest design, while Lila refined her monologues. Marinette was always amazed by Lila's acting. Its like she became a completely different person with each new piece Lila was practicing. It was very impressive.

------------------

Over the last few years, Marinette was starting to feel as though her friends in Paris weren't real friends. She started to notice how they only really wanted to hang out when they needed her to design or bake something. And they would often ask for things last minute, not thinking about Marinette's schedule, or even offering to pay for the supplies. Marinette didn't want to think that of her classmates, but it was getting difficult to ignore. Especially this year, because the amount of requests they had made had nearly tripled. Marinette was thrilled when it was time to head to her summer program and she could get away from Paris for a while.

------------------

Lila noticed pretty quickly that Marinette seemed different this year. She seemed more down, and more quiet then previous years. "Marinette? Is something wrong? You seem quiet..." Marinette snapped out of her trance and looked up at Lila. "Sorry Lila, I'm alright.." Lila put down her script, and sat down next to Marinette. "Come on Marinette. I can tell when you are lying. There is a reason I am in the acting program and you aren't." That got Marinette to laugh a little and for a moment she was just the happy Marinette that Lila knew. But the smile quickly faded. "Ok, I'll tell you." Marinette told Lila everything. How the class had been treating her and all of her doubts. "I just don't know if they really think of me as a friend, or if they are just using me. And I don't want to ask, because if they do think of me as a friend, I could offend them by asking. I just don't know what to do!" Lila thought for a moment, unsure of how to help her friend. She went home to think about it for the night, when her mother gave her the best news.

-----------------

The next day, Lila rushed to Marinette and told her the news. "What? Your mom said you guys are moving to Paris for a year? That's awesome!" Lila was smiling, happy to see Marinette smiling. "And, best of all, we can fix these doubts. I can pretend to be the world's worst liar. I'll try and trick the class into believing my lies, and if they fall for it, then I will try to convince them to ditch you in exchange for favors and VIP treatment. If they ditch you, then they weren't really your friends and you will know for sure. If they don't, then they really care about you and you won't have to worry anymore." Marinette agreed to the plan, and they started to plan out all the little details and the lies Lila would use on the class. By the time the program was over for the summer and Marinette returned to Paris, they had a perfect plan. All that was left was to wait for school to start.

-----------------

The school year had started, and Lila had just arrived. She wasted no time and started to wow the students with all of her 'amazing achievements'. Soon the whole school was fawning over her, with hardly any effort on Lila's part. Lila was thankfully in Mrs. Bustier's class, so that would make the plan much easier. Just as they discussed, Marinette spent most of the next few weeks trying to tell everyone that Lila was lying to them, to see if they would believe Lila or Marinette. When Marinette first voiced her concerns this past summer, Lila was sure her friend was just overthinking things. Sure the class was obviously inconsiderate from what Marinette had told Lila, but she was sure the class really thought of Marinette as a friend.

-------------------

Oh, how quickly Lila was proven wrong. It only took a few weeks for the entire class to very clearly side with Lila. They told Marinette that she was just jealous of Lila and that Lila wasn't lying. While Lila's hope for the class was diminishing with each passing day, she clung to the hope that maybe the class was just gullible, but would stick with Marinette when it mattered. Now that the class had obviously decided to believe Lila, the two girls moved to the next stage of the plan. Lila started to tell the class that Marinette was harassing and bullying her. She offered the class no proof of these claims, just told them it happened. And to Lila's surprise, the class instantly believed her and dumped Marinette immediately. They isolated Marinette and nobody would talk to her. All because Lila said so.

-----------------

Lila was truly horrified. She couldn't believe that Marinette's class ditched her like that. After talking it over with Marinette, they decided on one more test. Just to be sure that the class had truly sided with Lila for her 'connections and favors'. Lila was going to 'apologize' and reveal to the class that she had been lying and she didn't know all these people. But that was the only lie she would reveal. She would stick by what she said about Marinette bullying her. Would the class continue to defend Lila against a bully? Would they apologize to Marinette for believing a liar? Or would they instantly go back to Marinette like nothing happened?

--------------------

The next day, Lila made the reveal. She told the class she lied about her celebrity connections, made a tearful and sincere apology, said that she had just thought no one would like her so she made herself seem more important to help make friends, but made it clear that Marinette was bullying her. "I am really sorry! I was just scared about moving to a new country and was desperate to make friends. But Marinette figured it out and has been so mean to me ever since, so I was afraid how you guys would react if I told you. But you guys have been so nice, I really hope we can stay friends and I will do anything to make it up to you guys!" The class' reaction was instant. They instantly turned their backs on Lila and made her the class outcast. While that is bad, if they had apologized to Marinette, that would have made it kind of ok. But instead, they just started talking to Marinette again. They tried to act like nothing happened and they hadn't ditched Marinette for a liar. Like they hadn't believed a girl they hardly knew over their 'close friend'. Like they hadn't thought the worst in Marinette just because of Lila. That was the final straw for Marinette. It was clear to her that the class didn't really think of her as a friend. Or at the very least, they didn't treat her like a friend. And Marinette was done with it.

-----------------

Marinette decided to leave Dupont behind completely. She and Lila revealed their real plan to the class and left the school for good. She switched to a different school in the city that had a fantastic arts program. With her portfolio, the school quickly accepted her. Marinette was in her new school by Monday. Lila switched with her, and the two girls spent the rest of Lila's year in Paris having a great time at their new school. When it was time for Lila to leave, Marinette saw her and her mother to the airport, promising to see Lila at the summer program in two weeks. As she got back to the bakery one day, right before she left for London, she saw the class standing outside. They tried to apologize and ask to be friends again, but Marinette shut that down fast. "No. I am not coming back to Dupont, and we aren't friends anymore. It isn't just about Lila. Lila just made it clear that we haven't been friends for a very long time. I am happy at my new school. I have found real friends, that treat me like a friend would. And its all thanks to my real best friend, Lila. Now, please go. I have to pack for the summer." With that, Marinette went inside and closed the door on her old fake friends.

#ml #ml fic #ml fanfic #ml salt #ml salt fic #ml salt fanfic #lila rossi #lila rossi sugar #lila sugar #ml class salt #class salt #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous fic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous salt #miraculous salt fic #miraculous salt fanfic

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coulson-is-an-avenger · 3 years ago

Note

kisses 21 jm!

For the prompt “we’ll face this together” kiss. TY SAHAR!!! OKAY I accidentally had one (1) jonbinary idea and then it ended up being SO FUCKING LONG (like 2.5k long) so uh. yeah. Warnings for descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of kidnapping and self loathing, and Jon getting pretty close to a panic attack. Also disclaimer, although I am nonbinary, I’m not transfem, so if there’s any critiques surrounding that, don’t hesitate to let me know. Stay safe y’all!

Jon’s face itches as he faces the mirror like an old foe. It’s long held an image that hurts him to see; aged by unfathomable horrors and dotted with marks like a canvas before a child’s paint tipped fingers, and these days he can’t even be sure that his reflection looks away from him when he turns his head. But, the devil it holds at the moment is the simple reflection of his short beard, and his face itches at the reminder of it.

It isn’t a physical itch. It lurks under the skin, poking and prodding at his senses, rubbing him the wrong way as he lays his cheek on his pillow, leaving a distracting echo when his chin brushes against Martin’s during a kiss, scraping at the inside of his skin as he stares at himself and takes in the sight of it covering his chin.

He scrubs his fingers over his eyelids. He isn’t ignorant, he realizes the discomfort he feels is most likely somewhat gender-related, but it’s… his relationship with his gender is complicated. In a lot of ways, it’s been such a mundane concern recently that he’s somewhat lost track of where he stands with it, but he remembers how it felt to first wear a skirt into the archives, all those long years ago. How gentle Sasha had been with him back then, even if the memory pinches the back of his head and grins with too many teeth and a short haircut that he knows now was wrong. But the Stranger cannot take that act of kindness away from her, even if it took away the face he remembers sharing it with.

He had felt like he was becoming something new, then, staring at a new path, freshly paved in his life, open to the possibilities of self discovery and certainty. Then his life had been riddled with worms and his friends had been carved out, one by screaming one, and he was on the run and set alight and kidnapped and disabled and nearly killed and kidnapped again and nearly killed and—

Jon remembers, vaguely, a flash of what had happened in the month he was… gone. He doesn’t remember most of what happened in that place. Probably for the better, he tells himself, but he does recall one thing. One very simple thing, really; that he hadn’t been able to shave, and he remembers the itch being all he could focus on for days at a time.

One of the first things he had done after stumbling through Michael-now-Helen’s door-not-deathtrap was drag himself to a sink and shave his face raw, burned hand be damned. His skin had suffered afterwards, nicked and irritated beneath its smoothness, and he had taken some strange, morbid comfort in the blemish he was able to inflict, after so many days of hearing hollow voices sing of its beauty.

This is a dangerous line of thought, he realizes, hands pressed against the bathroom sink, his heartbeat starting to pound in his ears. He desperately does not want to think about that, not here, and preferably not ever again, if he can help it.

He tries to bring himself back to the here and now, grounding himself in the feeling of porcelain under his palms, but the victory over his mind is a hollow one, unfortunately, as it brings him right back to the itching under his skin.

He’s not sure if this itch is exasperated by his own self consciousness, or by the lingering sting of the Lonely that threatened to separate him from himself, but it builds until its all he can feel in his skin, on his face, and he finds himself lunging across the counter, knocking things over in an attempt to hunt down Martin’s razor.

Jon had lost his own somewhere in the chaos of living in the archives, but he’s sure he saw Martin trim his own short beard when they first arrived at the safehouse, so it must be here, he thinks, ripping open drawers, it must— aha!

His fist closes around the razor, hidden under the sink next to a small bottle of shaving cream and Martin’s testosterone shots, and he barely gives a thought to what he’s doing before raising it to his dry cheek, just needing this thing off, and—

“Jon? You know that’s not how to do that, right?”

Jon whips around like lightning, his back to the sink and the razor clenched in his fist against his chest like a talisman, breathing heavily.

Martin had been smiling slightly as he entered the bathroom, but the expression quickly falls from his face as he takes in the panicked look on Jon’s face, and the erratic motion of his free hand, clenched into a fist at his side and twitching in an attempt to calm himself. Martin steps forward quickly, outstretching a hand.

“Jon, love? Are you alright?”

Jon fixes his eyes on Martin; kind, beautiful Martin who still goes a bit grey at the fingertips and the eyes when anxiety seizes him, Martin who has always been there, always been there, ever since the beginning. Jon anchors himself as he looks at that familiar, beloved face, and tries to take a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” He manages, because this all feels very silly now. He’s a grown person standing in the center of a bathroom, clutching his boyfriend’s shaving razor like it’s a weapon, for God’s sake, all because of what? Some facial hair? Good Lord, he’s being ridiculous. “Probably, I just… um.” He trails off, gut sinking as emotions spiral through him, too fast to pin down and name.

“Okay,” Martin says gently, shuffling a step closer. “Why do you have that?” He gestures to the razor in Jon’s hand, and Jon twitches, holding it closer.

“I need to borrow it,” He explains, stumbling. “I can’t- I need-“ He makes a frustrated noise and tries to get his thoughts to align. He inhales deeply and tries again. “I need to …shave. This-“ he gestures jerkily towards his face. “This is too much.”

Martin nods carefully, eyes glued to Jon’s face. “Too much?” His question is as gentle as his eyes, and Jon has to glance away for a moment, overwhelmed by being seen.

“It’s… complicated,” He begins, the fist pressed to his chest beginning to lighten up. “It… it just itches, all the time. Like- like a thousand ants under my skin, w-which is ridiculous because it doesn’t actually hurt or itch or- or anything, it just…” he glances back to Martin’s eyes, furtive and desperate for him to understand. “I need it to stop.”

“Oh,” Martin softens even more before Jon’s eyes, his face melting with understanding and sadness. “Oh, Jon. I didn’t realize you were having dysphoria.”

At the word dysphoria Jon glances sharply up, uncertainty fraught on his face, and Martin backtracks quickly.

“Or- s-sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Is it-”

“N-no, Martin, it-it’s fine.” Jon waves Martin’s nerves aside and finds that he finally has a decent enough hold on his own to lower the hand that had been pressed against his chest. He turns around in the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, sighing heavily. “It might be dysphoria, I don’t…” He hesitates, chuckling slightly. “I’m not quite sure I know it well enough to place it. Gender hasn’t exactly been… a priority these days.”

Martin nods and follows him deeper into the bathroom, setting down the lid of the toilet so he can sit on it and listen to Jon blunder through his feelings.

“It might be? I mean… I know I’m not a man, per say, but it… I mean, it could also be so many other things at this point. It’s just- I know it’s stupid to overthink, but—“

“Hey, hey,” Martin cuts him off, extending a hand to brush against the side of his knee. “It isn’t stupid, Jon. You don’t have to have a label or a reason in order to be uncomfortable. It’s- you’re allowed to call it just that; uncomfortable.”

Jon nods, looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

“I know. It just hit me so suddenly, I-” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead, careful to avoid brushing any of the hairs on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Martin murmurs, and his hand rests more solidly on Jon’s knee. “Is this alright?”

Jon nods mutely, and lets himself expel some more of the tension in his shoulders as he focuses on the motion of Martin’s thumb sweeping softly over his knee.

“It reminds me of the circus,” Jon breathes after a moment of silence, and Martin’s hand stills against him, attentive and horrified. “When- when they…” He inhales sharply, willing his voice not to break. “Well, I couldn’t very well shave it,” He clenches his hands into fists again, still holding the razor tightly in his right. “Got it off as quickly as possible once I could.”

Martin exhales. “I remember that. I thought you just… I dunno, just really nicked yourself. I didn’t think about… yeah.”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, keeping his gaze on the hand on his knee. “I-I mean, I definitely did, nick myself that is. I wasn’t really thinking about doing it properly, I suppose.”

“Like just now?” Martin asks, kindly, gently, not judging. Jon feels his chest pinch anyways.

“Yes.” He admits quietly. Martin leans down to press a careful kiss to Jon’s knee.

“Okay, well, this time we’ll do it properly,” Martin raises himself from the toilet seat, reaching down into the cupboards to pull forth the shaving cream and a towel, and holds them out towards Jon.

Jon blinks, looks at the objects and then up at Martin, unsure of what’s being offered. “Sorry?”

“You still want the beard off, right? Let’s just make sure you don’t upset your skin,” He cracks a humorous smile. “Then it’ll actually start itching.”

Jon takes the can from his hand, but still frowns. “Us?”

“I- yeah,” Martin shifts his weight, fidgeting with the towel. “I can help, if that’s alright with you. You don’t… always seem to handle mirrors the best? And I’ve helped shave another person before so… yeah. If you want.”

Jon’s world stutters to a blushing halt. Martin’s right, he doesn’t like to linger on his face in mirrors even on the best days (of which today is certainly not one) and as much as he’s accustomed to doing this himself, what Martin is promising is intimate; an extension of vulnerability and the promise of a care that he hardly takes with himself. The more he considers it, the more finds himself tentatively wanting it, and he nods carefully. He trusts Martin, he’s decided a thousand times by now.

“Alright,” He agrees, and smiles.

Martin smiles in response. “Alright. Do you want me to um-” He gestures with the towel in his hand, and Jon nods.

Martin makes quick work of running the towel under the tap until it’s warm, and then wringing it out so it’s ready to actually use. He takes his seat again and tips Jon’s head back with a hand to lay the towel gently overtop, letting the warmth seep into his skin. It’s more effort than Jon usually puts in, or used to, when he did this more regularly, but he finds it’s a nice feeling, and he almost misses it when Martin takes the towel away again.

“Right,” Martin continues, looks pointedly to the can of shaving cream in Jon’s hand and Jon hesitates.

“Ah. Maybe not that part? Th-the actual shaving is fine, but-”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Martin nods, not questioning, and reaches forward instead to gently take the razor itself from Jon’s fist so he can use both hands to get the shaving cream on his face. Jon surrenders the razor, forcing himself to trust it in Martin’s hands, to trust that Martin won’t just leave him hanging.

He tries not to think too hard about the feeling of the cream on his skin. It’s a far cry from lotion, so it doesn’t bring up any sense memories, thankfully, but it’s still an uncomfortable texture, and he focuses on the sound of Martin’s breathing to keep himself from slipping.

Fortunately it doesn’t take long; soon enough Jon’s finished, wiping his hands on his trousers, and then Martin’s shifting closer, taking Jon’s face in his hands like it’s something precious, something to be loved and cared for. He is very close, his dark brown eyes nearly black with focus as he gently reaffirms that Jon’s sure about this, and then the cool razor swipes across Jon’s cheek.

Jon’s heart lurches in his chest, a messy combination of nerves and gratefulness, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all, and just watches Martin focus with gentle certaintly as the blade passes over his cheeks again and again in careful, confident strokes. His fingers whisper at Jon’s chin when he tilts up his head and swipes the blade carefully up the top of his throat, brow furrowed and tongue poking out of his lips in concentration.

Jon holds his breath, wills his heart to still, but it’s alright, with Martin it’s always alright. His hands are warm as they cup his cheeks, tilt him this way and that, thorough in their task, and his fingertips are gentle as they lift his chin and brush away foam and ghost over his throat. He never even comes close to nicking him, and Jon feels a great warmth unspooling in his chest, stinging his eyes.

“All done,” Martin finishes triumphantly, his face breaking into a grin as he hands Jon the towel again, lets him wipe off his own face.

There’s no coarse texture as the fabric touches his face, no itching or discomfort as it drags over his chin, and the steady drumbeat of wrongness that had pervaded him for weeks finally, finally dissipates, unblocking his lungs and releasing the tightness from his shoulders. He runs a hand over his chin, and finds a shy smile quickly taking over his face, affection and relief filling him up from the inside out and spilling onto his features.

“Thank you,” He breathes, and Martin matches his smile with one of his own, and nods, nothing but respect and affection in his eyes.

“Any time,” Martin says seriously, before reaching out to take Jon’s hand and slowly bringing it to his lips, giving Jon ample time to pull away. “You don’t have to struggle with this stuff alone,” He murmurs against Jon’s knuckles. “It’s easier together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jon’s response is quiet, and Martin kisses his hand then; gentle, and full of reverence. Jon finds that he could melt right into the floor and be happy for the rest of his life.

He reaches up to pull Martin down into a kiss, gentle and insistent and grateful, lacing his hands in his hair and sighing against his lips at the sensation, noting how nice it feels to kiss his boyfriend without his itching skin pressing at his thoughts.

The kiss stays chaste, and eventually Jon pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together, keeping his eyes closed, reveling in it. “Together, then.” He affirms, and Martin smiles.

“One way or another.”

#sorry this took forever but in my defense im insane so here we are #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #tma fic #jonmartin fic #jonbinary #nonbinary jonathan sims #gender dysphoria #YES it’s a shaving fic ok listen. listen. im 🥺#my writing #answered #set in the safehouse!!

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

The Power of Luck [Chapter One]

Read The Power of Luck on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [The Power of Luck Series]

Written for Maribat March Day 6 - Miraculous Side Effects

The Ladybug Miraculous had quite a few side effects. Marinette was able to think quick on her feet, she was a skilled tactician in battle, and her reaction time was half that of a normal human. Most notably, the Ladybug Miraculous granted its user the force known as Miraculous Luck, which, depending on the situation, was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. Marinette didn't get to choose how that good luck manifested. For instance, when she needed an extra day to finish a history project, her school closed down due to a gas leak. Or when she wished for a fresh start after the defeat of Hawkmoth, her parents were offered a deal to grow their bakery business in America.

Marinette assured her parents that she didn't mind moving. After all, most of her class had already moved on. Lila had been deported to Italy, narrowly avoiding jail time. Chloé (much to her dismay) was sent by her father to an all-girls boarding school in England. Adrien was taken in by his Aunt Amelie (as Gabriel was in jail and Emilie was declared brain-dead) and moved to England as well.

No one else from Marinette's class left the country, but many of them moved out of Paris. Nathanial was accepted to an elite art school in Marseille. Max was accepted to a gifted program at an elite school in Bordeaux. Officer Raincomprix was transferred to Toulouse and took Sabrina with him. Juleka and Luka both started homeschooling after their mother sailed the houseboat down the Seine to the city of Rouen.

Worst of all was the loss of Alya. Her parents were horrified that the son of Hawkmoth was in the same class as their daughter, and promptly pulled Alya out of class and decided to move out of the city. Alya begged them for weeks but nothing came of her protests. In the end, Alya left too.

The Miraculous Luck could do a lot of things, but it couldn't keep her friends together. Those who remained at François Dupont filled holes in other classes. Marinette tried to make the best of her new class, but she felt no real connection to them. When her parents proposed the move, Marinette jumped on the opportunity. In Gotham, she wouldn't be haunted by the ghost of her old life.

Marinette cut her hair, leaving it choppy and just above the shoulders. She donated all of her brightly colored clothes to the thrift store down the street and created a new wardrobe for herself. It was toned down and mature, much more fitting for Gotham.

Marinette left Paris a much different girl than the naive fourteen-year-old who thought she could save the world. She was ready for a city like Gotham, a city that didn't make any promises, a city where Marinette could set down some new roots.

-----

At first, it was easy to fly under the radar at Gotham Academy. It was a school filled with the self-absorbed children of millionaires and billionaires, after all. Marinette was there on scholarship - her good grades, leadership experience, and working-class parents combined to cut her tuition down by 75%. Marinette quickly learned that scholarship students were at best ignored, and at worst mercilessly bullied. So Marinette kept her head down and vowed that she would get through the year unscathed.

There was one variable, however, that the Miraculous Luck wasn't able to account for. Marinette's entire plan fell apart thanks to one boy: Damian Wayne.

Marinette became acquainted with Damian Wayne through the school's rumor mill. She learned that he was one of the most wealthy and most attractive people in the school, but he was thought himself too good to spend time with any of his fellow classmates (Marinette couldn't fault him on the last bit; she also found the students at Gotham Academy to be difficult, to say the least). Marinette also learned through the school's rumor mill that Damian spent quite a lot of time staring at her. Given that Damian had never paid the slightest amount of attention to a Gotham Academy girl before, this was a big deal. Suddenly Marinette was the farthest thing from under the radar. Everyone who used to look down on her wanted to be her friend. It was exhausting.

Marinette resolved to ignore Damian Wayne - an easy task, given that she still didn't even know what he looked like. Now that everyone was staring at her, it was hard to

"Why?" grumbled Marinette. "Why couldn't my so-called Miraculous Luck help me get through one normal year of school?"

Tikki shrugged from her spot inside of Marinette's backpack. "Maybe all of this attention will turn out to be a good thing?"

"I doubt that." Marinette glanced around, checking that no one had spotted her talking to her backpack. There was one spot in the cafeteria that was hidden from view, a window-sill nestled behind a pillar, bordered by a wall on one side and an out of order vending machine on the other. Marinette sat on the window-sill every day to eat lunch, with Tikki as her companion for the meal.

"I think your problem is that you're overthinking this. Miraculous Luck always works out in the end, even if there are some obstacles in the middle."

"I just want this horrible school year to be over," sighed Marinette, setting her head down in her arms.

"Don't give up yet, Marinette. I have high hopes for this school year," said Tikki.

Marinette had some serious doubts but picked her head up anyway. Maybe this year wouldn't turn out the way she expected. Marinette defeated Hawkmoth, the greatest villain Paris ever faced. She could survive a year of high school.

-----

Marinette was going to survive her senior year of high school. Damian Wayne on the other hand... Marinette still wasn't sure if she was going to let him survive the year, after everything he put her through.

"Excuse me?" a sickeningly sweet voice piped up from behind Marinette.

Marinette put on her best disinterested-face, took out one headphone, and turned around. "Yes?"

There were three girls standing behind her: a blonde, flanked on both sides by a brunette and a red-head. The blonde girl had a smile on her face but a devious look in her eyes. Marinette had long ago learned to spot manipulators, and this girl had it written all over her. "Are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"Yes."

"My name is Julie Cooper. I was just wondering... Are you dating Damian Wayne?"

Marinette huffed in exasperation. "What do you think?"

Julie's eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to warn you. I mean, did you really think that Damian Wayne would seriously date a girl here on scholarship? You should break up with him before you get hurt."

"It was a rhetorical question. I'm not dating Damian Wayne. It's just a rumor."

Julie instantly perked up. "Oh, good! I was beginning to think that Damian had lost his mind. I mean, I'm sure you would be a nine or a ten at a public school, but at Gotham Academy, you're like a seven, maybe an eight on a good day. Most of the girls who go here are actually hot, not just," the girl waved her hand towards Marinette. "Above average."

Marinette wasn't sure if Julie meant for her to feel flattered or offended, but her words had the strange effect of making Marinette feel both all at once. "Um, thanks? I'm going to go now."

Julie's brunette friend suddenly paled as the girl started to tug on Julie's sleeve. "Um, Julie?" she whispered.

"What, Nora?" Julie's eyes widened as they fixed on something behind Marinette.

Marinette turned around to see what the cause of their concern was. Or rather, to see who the cause of their concern was. It was a boy, tall and scowling. "Are you done here, Cooper?"

Julia nodded, a nervous edge to her voice, "Bye, Marinette." She and her two friends hurried off, exchanging frantic whispers.

"What do you want?" asked Marinette with a sigh. She was tired of dealing with boys who were only interested in her because Damian Wayne was interested in her.

"I wished to apologize."

"For Julie? Did you put her up to this?"

The boy looked confused. "No, of course not. I meant that I wanted to apologize for everything, not just Julie Cooper."

"For everything?" The truth suddenly dawned on Marinette. "You're Damian Wayne! I didn't think that you would be so tall."

"You didn't know what I looked like?" There was real shock in his voice.

"Well, by the time I learned that you had been staring at me everyone was staring at me, so that wasn't much help in figuring out who you were."

"You could have googled me."

Marinette shrugged. "I could have, but it felt weird to google one of my classmates. I pretty much just resigned myself to never figuring out who you were."

"I should have approached you sooner. I've wanted to apologize for a while, but every time I've caught you alone you've looked like you wanted to be left that way."

"I'm not a fan of most of the students here."

"The students here can be..." Damian searched for the appropriate word. "Tiresome. I resigned myself to a dull four years of high school in their company. That is, until I saw you."

Marinette cocked her head. "Why me, though? I'm nothing special."

"You're different than everyone else here."

Marinette stiffened. "I know. I've been told. I'm here on a scholarship which means I don't belong," she snapped

Damian shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. You move through life differently than all of the other students here. You don't care about the gossip or drama - at least, not until you were right at the center of it all. You've seen the real world, so you float above the high school drama. You're just so... so..."

"So what?" Marinette's tone softened.

Damian ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it. The addition of the messy hair added a certain charm to his otherwise polished exterior. "I've been brainstorming for the right word for weeks. The best I can come up with is pure. You don't let yourself become affected by anything in this school."

It was a very flattering description of her. It was also very on the nose. "I'll forgive you, Damian Wayne, but only on one condition."

"What?"

"I want to get to know you, and I have a feeling that you feel the same way."

Damian nodded. "It's a deal."

Maybe her Miraculous Luck wasn't so useless after all. Marinette had expected to go the whole year without making a single friend. Now, it seemed that she might make one after all.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #MaribatMarch2021 #maridami #marinette x damian #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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kmclaude · 3 years ago

Note

Still obsessing thinking about therapy au and Jehan possibly trying to help Héloise when she's going through a hard time. True he's happy to still have Héloise in his life even though she's no longer his therapist. He can convince himself to be content just being friends with her, as long as he constantly reminds himself never to be alone with her or do anything that might spark rumors. Despite idle gossip being a sin, almost all members of the church have been guilty of falling to its temptation, especially among the clergy and cloistered sisters.

Which is why Fr. Jehan is very concerned when he notices Sister Héloise has become distracted and withdrawn recently. Wondering if he's over stepping asking her what's wrong, and when she just half jokingly explains she just overthinking some stupid family stuff, from the last time she visited home, nothing to worry about. Yet it doesn't ease his anxiety at all, because how many times did he make similar excuses?

He knows Héloise also lost her father at a young age. It was one of the ways she got Jehan to gradually open up to her back when she was his doctor, and he was still reluctant to talk about what happened between him and Tiefer, and how things changed after Nathan's death. She shared stories with Jehan about growing up in Beirut and being all of 15 years old when war broke out, and she lost her father, her childhood and her home. (It's not an easy subject to talk about, for either of them, and she stressed to Jehan, this doesn't lessen what he went through. They both survived horrifying things, and though their respective wounds came from different sources, they both know what it's like to be wounded kids, crying, terrified and angry at both the cruelty they suffered and at themselves for being too weak to stop it. Even as an adult you can still feel that way. ) Though he knows despite sharing the loss of a father, and childhood Héloise's family situation was different than his own. He's just being paranoid right…right?

Until one day when Fr.Jehan was visiting the neighboring convent to assist when their normal parish priest fell ill. He recognizes Sister Héloise arguing with an older man outside the main entrance, and believes his worst fears might be true when he sees her jerk away when the man tries to reach for her and yell "just leave! Don't talk to me! Don't touch me! I can't stand to look at you!" Jehan immediately calls out to Héloise and heads over to stand between her and the stranger asking if there is a problem? Even when the elderly man steps away, addressing Fr. Jehan respectfully and apologizing for causing a scene, Jehan still doesn't drop his guard until he sees the older man walk off the grounds(he knows all too well thanks to Tiefer that just because someone acts harmless in public doesn't mean they aren't dangerous). Afterwards Héloise asks if she could speak with Jehan at the confessional. She doesn't want to create even more of a scene especially since it concerns something very personal, and she'd rather not risk Sister Rosalie overhearing, as she's one of the biggest gossips at the convent.

Fr. Jehan still fears the worst when he steps into the confessional and recites the usual prayers and asks Sister Héloise the usual questions. She explains that the man she was arguing with earlier was her stepfather, Joe Vicario, and when she clarifies that she wasn't upset with him because he harmed her in any way, she apologizes to Jehan for not clarifying things right away. Relief washes over Jehan when he learns his suspicions were wrong…until Héloise tells him that the reason she was so angry at Joe was because he and her mother were divorcing. Apparently neither Joe or Héloise's mother were going to say anything about it to anyone in the family, until her youngest sister left for college, but apparently that changed when Joe knocked up his 35 year old mistress. So Joe, being a well-intentioned dumbass, doesn't want his next (and possibly last) kid to be born out of wedlock, so he decides to let the family know before they get blind sided by receiving wedding invitations!

Understandably it's a fucked up situation (although thankfully not as fucked up as Jehan feared) but he understands why Héloise has been so withdrawn lately. He lets her vent all her anger and frustration, and how much she feels like a hypocrite because she should be able to handle this like a mature adult, she's 30 years old dammit! She's treated and counsels people for marital problems and divorce before, and honestly Joe and her mother should have divorced years ago, she shouldn't be acting like-

"Like a scared and hurt kid"

Jehan finishes Héloise self admission aloud. He knows what that's like, even now he imagines himself again at 13 baby faced, and too short for his age, he even checks his back to make sure the bandages are still covering the still healing scars, trying to make sure they don't bleed through and stain his altar boy vestments.

Don't imagine the same damaged boy stepping out of the confessional booth when he hears Héloise sobbing and checking in on her. Don't imagine Héloise looking like she did at 15 all gangly limbs, and her face hasn't quite filled out yet, her longer hair in a French braid hunched over sobbing, clutching her right side so the old bullet wound won't reopen and bleed through her Sunday dress. Don't picture young Héloise's tear stained face looking up.

"I was just so angry, and I said such awful things to him! And he was so heartbroken when he left. Je, I don't want to lose another father again, and it really would be my fault this time!"

Don't picture young Jehan kneeling in front of the sobbing girl, comforting her while he dries her tears. Don't picture the two of them awkwardly squeezed next to each other in the confessional, little Jehan holding Héloise's hand, reminding her to breathe and talking her through things like she always did for him. Once they both step out of the confessional they're back to their adult selves. Though once they finish the confession officially Sister Héloise hugs Fr. Jehan and thanks him for helping her. He just assures her that's just what friends do, and he has to keep reminding himself of that and not to keep stealing glances of Héloise throughout the day like he's still a dumb kid with a crush.

I'm not crying, YOU'RE crying 😭💕

#i have nothing to add im in a glass case of emotions #kmclaudereplies #jpriest85 blog #therapy au #au where jehan gets therapy

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harryhandstan · 4 years ago

Text

gotta get better

gif credit

This concept has been in my head for a while now and it took me like a month to write and edit and just get it all out! I had surgery two years ago today and it was one of the most emotional, stressful experiences of my life simply bc I’m just a big baby lol. This is just something to celebrate that day and the fact that I’m still so happy it’s all over! Fluffy af as usual cause that’s all I know how to write. :)

Thankful to @bfharry and @bopbopstyles for not only inspiring me with their amazing writing but pushing me towards finishing this and reaching (even going over) my personal 5k goal! I appreciate you both so much!!

I recently saw a post about tagging triggers properly so I’m gonna do it that way but if I do it wrong or it doesn’t work PLEASE let me know and I will fix it immediately (just want to be sure all my bases are covered)

// needles tw, pills tw (prescription), anxiety tw // (if I missed anything I should’ve tagged please please let me know!!) and I’m sure there are some medical inaccuracies bc that whole day is kind of a blur for me haha

as always likes/rbs/comments are welcome but absolutely not necessary :)

final word count: 7.1k

"Y'nervous, angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Bout to chew your finger off. I know there can't be much of a nail left."

Your hand drops back to your lap. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. A bad habit of the nervous child you thought you'd long forgotten. He offers his left hand and you accept it, thumb swiping over the cross painted across his skin. He knows it's one of your favorites and you're thankful for the comfort. You don't know how many times he'd teased you about how you would eventually rub it off one day and he'd have to get it redone.

"S'a routine surgery, I bet they do them all day. You're gonna be fine."

You'd been over all this a thousand times before. Harry had to ban you from looking up the procedure online at one point. You became obsessive with worry. What if you're still awake when they cut into you and you can't talk? What if you feel everything and can't tell anyone? What if you don't wake up? He had shot down every one of your horrifying theories.

"How much longer before they take me back?"

"Nurse said it would be about 10 minutes when we checked in. Shouldn't be too much longer. Want me to check the board again?"

Checking in had only consisted of a nurse taking your name and giving you your bracelet for the day with an ID number. The number would help Harry stay updated on where you were throughout the whole process. The "board" was simply a tv mounted to the wall that frequently cycled through each patient's last name and ID number.

"No, no," You cling to his sleeve like a desperate child, "Don't leave again. She said they wouldn't update anything until I went back anyway."

Harry had left you only briefly when you first arrived. Hands in his pockets, wandering around like a lost child around the big, open expanse of the waiting room. He stayed where you could see him and the whole time you had anxiously chewed your bottom lip until he returned. You hated it, but you knew he was just as nervous as you. So you let him have that moment. To check his surroundings and release some of the nerves so he could come back to you, calm and cool as always.

When the nurse does call your name, you almost jump out of your skin. You freeze, unable to move. Harry stands and flashes the nurse a quick smile before turning back to you and offering his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't do this, H. I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I move."

"You're not, promise. Remember those breathing exercises we practiced? Do those. C'mon..deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out. Do it while we walk."

Slow deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out.

You remember how silly you felt the first time you did it. How it made you giggle at first. This is never going to work. But eventually it did. Anytime you got upset or started to overthink about this day, Harry made you stop whatever you were doing and sit down. Breathe.

It was a little difficult to do while walking. Your body wanted to pause your steps when your breath paused, but Harry tugged you along, you almost hiding behind him until you made it through a set of heavy wooden doors to a small space with a hospital bed and a curtain drawn in front of it.

The IV had had been your biggest dread, the fear overriding any logic that it was something you needed, instead of something the nurses decided to do simply to torture you.

Your face twists into a wince of pain when the needle goes into your vein, Harry standing over you, his face a mirror of your own as you squeeze his hand. When the nurse pulls away with a triumphant "all done!" you flash a look of surprise between your arm and Harry.

"Not that bad, eh? Think ya overreacted a bit about how bad that was gonna be?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to shoot him a nasty look for teasing you.

"Maybe a little." You pinch your index finger and thumb together, indicating a minimal amount.

"Tiny bit more, babe," Another nurse appears from around the curtain and he laughs before speaking to her, "it's all she's worried about all morning."

"Honestly that's everyone's least favorite part. The rest of the day should be aces if you can handle that!"

Harry settles himself into a chair while the nurse goes through a myriad of questions. Any other surgeries? Allergies to medications you know of? Do you smoke? Drink?

Harry snorts when you say no to drinking, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when the nurse's head snaps to look between you and him.

"The occasional drink is fine, no worries. Nothing this morning though, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Your eyes meet his, a mischievous grin still plastered across his face. He mumbles a quick "sorry" while you try to pull your concentration back towards the nurse and the remainder of her questions.

"Alright, time for the good stuff," she passes you a small clear cup with two white pills, "First one is just something to keep you calm and relaxed, second one is to prevent any pain after the procedure. They'll give you something to make you sleepy when you get to the OR, but this might make you a bit loopy for now."

"This should be fun." Harry claps his hand in front of him, rubbing them together quickly. He leans forward in his chair, as if ready for a show.

"Yeah? Is she a happy drunk?"

Harry had only ever experienced you high on any sort of prescription medication once, almost a year ago when you went on a girl's trip with your best friend and twisted your ankle in an attempt to make it back to her car after dinner out one night. You calling him from an unknown ER in the middle of the night had terrified him enough to start packing a bag to fly to you before your best friend could grab your phone and assure him you were fine and she would put you on a plane home to him in two days as planned. He had teased you endlessly when he picked you up from the airport and for the next few days afterwards as you limped around on a bruised, ACE bandage wrapped foot.

But after too many wine drunk nights to count, he had enough stories to humiliate you with and the thought of any one of them being told now had you sinking further into the hospital bed.

"You could say that. Last time she.." His voice trails off at the sight of your eyes, wide as saucers, begging him to stop.

The nurse grins, her face kind and sympathetic to your silent cry for help.

"We're a little behind schedule this morning so it may be about 20 minutes before they come transport you, okay?" You nod, the effects of the sedative already working its way through your system, "Keep an eye on her? Make sure she behaves?"

"Yeah, I got her. We'll be fine, thank you so much." He's closer now, standing next to you again, a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your shoulder. You manage a thumbs up and a sleepy "thank you" as an affirmation that you appreciate all she's done for you.

"You're more than welcome. You'll have a different set of nurses in recovery but if you need anything until they come get you, just let me know, alright?"

"We will, thanks." His thumb ghosts across the front of your collarbone, the lightest of touches to soothe you, his eyes still focused on the nurse.

"Good luck! You're gonna do just fine, I promise."

The second she's around the curtain, Harry nudges you lightly, "Scoot."

"Huh? What do you mean..Harry, there's not enough room for you in this bed." Your head feels too light to deal with his nonsense now.

"Yeah there is if you scoot. C'mon. Hurry before we get caught. M’supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Gotta make sure you don't fall outta the bed."

He's already wedged himself next to you, trying to make his tall frame fit into the limited space.

You move over as much as you can, the rail of the bed poking into your hip.

He tucks one arm behind your head, the other one thrown behind his own as a cushion.

"You feel more relaxed now, lovie?"

You scrunch down in the bed, just enough that you can tuck your head under his other arm, "A little. I don't feel sleepy enough though," Your eyes dart up, seeking the comfort of his face, "I'm scared, H."

"I know you are, baby," the hand behind your head shifts to cup around your arm, pulling you closer, "Just pretend you're home with me and we're taking a nice little nap together, yeah?"

"But you won't be there with me, not really."

"I'll be there when you wake up though. First thing you'll see when you open your eyes, promise." He runs a finger along the curve of your nose, "Close your eyes. Try to sleep, hmm?"

You shake your head, turning towards him to hide your face in his side, inhaling his scent.

"Want me to turn the light off? Would that help?"

"No," You toss the arm that isn't trapped between you two over him, holding tightly to his shirt, "Stay."

"Alright, then. We'll just wait," He tilts his head to rest closer to yours, "Have you thought about what you want to eat after?"

"Not really. M'too nervous to think about food."

"We'll think of something good. Whatever you want."

"You're gonna get us in trouble, better scoot back to your corner like a good boy." Your words come out unintentionally slurred and you weakly push yourself up and away from him as he slides off. He doesn't sit though, just stands near you, an anxious look flashing across his features.

"Hey, c'mere. Gonna be fine, routine surgery, remember?" You stretch your arms out to him, a plea to be near his warmth again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. You tug lightly at the sleeve of his cardigan, a feeble attempt to pull him closer. He indulges you, his brow still creased with distress.

"Know ya gonna be fine, just hate you have to go through it at all. Wish I could take it from you without all this." He gestures to the IV he knows you despise so much.

"You have helped take it from me. All the sleepless nights you spent up with me, holding my hair back when I got sick. All the days after when I was too drained to get out of bed. You were there for as much of it as you could be. And you pushed me to go see the surgeon in the first place. You've helped me more than you give yourself credit for."

His fingers intertwine in yours, the pad of his thumb soothing over the front of your hand.

"Make sure you keep my phone with you, my mom will probably call you every 30 minutes for updates." A yawn stretches across your face, "She has your number too, bullied me into giving it to her last week when I called to tell her about the surgery."

He nods, patting his pocket to make sure both phones are still nestled there together.

Another yawn threatens to escape and you muffle it this time, more content to fight sleep to stare at Harry; his hair a perfect mess of curls under the harsh brightness of the hospital lighting. His face is more relaxed now, his eyes still focused on your fingers tangled together. He catches you, your eyes glazed over, too heavy and threatening to close.

"Darling, please close your eyes. I can see how tired you are," His fingertips sweep delicately over your nose again, as if he was lulling a baby to sleep, "You don't have to stay awake for me."

"Closing my eyes for just a second, alright? Not because you told me to though. I want to. Wake me up in 2 hours, don't wanna sleep too long."

Your eyes are already drifting closed, the last thing you hear is a chuckle; effortless, light as air, "I will, promise."

Soft kisses pressed across your face, "Sweet dreams, love."

His voice is the first you hear as you wake up in the dimly lit recovery room. Well, really it was more like a big cubicle, another space with a curtain drawn in front of it. Even with the floaty, dreamy feeling flowing through your system, you can still detect the worry in his voice.

"Harry?" It takes your mind a minute to catch up and process where you are and what had happened.

Oh yeah. Surgery day. No more annoying gallbladder. No more sleepless nights. Freedom to eat what you want and not be haunted by nausea and sickness from what you ate.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Suddenly a nurse in bright blue scrubs is there, way too animated and loud at the moment, "Pain scale 1-10?"

"I don't have any pain. Zero." You're aware of how high you sound and a giggle escapes through the haze. That earns you a smile from Harry, one that lights up his whole face and makes his dimples shine through.

"Awesome! Well then as soon as you're good and awake we're gonna get this IV out and go over some paperwork for both of you to sign. I want you to drink something for me too, so what would you like?"

You request a ginger ale and as soon as the nurse leaves to retrieve it for you, Harry scoots the chair he's sitting in as close to the bed as possible.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours," He absentmindedly fixes your hair, looping various curls back around to their respective places, "Took a little longer than expected, you had a small infection so they had to make sure it hadn't spread."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough you had us all slightly worried." His hand trails down your cheek to cup your chin gently, urging you to look at him, "You sure you're not in pain? Now's not the time to do that stubbornly brave thing you do where you pretend nothing's wrong."

"I feel fine, really. Just a little tired, ready to go home."

He studies your face, trying to find any trace of dishonesty. When he's satisfied you're being truthful, he stands and extracts your phone from his pocket.

"Already talked to ya mum, but your co-workers were all texting you, asking how you were. Figured you'd want to handle that yourself, didn't know how much detail you would want to give them."

"Did you give my mother all the details? Infection and everything?"

"Um, no. I knew better than to do that. Promised her you would call when I got you settled at home."

"You promised or she demanded?"

"Okay..she politely asked that you call her when we get home."

"That sounds more like her." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself so you're sitting more upright in the bed.

"She just worries about you." He adjusts the pillow behind you, fluffing and tucking it where you direct it, against your lower back.

"I know. I'll FaceTime her when we get home to prove I'm alive."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, maybe we should plan a visit?" He plops himself back in the chair, leaning back as far as he can go; hands behind his head, eyes closed. You'd both gotten very little sleep the night before, you were too anxious and he was too gracious to let you suffer alone.

"Oh please, I'm lucky I even got time off to do this. My boss would never allow another break so soon."

"Maybe for the holidays?"

"Maybe..but only if you can go with me, you know they love you more than me by now anyway."

"They do not," He peeks one eye open at you, "They love us both equally."

You shoot a quick text to your co-workers, using the group chat between the few of you to make it easier.

I'm out! Feeling okay for now but that might change later lol

The nurse is back, apologizing for taking so long, "We've been so behind all day, it's crazy busy. I had to wait for your doctor to sign off on your release." She hands you a can of ginger ale, white bendy straw already poised and ready for you.

"Just need you to sign here," She holds a clipboard and a pen out to you and you balance the can dangerously in one hand while you scribble something that resembles your signature. Close enough. She gestures for you to pass the clipboard to Harry, "His signature goes under yours, just says he's responsible for you for the next few hours until everything wears off."

"This means I'm the boss, right?" He leans over to grab the board, a wink thrown in your direction. He's enjoying himself way too much at the thought of being in control of you for the next few hours. Smug son of a bitch.

She takes the clipboard back and pulls off a yellow sheet of paper, "This is just your copy of what you signed, and also has post op instructions for your bandages. Your prescription's been sent to the pharmacy, and there's a brief summary of pain management information on the bottom there just in case you need it."

"Thank you." You transfer it right to Harry's waiting hand, knowing he'll be the one surveying every word, making sure you follow everything to the letter.

"I know you mentioned earlier having a little bit of a drive home, so probably once you get her some food and pick up her prescriptions, it'll be time for another round of meds. Okay?" She turns to you again, "I know it sounds silly, but one of the most important things after this particular surgery is lots of walking. Otherwise you'll be miserable. Rest for a while when you get home, then get up every 10 minutes or so until bedtime. Don't let her skip that part, alright? Very important."

"I heard you weren't a big fan of this thing," She nods towards the IV in your right forearm, "So this'll probably be the best part of this whole process for you. We'll get this out and then you can get changed and we'll get someone to wheel you down and out of here, alright? Don't look and you won't even know when it's gone."

"Hey, think about what you want to eat, huh? Your first freedom meal. Yay!" He slips his hand into your left, raising your connected hands victoriously. You didn't think it was possible for you to love him anymore until this moment. The way he could so easily erase your fear was one of his many gifts you adored him for, "What are we having, babe?"

You don't even hesitate before answering, "Pizza, from Milano's. It's my favorite, other than that one place in Italy you took me to. Please? Oh and one of their salads, with the little bread knots on the side!"

He glances at the nurse, awaiting a reprimand for your meal choice.

"As your nurse, I feel I should remind you that while you can have anything you feel like eating, we usually recommend something small and light at first. Broth or soup with some toast, maybe. The salad may be fine, but the pizza might be a little heavy. Taking it slow would be best. But everyone is different."

"So..just cheese then? Maybe some mushrooms?"

You let your head fall back against the pillow, a foggy haze settling over you, "Plain cheese, no mushrooms."

"Alright, sounds good. Why don't I go call it in and pull the car around? Meet you out front?" He leans closer, a quick peck to your cheek before pulling his hand loose from yours and turning to leave.

"Hey, wait," You attempt to tug at his wrist, but fail, your brain still set to slow-motion. He takes pity on you and returns to your side, "Let's eat there. It's in the mall so we can window shop after we eat."

"You sure? You still seem a bit tipsy, honey."

You don't feel tipsy. Just tired, and hungry. Very hungry. As if on cue, your stomach makes a remarkably loud noise; an objection at not being fed for the past 12 hours.

"Alright, alright, calm down. " You let out an embarrassed groan when you realize he's talking to your stomach, "We'll eat there."

He kisses you again, closer to your mouth, "Missed."

"I did, huh?" He chuckles, close enough to your face now your noses are almost touching, "Let's try again."

This time his lips meet yours and you know he missed on purpose the first time by how amused he looks when he pulls away.

"One more for luck?" You can't resist letting the back of your hand wander over his face, before resting the palm of your hand against his cheek.

"I think I can handle that," He smiles before landing another quick peck to your lips, "Be good for the nurse while I'm gone. I'll have the getaway car ready in 10, yeah?"

You're certain Harry would have fed you if you would have let him, right here in the mall food court in front of everyone. But you refuse, insisting even, on carrying your own tray to the table. He chuckles when you pull your phone out of your sweater pocket to take a picture of your food, quickly uploading it to Facebook.

He watches you closely as you take the first bite, even pulling his own phone out to sneak a photo of you when you temporarily close your eyes to appreciate the indulgence of being able to eat one of your favorite foods again; free from that anxious feeling of whether or not it would settle right with your body later. You open your eyes the very moment after he captured the image.

"Harry!"

"You just looked so happy! I couldn't help it. You know I'll never post it anyway. Snagged a few of you earlier in your little blue cap they made you wear too." He flips back through to show you. You try to snatch the phone away, but he's too quick to pull his hand back and stash his phone in his pocket.

"When??"

"After you fell asleep, right before they came to take you back."

He takes a bite from his own generous slice of pizza in front of him before gesturing to your tray, "How is it?"

"Amazing. Even better than before, if possible."

His smile is bright, loving the satisfaction of seeing you actually enjoy food again.

Your plan to walk around the mall was cut short, you could barely make it through one store without yawning. You cling to Harry most of the way back to the car, his arm securely wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You doze off on the drive home, and when your eyes flutter open you find him opening the passenger door, offering a hand to help lift you out of the car and up the stairs into the house. Your foot stumbles on the first step, failing to make contact and you almost fall back.

"Easy," He giggles, an arm thrown behind your back to catch you before encouraging softly, "Try again."

When he's confident you're stable enough on your feet, he lets go to unlock the door.

You're greeted by a bouquet of flowers, a colorful arrangement of roses and lilies from Harry's band mates. You immediately recognize Sarah's handwriting on the card and make a mental note to shoot everyone a thank you text later. You don't know if it's the medication still in your system, the exhaustion of the day, or the overwhelming amount of love that makes you teary eyed.

Harry stands behind you as you admire the flowers and the card, arms curving around to hug you, careful of the large bandage on your upper abdomen and the two smaller steri-strips on your right side.

"How did they know pink roses were my favorite?"

"They love you, peach." He rests his chin on your shoulder, "Besides, you've only mentioned growing up with a pink rose bush in your Nanna's garden about a hundred times."

"I always loved it. Still do."

Your mind travels back to your earliest memories spent there; summers when you practically lived at the small house on the hill. Helping pick tomatoes and peppers from the garden, too warm afternoons spent with a book in your lap under the shade of a peach tree, your grandfather's corny jokes and loving smile. Your Nanna's too generous portions of food contributing to the few extra curves you still carried with you to this day.

You don't even notice the tears at first. They slip down your cheeks and land on his arm. Once you realize, you try to quickly wipe them away, but Harry sees.

"Hey..c'mon, I think your high's wearing off a bit, bub. Pajamas, meds, nap. Sound good?" He turns you to face him, using the sleeve of his shirt to brush away any tears that still linger at the corner of your eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 3..why?"

"No nap. I'll never sleep tonight, and you know how grumpy I get when my sleep schedule is thrown off." Even with your declaration of not wanting a nap, you can't help but rub your eyes, a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. Any resolve Harry had to try to convince you to nap melts away. A smirk on his face, he knows you'll eventually crash later, most likely on his chest or in his arms. He's content to let you be stubborn for now.

"Okay, then. New plan. Pajamas, meds, movie. Better?"

"Better. You get everything ready and pick the movie while I change?"

"You don't wanna pick the movie?"

You wave him off, already shuffling towards the bedroom, "You're the boss today, remember?"

You take your time gathering what you need to get cozy for the rest of the day, selecting an oversized, well-worn tie dye t-shirt and leggings from your dresser. You even take a moment to dip into Harry's extensive sweatshirt collection, grabbing your favorite one. It's amazingly soft and still smells of him, a faint scent of his cologne and well..just Harry. You couldn't imagine anything more comforting.

In your pursuit to feel more lucid, you venture into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash your face. The cool water instantly refreshes you and pushes you closer to feeling like yourself again. Wanting your hair out of your face, you pluck a scrunchy from your shared collection of hair accessories. You quickly recognize that your arms still have that too heavy feeling of unconsciousness and after a few attempts to gather your curls into some sort of up-do, you give up and loop the accessory around your wrist to try again later.

Harry senses your frustration when you find him in the kitchen, two small green pill bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. He's already filled your favorite cup with ice water, and you gratefully take it and drink from it.

"What's wrong?" His brow creases with concern and you feel guilty for making him worry over something so silly.

"Nothing..just wanted my hair up out of my face but my arms wouldn't cooperate." You try to laugh it off to put him more at ease, "It's not a big deal."

You know it's only the weariness of the day still making you feel so emotional, clear-headed you would not be upset over something so small.

"Here. Let me try." He slides the scrunchy from your wrist and pulls you closer to him, moving behind you to gently work long fingers through your hair, gathering it all in a loose ponytail on top of your head before securing it around a few times with the scrunchy.

You let your shoulders drop with a deep sigh when he's done, it was such a simple thing, but it made you feel so much lighter. He spins you around to face him, a charming gleam of pride at his handiwork adorning his face, "Too tight?"

"No. Much better. Thank you, Harry. You take such good care of me always, but today..I don't know what I would've done without you. I made such a big fuss and probably made you miserable with all of my worrying." You're suddenly very aware that you are rambling, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, his smile is wide. So bright that the skin around his eyes is crinkling.

He leans towards you, lips stopping whatever words may have come next, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer in a soft, warm embrace. When he pulls away, his eyes bore right into yours, and your heart swells with more love than you could ever imagine having for one person. But he wasn't just any person. He was your person, your whole word staring back at you.

"I'm SO proud of you. You've been so strong today, always knew you had that strength in you, but seeing you take that leap of faith..doing something you knew you should despite your fear, that's all you, love. I can't take any credit for that. You've made me anything but miserable, trust me."

His face is still close enough to yours that you nudge forward, pressing your forehead to his, a silent appreciation of his affection.

"Any pain yet?" He pulls back, a thumb across your cheek, eyes still locked on yours.

"My head kind of hurts? And I still just feel kind of..drunk."

"You have always been a bit of a lightweight, babe. And a thief too, I see. S'that my sweatshirt?"

"Have not!" You swat playfully at his arm, "Maybe. Is that my hair clip in your hair?"

"Possibly." His eyes dart up to the swoop of curls on top of his head, a black plastic clip twisting it back and away from his face.

"Guess we're even then."

"S'pose we are." He tries to keep his eyes narrowed in a mock attempt of annoyance, but it quickly fades into laughter.

You decide against FaceTiming your family, hoping that hearing your voice will be enough. It seems to satisfy them at least for the rest of the day. You assure them that Harry is taking very good care of you and that everything went as smooth as could be expected.

He raises one eyebrow at you as you hang up, "As smooth as expected, huh? You aren't going to tell them the truth?"

"What's to tell? I had an infection and now it's gone. I'm fine, there's no sense in worrying them. We can give them the full story later."

He shrugs, fingers working to open one of the green pill bottles before passing one of the white pills to you, "For your headache, lovie. There's something here for nausea too if you need it. M'worried the pizza might've been too much. Maybe you should take one of these..just in case?"

"Harry, I promise I will tell you if I feel anything other than fine." Your hand runs from his shoulder down his bicep, squeezing gently, "Besides, I cannot take a whole one of those. If you think I'm a lightweight now..I'll sleep for the whole week if I take that."

He slips the bottle in his pocket, pulling you in to press a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll keep it close just in case, okay?"

"Sounds good," Your hand trails back up to his neck to work fingers through his hair, "Hey, thought we were watching a movie? What'd you pick?"

"Thought we could decide together. C'mon, let's get you comfy in bed."

"Ever the gentleman, always trying to get me in your bed."

"Hey! I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much," He chuckles, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable, you can prop up and stretch your feet out."

You let him tug you along for the second time today, thankful it's the luxury of your shared bed you get to settle into this time. He tucks you in softly, propping pillows behind your back and head.

"Comfy? Need anything else?"

"No, just need you to quit babying me so much and relax with me for a bit."

"Since when am I not allowed to baby you?"

You roll your eyes, "Never said you weren't allowed. Just want you to stop worrying so much, that's all."

"Good. Cause y'are my baby," No matter how many times you'd heard him say it before, it never failed to make you blush, "Do anything for you, y'know that, right?"

"I know," You look down at your hands, trying to slow your racing heart, "You never let me forget."

"Hey," He pokes your cheek, pulling your gaze back up to him, "I love you."

"I love you more, H."

He kisses your forehead, "Impossible. I love you most."

The reference to one of your favorite movies has you smiling at him, that dreamy feeling falling over you again, "Can we watch Tangled?"

"Sure, princess."

He sinks next to you, head propped up on your shoulder, navigating easily through Disney+ to find your requested movie.

Your eyes drift closed right about the time the lanterns are being released in the sky, a moment that normally leaves your face wet with tears, the soft vibrations of Harry humming along the perfect lullaby to push you further into your dream.

He wakes you later in the evening.

"Dinner's on the table if you want to join me."

"Time's it?" Your voice is still heavy with sleep.

"7. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you, thought your body could use the extra sleep today."

"Yeah. It was nice, thank you." You stretch your arms forward, reaching for his hands to help pull you up.

"How do you feel?"

"A little sore. More sober, for sure."

Dinner is simple; a bowl of plain broth, salad, and toast. Exactly what the nurse suggested earlier. There's even a warm mug of tea waiting for you.

"With honey for my honey," He's so proud of his cheesy expression of love you cannot help but smile.

You look at him curiously when he sits next to you, the same boring meal set out for himself.

"Harry..you can eat what you want, babe. Seriously you've done enough today, more than enough to be supportive. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you made yourself something different."

"Nah. S'fine. We're in this together, yeah?"

You raise your eyebrows at him playfully, "Did you have an organ snatched from your body today?"

"No, I didn't." He laughs, "I just meant food wise, love. It's vegetable broth, by the way, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect."

You nudge him lightly, an elbow to his side, shifting closer to ask for a kiss. He meets you the rest of the way, lips planted firmly on yours. When you don't pull away, he quickly adds another.

After dinner is done and you have another round of meds, the two of you end up in an awkward ball of cuddles on the couch. Harry flips through the channels on the tv before finding a show you both agree on.

But you're too restless, unable to find a position comfortable enough for you. You shift a few times, finally giving up and letting out a frustrated groan before tossing the blanket off the both of you and springing up and off the couch.

Harry doesn't panic, just grabs your hand before you can get too far away or lose your balance, keeping his voice low when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing hurts. I just can't get comfortable, and I don't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right, angel? Explain."

"I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain it. Just feel off."

He sees you're on the verge of tears and ascends from his spot on the couch, arms quickly enveloping you before placing a finger under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

"It's probably gonna take a day or so to adjust, baby. Yes it was a minor surgery but it was a major change to your body." He's bending now to look right into your eyes, searching them, "How can we fix it tonight, hmm? What do you need?"

Tears are free flowing, falling on the front of your t-shirt and down to the floor.

"Take your time. Breathe." A large hand smoothing warm circles firmly across your back; a balm for your restless spirit.

You pause, deep breath in before slowly letting it out, "I think I just need to move around for a bit."

"Let's go for a walk, eh? A quick one and then back to bed. Your mind needs more rest. How's that sound?" He taps your forehead softly.

"Okay, yeah." You nod your head, an approval of his plan.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

You nod again, scared your voice will break if you try to speak. He knew that those words held a lot of weight for you, he'd repeated them often throughout this whole process and to hear them now was a reminder of how safe you were. That with him, you would always be safe and loved.

Being dark outside meant you gracelessly padding through the house, up and down the hallway a few times and back to the living room. Harry stays close, encouraging you along with little claps and kisses to motivate you. When your stomach starts to feel uneasy, he urges you once again to take something for nausea. You agree to take a half a pill, knowing it'll help you sleep.

Despite the nap you had earlier and only being awake for a couple of hours, it doesn't take much convincing for you to settle back into bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

He's already reclined next to you, book in hand, the soft light from the lamp illuminating one side of his face. You're smushed against him, drifting between that sweet space of almost asleep and wanting to stay awake to enjoy any spare moment you get with him. His hand working through your hair helps push you towards the former of the two.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden today," Your words are slurring together but you continue on, just needing to get your thoughts out before he can stop you, "I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have overreacted so much about something so simple."

"Hey, none of that now," He lays the book on the nightstand, careful to save his place for later before pulling you closer to him, "You were not, nor have you ever been a burden to me. Just because you needed a little extra help today does not mean you aren't deserving of me or my love. You will never have to earn that. It's yours, always has been, will be as long as you decide to keep me around."

"Thank you. For all of it. I'll always want you."

"Always? Y'might change your mind someday, angel."

"I won't. Promise."

"Yeah? Me either."

A kiss laid delicately to the top of your head has your eyes dangerously close to falling shut again before another thought navigates its way through your mind and out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"H..what am I gonna do with a full week off from work?"

"Let me take care of you?"

And that's exactly what he does.

Mornings spent sleeping in, late breakfasts made together and afternoon walks. Evenings consisting of the two of you preparing dinner together or ordering takeout from some of the forbidden places you couldn't eat from before. Mugs of herbal tea before early bedtimes, you sweetly falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading to you most nights.

But his favorite part was that the scent of lavender was no longer cursed for you. Some nights before your surgery, when you simply could not fall asleep the pain was so unbearable, you would fill the tub with hot water and lavender scented bubbles to try to calm yourself enough to be able to drift off afterwards. It never worked, the heat always doing more harm than good. Harry would always be waiting for you, open arms and a soft towel to wrap you in.

So the smell became one you hated, memories of sleepless nights and nausea. But now you were free to use it again for what you always loved it for before it was cursed. In your body wash, lotion, even your laundry detergent; spreading the scent all over your shared space in as many ways as you could.

He even mentions it one night after dinner, when the two of you are pressed impossibly close together on the couch. His nose buried into your neck, inhaling deeply, pulling away to announce, "You smell like you again, love. Missed it so much." He burrows back in, placing kisses from your neck to your shoulder, ignoring your giggles and protests of how much it tickles.

A week later, the alarm wakes you sooner than you've become accustomed to, reminding you of your return to work. Harry's arm thrown over your waist pulls you closer as you try to leave the bed, a sleepy "Don't go." mumbled in your ear.

You do your best to peel yourself away from him, admitting silently to yourself how much harder it is for you to leave the warmth of your bed as it is for him to let you go.

2 years later, you have a scar you swear didn't heal right, and a man who loves you even more because of it.

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #so happy this is finally done and being posted!#soooooo many times I almost just deleted it bc I didn't know how to feel about it #but anyway hope y'all enjoy!

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

Text

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 18 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (17)

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Set Them On Fire

Today, you need the sun. You need it hot and bright, to offer you protection, to burn anything that comes out of the flames. But there are clouds in the sky, threatening to hide that damn ball of fire. Bouncing your leg, the only thing keeping you down to Earth is Billy's hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. You had to call in sick today, telling Anthony both of you got a cold and passed on to the other. And now the manager of the pool knows you're living together. But it doesn't matter. This matters, setting those monsters on fire and being done with it.

“Relax, babe.” He says, squeezing your thigh a little, making you look over him. “It'll work.”

“It will.” You tell this more to yourself than to him.

Half an hour later you reach the only hole left, joining the party who gathers a few feet away, in the protection of the threes. When you step out of the car, you feel a rather cold breeze, the one that announces a storm. Max hands you the bat, which you gladly take, holding it tight. The kids are getting things ready. Well, they're helping Eleven, you're not sure how since she's the only one with superpowers, as she searches through the woods, making sure all the Demodogs are in the tunnels.

The idea is to use one of the robots to take a stick of small dynamite into the tunnels, so when it explodes, the fire will spread through the whole thing quickly, since it's basically soaking in gasoline. When Eleven finally stands up, taking off the fabric that was covering up her eyes, everyone starts moving.

“They're all in there. They already started digging again. We gotta do it now.” She says, and immediately, Mike gets the small robot ready.

“This takes thirty seconds to blow up, more than enough time to get in the there, drive it inside, and run back here.” He announces, standing up to his feet. “Who will go there?”

You were expecting then to be nervous, to push it around, not wanting to get too close to the hole, not when the clouds are threatening to give the Demothings a chance to hunt in the daylight. But no. They start arguing about who gets to go.

“Seriously.” You mumble, running a hand through your hair and pacing around. You just need this day to end. You just need the fire to catch.

“Hey, hey.” Billy reaches you as you walk away from the others, not wanting to listen to their arguments. The guys are fun to be around, and they manage to get a laugh out of you despite being sad about Jason, despite being anxious about the Demodogs, but now you just can't, not today. There's too much at stake. “Come here.” Billy hugs you, your arms embracing his midsection, head on his chest. He has this thing, you don't know how, you don't even know if he actually tries. But when Billy hugs you, the rest of the world vanishes. It doesn't matter how dangerous it is, Billy makes it all disappear.

“Everything I want to do right now is–”

“This is not the place or time to make out. Let's do this!” Hopper's thunder voice cuts you short, and you take a couple of seconds to swallow the anger before letting go of Billy.

“Let's go. It'll be over soon.” He bends over to place a soft kiss on your lips before taking your hand and walking over the party again.

Lucas won, he gets to put the robot near the hole. You watch as he does it, lighting up the dynamite and running back here as Mike moves the thing forward, making it disappear inside the tunnel. Dustin is counting down, and you close your eyes, your body frozen.

“Seven, six, five, four–” It happens, a small explosion followed by wild, high flames taking over the exit. It makes a weird noise as the fire spreads, but it soon vanishes, fading away as it takes over the tunnels underground. “I must have miscalculated.”

“It's working,” Eleven says, focused, blood coming out of her nose. “I can feel them dying.”

“Great,” Hopper says, a gun in hand, ready to act if things go south.

You're allowing yourself to relax now, despite the clouds covering up the sunlight, and the thunder that can be heard somewhere from above. The rain won't put down the fire, it'll keep burning for several hours, until all the gas is consumed. All the Demodogs will be nothing but ashes by then.

Several minutes pass by, and a light rain starts falling. Summer storms are unpredictable, they come suddenly, and can either last ten minutes before the sun comes out again or two days. But it doesn't matter. Nobody seems to be bothered by the water so there's no reason for you to overthink.

“Can't we go now? It's done, isn't it?” Robin asks, removing some of her hair that's glued to her face. “It's pouring.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve answers, his eyes, like everybody else's, on the flames, coming out of the hole. “I think this is it.”

Eleven breaks out of her state, taking a deep breath and turning around. “I think we can go.”

You're relieved, if the words can even express how you feel right now. You're grip on the bat loosens, and you lay it on your shoulder.

“Home, then. A little party to celebrate?” Steve suggests, and they murmur in response, obviously excited.

But a groan, a snarl, building up from a low whisper to a loud, disgusting noise shut them up. Slowly, all eyes turn back to the hole, and your heart stops when you see it. When you actually see the thing making that noise.

As it crawls out of the tunnel, yelling, groaning in pain, it's skin falling apart, you immediately recognize it, despite never seen the thing. This Demodog just evolved into the full thing, eight feet tall massive Demogorgon. Now, the rain is a problem. Out here, with the water hitting its skin, the fire is being put out.

“Hopper, start shooting!” Joyce yells, and Hopper moves, blasting that thing, and despite some painful growls, it also gets its attention, and now, it's looking over here. At you. And when it starts moving, the commotion starts. Everyone who knows how to use a gun has one, Billy included, and the shooting begins.

You wish you could be brave. You really wish you had the courage you had when Neil attacked Billy. To just go there and beat the shit of this... This... Thing. But instead, you freeze, unable to move, just looking at the monster, and it comes towards you.

“(Y/N)!” Billy's voice reaches you at the same moment you feel his arm around your waist, pulling you back. “C'mon.”

You don't know what comes to you. The kids are so brave, they have been dealing with these things for a while now, and you just... You can't move. You can't think. Your eyes can't believe what they're seeing, your legs won't obey your commands. You're just... Paralyzed.

“Take her away. Now.” Someone says, and you feel yourself moving when the Demogorgon jumps, moving way too fast for something so big, landing right among you, splitting the group in half.

It's close now, close to you. It lowers his head, not seeming to the bothered by the many bullets hitting its skin. You see it, looking right at you with no eyes, and its head opens, slowly, and you feel like you're inside a nightmare, the worst nightmare you could ever imagine.

It happens fast, and it snaps you out of your numbness. Billy pushes you away, raising his gun, shooting the creature until there are no more bullets left. Then you see it, you feel it, the thing ready to jump over Billy. That makes you move. From your state, you hold the bat with all the strength left in your body, stepping forward and swinging it right into the Demogorgon's head. The nails pierce through its already sore skin, burned, peeling off, and when it moves back, flinching away, you pulled with it, only letting go of the bat when you stumble down, a sharp pain on your knee and right forearm.

“Everybody get back now!” Eleven shouts and you're quickly pulled up, right into Billy's arms as he moves both of you away from the thing.

Holding on to Billy, you see as Eleven steps forward, furious, raising both her hands. Then, the impossible, which insists on reminding you it's not impossible anymore, happens again. The flames start flowing out of the tunnel, like a fireball, creeping through the woods, leaving a trail of fire on its way here. On its way to the Demogorgon. In a violent push, Eleven lowers her arms, and the fire swallows the creature, which makes the most horrifying sounds you ever heard. It tries to fight it, to run, to attack, but by the looks of it, Eleven is holding it back too.

The groans are deafening, and you can't look anymore, hiding your face on Billy's neck. It only gets worse, louder, and the rain falling on you feels hot. Then, it stops, and before you can process what happened, you're pushed back in a wave of power, both you and Billy hitting the ground hard. Your first instinct is to look at the monster, sitting up abruptly, checking if its anywhere near you. But you see nothing. Nothing but ashes falling down with the rain. It's gone, disappeared.

“Damn it.” Billy groans and your attention falls on him.

“Billy.” With a hand caressing his cheek, you quickly check for any injuries. “Are you alright, baby?”

“I will be after I wash the Demogorgon's ashes off.” By the comment, he's ok, so you lower yourself to kiss him, over and over again, until you hear someone clearing their throat behind you.

“We're all fine too, thanks for asking.” Robin comments.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, stumbling back to your feet and almost falling back down on the process. “Maxine? Dustin, Steve... All the rest. Mike? Lucas, Joyce...” As you look around, you mentally count, making sure everyone is alive and well.

“Everyone is here.” Eleven says, a tired smile on her lips as Mike hugs her. “They're gone. All of them. I double-checked.”

Breathing out, you run a hand through your hair, a laugh escaping your lips when Billy hugs you, lifting you up. “I told you, princess. We'll be just fine.”

The drive home is chaotic. Everyone is dirty with rain, mud, dirt, and Demogorgon ash. And also blood, since you save a graze on your forearm and a wound on your knee.

Back home, as Lucas and Maxine fight over who will get to shower first, Billy lets you go first, as usual, and when you're done, you have to go and pacify the young couple. Lucas decided to let Maxine go first, and the fighting ends. As you wait for Billy, you clean the wounds, noticing they're not as bad as you feared. Lying down on the bed, you close your eyes, thinking about Jason. You only wish it all happened before, so he'd still be around, but it feels good to know nobody else will get hurt. That you had a part in it, even though it was so tiny.

“So...” Billy says, and you open your eyes when you feel the mattress moving under his weight. “We got our summer back. Whatever is left of it.”

“We still have three weeks until college.” When you notice he's coming to stand above you, you push him back, climbing over him instead. “Then it'll be crazy. Will you really go on with that routine? Drive to Indianapolis Monday morning, drive back here Friday after class?”

“Yeah.”

“It'll be tiring.” You explain, lowering yourself until your face is only an inch away from his.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure that–”

“Stop trying to make me change my mind about it. I want this crazy, exhausting routine because I want this. Me and you, together. I want this.”

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile. “I love you, Hargrove.”

“Love you too, future Mrs. Hargrove.”

• • •

Life has fallen back into the old pace. Now, only two weeks left of summer, you use your free time to hang with your friends and Billy. You finally feel safe to stay out at night again, but the pain for missing Jason is still very real. You visit his grave once a week at least, mostly with Monica, holding her as she cries. But other than that, the rest is getting better. Steve still teases you, Mike doesn't let go of the incident in his house, Lucas and Maxine keep fighting like a married couple, Joyce and Hopper decided to replace your parents, worrying way too much about your relationship with Billy. Diane comes to visit every once in a while... Life is good, and you're enjoying it.

Today, you just returned home from having lunch with Monica, closing the door shut and throwing the car keys on the table. Billy is on the chest bench, and as you stop to watch, he gives you a look and a wink.

“Almost done here, princess.” He says as you walk closer, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You simply say before sitting on his lap, straddling his hips. “Do twenty more.”

“Why do you always find a way to bug me when I'm working out?” He rolls his eyes, not bothering to stop lifting the weight.

“One...” You start, giggling. “Two... Three.”

“I've been here for half an hour. I'm tired.”

“Four. I can see, you're all sweaty. That's disgusting. Five.” Billy fakes an angry face, raising his leg and kicking your back, forcing you to fall against his chest. “Billy!”

You move to stand up, but he presses the bar in your back, trapping you down. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Alright. Let me up.”

“Only if you kiss me.”

“If you don't let me up I won't kiss you for a week.”

“I heard that before. It lasted an hour.”

“Uhm...” You're looking at his lips as he speaks, immediately regretting what you just said. “You're so lucky you're a good kisser.” Giving up that stupid idea, you kiss him, feeling when he puts the weight away, arms coming to hug you.

“What the hell.”

“Ignore them,” Maxine says, and when you raise your head to look, you see as she drags Eleven to her room.

“Now that we were interrupted, let's get ready.” He stands up as he speaks, carrying you with him.

“Ready for what?”

“I told you I'd take you somewhere special. And today is the day so wear something nice.”

It doesn't matter how many questions you make, Billy won't say a thing.

You choose to put on a light blue dress, since he told you to dress up nice, despite not knowing where he's taking you. You were thinking about a restaurant, the mall, one of the cute snack bars, but when we start driving out of town, you don't really know what to expect.

“I'm gonna need you to close your eyes from now on.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. C'mon.”

Giving him an exaggerated eye roll, you do as he says, knowing he'll be checking you. After a couple of minutes, he stops the car, telling you to wait. He then opens the door for you, taking your hand and helping you out. “Can I?”

“No. Wait.” He covers your eyes with both his hands, and you walk carefully. You feel a fresh breeze messing with your hair, the wild smell of the woods filling your nose. “Look now.”

You open your eyes when he removes his hand, and what you see is nothing less than Hawkins, the tiny houses down there, as you stand some feet away from the cliff. A smile immediately spreads through your lips, as you admire your home from afar. “Billy, this is... Amazing.”

“I knew you'd like it.” He hugs you from behind, resting his head on the top of yours. “Since you love this city so much, I thought this would be the right place.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you turn around to look at him. “The right place for what?”

Smirking, Billy searches for something in the pocket on the inside of his jacket. Raising an eyebrow, you step away, crossing your arms. “I will make the right question this time.” He takes a small, dark blue box. Your eyes go wide and your heart starts drumming in your ears, as your mind tries to process what's happening, telling yourself not to think what you're thinking.

“W-what question?” Stuttering, you keep looking into his eyes as he opens the box, pushing the hair away from your face since the wind is making it fly wildly.

Slowly, very slowly, you lower your stare to the box, now open, and you see two rings. “Right here, with the whole town as my witness, I want to know if you would, someday, be my wife.”

“Yes.” This time, you don't fight it. You can just let the word roll out your tongue. “Yes, baby.”

The smile that comes to his lips it's the most beautiful thing in the whole world. Billy takes your hand, putting the ring on your finger and you do the same soon after. “Was it the right question this time?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Hargrove.” Rolling your eyes, you pull him closer, standing on your toes.

“As you wish, princess.”

The kiss tastes like a promise. Like pure and complete bliss. This is where you're supposed to be, Hawkings, a small town, so different from everything you ever experienced. And, despite the moments of terror you've been through, you'd go through every single one of them a hundred times over if it only meant you'd end up here, with Billy's lips on yours, his arms holding you so close. In your own particular heaven.

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#billy hargrove x reader #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 years ago

Text

Black Wedding [Chapter Two] Silver Tongue [Albert Wesker]

Aria didn't want to go home once she got into her car a little after seven this morning. She was too scared to be alone and far too tired to stay awake, cowering beneath her blankets in an empty home as she worried about being mauled to death in her sleep.

Even though none of the murders had occurred indoors, and despite Albert assuring her that she'd be fine nestled away in their home under lock and key, she was still too scared to go home. Aria didn't want to let her guard down, not when the murders occurred close to home. That sort of ignorance horrified her the most.

How could anyone sleep soundly knowing a person in the same community was dead? Murdered, no less.

Aria frowned and gripped the steering wheel.

Poor Mr. Webster.

Her heart went out to her.

His death shook her. Dr. Hersh called it at a quarter till five this morning, though he passed on before the EMTs arrived at his home on Wallace Street. His carotid artery had a puncture; his spine broken, causing him to bleed out in minutes during the alleged onslaught.

His wife passed years ago from leukemia, so Aria had to leave a voice message with his son, who lived in Washington, according to his address. In a soothing voice too unreal for a woman who just witnessed a horrific murder, Aria informed him to contact the Hospital Director once he heard it. Still, she doubted that Mr. Webster's son would get the message until much later, given the time zone.

An EMT that brought him in reported that a neighbor from across the street saw Mr. Webster get attacked by a black dog near the edge of the forest; several large chunks were missing from his upper body, unlike any canine attack Aria had ever heard of before. What was he doing near the woods in the middle of the night? And what drove the animal to attack him?

Perhaps the beast was starving. Why else would it eat him?

Aria shivered in fear.

She tore from the parking lot in her Audi and turned onto Mission Street, heading towards Central down to Ennerdale, where the police department sat; the prominent structure before 1969 was an art museum bought out by the RPD.

Aria transferred to Raccoon General in 1992 after its construction, coming from Stone Ville, a town northwest of the city, but she knew its history, despite how expansive Raccoon had grown during her time from home; the city continued to grow even now thanks to Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, and the company's investments.

Parking her car, she strode from the underground garage to the department's entrance, slowing her rushed pace once she entered the reception area to the right of the main hall.

She noticed a woman with dark hair that she had never seen before occupying the reception desk. As she approached, the woman glanced up from her computer in boredom.

“What can I help you with, ma'am?”

Aria cleared her throat. “I came to see Albert Wesker.”

The woman typed something into her computer and hummed, then tossed a laminated pass onto the counter; Aria hooked it onto the pocket of her scrub top.

“The S.T.A.R.S. office is up the stairs at the far end of the hall,” she explained in a dead tone. “Be sure to sign in before you go.”

Aria did as she instructed, then stormed down the hall, turning the corner near the entrance to the west office. As she neared the stairs, she came across Barry Burton at the vending machine, recognizing his hideous red vest.

“Isn't it too early for a break?”

Barry turned in shock, staring at her. Once he recognized who Aira was, he narrowed his eyes.

“I'm surprised that Wesker let you off the leash today,” he teased.

Aria snorted and rolled her eyes. Barry was uneasy about her marriage to Albert, mainly because she married him a year after meeting him. She hadn't even had a honeymoon yet, but that didn't matter; she loved Albert.

He was quiet and somewhat arrogant when prompted, but he never treated Aria like she was inferior to him. Albert kept her together.

Barry didn't understand. Not to mention he wanted to set her up with Chris – his good friend – despite the eleven-year age gap.

“Behave,” Aria teased. “I don't want to tell Kathy that you've been eating junk food when you're not supposed to.”

Barry grunted. “I said nothing.”

She thought so. Her older sister was a force to be reckoned with, and he knew it.

“What are you doing here, Aria?”

She frowned, recalling the events of this morning.

“I want to see Albert is all,” she explained.

Barry sighed, bending with a grunt to pick his candy bar up from the exit slot.

“You might want to wait,” he suggested. “Irons is up there bitching to him about something. He sent the entire unit out.”

Aria puckered a brow. “Is everything alright?”

It was none of her business, but she wondered if the meeting with Irons had anything to do with the murder on Wallace Street. But why involve the S.T.A.R.S. unit? The murders were not a product of antiterrorism or urban crime and were more suited towards the cases the Patrol Division officers oversaw.

Perhaps she was overthinking it.

“As far as I know,” Barry answered back.

Aria hoped so. She said her farewells, deciding to wait near the S.T.A.R.S office, but as she began to climb the stairs, she had an idea and peeked over the railing to call out to Barry down below.

“Do you think Kathy and the girls would like to visit the zoo Friday?”

Barry hummed. “I don't see why not. I'll ask them tonight.”

Aria thanked him and continued up the stairs to the second floor. She rested on the bench next to the office door and waited for Irons to leave.

Once he appeared, storming out into the hall as he uttered beneath his breath Aria stood and greeted him.

“It's good to see you again,” she mentioned with a fake smile.

Irons grinned, looking her over. “The pleasure is mine. How are things over at the hospital?”

“Fine,” she answered back.

He reached forward and gently touched her shoulder. “Ethan called me already. I heard about the man who died this morning, but I don't want you to fret, Aria. I'll take care of it.”

“I appreciate that, sir. Thank you,” she stated.

Albert must have known as well.

Easing over, Aria grabbed the knob and opened the office door.

“Try and get some sleep, Aria. You look tired,” Irons mentioned.

She nodded and slid inside, closing the door behind her.

His kindness was innocent, but at times it freaked her out.

Aria sighed and strolled further into the room. Albert had his own office immediately to the left after coming into the primary office; she entered once she knocked on the door.

He puckered a brow.

“Aria, what are you doing here?”

He seemed to be in an irritated mood.

“I came to see you,” she answered back. “But I can leave if it's not a good time.”

Aria was referring to what Barry had said; about Irons grilling him.

Albert motioned her in; she looked desperate.

Aria shut the door behind her and strutted towards the desk, coming around the side of it.

“I guess you heard,” she mentioned. “Mr. Webster – the widower on Wallace Street – was brought in this morning.”

Albert hummed. “Brad mentioned that it was an animal attack.”

“Another one near our street,” Aria confirmed.

He puckered a brow, watching as she sat on the desktop. Her tired eyes stared down at him; Albert understood.

“Are you too scared to go home alone?”

She frowned. “I hate how you said that.”

Like she could do nothing without him.

Aria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had a terrible headache brewing.

“That wasn't fair,” she mentioned. “I'm just tired; forgive me.”

Albert opened his desk drawer and tossed her a bottle of Diphenhydramine.

“These will put me in a coma,” Aria joked.

He hummed. “Whatever makes you sleep easier.”

“You being home will make me sleep,” she countered.

That reminded her.

“Are you working this weekend?”

Albert nodded and stood up. “Something came up.”

Of course, something came up.

“But I'm home Sunday,” he added. “And we can catch up.”

Aria grinned. At least she had one day alone with him.

“Please tell me what you want for Sunday, and I'll cook for you,” she offered.

Albert grinned and motioned towards his seat. “I'll think of something. In the meantime, rest your eyes. I'll wake you before I leave.”

Her face heated up. “Thank you.”

How did he take her mind from one place to the next? It amazed her.

Aria hopped from the desk and embraced him. Her cheek rested against his chest.

“I'd be a mess without you,” she said with a laugh.

Albert snorted and buried his fingers into her coarse blond hair, aware that she wasn't joking.

Aria was a feeble pet, after all.

#albert wesker #resident evil #wesker x oc

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honeysofte-archieve · 3 years ago

Text

only one.

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Rating: T

Pairing: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain

Word Count: 1,776

Genre: love confessions hell yes!

i’m here a year later offering you a continuation to my first ever wayhaven fic: say your piece (or let her free) (18+, nsfw). excuse any clumsiness, this year has been THE WORST ever when it comes to writing. i hope you enjoy!!

Vesper knows, of course, that Ava would eventually ask again.

It is pretty much a certainty only biding its time and she is mostly fine with the thought of it coming up again. If their roles were reversed, she would similarly want to know the full details of the point of the matter— knowing her own nature she would be downright obsessive at getting true answers not shrouded by the delirious (although lovely) aftermath of sex.

But Vesper still hasn’t decided what she will actually answer when her time is up and her time runs out surprisingly soon as it’s not even a full day before Ava has seemingly gathered enough courage to ask.

“Detective,” Ava starts, but coughs and corrects herself immediately after Vesper shoots a pointed, even sharp, look over her shoulder. “I mean… Vesper Louise.”

It’s very attractive, hearing her own full name from the lips of the woman she loves and for a long, while both of them only smile at each other, a gentle blossom of a relationship cradled carefully between them, safe and sound, at least for now. Vesper is not optimistic enough to think that something like this, happiness above everything else, could last forever.

[ read at ao3 ♥ ]

“Better,” Vesper answers. Then she frowns and adjusts the temperature of the stove before flipping over the crêpe cooking, or burning, on the frying pan. “Though the Louise is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It is a beautiful name,” Ava comments somewhere behind her. “You should not be ashamed of it.”

Vesper is glad Ava can only see her back or she would certainly notice the pleased flush on her cheeks. She clicks on the range hood and watches how steam begins to diffuse around the stove, clearing the air in a quick movement. The smell of already cooked crêpes is mouthwatering.

“I’m not ashamed,” Vesper answers with a shrug. She drinks a sip of her half-draught red wine sitting on the counter next to her. “I just think it’s a mouthful to use in everyday conversation.” She pauses. “But it sounds nice… when you say it like that.”

There’s a pinch of genuine curiosity in Ava's voice. “Like what?”

As if you loved me, Vesper thinks but is not brave enough to voice it yet. “Never mind,” she says instead and almost jumps out of her skin when there’s suddenly a strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist.

“I would like to ask you something,” Ava says quietly and drops one very cautious kiss on Vesper’s shoulder like she’s not sure whether it’s welcome or not. Vesper revels in it, feeling as if the kiss left an invisible burn mark through her shirt onto her skin.

“Hold that thought,” Vesper answers, a little too hoarsely, before quickly flipping the last one of crêpes on a nearby plate, snapping the stove off and reaching her small body across the counter to be able to rinse her hands in the sink.

Then she deftly hops on the counter and pulls Ava close by folding her arms around Ava’s neck. Now that Vesper is finally allowed to be physically affectionate with her, she won’t stop. She never will. “Okay, all done,” she says cheerfully. “What’s going on inside your head, baby?”

How curious it is that having the permission to use a simple pet name for someone can feel so ground-breaking. She also finds it a little funny calling a 900-year-old powerful vampire baby but so far Ava hasn't protested the nickname beyond a small frown of confusion.

Ava hesitates, her expression a deep frown. Vesper smooths out the wrinkles on her forehead with the tip of her thumb, smiling fondly at Ava who still slightly hovers over her, even like this.

“The station's rumour about you and the… the reporter man. Your former partner, I suppose,” Ava begins, her face scrunching openly with distaste, and Vesper can feel how her own expression falls in the moment of silence that cloaks them under. “Was it true?” Ava asks quietly, watching Vesper carefully under her pale eyelashes and making the other woman feel immediately like the world’s shittiest person alive.

Vesper sighs. She doesn’t want to be dishonest, but she also wouldn’t like them to linger on the topic of Bobby again. “Would it even matter if it was?” she asks, sighs very deeply again afterwards just for the sake of reprimanding her past self.

Vesper Louise Graves, you’re a fucking idiot, will be engraved onto her tombstone, no doubt. Feels exactly on-brand for her.

“I suppose not,” Ava answers after a long stillness of consideration, but she doesn’t seem to be completely sure about her answer. “Regardless, I simply find myself... curious, nonetheless.”

Vesper cups Ava’s rigid jaw onto her palm and presses a simple kiss on her forehead.

“It’s true,” she admits and is prepared for the shudder that travels through Ava’s whole body in the wake of the confession. Her breath quivers with hidden pain she’s gotten too good at hiding, her eyes pressed closed and throat gulping for breath.

“It didn’t mean anything, Ava, not like you do,” Vesper adds carefully, keeping her voice calm and kind. She rubs the corner of Ava’s unhappy mouth with her thumb, though it does nothing to hinder Ava’s crestfallen expression and Vesper feels painfully aware that her choice of words sounds like someone trying to console their partner after an act of infidelity.

Part of Vesper feels like that is what it was. That she betrayed a trust or some unsigned vow of devotion and oh, does she loathe herself for it more than anything. Rational thinking doesn’t help with bone-deep guilt.

"It was a mistake," she continues soothingly, trying to ignore the rapid banging of her heart, open for the world to see. "One made out of sleep deprivation and--"

Vesper quiets and thinks. Ava looks at her keenly and she's not sure what she should continue with for she doesn't want to make Ava feel even worse by admitting the overhead conversation with Nate that influenced the bad choice more than any other reason Vesper could come up with.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs instead, voice regretful and sad. She kisses Ava's temple, lets her lips linger on the sensitive skin longer than necessary. "I'm an idiot," she says quietly into her ear and Ava shivers at the sensation before pulling slowly away.

"You are not an idiot," Ava says, unimpressed. "You're a very intelligent woman as I'm sure you are aware of yourself."

Oh, perfect-- a clear way out. Vesper grabs it like a lifeline.

"I mean... I sure do love science," Vesper answers with a grin and it's not even remotely a lie. "It's kind of my speciality. Like, did you know that orcas are actually just big dolphins, but sort of whales at the same time? Pretty cool, right?"

"Vesper Louise," Ava sighs. She doesn't appear frustrated, but her voice just has a tiny flavour of kind impatience, like she knows how difficult this is for both of them. "You are deflecting."

"No kidding."

There's a long, pointed silence before Ava's brow arches, a tiny, almost mocking gesture. Vesper almost flips her the finger but she's beyond acting like a child. At least, she usually is.

"I just…" Vesper buries her face in the crook of Ava's neck, a place of warmth and comfort, almost. It helps if she doesn't need to meet her eyes. She swallows. Overthinks.

These words end up being true: "You scare the shit out of me."

Ava stills. "Scare you?"

Why does she feel like crying right now? "You scare me because…" Take a deep breath, Vesper Louise, and just say it.

"Because I love you so much I can barely stand it," Vesper finally says, the words that haunt her every waking moment she spends with Ava. It feels good and absolutely horrifying to finally say them aloud.

"I just… I don't know how to describe it any better. I feel like I'm dying, all the time, just thinking about it. About my feelings for you."

Ava is mute while she speaks and Vesper appreciates right now more than ever. Usually, the vampire's silence is frustrating, just another wall between them, but now it feels more like a comfort, a blessing in disguise.

And Vesper is crying now, failing not to, her eyes wet and lips trembling.

"I don't know what else to say," she murmurs. Ava's hand lingers on the back of Vesper's neck which reassures her that Ava is not going to escape, not this time.

"I was scared and hurt so I kissed him and it meant absolutely nothing to me. I don't have room in my heart for anyone else but you. That's all there is to it. I'm sorry."

Ava is still and quiet but remains relaxed in their embrace, her hand moving soothingly across the other one's back. After a while, she presses the smallest of kisses against the curve of Vesper's quivering jaw.

"Thank you," Ava whispers breathlessly and Vesper isn't quite sure what the words even mean. She's about to open her mouth to ask why when Ava tucks a few messy hair strands behind Vesper's ears and lifts her down-turned chin up with a fingertip.

"Please, do not cry, do not be scared," she whispers tenderly and with devotion. "I am the idiot one."

There's choked laughter and a sneeze against a shirt collar. "No shit," Vesper snorts, her eyes shining with happiness. She has never been in love like this, has never felt so protected and safe as she does every moment with Ava.

"You're my idiot, though."

The words are still questioning and hesitant but Ava smiles, smiles like a thousand suns for how bright it is.

"That I am," she says, her green eyes filled with warmth and gentleness, and dare one say it, love. "As you are mine. Always."

This is when Vesper grabs Ava's ears onto her hands and pulls her closer to kiss her with all that she is, with lips and tongue and teeth, because she can't not to. She's allowed to love and be loved, and be imperfect with faults and downsides, and still be someone of value.

Someone of importance to Ava du Mortain.

"Fuck Bobby Marks," Ava mutters darkly onto Vesper's lips when they part for breath, making Vesper's eyes widen in surprise at the crass language before she burst into giggles against Ava's mouth and kisses the frown between Ava's eyebrows away again.

That's right, she thinks.

Fuck Bobby Marks.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #ava du mortain #a du mortain x detective #ava x detective #a du mortain #twc detective #twc fanfic #*my writing #character: vesper

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years ago

Text

Rival matchup time:

"So, I’m Elsie, she/her/hers, and bi (but I lean heavily towards men rn). I’m a Virgo sun, Scorpio rising and Aquarius moon. I’m also an introvert, but I love being around other people! I just get,,,,, tired easily.

I’m East Asian + Southeast Asian (Chinese and Vietnamese). I’m barely 5’0 tall! Long, black hair that reached my upper thighs and dark brown eyes that you can’t even see the pupil lmfao. I always have painted nails, usually red. I’m pretty athletic and I also like to think I have nice thighs—most of my workouts include building up my legs lol. I wear big gold hoop earrings. I also wear round Harry Potter glasses. My body isn’t very curvy, in fact I’m pretty flat but I am COVERED in stretch marks. I also have acne flare ups from time to time but it’s usually nothing noticeable anymore.

I’d like to think I’m a pretty chill person, likes to go with the flow and stuff like that. My friends say I’m often their therapist or their mom, which is kinda funny because that’s what I’m in uni for, to be a therapist. I’m a pretty determined and motivated person? I like to push myself pretty hard ngl but I also like to just hang out and take it slow. I also like to do stupid things like exploring abandoned buildings at 2am. I’m also big into intersectional feminism. I’ve also been told I’m really approachable and friendly, but bro I am so shy and quiet in public unless I get to know you.

I can get pretty stubborn tbh, it depends once again on what the topic is but once I’ve set my mind to it, that’s how it’s going to be. I also have low self esteem and my depression sometimes makes it hard for me to even get out of bed at times. I usually don’t know when to stop giving myself to other people, which means I get pretty exhausted and fast. I’m also prone to overthinking which stresses me out. And when I’m stressed, I can honestly get a little bitey.

I apologize to inanimate objects if I’ve bumped into them, and I also have a tendency to talk to myself? I also am a witch! I’m currently elbows deep in some deity work and ngl my energy is all over the place. I also have a weird habit of waving to security cameras I see in public because I like to think the people watching those cameras get a kick out of it lol.

I really like coffee, tea, singing with my ukulele, playing piano, drawing and art in general. I haven’t been able to draw as much as I’d like recently but I do have some animatics in my head. I also really like Victoria’s Secret perfumes, specifically strawberry pound cake—it’s what I always smell like lol. Crystals are super fun imo. I live next to a huge lake and it’s honestly one of my favorite places to be. Ocean animals are my favorite! I also really like car rides with like, one other person and just exploring the world and talking. The music I listen to is a lot of classic rap, lofi-hip hop, modern rap, some pop artists and Ella Fitzgerald, Gloria Gaynor, HaroinFather, KYLE, and ofc Hollywood Undead.

I cannot stand centipedes those things horrify me. I also don’t like rude people, bigots, people who purposely start drama or hypocrites. People who put other people down aren’t cool either. I don’t really like parties or being around lots of people, they make me anxious and kinda suffocated. People who try to force me to do stuff aren’t cool in my books either. I also think red meat is kinda gross, but that’s just because it makes me exhausted."

Your rival is:

ŇƗŇΔ ŦĦ€ ҜƗŁŁ€Ř

So I've done a ton of reflecting and have finally arrived at this rivalry.

I feel like you would end up defending yourself after Nina attacks you while you're trying to talk some sense into her about her obsession with Jeff.

I mean, really. This girl carved herself up to look more like him.

She even uses a version of his catchphrase, ffs!

While its fun to write about, Nina's level of obsession with Jeff is pretty harmful to not only others, but herself.

So you try to do what you would do with any rational adult. You take her out to lunch and try to talk with her about it.

You take her to a local pizza buffet and the two of you talk over every kind of pizza toy could imagine.

It was all great... Right up until it wasn't anymore.

You'd overlooked a major flaw in your master plan. You treated Nina like a normal, rational, adult. Nina was none of the above.

Sure, she may be an adult physically.

But it's like her obsession had stunted her emotional growth.

So, naturally, Nina thinks you're trying to talk her into forgetting about Jeff so you could have him all to yourself 🙄

She grabs you by the back of the shirt and pulls you through the restaurant and out into the parking lot.

"Nina, are we really doing this?" you ask her. She sneers at you and lets go of your shirt with a shove.

"You thought I was that dumb, didn't you?" Nina began slowly pacing back and forth, within the confines of the lines of the parking space.

You'd seen a panther at the zoo pace like that at the front of his habitat. He walked back and forth in front of his home, but his eyes, fierce and cunning, stayed on the people gathered to look at him. He didn't look at them as if they were a threat. He looked at them like prospective meals. Dinner. Midnight snack. Breakfast. Supper. Dinner again. Nina looked at you like that now.

"You thought you could just take me out, tell me I'm crazy and obsessed with the love of my life, and what? That I'd just back off? Say, 'You're right, Elsie, what was I thinking?!' and we'd laugh and go to your house and watch chick flicks and laugh into the wee hours of the morning?"

Nina huffed and rolled her eyes, "Spare me, bitch." Nina started closing in, flicking her knife open. It had little charms hanging from it like a heart, a grumpy storm cloud, an excited yam, and a beaming milkshake cup. They were the cutest, most impractical thing you'd ever seen.

You weren't surprised when Nina rushed you and you stepped to the side at the last moment, catching the wrist of her knife hand in your hand and shoving the heel of you hand into the back of her hand painfully, forcing her to drop the knife.

It fell to the pavement with a clatter and you used your foot to kick it away from the two of you.

Nina looks shocked and sad as she watches it spin away from her, and then it disappeared under a parked car.

Enraged by the loss of her knife, Nina rushed you again and screams in your face.

She grabbed your arm tightly and watched as you looked at your arm where her hand gripped. Something about your expression made her let go. But...

"I won't let you have him" she snarled and she lunged again, this time knocking you off your feet. Nina rode your body to the ground, sitting on your chest and upper stomach to pin you.

"I don't want him, Nina" you spat at her, the first stirrings of anger coiling up inside of you, "What will make you see?"

"Leave us alone" she said and as she reached down and fisted a handful of your hair and used it to knock your head into the ground a couple of times, "Leave us alone so I can show my sweet prince how happy we could be."

"What do you mean 'we'?" you ask Nina, "the only reason Jeff knows you exist is because everyone started warning him about this crazy fan girl. If we're truthful, he's stated that you kind of scare him."

"You expect me to believe that he's afraid? Afraid of anything? Especially afraid of a girl much smaller than him who would give him anything he asked for. Anything.'

She punctuated that last word with another attempt to thump your skull into the ground, but you tightened your muscles and wouldn't allow the movement.

Nina let go to slap you and you threw your body upwards, throwing Nina off of you, and you sat up and crawled over to pin Nina down.

"Just give up," you hiss at her, "I don't want him, I swear it. But don't lie to yourself anymore. Jeff will never love you, not the way you want him to. He may fear you, Nina, but he'll never love you."

You watched as a myriad of emotions cross over her face. Rage. Uncertainty. Denial. Stubbornness. Pleading. Her face collapsed into despair, which slowly faded to reluctant acceptance.

You move back slightly to let Nina up, rubbing the back of your head where it was starting to ache. When she doesn't make any aggressive movements, you let her up completely, offering her a hand to help her to her feet.

"So... You're gonna be alright?"

Nina shrugged slightly, looking drained and disenchanted, her arms crossing under her breasts to hold her.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this, Nina.."

"Go."

"I understand you probably hate me right now. You're hurt, but maybe in time we could make a friends-"

"Get out of my sight. Now" Nina growled, "I'll hurt you the next time I see you. Now go."

You turn away from Nina and start walking away. You get at least 500 feet away from her and stop, looking at her over your shoulder.

She looked so small, now, uncertain, folded in on herself as she hugged herself tightly, staring at nothing in particular in the middle distance between us.

"Nina" you call, "It's fine to hate me right now. But when you're not so raw about it, maybe we could hang out. Watch chick flicks, do each others nails and eat ice cream?"

The corner of Nina's mouth pulled up in a wry smile, "I'll think about it when I don't want to kill you."

You smile, "It's a start. Take care of yourself, Nina.

Ahh I hope you like it! I really tried to branch out from typical answers, too. I like to think that a rivalry with you wouldn't be like a lasting thing. You'd just do what you could to a) get them to listen, and b) keep yourself as safe as possible, and set them straight with no hard feelings afterwards.

#creepypasta #nina the killer #creepypasta rival matchup #creepypasta matchups #tw obsession

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